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?))
In a frank slightly annoyed tone "Expecting me? What are ye a witch? My pa always told me to steer clear 'a magic, brings nothing but trouble" then leans down and sits on the cushion "but he's dead now so what do I care. Grew up in the mountains and woods, my father built a cabin by hand where he raised me, my ma died in childbirth, so I never new her, last winter was particularly harsh, tree came down on the cabin and took my pa with it. I'm looking to settle down in a place with a little nicer weather where I can build a new home, and I came to this town because it beats sleeping out in the wilderness again." leans in "I answered yer question now answer mine, who are you and why were you expectin' me"
