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?)) Example:“Expecting me?“ the young woman resounded, seeming to be rather off-put by the old hag’s words. “My story? It would be nothing of any interest to you.” Leta peers up wearily to the floating candles, wondering if the flames would catch the shabby tent fabric aflame. Reluctantly, the raven-haired woman would move to sit by the crone. "Though, as there seems to be nothing else to do..." she let out a sigh, before embarking on her long tangent regarding her life. "I was raised by my mother and father in a small cottage. Though, my personality is far too big to stay trapped in such a confined place. So, I've set off to discover more. Be more. . ."
