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?))
As the young monk enters the dimly lit tent, his eyes briefly adjust to the flickering candlelight. He moves with cautious steps, drawn towards the cushion as if it were the only solid ground in a swamp of uncertainty. Gently, he lowers himself onto it, folding his hands in his lap, a silent gesture of both respect and readiness to listen. His gaze, filled with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, finally meets the old hag's eyes.
"I come from a distant monastery" he begins, his voice steady but betraying a hint of vulnerability. "The elders there... they sent me away. They said I was to find something, though what exactly, I'm not sure. It feels like I've been chasing shadows, looking for a sign or a guide. I hope they didn't just kick me out of there..."
He pauses, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "This town, with its secrets and whispers of the old magic, seemed like a place where paths cross and destinies intertwine. And so, I find myself here, before you, hoping to find some direction in this journey. It's a bit overwhelming, to be honest." The young Monk scratches his head, but when he notices, quickly put them into his lap again. "I was told I would know what I'm looking for when I find it, but right now, I'm just trying to understand what my first step should be."
As he finishes, the young monk looks towards the old hag with an earnest expression, seeking wisdom, guidance, or perhaps just a kind word to light the way forward on his uncertain path.
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