jbear
First Post
Shrouded by my cloak I walk towards the cave unnoticed, paying little head to the strangely dressed men that rumble past guiding the four wheeled metal construct towards the dead city.You see a cave in a hillside. What do you do?
Cheers!
The prophecy has begun to manifest. 'The sky will rain fire. The lifeless city will lie untouched within a ring of hope. Inside the mouth of a dead hill the one eyed Wanderer's fate will unravel ...'
Flashes of memory burn and fade away at the edge of my mind. I pause at the edge of the cave momentarily, unconsciously touching my empty eye socket and running my finger over the scarred flesh dissapating the itching momentarily as I observe the trampled grass. A lot of people have been to the cave today. But that is to be expected if what the woman from the city said was true. What was her name ...? Barbara ... Babyaga? Gaga Yaga? Lady Gaga...? Curses ... Chasing memories within my head is like catching sprats with your bare hands. But if I can find him ... if I can find him maybe, maybe those memories will resurface and cease to fragment.
I step into the darkness of the cave drawing the stone Barbara gave me and fitting it into the empty socket where my eye once was. A flash of pain stabs into my skull but it soon fades and the darkness of the cave is replaced with crystal clear images.
The ground before me has caved away into a pit although the passage carries on over the other side. 'The forgotten Wanderer will fall into the depths and meet the Guide.' I subdue my excitement. It is true. After believing myself mad for so long, it is finally happening.
I let myself fall into the pit speaking an archaic word of power in a harsh croaking voice. Floating gently to the bottom of the pit I take stock of my surroundings. A mossy tunnel. A mark on the wall of the Sun. The Forgotten Wanderer? And a barren and dry tunnel ... the prophecy darts around the edge of my mind ... 'Turn your face from the Sun' ...
I turn away from the mark of the Sun left on the Wall and head down the dry tunnel, clutching my rune marked staff closely shrouded in shadow, occaisionally scratching at edges of my absent eye.
What happens?
(This is a very cool thread Merric!)