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?))
As I sat down, I took a deep glare into her eyes. Something told me that this wasn't the old wise wizard I was told to seek. But I couldn't trust my instincts anymore, after all that it has caused me, and thus I began to speak. "I'm from the far town of Kosovic, and I need your help," as I was speaking, I took a quick scan of my surroundings, "Sakra, the king of demons, has emerged from Hel together with his army. They are terrorizing our people. The elders have informed me that there is a wise wizard in a faraway swamp that I have to seek guidance from. That is why I am here." As I finished, I felt my surroundings getting dimmer and closer to me, as if it was moving inwards. As I looked back at the old lady, I saw a hint of red. I slowly reached for the dagger in my pocket as she smiled and said, "The swamp isn't that far away, is it?"
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