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?)) I remove my travel pack and sit down before her. I think long and hard before replying, "My father saw greatness in me. He raised me to be strong and cautious. He taught me how to tend the fields, defend our flocks and judge others not by their looks, but by their character. But he never told me what I was meant for. Once he passed, I decided to search for that purpose. I've seen the peaks of mountains and the vast expanse of the plains. I've witnessed births and deaths, battles and celebrations. Yet I am no closer to understanding his goal for. All I have learned is that this realm is still threatened by strife and discord. If by my life or death, I can make tomorrow brighter, then I will."