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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?))

Example: 
*With a low raspy voice* "Expecting or not, swamp witch, I ain't here for pleasantries. Keep your saggy predictions to yourself. I've got business, not time for idle chatter in this dump of a town."

*With a Baffled face* Old hag: "what did you just say?"

"I said, I'm not here for your so-called foresight or your damp tent. Just point me to the quickest way out of this rotten place, and we'll both be better off."

She replies with a smirk "I'll tell you as soon as you tell me your story"

Cedric Ironwood scowls, his gaze lingering on the flickering candles before he gruffly as he delves into his past, "Childhood? A cesspool of misery. My father, a pathetic drunk stumbling through life, and my mother, a pawn in a game she never chose. I was Forced to thieving just to crawl out of the filth and feed my mother. The army? Thought it'd be my escape. Turned out, it was a ticket to hell. Sent to fight a war against orcs, and what did I get in return? My sons, Gareth and Alden, torn to shreds by those green-skinned monsters, right in front of me. My wife, withering away to sickness, rotting before my eyes. I wish it was me, not them. Would've spared me the haunted nights. And her final words? 'It's all your fault I lost my sons.' A parting curse that echoes in my ears every damn day. Now, a freelancer scraping together coin for ale, haunted by memories that won't let go. Every swing of the blade is a sick release, a reminder that life's nothing but a cruel joke. If you've got something useful to say, spit it out. Otherwise, let me pass through this cesspit of a town without another word witch."

(end)