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RP - Your party grows weary. Your journey has been long; t..
🕑 Added 2021-07-02 01:46:22 +0000 UTC RP - Your party grows weary. Your journey has been long; the mountains grow closer, but upon your back you feel an impending chill. The darkness of night is approaching much sooner than you had realised, for you have been travelling for days now and time feels clouded. It feels like you should have arrived days ago. The cleric suggests a short rest, to recharge and gain constitution. Maybe an invigorating song from the bard and some honey mead to warm your aching body. You agree with slight hesitance. It’s the obvious choice, but somehow it feels as though a twisted degree of fate would have brought you here anyway. Something feels amiss. You set up camp. The fire, now roaring albeit temporarily as the wind brought a particular iciness this eve, made you feel comfort for a few short fleeting moments. As the party settles into fur adorned bedrolls, comfort maintained by the small amount of lingering warmth from the campfire, the euphoria of the short festivity fades into the dark indigo sky. Your mind wanders. All of a sudden you feel compelled, dazed. You felt a slight compulsion to question whether your thoughts were really yours. It mattered not, you soon found yourself in a situation that would begin to explain your discomfort. Before you, stood a yöung lady. A wood elf, you thought. She wore a dark robe that cascaded down her body, revealing fiery red hair that seemed to glow with a living ember, as if it were ignited by a pseudodragon. She held tightly a Warlock’s staff, perhaps the most obvious clue however you remained befuddled, unable to escape your eyes from what lay beneath her robe.
