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?))
"Ehm, good morning wise lady. It is an honor to be in your presence" she said with slight nervousness but respectfully bowing to her. "My name is Amalia Moran and I pass through here on my travels" she waited for a while to see if she introduced herself and after a while continued on. "I'm on the road trying to find a place to set up new home" she said and than stopped and sighed. "I lived on a farm with my parents and we lived a normal country life. We didn't live badly, you know. The war was avoiding us and we already thought that nothing bad could happen to us" it was obvious that she was having trouble telling the story. "One day my father sent me to the forest for firewood. Of course I went, but after I finish this task, I headed back and noticed this smoke..." she stopped and continued after a while. "Our farm was on fire!!!" she shouted suddenly. "When I saw it, I hurried home, but it was already too late. The house and barn were on fire and next to the well...next to the well..." she stopped again, and she could see that the recollection was causing her distress. "There was a mother with her throat cut and a father covered in blood and injuries next to her. It was too late he was dying! All he managed to say was: promise me you'll settle down. You will get married and have children." she was already starting to cry when she stopped. "And so I promised him! And now here I am, on my way to fulfill the promise I made to my father"
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