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?))
"I- well- You see, I washed up on the shores of this place. I've been exploring the town for no longer an hour. It started to get cold so I stepped in here assuming it was emptied." I say, still wet from the ocean and my clothes dripping with water. "I remember that I was an explorer and an exporter who would trade goods from lands to lands. One day I fell off the ship while carrying heavy cargo. It just draws a blank after that. ." I say with a blank expression. Drip, the sound of the water hitting the ground in the dead silence as the old woman Thinks about what I've said. I stare, fidgeting with my fingers, waiting until she gives a response. "M-m-my name is Gillet Flayme! W-what is yours?" I gulp, just the look of her is giving me an evil aura. . Can I trust her?
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