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?))
Ophelia thinks for a moment, before deciding what to say. "I was raised in a small village by my mother. She's the only parent I've ever know. She always said to treat others with kindness, even if they didn't return it." She fondly remembers how her mother used to talk about her desire to travel, "I want to traverse the realms and learn as much as I can for her. I want to go to all the places she never could."
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