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?)) "What story I have no story why I am here instead of the glorious mines. something is off are you a dark one is I sleeping this is no cave. What have you done with my tools. I can not find my ax. that ax has been in my family sins the dawn of time." faints from undisclosed illness.
