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?))
“You-you know me? Did you know my aunt?” Sits down.
“People do say that I look just like her… though I didn’t expect her to have come to this part of the world. My story… I grew up on the dairy farm like her, and I wanted to follow in her footsteps. She was a traveler, and always brought home so many amazing stories. Though I’m sure you knew that already. How did you know her?” She looks up at the old woman expectantly.
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