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?)) Example:
"Mmph." Humbert grumbled as he shifted to delicately sit on the pillow. He drew his dagger and began to pick at the turkey between his teeth; a fresh kill his sister had gotten this morning. "Well, ah suppose it'd be best to start at theh beginning... me sister and I, hers a plump form more fit to her name, Piggy, well.. she done went and ruined it all!" With a groan he flicked the old turkey across the room, looking at the hag. "Our mums and paps kicked us out to de road, the ol' Piggy ate all the winter reserves! An' so... well, y'see, since then t'is been survival." Jamming his knife back into it's odd holster that was too big for it, he sighed once more. "Gettin what foods we can from the streets, makin' it by day by day. Some folks in Urguan helped us for some many years, but er, I suppose this bit was my fault, their gold was just lyin' there, and...!" Humbert frowned, recalling how the guards had chased them away and they had narrowly escaped with their lives. "Since then, I suppose the past dozen years or so, we've been in the woods most-like. Hunt's not so bad, Piggy shoots an' I do the skinnin' and cookin'."
