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?))
"Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until you sit down on the cushion and start explaining your backstory to the crone. "I grew up on a farm with my mother and father. I was an only child and didn't have any siblings. So, I would help my father on our farm and then help my mother with cooking." You say as you explained more after taking a breath. "Until, my mother became ill and unfortunately passed away a month later. My father was devastated at the loss of my mother. So, I took over the cooking for my father and for myself since it was only us." You would say as you finished explaining your backstory to the crone. You then continue telling the rest of your story. "When I turned 16, my father sent me out to live on my own which I didn't know was the last time I would see him again. He passed due to old age and I found out a couple weeks later." You would explain as you felt tears coming to your eyes. "I'm now 18 and I'm doing well on my own though I might find someone to share it with." You confessed with a nervous laugh.
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