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?))
Wes straightens his clothes and smiles, while slightly unnerved by the floating lights. He confidently steps forward, sidestepping the strange request, and says, "Ah yes! Um, hello I'm here looking for mandragora. A patient of mine is under the weather and we're fresh out. Don't really have time to chat, unfortunately. Could you possibly point me in the right direction?"
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