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?))
"Well..." he comes closer but doesnt sit down, for he has little time to chat. "My people have found many Metals and created many alloys, but I've traveled a long way in search for something that would be better than anything we have. I seek the Philosopher Stone."
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