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?)) Violence sits down, brushing one leg over the other then adjusting her skirts. "My name is Violence, as you already seem to know. I am the daughter of Arani and Circe, and youngest sister of four. I grew up in the South where my mother and father raised me and my siblings in a middle class home. We were well off, of the wealthiest in our town, but I had always yearned for more. To be more. Now, who, pray tell, are you?"
