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?))
As I step into the tattered tent, the smell of rotted wood and wet moss fills my senses, mingling with the flickering light of suspended candles. At the sight of the old hag, I offer a polite nod. "I seek guidance and perhaps a bit of fortune in this murky town," I respond, settling onto the offered cushion. "My tale is one of adventure and purpose, woven with the threads of fate. But what of you, wise one? What secrets do you hold within these dim shadows?"
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