A Vision of Choices

As you set forth into the swamp, your travel is almost immediately stalled by the surprisingly deep mud. Try as you might, your boots find no purchase on any dry land, and you begin to sink further into the mire. Frantically reaching for anything to pull yourself up with, your hands grasp a long, blackened vine. As you pull, however, the vine writhes and pulsates, slipping from your grip over and over. The last image you see before awakening is a hooded figure standing in the distance, it's arms extending into deep roots that blanket the swamp floor.