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?))
"He is a dwarf from a distant mountain kingdom," he begins, his voice low and gruff. "For centuries, his people have dwelled within the depths of the earth, mining precious ores and crafting magnificent works of art from the metals we uncover. But a dark prophecy has befallen our people, foretelling of an impending calamity that would wipe our kingdom from existence."
he pauses, memories of the devastating vision flashing in his mind. The hag's piercing gaze encourages me to continue, as if she already knows more than she reveals.
"Driven by the urgency of the prophecy, he embarked on a treacherous journey to seek answers and find a way to avert our impending doom. The trail has led me through perilous mountains, dense forests, and now to this enigmatic town shrouded in mystery. He has come seeking knowledge and guidance, for his believe there is a hidden power in this swampy realm that may hold the key to our salvation."
As he finishes recounting his tale, he fixed his gaze on the hag, hoping to find wisdom or a glimmer of understanding in her ancient eyes
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