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 am shocked by the woman's sudden appearance and my hand quickly grabs my dagger out of its slot, but I calm down. I slide my dagger back into its slot and sit down on the cushion. I say, "Yes I know its me, but tell me first, who are you? After you tell me this, maybe we can continue our little discussion."
