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?)) Example:
"I mean, I don't really have much of a story to tell. I haven't done much or lived enough to warrant a story," Weiss sits down. He stares at the floor for a second. "I guess that's what I'm doing here. To live as much life as I can, or as much as I want, at least." As Weiss stares at the floor some more, he thinks about all the time he has wasted already–the eighteen years he could've spent living. He throws his head back and places his hands on his forehead, suffering inside. The only way to stop feeling this way is to do something. Something other than sit here and listen to the sound of constant berating inside his head. His head snaps forward. "Do you know where the closest town is? I need to leave now."
