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?))
"Taking in a deep breath, before sputtering out the words "Well, I was raised and grew up in a small village". "I've always loved exploring though, roaming around and whatnot, until I was fourteen my father sadly passed away". A sigh would come out once more as the words left his mouth "I am left with nobody and nothing to my name now, as the moment he died I fled my village". "I could not bear to stay in the same land where my father had raised me, only for me to no longer be able to see him, it is but a grim reminder". "I hope thought here I will be able to find some work, some valuables, and something just worth living on for". "Do you have any ideas by chance?". "
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