Member
Matrim
Goldencrest (near @whoami and @Celsius )
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Three months. It had been three fucking months since it last happened. This was a new record for him as far as he could remember. Three months without the screams, the knives, and that damn question that rattled endlessly.
Matrim walked alone on the road, walking stick in hand. He held on a backpack filled with supplies and gear, and would appear as a wandering hermit to many. He technically was a hermit at this point anyway, but this hermit was ready to murder any supernatural that happened upon him. As long as it wasn’t a witch, he would happily go after it.
He was away now, away from witches and the whole madness of it. No, no he was far done with witches. He was on to new supernatural now, taking on new challenges. In fact, just this last month he had saved a town from a fearsome dragon (it was an oversized lizard), got the girl (she slapped him), and was beloved by the town (they ran him out after he obtained the local record for quickest town drunk).
He had been enroute to a further city a few weeks out, planning his trip casually throughout the countryside, and had been planning to stay at the small Goldencrest village as night approached. That was, he was hoping to stay at Goldencrest before he found it burned to the ground. He saw the smoke first from a distance, and had been hoping it was some weird traditional bonfire that looked large enough to burn the village.
Goldencrest came into sight eventually, no longer letting him deny the village’s actual fate. “No…” he said aloud. “No no no…” He had liked Goldencrest, especially one of the taverns here. It seemed like the place had been burned only a day before. “Who the hell did this?” He had only ever heard of such things happening to towns. Raiders and bandits burnt towns all the town, but this seemed bent on tearing everything down.
Matrim reached down to his belt, pulling out a spear tip that had been tied to it. He attached the tip to his walking stick and now held his preferred weapon. Kill them from afar...but close enough to make sure they die... Words echoed his mind, but Matrim could no longer remember whose words it was. A friend? He ran out of those a while ago. An enemy? What enemy would give advice like that? Himself? Maybe?
Shouts rang out from nearby. Matrim shook his head and focused on the possible new threat. Could the attackers still be here? Or were they survivors? He looked around the corner, seeing a carriage and several people near it. Who the hell had a carriage here? They didn’t seem like the attackers, and just scouting the place like he was. Some had seemed to take interest in a church, but he didn’t immediately spot any others. The bell tolled, and Matrim stepped out into the street. He approached the building he frequented often when he came here, the famous tavern he so loved. He entered into it slowly, peering around at the burnt walls as his spear thudded against the boards. “Oh what I’d give for an ale right now,” he muttered to himself.
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Aromull
Witches Paradise
Interaction with @Kitty
------------------
I must say the journey was quite arduous, but to gaze upon Seren’s Folly was a sight to behold. Of course, the mere architecture was similar to other places in this area, but something about the culture was different than the other towns. Hunters are more frequent here than in any other place, which I attribute to its historical encounters and legacies. It is a wonderful opportunity of the curious hidden world that I may explore.
If one were to gaze upon the strange man Aromull, the first impression they could give would never be related to the term “hunter”. His clothes seemed like one of a nobleman, except strangely foreign of some kind. Glasses were chained around his neck like a necklace, and he carried a massive book in his right hand as he walked along. A small knapsack rested on his back, and he gave a whimsical look to nearly everything around him, as if every single speck of dust fascinated him.
Aromull had gone far for this quest of his, a personal quest of discovery. Ever since he had learned of the world of supernatural, the scholar had always wanted to learn more. He had taken to join the art of hunting the creatures, and with it he compiled every note he could on specifics of supernatural.
Witches had become a peculiar interest to him lately. He couldn't exactly explain why, other than the fact he was simply curious one day about them. A friend, or more likely someone trying to get rid of him, recommended the “Bobby of Witches Paradise” as a great source of information on witches. And so he travelled for several fortnights, finally arriving at the door to the tavern.
Aromull entered inside, gazing around the place with his childish look. He hadn’t been to a tavern of this kind before except on few occasions. The place was quite loud, not what he was used to but not uncomfortable towards it either. Now he just needed to find this “Bobby”. Unfortunately he never actually got a description of the man, just the name and place. A name and a place and you’ve travelled all this way Aromull, you should really do more research on such a thing before going this far, he thought, chuckling to himself.
He noticed an employee of the tavern walking around and delivering drinks to the customers. She seemed younger than most here, but mostly capable of handling everything. “Excuse me madam, does there happen to be a Bobby that works here? If there is, could you to introduce me to him? I’ve been trying to meet his acquaintance.” Aromull spoke in a cordial and respectful tone, as if speaking to another high scholar from Ninevar.
Goldencrest (near @whoami and @Celsius )
-----------
Three months. It had been three fucking months since it last happened. This was a new record for him as far as he could remember. Three months without the screams, the knives, and that damn question that rattled endlessly.
Matrim walked alone on the road, walking stick in hand. He held on a backpack filled with supplies and gear, and would appear as a wandering hermit to many. He technically was a hermit at this point anyway, but this hermit was ready to murder any supernatural that happened upon him. As long as it wasn’t a witch, he would happily go after it.
He was away now, away from witches and the whole madness of it. No, no he was far done with witches. He was on to new supernatural now, taking on new challenges. In fact, just this last month he had saved a town from a fearsome dragon (it was an oversized lizard), got the girl (she slapped him), and was beloved by the town (they ran him out after he obtained the local record for quickest town drunk).
He had been enroute to a further city a few weeks out, planning his trip casually throughout the countryside, and had been planning to stay at the small Goldencrest village as night approached. That was, he was hoping to stay at Goldencrest before he found it burned to the ground. He saw the smoke first from a distance, and had been hoping it was some weird traditional bonfire that looked large enough to burn the village.
Goldencrest came into sight eventually, no longer letting him deny the village’s actual fate. “No…” he said aloud. “No no no…” He had liked Goldencrest, especially one of the taverns here. It seemed like the place had been burned only a day before. “Who the hell did this?” He had only ever heard of such things happening to towns. Raiders and bandits burnt towns all the town, but this seemed bent on tearing everything down.
Matrim reached down to his belt, pulling out a spear tip that had been tied to it. He attached the tip to his walking stick and now held his preferred weapon. Kill them from afar...but close enough to make sure they die... Words echoed his mind, but Matrim could no longer remember whose words it was. A friend? He ran out of those a while ago. An enemy? What enemy would give advice like that? Himself? Maybe?
Shouts rang out from nearby. Matrim shook his head and focused on the possible new threat. Could the attackers still be here? Or were they survivors? He looked around the corner, seeing a carriage and several people near it. Who the hell had a carriage here? They didn’t seem like the attackers, and just scouting the place like he was. Some had seemed to take interest in a church, but he didn’t immediately spot any others. The bell tolled, and Matrim stepped out into the street. He approached the building he frequented often when he came here, the famous tavern he so loved. He entered into it slowly, peering around at the burnt walls as his spear thudded against the boards. “Oh what I’d give for an ale right now,” he muttered to himself.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Aromull
Witches Paradise
Interaction with @Kitty
------------------
I must say the journey was quite arduous, but to gaze upon Seren’s Folly was a sight to behold. Of course, the mere architecture was similar to other places in this area, but something about the culture was different than the other towns. Hunters are more frequent here than in any other place, which I attribute to its historical encounters and legacies. It is a wonderful opportunity of the curious hidden world that I may explore.
If one were to gaze upon the strange man Aromull, the first impression they could give would never be related to the term “hunter”. His clothes seemed like one of a nobleman, except strangely foreign of some kind. Glasses were chained around his neck like a necklace, and he carried a massive book in his right hand as he walked along. A small knapsack rested on his back, and he gave a whimsical look to nearly everything around him, as if every single speck of dust fascinated him.
Aromull had gone far for this quest of his, a personal quest of discovery. Ever since he had learned of the world of supernatural, the scholar had always wanted to learn more. He had taken to join the art of hunting the creatures, and with it he compiled every note he could on specifics of supernatural.
Witches had become a peculiar interest to him lately. He couldn't exactly explain why, other than the fact he was simply curious one day about them. A friend, or more likely someone trying to get rid of him, recommended the “Bobby of Witches Paradise” as a great source of information on witches. And so he travelled for several fortnights, finally arriving at the door to the tavern.
Aromull entered inside, gazing around the place with his childish look. He hadn’t been to a tavern of this kind before except on few occasions. The place was quite loud, not what he was used to but not uncomfortable towards it either. Now he just needed to find this “Bobby”. Unfortunately he never actually got a description of the man, just the name and place. A name and a place and you’ve travelled all this way Aromull, you should really do more research on such a thing before going this far, he thought, chuckling to himself.
He noticed an employee of the tavern walking around and delivering drinks to the customers. She seemed younger than most here, but mostly capable of handling everything. “Excuse me madam, does there happen to be a Bobby that works here? If there is, could you to introduce me to him? I’ve been trying to meet his acquaintance.” Aromull spoke in a cordial and respectful tone, as if speaking to another high scholar from Ninevar.
