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?))
"Oh... Hello, lady." He speaks softly and hesitantly as his social skills are not the greatest, especially around a creepy old hag. "Well I guess I can tell you a bit." He does as she says and takes a seat on the cushion, although he doesn't get too comfortable. "I came from... from..." He pauses from a moment. "You know that is a great question. I kind of just walked in here because it was the first place I've seen in a few days. Come to think of it, are you my mom?" His memories are clearly not all there.
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