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?)) "Why do you wish to know?", Stone says sitting on the cushion suspicious of the old hag, who only stares at him with anticipation. Stone wait for a response before quickly continuing, "Well if you want my story here it is. My name is Stone, I'm from a small human village north of here." Stone pauses for a brief moment making sure the old hag is listening. "I grew up on the farm of my village, helping my father tend to the field by day and by night I helped my mother take care of my little sister. This became a daily routine until I turned 18 which then I decided to travel the world in hopes of settling down someday."
