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?))
Beatrice swiftly took up the old hag's gracious offer, sitting herself down on the worn cushion. One would think she hadn't rested in months. She glanced around the dimly lit tent, taking the series of candles that were suspended in the air, before her eyes fell upon the old hag once again. "I've been on a journey for days you see.." Beatrice began, holding her hands together, settling them onto her lap, and taking a breath of relief before continuing her story. "...looking for a place to stay, not just for this day, but forever." She paused once again, taking in the old hag's reaction to her words. "This tiny town seems like a good new start.." Beatrice continued, taking on a new sense of confidence, as she spoke.
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