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?))
Pipin roamed his eyes across the tent taking in everything, then turning to the crone he begin his tale with anticipation "It all began on the first full moon of the year." Slowly he began to unravel his story of the last 18 years of his life, that of which he can remember at least. He cannot seem to remember much about his early life and thus can only give small snippets regarding that time. "During my childhood I grew up surrounded by the forests and nature. The trees were my playground and the animals friends. I learned many things such as hunting and archery, yet as I grew older I began to fear the bugs in the forest also as if they were out to kill me. Since then I have killed or run away from all bugs I come across sometimes even screaming in terror. This had made my parents quite stressed I believe as they began to argue over things more frequently." As he reaches the end of the story up to this point, he begins to feel tired as it's been a while since he last slept. He asks the crone if perhaps they have a place you can lay down for a while, explaining your exhaustion. He waits for her response with baited breath.
