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?))
"w-who are you?" you stutter, not knowing who this person is.
"that's not necessary right now", the hag says.
"tell me your story."
"well, my name is Najaho, king of the rivers. My mother and father were the former king and queen. My mother passed the ring of hope to me when I had my coming of age at 18. That ring holds the power of all water. If it falls into the wrong hands, unmentionable things can happen to the fate of water itself. When I became 20, my mother and father died from Zhowakko's army in the war between water and fire. I was the only survivor of my family. I swore that I would avenge my mother and father, and here I am, on my journey to The Kingdom of Fire."
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