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 make a grim face, seeing the town and the smells. I gesture a yes to her and sit down on the cushion, laying my weapon down. "I am simply passing through, looking for power and fortune.. as most are." But under my helmet a thought runs through my head "How were you expecting me." As I place my hand back on my weapon.
