03-02-2024, 06:20 AM
(This post was last modified: 03-02-2024, 06:21 AM by bonafidenubbin.)
Flowers bloom in the darkness of the mind - closed blossoms left behind on the skin of those who have run afoul of the swirling storm. Closed blossoms that slowly unfurl, fed on guilt and watered on shame. What will happen to their bearers when their black hearts open fully to the sky?
Stronger than ever, a monstrous thing. It appears without warning.
Several battles have already been fought, large and small. By the old shrine near what was once Sheol; in a nameless field north of old Aphros. Trees snapped like matchsticks, smoldering in the aftermath of the storm; sand fused to pitted and lumpy fulgurite underfoot.
Yet win or loss, the creature rolled on.
One call has already been made to hunt it. Will heroes join?
For now, it roams in pursuit of its own unknown and perhaps unknowable goals.
Stronger than ever, a monstrous thing. It appears without warning.
Several battles have already been fought, large and small. By the old shrine near what was once Sheol; in a nameless field north of old Aphros. Trees snapped like matchsticks, smoldering in the aftermath of the storm; sand fused to pitted and lumpy fulgurite underfoot.
Yet win or loss, the creature rolled on.
One call has already been made to hunt it. Will heroes join?
For now, it roams in pursuit of its own unknown and perhaps unknowable goals.