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.” I look down and notice the dingy cushion she gestured to, "Oh I won't be sitting down." A waft of arrogance fills the air. I take a quick glance at the nearby floating candles, a slight grimace settles on my face. "I heard there was someone who could teach me magic here. Judging by the floating candles, I'm assuming that's you." I reply with disappointment. Whenever my family sent me to this land to learn the ways of magic, I suppose I was expecting someone… different. "My time is precious,” I tell the old hag, “so if you aren’t the one destined to teach me, I’ll save my story for another day." I smile curtly and await her reply.
