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.”
"I was being chased by a pack of Orcs for about a mile east, until I gazed upon the glowing lights of this small town." You then study the damp mossy tent as my cold hands quiver from the freezing wind. The ground felt soggy and cold on your bare feet. Unsure of how the old hag will react to what you said, you take a step back unsure of who you should trust. "I must be getting back to my elvish family in the wood colony. I hope you have a fine rest of your day!" You then start to walk out the door until you see her stand up from her desk and slowly walk towards you. She yanked on your shoulder to whisper something in your ear, but you turn your head to see spiders crawling out of her mouth onto your body.
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