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?))
I take a deep breath, attempting to calm the whirlwind of emotions within me. "I've been wandering for quite some time now, in search of a place to call home. My home used to be a peaceful thought in my mind years back. Friends who I considered family gathering food for supper, spending time with cousins in the wild and learning about the wildlife, sleeping in a home with a loving family every night, staring up to the stars before drifting to sleep. Alas, my journey has been long and fraught with hardships, but it seems I have finally found what I seek," I say as I sit down on the cushion she gestured at, my eyes darting around the tent, intrigued by the suspended candles but choosing not to ask about them. "My past is filled with tales of both joy and sorrow, but the most defining moment was when my family disowned me because of their corruptness to the crown, setting fire to all I held dear. My friends, my family, everything I once held near and dear to my heart was either taken from me or shown as someone I was not able to continue being their acquaintance. All in the name of coin. Ever since, I've been on the move, looking for a place to rest and perhaps start anew, perhaps find a group of people who I could one day call my friends or family." I continue, looking back up at the hag with a faint sparkle of hope in my eyes.
