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?))
Lucius stands there, frozen for a long minute. At some point he clears his throat and awkwardly squeaks out a sentence, "um...Mother used to tell me a story about a Prince and a Dragon whenever she put me and my brother to sleep, would you like me to tell it to you?"
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