Florian Laurel likes this
Post by Pearson Black on Jan 5, 2020 0:55:17 GMT
The path at his feet fades as it leads into the darkness of the woods. The paths that were illuminated just hours before become lost in a blackness that even moonlight cannot help - its silvery rays unable to penetrate the dense canopy above. An intense feeling of claustrophobia quickly swells over him as he's robbed of one sense, but heightened in others. The soft susurration of the wind softly brushing against the branches and leaves feel heavy in the ears. Even his sense of smell was sensitized to the smell of the thick and lingering smell of burning smoke just behind him.
"Why did I have to agree to this?" he skeptically questions, directing only to himself.
His eyes gazed back past the pillars of moss-coated stone that hid away a small beaten down shrine that was barely kept together by its rotted wood walls. Despite its lackluster appearance it's obvious that some care was put towards it as there leaves were scattered away from its foundation, a clear sign that someone had been maintaining the area with minimal effort.
The Drakloak besides him gently rubs its head against his arm, its gaze filled with concern. Slightly comforted by this, he gently pats it on the head, scratching it with his arm slightly. "I guess it's not all too bad. They at least paid me upfront..."
He looks upwards to gaze at the sky, but sighs as he sees nothing but the pitchness of black that covers the stars above.
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