Bloated Belinda

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?)) "Well, my dear, I think I will take a seat." Illuminated by the hearth, a haggard, tired, and wrinkled face was revealed; cloaked in a worn linen cap and roughly-woven wools. Widow Bogg strangely felt compelled to trust this woman and metaphorically spill her guts out. "I am pleased to see that my letter has reached you in advance, portending my arrival." Said she, partly in jest. "Ah, where to begin? I was born in a desolate town along a forgotten coast in the north, to a goblin mother and a human father. This dubious parentage forced me into becoming the local pariah, the effects of which were only worsened when both mother and father were consumed by the demon drink. When I was about twelve, Mother sent me away from our dying hamlet when it was struck by pestilence. From thence I found work at a parochial graveyard, wherein I was educated in the harvesting of corpse materials and some crude... 'recipes'. I excelled in these practices, especially with regards to my resourcefulness. Waste not, want not, as they say." Widow Bogg took a brief pause to collect her thoughts, coughing out the ancient dust trapped within her bosom before continuing. "At this church I found and eventually married my husband, Mr. Bogg, another talented organ harvester. Eventually, Mr. Bogg and I were given positions at a swamp fort, he was a taxidermist to the knight and I was the crypt keeper. We lived comfortably until I was forced to flee when the true nature of my lineage was discovered. My husband was hanged when my secret was exposed, the commotion caused by his arrest gave me ample time to escape. I later happened upon a leper colony, from thence I was given your address and sent word of my coming." At this point, her fellow wretch had completed boiling a stew of a mysterious composition and allotted Widow Bogg a generous portion. The two continued to converse for the rest of the evening and a great deal of mutual advice was provided regarding recipes and sundry. As the evening drew to a close, Widow Bogg was asked by the crone as to what her plan of action would be, "I intend to improve my situation, moving to a degree of high respectability and comfort. I finally aim to become a master of my craft in the arts of corpse harvesting." Widow Bogg would start her journey the coming day and would soon begin to prepare, she would ride at dawn.