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?)) "Been... expecting me?" Nirorndes demands, peeking warily at her surroundings. Still, despite the hag's appearance, she has deep eyes that seem to draw Nirorndes in. She takes a seat. Though each intake of breath nearly makes her gag, she decides to indulge the hag. "Well, I'm not sure how you knew I was coming, but I suppose I have a minute to spare."
