As you approach the hut, the thick mist swirling around the murky swamp adds an eerie atmosphere to your journey. The ground beneath your feet squelches with each step, pulling at your boots as if trying to keep you from reaching your destination. Exhausted and desperate for shelter, you spot the small, weather-beaten hut nestled amidst gnarled trees and dense foliage.

With no other refuge in sight, you push open the creaking door, revealing a dimly lit interior illuminated by flickering candles. The air is heavy with the scent of herbs and a faint trace of something bitter and acrid. Suddenly, a figure emerges from the shadows – a woman cloaked in dark robes, her piercing eyes fixed upon you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

In one hand, she holds a vial filled with a swirling, ominous liquid – a potion that glints malevolently in the dim light. Her other hand rests on a gnarled staff, carved with runes and adorned with feathers and bones. Her voice, like the rustling of leaves in an ominous breeze, cuts through the silence.

“What in Shadowflame, who dares venture into my humble abode?! State your purpose, traveler,” she demands, her tone carrying a hint of warning and authority.

You find yourself momentarily taken aback by the intensity of her gaze and the aura of power that surrounds her. Gathering your courage, you explain your plight – the weariness of your journey, the thirst that gnaws at your throat, and the hope that her hut might offer respite from the unforgiving wilderness outside.