Postby Pallas » Thu Jul 15, 2021 9:26 pm
The wraiths and acolytes had once been human. But in the twisted place that is N’Rolav nothing is any longer as it once was.
There had been too many of them. Too often I had been sent crashing to the monument. The last time I must have knocked my head, for the next thing I recall night had fallen. A chill wind was blowing damp mist into curls that whirled and danced about me.
A figure approached, made indistinguishable by the surrounding fog. I sighed and reached for my blades. I was out of potions, out of energy and quite possibly out of luck.
The figure came closer and from the equipment I then realised it was a fellow adventurer. The breeze blowing around us distorted a voice already muffled for some reason. I peered through tendrils of mist, urging my eyes to pierce the murk, to identify the one who now hailed me.
‘Had a touch of bad luck by the look of it, Pallas! Need a hand to get back to your hall?’
I felt relief at the sound of a friendly – though unidentifiable – voice. ‘Thank you. But no, I’ll be fine.’
The figure nodded and I realised why I could not recognise the one who stood nearby. The mist cleared between us for a moment and I saw that a pair of long ears, dampened by the moisture in the air, had fallen over the face and also muffled the voice.
I thanked the adventurer and went on my way. That unknown figure, though seemingly eerie at first sight, offering assistance as a true comrade does, had been a bunny - shrouded in mist.
The joke is on the bloke who never spoke a word at all
But whose dreams lay unrevealed 'til they were rotten ...
Lindisfarne 'The Things I Should Have Said'