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.”

((How do you respond?))

"That would be a long story, kind lady," she responded, her voice soft and silverly. Her head lowered slightly, her hands clenched into fists as she rested them on her knees, "But if you must know, then I will entertain you for the hour."

With a small sigh, she starts reminiscing about her past, how she got here. After a moment of thought, she begins.

"I used to live in a small village in the hills. My life was incredibly ordinary. I had a husband, a child that I loved dearly," she started, fidgeting with the ring on her left hand. "Everything was perfect...supposedly."

She raises her head towards the old woman, revealing her eyes clearly to her, well, one eye. The left socket having a blood red rose growing out of the flesh, throned vines that dug into her skin rapped around her head and arm, the vines tangling into her long braid that ran down her back.

"I was married off at a young age. My husband was uncaring and cruel. He left for work and didn't come back till late hours of the night, then demanded his meal hot and ready for him when it had been prepared hours ago. He would slap me more simple mistakes and didn't think of me as anything more as his wife," she explained, her eye dull and her body tense. Her husband wasn't a happy memory for her, he was a cynical, cruel, and an unpleasant person to be with.

"My child, my baby girl was the only joy of my day. Yes, she was a baby, she was fussy and always managed to get into something when I wasn't looking, but she was my pride and joy. Just being able to hold her in the quiet peace of my house filled me with hope," she confessed, her eye softening and a small smile appearing on her face with the memories of her child, her hope. But her smile faded, reality sinking back in, "But my husband...he tried to take her away from me."

"He didn't want a girl, he wanted to try again. I...I wouldn't let him, I couldn't let him." She said, her hands clenching into fists as her voice darkened.

"Me and my husband fought, and it escalated. He took the vase of roses from the table and threw it at me and my daughter," she hissed, unable to understand how he could not just endanger her, but their daughter.

"But that is when something...strange happened to say the least. The roses seemed to imbed, grow into the cuts in my skin. The vines spread from my body to my husband, strangling him," she explained, her voice becoming strangely calm, "But the vines didn't stop there. They spread through the rest of the village, trapping and suffocating everyone, only me and my daughter left."

She took a deep breath, clearing her mind of the painful memories, of her home being destroyed by something that was now apart of her, a culmination of her stress and abuse. "I left with my daughter in my arms after I couldn't hear screams any longer. After a few hours of walking I came across another village and a kind family took me in for the night. After hours of thoughts and tears...I asked if the family could take my daughter and raise her as their own," she muttered, her voice choked as if she was trying to hold back tears.

"This...curse, I couldn't let my daughter to be raised around it, being shunned from society and a chance of a normal life. The family was well off and expressed interest of wanting another child with me. I knew my daughter would be in good hands with them," she said, as if she was trying to convince herself she did the right thing that day, "And now I wander, trying to find purpose in this world. Was that a sufficient story for you?"