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?))
Example: ''...me? You've been expecting me? I'm not too sure about how I found this place. I'm not even sure if I'm dead, dreaming, or living. I have vivid memories, but they are scattered and barely make any sense. I remember a life... it feels like forever ago. I remember a great sin, or rather the impression of it. One I can never speak of for fear of making it real. I remember a purgatory, terrible creatures, vile monsters... Fire... and then nothing. The abyss. I remember this swamp as if I had been here all along, as if this whole thing was dreamt on this mossy soil, but how can I be so sure. My suitcase sure is gone though, along with everything I've amassed across my journeys. Unfortunately, I'm not certain that being an alchemist will ever be possible again. And so that is my story. But tell me, hag, because I am exhausted of fighting... Are you here to kill me?
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