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 stare at her with confusion in my face and ask her how she knows me. After a minute, I sit down and tell her about how I am a hunter for a nearby village, try to get by. I have a few friends who have told me of a magical place where I could make a fortune in exchange for my skills in stealth and with a bow.

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