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'm sorry... I don't seem to understand how you know me." I say as the air is still and I feel stiff with confusion and fright. "I am just trying to figure out where I am and how I came to be here I would like to go home to the safety of my burrow."
When she hears this, she exclaims "Oh! Yes! Of course! I can tell you what you want to know but for a small price of course.
After this I leave the tent with saying, "um... no thank you I think I will be just fine." I wander for days until I find a place that I can call home.
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