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?))
"in my school, i was taller than most kids, even the higher years were some what shorter than me, when i first joined people looked up at me some amazed some annoyed. My parents were not very caring even though i was the first born, my brother he was a pain to me as i was 15 years older than him he just couldn't stop being annoying."
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