Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))

"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until… A slow breath escapes my chest, "Y-You know me?" I carefully lower myself onto the cushion, it starts to flatten beneath my weight. The old hag leans forward, and I meet her gaze, though that decision did need seem mine to make. "Speak, traveler" she murmurs. I swallow, "I don't know what you think you see, but I swear I'm no one of consequence." The hag's gaze doesn't waver. She tilts her head back. "Do not hide behind lies, for the shadows know who you really are..." The candles start to flicker, I look around, strange shadows appear on the walls of the tent. "Please," I breathe. "I didn't come here for trouble. I came her for answers." The hag's lips curl into a twisted grin. "Then answers you shall have, but they will not comfort you." Before I can speak another word, the tent darkens, every flame snaps out at once. And in the sudden darkness, her voice whispers. "Your story begins now..."