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 cautiously sit down on the cushion when I breathe in the smell of her rotting teeth. I attempt to hide the disgust in my eyes and begin to speak. " I have come from a village in the mountains north of here on the run from a group of bandits." I paused and gently brushed my fingertips against the scar on my cheek. "I was unable to get away completely unscathed, as I am now completely broke." I look up towards the hag but immediately avert my eyes as I wait for her response.
