- Invitation Status
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- Quite often
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Zombie, slice-of-life survival, Post Apocalyptic, Cyberpunk, Sci-fi, High Fantasy, Modern, medieval
In the town of Gherwin, at the far edge of the Kingdom of Urdaar, is a people unlike normal men. They look like your average villagers, but something is different, and no body can quite tell what. It seems like a nice, quiet, rural village in a modern kingdom, a peaceful retreat from the hustle of the cities. It's quiet in the small town, a mile from the shore of the Gher Lake, with golden fields surrounding it to the west, a dense forest to the east. The main road that passes through leads to the nearest city to the northeast, and over the border to the south. Soft flutes and lyres can be heard playing beautiful, haunting melodies in the square and in the fields to entertain the villagers as they go about their day, caring for the harvest, fishing, or tending to the livestock. The sun shines brightly upon the thatch roofs of the stone huts, glimmering over the lake.
But the air of the bright little town is permeated with darkness. The sun shines brilliantly, yes, but the aura of the community has a sickening sense of evil about it. The people seem happy, but malevolently so. Maybe it's just they way the light hits their eyes, but on occasion you swear you catch a glimpse of their eyes turning unnatural colors, shimmering violet, cracked yellow, fathomless black. Perhaps it's just the dancing shadows of the trees in wind, but it seems the shadows of the villagers sprout feathered wings from their backs on the nights of full moons. It might just be an odd custom, but they all keep their fingernails and toenails fashioned as razor-sharp claws, and walk about barefoot. They sneak off into the forest at night armed with nothing, and return in the morning with freshly killed deer, elk, or stag. The poor beast looks like it was mauled by wild animals, a look of absolute terror frozen in it's eyes. You have your hunches about these things, but you can't be sure yet. You need to get to the bottom of this. But you better hurry, war against Urdaar is on the horizon and headed straight for the small town of Gherwin. Luckily, you brought some friends along to help you uncover the truth. It's time to find out more about these demons-in-disguise, these dove-feathered ravens.
((I shall be the townspeople. You, the travelers. Usual Iwaku Rules apply. Begin with your entrance. Enjoy!))
But the air of the bright little town is permeated with darkness. The sun shines brilliantly, yes, but the aura of the community has a sickening sense of evil about it. The people seem happy, but malevolently so. Maybe it's just they way the light hits their eyes, but on occasion you swear you catch a glimpse of their eyes turning unnatural colors, shimmering violet, cracked yellow, fathomless black. Perhaps it's just the dancing shadows of the trees in wind, but it seems the shadows of the villagers sprout feathered wings from their backs on the nights of full moons. It might just be an odd custom, but they all keep their fingernails and toenails fashioned as razor-sharp claws, and walk about barefoot. They sneak off into the forest at night armed with nothing, and return in the morning with freshly killed deer, elk, or stag. The poor beast looks like it was mauled by wild animals, a look of absolute terror frozen in it's eyes. You have your hunches about these things, but you can't be sure yet. You need to get to the bottom of this. But you better hurry, war against Urdaar is on the horizon and headed straight for the small town of Gherwin. Luckily, you brought some friends along to help you uncover the truth. It's time to find out more about these demons-in-disguise, these dove-feathered ravens.
((I shall be the townspeople. You, the travelers. Usual Iwaku Rules apply. Begin with your entrance. Enjoy!))