- Messages
- 4,035
- Reaction score
- 10,239
- Points
- 10,750
- Salty Doubloons
- 58,073
In the town of Black Lagoon, as night fell, the people boarded up. Doors were adorned with a red substance painting above the door, and the commotion settled. Where once was a bustling town, became a town of ghosts, cowering inside. The lights went off one by one,
The inn was like the others, quickly closing up shop with the fall of the sun. The old lady, a lantern shining her way, painted the door. When she came down, holding her back in pain, she heard the voice of a young man behind her.
The old woman turned. The lantern cast a shadow over her face, and her eyes shot out towards the darkness, settling in on the figure. She seems to look at the sun for a moment, perhaps to confirm her safety. Her beady mouth opened slowly, her voice rugged and olden.
[Inkeeper] “Got any Beri? This here’s Alfheim - we won’t hesitate in leaving another in the Curse of the Howling Wind.“
[Inkeeper] “2,000 Beri per night. Or your blood will be carved atop the door instead...”
The Inkeeper spoke ominousl, her voice cracking into a mischievous chuckle. A woman frail with a twisted soul in the reality that was Alfheim. Outside of those privileged in Midgard, the curse howled.As the Inkeeper spoke, a lone howl in the distance echoed. The old woman quickly and hurriedly grabbed her stairs, edging it inside. She stood at the door, waiting for payment, her heart beating quickly.