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, uh... You say you've been expecting me?" You inch forward, slightly closer into the tent, but not close enough for the crone to reach you. "I am just an ordinary wood elf. Nothing special." You eye the crone warily. "But you... How do you know me?"

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