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.” "Good day miss..", I nervously said. I approached the cushion and sits down. "I came here to find assistance. I was told that my father may have passed through here", I say as my eyes look around the tent. I notice all sorts of bottles filled with liquids and arcane books up on the shelf. I looked back at her and notice that the old lady is still listening, her eyes looking straight at me. "I know this might be out of line...", I slowly clench my sword on my side. "but are you a witch?".
