You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
((How do you respond?))
[In 3rd person for exposition]
As Acredo peers around the tent to try to find common ground with the old hag, he notices her small painting on the wall. "Is that Old Fryll?" he asks in barely a mutter. She seems to lean back a little and look beyond Acredo as if reliving a memory. "I knew him too," Acredo says without letting her begin. "He always said this was where I should flee to when the time was right." He paused for a moment, but she sat silently. "I never new what that meant," he sheepishly mumbled. "But," she interjected, "now you do."
[now switching to 1st person]
"When they came and took my father and brother, I was out hunting. They wouldn't have known I came across them as they were leaving." The old hag seemed to nod along silently, I thought to myself. "Mother mentioned your name, in what seemed like code." I then paused for a second, wondering where to find the words. "She said you'd know what to do."
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