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?)) "Hey lady, howr'ya, honestly I wish I knew more if it myself". The young farfolk is almost indistinguishable, covered in mud and swamp detritus. "I just woke up entangled in the seagrass underneath your dock"-- suddenly dropping their head into their hands they let out a pained groan. upon lifting it and shaking off the effects of a pain they look far away as if attempting to recall further. "I can only remember the dark surroundings of water, pierced by bright lighting. the taste of iron and the slow ascent of a great many rows of teeth". "As for my identity. Only one name emerges from this memory, Cher-something?" They catch a glimpse of the red kerchief tied round their neck "Let's go with Cherry for now."
