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've come to see my destiny." I say eyes locked on the witch. "I've travelled far, away from my home, my family." I say. "I search for my purpose." I lean back and take a deep breath. "my father tells me to live chivalrously, and my mother tells me to take what I want." I lean forward confused. "I'm lost and I need guidance." I say.
