TheYankeeJugglr

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?))

I would enter the tent cautiously, scanning the surroundings and maintaining my guard while assessing the situation. I take a keen interest and curiosity in the old hag's apparent recognition of me.  
 

"I've come seeking solidarity and perhaps an opportunity," I respond in a gruff yet respectful tone. "I am a wanderer, a warrior who has roamed the lands, driven by the desire to explore and find my place in this world. I am accustomed to harsh battle and surviving on my own. This innate desire has led me to this town, or rather, fate guided me here."

Leaning slightly forward, I maintain direct eye contact with the hag, a sign of my seriousness. "But forgive me, wise one, for I am curious as to why you claim to have been expecting me. What knowledge or insight do you possess?" I inquire, seeking to gauge the extent of her understanding and whether her words hold any significance.