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?))
"Your eyes must deceive you..." he says, "our paths are not meant to be crossed."
She looks at him with growing curiosity: "Who are you to determine whom my path crosses?" she croaked.
"Very well hag," he says as he sits down carefully, as to not sit on his cloak, "I am wandering, hopping from place to place, earning money where I can, and quite honestly, I was hoping to sleep here for the night," he says matter-of-factly, "I didn't expect anyone to be here."
The old hag shifts her weight on her cushion and says: "Heed the warning of an old woman and stray from honesty more often." she says, "if I were to take offence at that remark, your head would roll out that tent flap."
Cassius laughs half-heartedly: "Wise words, I shall live by them.", he says as he bows, "So, may I rest my head in your tent for the night?"
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