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?))
The sudden voice of the hag startled Mariyam - was it her lack of caution that led to the surprise, or was the crone making a conscious effort to hide herself in the dark corners of the tent? Visibly suspicious, she remained stationed at the entrance of the tent, digging her left thumb underneath her belt.
The hag becomes the target of her eyes' focus - Mariyam's expression contorts into a disgusted frown. "As if, crone." She spoke with venom, in defiance of the old hag's request. As she opens her mouth to speak again, a hint of sarcasm becomes visible on her face: "Forgive my lack of mannerisms, I usually act like I was raised better - though I'm sure you'll understand my distrust, what with the mysterious gloom surrounding this town and your witch-like appearance..."
