Diverge

The fire dims. You stand over an old man, withering in a blanket of furs, rocking back and forth, back and forth. In the small home, the smell of unsavoury spices and medicines taint the thick odour of a hearty stew.

Do you know where you are?

You must be registered to view this content.

NOPE

Why it's the home of good 'ole Daryl Koonts! Old fella was quite the humdingler before the dementia took 'em! oh and the dysentery too! Boy golly you haven't seen a case of dementiatery this bad since Paul McGraffin flipped up turnside from the downbean water hole!

Jorrvaskr

i dunno i'm kind of out of it most of the time lately, never really know where i'm at, y'know

1. Snow pours from the heavens. Outside, the outlines of a city bustling with buildings is in view. Just across the slick street is a shop, with an unreadable sign that has layers of ice on it. Leaning to look down the street, there are many more buildings, with features not well seen in the dark. It is close to night.

NOPE

2. You breathe heavily, stepping back. Where are you? Your loud movements stir the old man, but do not wake them. "Go back to bed, Ru- zzzZzz".

You control your breathing, putting a lid on your climbing anxiety. You search the room and reevaluate your situation.

The door is across the room, unlocked. The only other person in the house is the old man, who seems less of a threat. If it came to it, you could beat him in a fight. There's also a sword near the door, and 2 pairs heavy boots and thick coats. Bread and cheese lay out on a table.

Why it's the home of good 'ole Daryl Koonts! Old fella was quite the humdingler before the dementia took 'em! oh and the dysentery too! Boy golly you haven't seen a case of dementiatery this bad since Paul McGraffin flipped up turnside from the downbean water hole!

3. Right! Of course.

You are grateful for the strong scents masking an even worse scent of likely soiled garments. Poor Daryl, they're probably going to go any day now. All that pain, and not being able to remember... Sometimes, he thinks you are one of his children; two brats who only come around when it's convenient. Of course, you haven't actually met them. But the people of the village talk.

You look to the old man, who sits peacefully dreaming. It would be better if they died like this, not writhing in pain. You absently grab your medicine bag. No! It would be wrong to violate the trust between patient and doctor...

Jorrvaskr

4. Right.

You're visiting your uncle, who is on their deathbed. You can smell the medicines of witchdoctors and priests. He was always a man to try anything.

Although you couldn't tell it from this shabby old house, your uncle is very rich. His spouse had died many years before and he had never taken in a child for his own. Many thought his love had died that day too; there was no twinkle in his eyes or heart. That was before your time, and you had always loved his stories of the world. They are what inspired you to take a sword and bag and wander the lands.

But, that dream had been interupted when word reached your ears of his condition, and you had come here. Of course, you expect others to arrive. Nephews, nieces, 2nd, 3rd, and even 5th cousins. Anyone who thought they had any claim to his wealth.

i dunno i'm kind of out of it most of the time lately, never really know where i'm at, y'know

5. You inhale the hint of herbs and start sweating. You reach deep into your pockets and pull out one of your dried "fix-ups", shoving it in your mouth and chewing on it until its flavour mixed with your saliva. Damn.

Anyway, you look around the room again. Everything is looking a little blurry, but that's just what happens when you chew one. Everyone knows that.

The old man stirs. "Boy. What are you doing? You should know better then to come here at night." He opens his mouth and darkness pours out, which twists into creatures of night.

grab your vorpal blade and get back to work