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?)) Example: "You... You have been expecting me?" He would look bepuzzled and disturbed. After he collected his thoughts and realized the sort of situation he was in he would be franticely looking around in the small tent looking for a exit. "I... I might have stumbled on to the wrong tent, my apologies Madam. " As he would try to leave to leave the tent, the crone would speak up. "Oh, leaving so soon? You had but just arrived. I am sure your travel here must have been laberous for sure, atleast take a moment of rest here" "Oh, I just, uh…" you stutter, tensing up. You eye the crone, then back outside the tent. For a moment, the air thickens with anticipation, until… the candles slowly lost their hue, and had slowly begun to dim. A dark aura would fill the tent. Marlon would feel as if the tent grew into a large deep abyss, filled with nothing but darkness. Filled with fear and befuddlement, Marlon would sit down on the cushion to appease the old crone. "I... I came from my home town, I am passing through this area to reach the "Insert blacksmith's workshop name" To purchase supplies for my village. " The crone would look blankly into the eyes of Marlon, as if the crone was looking straight into his soul, after a deadly and painfull silence befell the tent the crone finally uttered a few words. " Interesting, You're mouth is lying but your eyes are telling me the truth. You are not looking to gain tool's you left the village.... Outcast, looking for new pastures in life. "As marlon broke eye contact with the crone, a small tear would trickle down his cheek. He would open his mouth, but he could utter no words, only sit in his own sorrow. " I foresaw your arrival, I foresaw many other things... " As Marlon looked back into the Crone's eyes, words finally being able to leave his mouth. " You foresaw my arrival? What else have you seen? " As the crone broke eye contact, and looked Marlon up and down, she would state. " I see... A house, a house. In a blanket of fresh show, there is.... there is a hearth, it's a cozy sight. I see... Many other's in the house... " As Marlon grew more anticipated to the next words of the crone, but the crone has siezed speaking. No more words would exit her mouth, as another excruciating silence befuddled the tent Marlon grew impatient, and asked the crone a question " Tell me witch, tell me what you saw! " Marlon realized that his sudden outburst was a foolish one, and quickly stepped backwards almost falling backwards on to his back, he looked the crone in the eyes. Who would only begin to cackle and curse. " Oh, foolish one.. you do not make demands here.... " The crones eyes would glinster with a dark and terryfeing hue. " As marlong tried fleeing the tent, he would find himself running towards the exit. As he realized the distance of the exit, he quickly fell backwards once more. When he had spotted the tent, It's appearence seemed quite small and snug. But nonetheless, he found himself stuck in a never ending hall way of tattered cloth. " What... what is this, where am I. Have you done.... " The crone would get up, and slowly straddle over towards Marlon. And whisper in to his ear " I have forseen great acts, acts of heroism and stoicism. But acts of treason and betrayels are amongst them. I bid thee to be carefull, you know not the forces of this world. " As the crone leant backwards, the illusion would dispell. And the tent would appear normal once more. Seeing this, Marlon would let out a sigh of releave. After releasing his sigh, the words of the crone struck a cord within Marlon's heart. " You said act's of treason? " The crone would lightly cackle and heave up a last sentence " Beware, the men in black. They aren't your kin " As she wen't back to her cushion, she sat down. Raising up her hand, shooing Marlon out of the tent, he would quickly gather himself and rush outwards.
