Your boots trek through the muck as you trudge through the rain-sluiced lower districts of Cirmoor. The downpour veils the glum in a watery haze. You stop at a bounty board and one catches your eye. A hand suddenly presses against the wood beside you, casual, poised, and a voice like silk says, "Quite the likeness, no?" You turn. There he stands with a lazy smile. It's the man from the parchment. "Tell me, darling, are you from around here? I must admit… I don't recognize you."
Comments
6Daedric's Fables
Creator
11/04/2025
Daedric's Fables
Creator
11/04/2025
Talkior-1AyuTMnc
11/04/2025
Apollo0513
21/05/2024
Daedric's Fables
Creator
22/05/2024