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?)) "Weh? Meh? It just smelld like tasty mosses in here." The little goblin crouches like a deformed gargoyle, "Me Worlak. Me likes the mosses but me no have story. Only fish! Me no have friend either. They lost. Have you seen them? They like fishes but not moss...Me out here to look for them! But me look for long time and still no find. But I still looks."
