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?))
Madeline lets out a slight squeak of surprise at the comment of being expected. "Oh, uh, sure." She looks down at the cushion with hesitation before sitting down on it. "My story, well, there isn't much to tell so I don't know where to even begin. I am Madeline Hayes, but I am sure you already knew that if you said you were expecting me. Sorry, I am rambling, my story..." Her voice trails off as thought lines grow on her forehead. "My story...my story..." She sits in awkward silence for a few moments before clearing her throat and straightening her shoulders to appear confident. "Well, I was born in the city but I struggled to find where I fit into the world. So one day I kissed my parents goodbye and well, here I am, trying to find my place in the vast world. Do you know how many jobs there are in a city? It is overwhelming to try and decide who you want to be in a place where you feel like you aren't even seen. Although, if I am being honest I do miss the busy bustle of the city. I mean I love to bake and working in a tavern sounds nice and all but can you decide your passion when you haven't even lived yet?" A look of realization crosses her face as her mouth slams shut. "Sorry, my Pa always said I had a habit of rambling when I am nervous. I don't mean to hog the floor, how do you know me exactly?" She flashed the woman a mousey smile and slouched her posture a bit in embarrassment.
