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?)) *The lad of fair youth seemed to quail before the hag for a moment, as though he were encountering an enchantress at best, or a witch at worst. Perhaps her words were curses, and any reply he made might seal his fate forever. His unease was plain for her to see, but fortunately, Desiderius was too polite to run away.* "Well, lady - my lady, not mine, but... - you see. I'ma not here by my own choosing, you see, since I'm but a squire. And squires... well, I'm guess I'm don't need't explain allat to you? You seem like you've seen a few years yourself... in the... kindest fashion, ye? Any rate, your name? My parents called me Desi - Desiderius - I'm mean, I'm call myself that too," *He laughs nervously, scratching at his thick neck.* "Say - now we're onto names - guessin' you don't know the name o' this town? I'm mean, I'm sure you do - that's what I'm meant. I'm really need to get goin', goin' back to m' lord'n master... but, I'm s'pose you'd be fair company for the by and by..."
