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?))
The flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows across the wrinkled contours of the tent. The air is thick with an unsettling mix of incense and dampness. I meet the old hag's gaze, a mixture of curiosity and wariness in my eyes.
"I come from Petra" I say, my voice steady. "Whispers of this town and its mysteries have reached my ears. Legends of ancient knowledge and untold secrets. Are you the one they call 'The Seer'?"
The weary traveler came this far with an heirloom. He quickly grabs the silvery figurine of a dancing woman. It was very precious to Walbo as it belonged to her mother, who recently passed away along with his father, who well deserved his death. The cause was an unknown illness. With hope in Walbo's eyes, he whispered, "I'll do anything to have her back, anything."
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