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?))
Aska eyed the hag warily. "Why should I? That's not exactly A proper hello, is it?" She looked her up and down before huffing. "I've been expecting you....Gods. Is that what you tell every poor sod who walks in here? Have you got A special trinket or bauble to sell me on? A prophecy? A mystery elixir?" She tapped her foot impatiently. "I haven't got time for this. I've somewhere to be, and ideally, with honest folk." Having said her piece, Aska gave her one last calculating glance, before turning on her heels and leaving the tent. She'd be A bit more careful entering strange tents the next time.
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