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?))
Looking the old hag up and down, determining whether or not she's trustworthy Gail begins to speak up after taking a seat. "I'm a nobody, miss. A wandering herbalist by trade. I've been looking for a place where I belong for about 5 years, but still haven't found it. I don't know my heritage because I don't know my parents' names, never asked, and never heard them say it. only ever heard them called "ma and pa." We were hermits, which is where I learned most of what I know about plants. Though, I've learned quite a bit from the road, too."
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