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?))
I cautiously take a seat on the cushion, intrigued and slightly unnerved by the old hag's words. "Thank you for the invitation," I reply, my voice hushed and filled with curiosity. "My name Maya, and I am but a traveler, a wanderer in search of answers and experiences. I arrived in this town seeking refuge from the outside world, drawn by the mysteries that surround these swamps and the stories that whisper through the trees."
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