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?))
Nora doesn't hesitate to do as the old hag says. She sits herself cross-legged on a nearby cushion, sinking her weight down on it with a weary sigh. "Took quite a'while ta get 'ere," she says, "'ave heard yer name 'round, but couldn'a find yer..." Nora chooses her words carefully, "...establishment. Not 'til today, tha' is."
