Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They 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?))
The words send a chill down my spine. How could she know? There’s no way she could have known. I’m nobody special, just a guy who found an old compass and wandered into a strange world.
She gestures to a threadbare cushion in front of her. “Sit. Tell me your story.”
I hesitate for a second. Something about the way she said "I’ve been expecting you" makes the air feel thicker. But, with nowhere else to go and a growing sense of urgency pushing me forward, I step toward the cushion and lower myself onto it.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. This place, this swampy town, feels like a dream—or a nightmare.
“I... I don’t even know where to begin,” I start, my voice quieter than I intended. “I found this compass, and next thing I know, I’m here.
