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.”
"I do not know what you mean, madam," Joao would say, with a raised eyebrow and a suspicious frown. He had only paused a moment to hear what the woman had to say, and wasn't half sure he had heard her right. "I am here on a simple errand and do not believe I have ever met you before, so if you'll excuse me." He then turned and marched on his way back out of the tent, only a bit frazzled and disturbed, wondering why he had felt the need to enter the tent at all. He had much to do this day, and this town's part in that schedule was very small- no time to humor the fantasies of some old hag. After all, he is a very busy man.
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