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?))
The woman did as she was told, and sat on the cushion across. "My story?" She'd repeat after, tilting her head to the side. 'Well- I grew up on a farm near the lands of Haense. My family were . . what you call imperials." Her hands started to talk with her while she rambled. "My father - obviously - was a farmer, he was killed by the orcs you see, but im not getting into that, as for my mother she stayed in the house. After chores, we'd read books all the while." Her cheerful demeanor shifted a bit. "Though, it never was enough. So, I packed my things, and told my mother goodbye." Sherry stated with a lift of her head, the happy mood returning to her once more. After the hag spoke back, Sherry scoped the dingy tent ". . Well then. I must go before the sun sets - Thank you for the talk." She'd raise herself up again, and exited the hag's tent - waving goodbye to her all the while
