trimeulose
First Post
The smells of night float freely through the air. The nearest township on the map, if it can indeed be called that is at best two days away, and at worst 5. Your companions talk as if the coast couldn't be more than 6 days aways so at least your luck is looking up. Jacob has been running ahead more than his usual pace (as far as anyone can tell), and Alexander hasn't been reaching the campsite until very late.
Tonight the moon is of one color, its midnight shade exists as if the moon did not. The stars are the only source of light, that and your moderate campfire. The fighters are yet again caught up in the flames as Peter sings a melody....
As Peter shifts into a new song, so do your moods, you enter a half dream state, almost a sentient dream. You have heard tells of people who could do this at will, but they are tales.
The fire seems to flow with the music and yourself until you cannot tell where one ends and another begins.
A voice is heard:
"We all have our secrets, you tell me yours and I'll tell you another. Perhaps you would like to be more important than just some fool pigeon delivering some quiant little barral."
The voice has caused you to come into an awareness. There is only one thing with you now. The fire stands in its original form, but now it is as large as a bonfire. It sheads no light. You can make out your friends, but none of the hirelings that came with you. As you open your mouth to breath or speak, either or both, you realize that sound does not exsist here. At the same time you KNOW that whatever secret you choose to divulge, it will be known in its intirety to all here. Choose your secrets wisely for none shall leave until all have revealed at least one.
Tonight the moon is of one color, its midnight shade exists as if the moon did not. The stars are the only source of light, that and your moderate campfire. The fighters are yet again caught up in the flames as Peter sings a melody....
As Peter shifts into a new song, so do your moods, you enter a half dream state, almost a sentient dream. You have heard tells of people who could do this at will, but they are tales.
The fire seems to flow with the music and yourself until you cannot tell where one ends and another begins.
A voice is heard:
"We all have our secrets, you tell me yours and I'll tell you another. Perhaps you would like to be more important than just some fool pigeon delivering some quiant little barral."
The voice has caused you to come into an awareness. There is only one thing with you now. The fire stands in its original form, but now it is as large as a bonfire. It sheads no light. You can make out your friends, but none of the hirelings that came with you. As you open your mouth to breath or speak, either or both, you realize that sound does not exsist here. At the same time you KNOW that whatever secret you choose to divulge, it will be known in its intirety to all here. Choose your secrets wisely for none shall leave until all have revealed at least one.