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?)) "Long ago, my father told me I'd find you here," I say, sneering as I said, "He told me that you live with little worldly possessions, but I didn't realize that you lived in filth." The old hag laughed before replying "You certainly have his tongue. Now, please, tell me your story so I can decide whether to aid you."
"Fine... I was born in the squalor of the capitol, where every day my father would tell me how it was OUR destiny to be the rulers of Middle Earth, how long ago we were betrayed. He told me it was his duty to train me, and mine was to avenge our family. So, I've spent the last 22 years attempting just that. I was thrown in prison, from which I escaped, only to be kidnapped and sold into slavery. I spent 5 years in the castle of Dol Amroth as a slave to the very people I wanted to see bleed. Do you know how agonizing it is to be so close to your destiny and yet, be unable to attain it? It enraged me, and so, I took control. I slit the throats of three guards and one of the princes with a piece of glass before my making my escape, and now, I come to you. I need a way to burn the rest of them. So, now I ask you, will you help me?
