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?))
I sit down with caution as I am not too acquainted with such generosity. I look the hag in the eyes and speak, "My name is Jerra. I come from a city not too far from this little town. After years of abuse from corrupt politicians, violent crime constantly rising and the death of my parents I 'saved' up just enough money to leave the city and find my place in the world. Not many other's get to say the same. I haven't found much yet, but I'm determined to not let my upbringing decide my fate. I won't end up like those I've lost."
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