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.”
"Me? Expecting me?" Nebta cried excitedly. "Ooh, I must be the chosen one! I knew it, I was destined for greatness!"
The old hag cleared her throat. "So-"
"Okay, okay, here's my story. Iiiiii'm Nebta Maplewillow! Future halfling-mage-adventurer, at your service! I'm going to change the world, just you wait."
"Did I pick wrong...?" mumbled the old hag to herself. The face on Nebta's sweater seemed to reflect his own smile.
"This is a really nice town you've got here. It's so well-lit and cozy!"
"This is a swamp."
"I know! I've never been to one." Nebta giggled, ecstatic about this situation. "Oh, I feel like a real adventurer now! Mama and papa didn't believe me, but here I am! You're a witch, right? Can you teach me magic? I've been studying hard, but it just isn't easy."
The old hag sighed.
"Never mind, I don't think you're the one I was expecting. Go on, then, go save the world and whatnot."
"Yay!" Nebta cried, jumping out the tent.
"Now, where to next on my adventure?"
As Nebta Maplewillow walked away, the old hag pondered to herself. Without a doubt, that was who she had been expecting - and she sensed immense power in him - but perhaps it was better that that power was left unrecognized. Nebta was, after all, just a halfling.
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