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?))
My response: I sit on the cushion, intrigued by the old hag's presence. "I've come to this town seeking answers about my past and purpose. As an elf, I yearn to explore beyond my homeland. A prophecy speaks of a chosen one who will unite mortals and fey. I possess skills in blacksmithing, magic, and I am a master of the craft, hoping to fulfill that role. Now I seek your guidance to unravel my destiny. What do you see?"
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