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.”
I hesitate at the entrance, the damp smell clinging to my clothes. The old woman’s voice sends a chill down my spine. Slowly, I step closer, my boots squelching against the muddy floor. “You’ve… been expecting me?” I ask, my tone uncertain as I lower myself onto the cushion. My fingers fidget in my lap, and I glance at the flickering candles before meeting her gaze again. “Then I suppose you already know why I’m here.”
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