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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?))

"Eh?" She tersely acknowledged the lady. Clearly in a daze -- this was out of her expectations. But what could you truly expect when peeking into places you may not belong. Taking a quick look at her surroundings, though clearly avoiding gazing too directly at her questioner. "You-.. It's.." How should she word this? "..Nothing important. I've got nothing of a story to tell -- not one of interest, at the very least. You're better off seeking out someone else." Her guard was up to the max, as defensive as could be. Searching for an opportunity to be dismissed from this non-binding conversation. Hell, why couldn't she just leave? Nothings stopping her. It was like all of her thoughts were clear on her face, "It's nothing you ought to worry yourself with, I'm just a low-born. Not a story to tell, and certainly nothing you'd care to hear." Reiterating herself once more, she shuffled back towards the entrance - exit? - of the tent. Giving the hag a light nod, dismissing herself, she disappeared back into the shadows that seemed to envelop this gloomy town.