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?))
"Thank you for offering a seat old woman, but I must decline. You don't know what kind of nasty pathogen or sickening substance could be on that rather abhorrent looking stool. Ah, but you asked a question. My name is Elizabeth Hoslow Evans Parator, and I am a very respected businessperson. I sell various items to people and in exchange they give me something of value to them." As Ms. Parator continues her story, she scans the tent, searching for anything of value. There is not a single thing of value in this entire estate, she thinks in disgust. At this realization, she suddenly starts to walk out and calls behind herself, "I'm terribly sorry, but I must be going. The customers are waiting for me," And with that, she ventures off deeper into town in search of a "customer"
Weight: 120 Ibs
Hair Color: blonde
Eye Color: Gray
Outfit: Fine clothing; deep red
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