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?))
"I was sent on a mission by an employer a few towns north," Brayden would cautiously take a seat readying himself to strike at the least provocation, "I was told there would be a contact who could lead me to the infected graveyard. Was also told you'd know that I don't share my history with strangers,"

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