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?))
A small smile would form on his face as he faced the hag. As he went to sit he made sure to remark, "Ah, a story for another day child. You called me here for something, what is it." His eyes would seem glossy, like a corpse. "Don't tell me my journey here was for nothing? Surely something is in need of repair here." He spoke like how a parent would speak to a child, though the age gap between the two was very apparent. "...?" With the slightest hint of frustration at the lack of response he would quickly rise from the pillow. "I see. My time is needed elsewhere, please contact me again if you are in need of assistance." With that final remark, he would step out of the tent and walk away.
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