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?)) "My story? Alright." Eliza then got comfortable on the cushion as she spoke. "My name is Eliza, and I come from a family of wood elven tradesmen. My parents owned a shop, selling bows and tools to hunters and soldiers we lived around. My older sister and I both worked at our shop, but she was going to take over in place of our parents when she got older and more comfortable with the trade. While we were working one day, she told me that I should travel and work my new experiences into our craft." Talking about her family made Eliza more emotional than before, but she continued. "I had a deep talk with my parents, and they were very supportive of my sister's idea. To them, it seemed to be the right time for me to leave. It was hard, but I said my goodbyes to my family, and set off to find both adventure and experience. I have been away for days now, and it was starting to take a toll on me. I decided to take a rest here in this town while I planned my next course of action. I have a decision to make: Do I follow the ways my parents taught me, or do I make my own unique style, distinguishing myself from my family using the different materials and experiences I find along my travels?" Eliza took a pause, her exhaustion starting to weigh on her. "With all that said, where is a place I can find shelter nearby for a while?"
