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.”
I sit down and begin to speak, "I'm from a little village not far from here and was looking for certain weeds and herbs for a brew I'm working on. I was told that I could find some here." I reach in a small bag searching for some coins between bundles of herbs and small flasks and phials filled with strange liquids, "I strive to become a druid one day and I'm trying to find someone to teach me." Looking up I try to read the woman's face but the dim light hides it in dark shadows. "Here, I was hoping that you could help me out."
