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?)) "I am looking for a friend of mine, Alwyn. He went missing a few days ago, some think he ran off with some woman or is searching for glory but I am worried. I fear he may have been taken. I don't know. Just it seems like he left in such a rush..." He began to spin his tale, a sigh made him pause as he wondered why he even bothered telling it. The more he thought on it, he thought upon the hag's choice in words. She was expecting him? He began to worry this woman was more than a mere old lady. Should he prepare for battle or ride it out? Drawing a weapon may be ill advised, considering she hadn't threatened him yet. "You wouldn't happen to have seen a dirty blonde, wearing a green tunic?"
