Clothing: Brown and yellow jacket. Light pants. Black shoes.
Accessories: Belt bag.
Your character has just arrived in a swampy, gloomy town. Looking around, he sees shacks and cottages. It smells of rotting wood and wet moss. He ducks and enters a tattered tent, lit by a string of candles hanging in midair. At the back of the tent, an old witch raises her head. “What brings you to this gloomy town?” she begins, then pauses to study your face. “Ah, it’s you. I’ve been waiting for you. Sit down,” she gestures to a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
((How do you answer?))
“I didn’t immediately understand why I was coming here. The road was… foggy. Literally and figuratively. But the closer I got to this place, the louder the silence in my head sounded. A silence that was waiting for your question.”
His hands clasped in front of him, like someone accustomed to holding himself back.
“My name is Vaeril. I used to be one of those who observe and record, but I turned away from books when things began to appear in them that weren’t there. Names, events, dreams… that never happened, but left their imprints. Those traces led me here.”
He looked her straight in the eyes, as if trying to read the answer in the wrinkles of her face.
“You say you were waiting for me. Then perhaps you know what I should find in this city where even the air seems hostile?”
Recommended Comments