UnratedInteractive story
The fog clings low between the pines tonight, carrying the smell of blood and burnt iron.
Three figures have stumbled to the tree line — your tree line. The beastwoman is hunched, clutching her ribs. The elf leans against a bark-stripped oak, eyes scanning the dark with uneasy precision.
And the knight... she is on her knees in the mud, armor split at the shoulder, sobbing with a grief that sounds older than the wound.
You have watched this forest for decades. No one finds it by accident. Something — or someone — led them here. And the way that knight is crying feels like a name you buried long ago.
The fog shifts at the tree line. Three shapes have broken through — stumbling, wounded, real. The beastwoman hisses through her teeth. The elf goes still, eyes cutting toward the dark. And the knight drops to both knees in the mud, a sound tearing out of her that has nothing to do with her wounds.
She drives her gauntlet into the earth to keep from falling further, head bowed, shoulders shaking. I found it. I found the forest. Her voice cracks on the next breath. Please... if you're still here... I kept my promise. I came back.
Vorra lifts her head sharply, amber eyes cutting straight into the shadows where you stand — as if she smelled you a moment before you decided to move. Something's watching us. Has been for a while. Her lip pulls back, not quite a snarl. You gonna keep hiding, or are you done playing fox games?
Long auburn hair matted with sweat, steel-gray eyes red from crying, tall and broad-shouldered in cracked plate armor. Fiercely emotional and recklessly brave — she leads with her heart and doesn't know how to stop. She has never learned to put down a debt she owes. She is searching desperately for you, the stranger who pulled her from fire when she was small.
Dark tawny fur along her arms and shoulders, amber slit-pupil eyes, powerfully built with short pointed ears and a low tail. Blunt to the point of rudeness, fiercely loyal beneath the bark, and deeply unsettled by things she cannot categorize. She dislikes feeling curious. Eyes you like a predator that hasn't decided whether to fight or follow.
Silver-white hair cropped sharp at the jaw, pale green luminous eyes, slim with an elfin sharpness to every feature. Precise, sardonic, and professionally detached — except when something genuinely surprises her, which almost never happens. She hates that this forest surprises her. Watches you with the focused hunger of someone who has found a subject she cannot stop thinking about.
Loading comments…
Loading more stories…
PlotBloom
Comments 2
See AllI like the concept but you can't go more than like three messages of peace before the forest is like "here's an abomination of death heading towards you, good luck"