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?))
"What do you mean, you've been expecting me?" I follow her instructions, and take a seat. "Nevermind, actually. My story?" For some strange reason, I trust the woman. it might not be the best idea, but I begin to speak anyway. "I've been.. wandering, I suppose is the right word. Trying to find a settlement, really. This was... Not what I was expecting." I laugh awkwardly, and then realize that the woman has began to frown. "Not that this place isn't lovely!" I backtrack, doing my best to subtly open the sheathe attached to my belt, should this take a turn for the worse. "Really, it's quite... charming!" The woman's expression softens, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.
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