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?))
"verily!, you see me as a virtous prospect" he would reply in a shinning demeanour. "no matter, even if thee had not questioned my story i would have regaled thee in the story of 'Roland'!" he would exclaim in with a boistrous voice then lingering into a slightly weaker nervous laughter. "Roland tis i! a most valorous knight of high acclaim!" in a extroverted voice. "Even if that acclaim originates from me alone..." he would whisper to himself.
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