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?))
"Me?" Pád steps back in a defensive manner, unaware of my current situation. "My story isn't too exciting. I'm just a builder, like my father before me." Pád eases up, sitting down next to the crone. After a long pause, "But I want my story to change. Although I feel as though I'm trapped in my profession, I have dreams." The Crone stares into Pád's eyes, yearning for his aspirations."I'd like to be a fine knight. I want to serve my kingdom and protect it." Pád stares off into the distance, lost for words. He then claims "My story may be lackluster so far, but it is far from over."
