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?))
"This place sure is hidden" I say in a tired exhausted tone as me and the old hag sit down on two tree stumps which fulfills the role of a stool. "Alright so where were we?" I ask, my eyes still taking in every detail of the mud covered damp environment of the swamp around us "You were about to tell me your story" The old man replies. "Ahh, yes, I was back at my village and my wife and my first born son fell sick to an unknown illness so I came to your home in search of help, will you help me?"
