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?))
(will work out the accent and linguistics later, and excuse the poor writing. it's been a while)
"Well, where to begin? These last few days have been such a blur..." she said, the words struggling to escape her lips. "I left the village of Hefrumm around 3 days ago, as I've always wanted to travel the world like my father before me." Helena felt relief, seeing a friendly face for the first time in what felt like forever. "Excuse me, but do you have anything to drink? Feels like it's been ages." She quickly would regret saying that. "Forgive me, where have my manners gone?" She continued with her story, "The journey to this tent has been quite unpleasant." She'd pick up her boot and spill out a bit of mud
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