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?)) Example:
"My story? Well, what's there to say?" Elara said anxiously. her fingers twiddled in her lap as she cleared her throat and tried to think of a way to answer the given question, eventually parting her lips to speak, "I grew up on a farm with my pa, mostly just workin' with the horses and cattle. Nothin' fancy, just the usual—long days and hard work. We've had a few bumps along the way, but that's just how it goes, ain't it?" She wasn't well spoken of her past or even about herself. She gave a small shrug from her shoulders, moving them up then resting them back down as she looked at the old lady. "Everyone's got it tough, I ain't no different. Especially in this crazy world we're livin' in."
