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?)) "how umm do you know me?" I respond with a tinge of nervous stuttering. the Hag gives a odd smile that gets rid of all questions in my mind like a weird magic just rolled over my body. "I don't normally tell people tell people this but I don't know around when I was 15, what I think was my village was attacked. i woke up late at night my head trobbing I couldn't remember anything. my vison was blurry but I looked around and i saw houses and building burning i slowly got up and started walking in a random direction. i would stop to drink eat and sleep other than that i never stoped and just kept walking when i came to a another village where i would stay at for years hunting and selling anything i could kill to the butcher to make what ever money i could when one day i made enough for a house i set out to find my porpuse and thats when i found this place.
