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?)) "Oh, I just, uh..." you stutter, tensing up. You look at the old woman and then outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until the old woman says:
—You are that elf who came from the forest, who lost his parents when his family was hunted and who until then worked as a blacksmith in the big city to support himself.
