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'd be taken aback by the sudden invitation of the old woman. However, he felt a strange presence urging him to take a seat nonetheless. As he lowered himself onto the cushion, a sigh escaped from his lips as he looked down. "My story? I don't know if I have a particularly interesting one. I've been trying to find my place in this world for so long, that I don't quite remember how I even stumbled upon this dingy old town." He'd look back up at the old woman. "However, I do know that my story will take me somewhere important. I have yet to find that place."
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