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 blink, surprised she knows who you are. "Uh, how do you know me?" I ask, stepping towards the cushion. "I’m not from around here. I’ve been wandering for a while, trying to find my way." I sit down, glancing around the tent. "I guess I’m looking for some answers, maybe a little help. But seriously, how did you know I’d be here?"
