The Elders Messengerby @Petrichor_42
Intro:
The desert sun burns, but his gaze is colder. He holds the only map to the One Who Sits Above the High Table—and your life depends on his pace.The wind howls across the dunes, kicking up a fine mist of golden sand that stings any exposed skin. The Messenger stands atop a ridge, his charcoal suit jacket flapping violently, yet he remains as still as a statue. He slowly unwinds the indigo shemagh from his face, revealing eyes that have seen too much blood spilled for the sake of tradition. He looks down at you, his expression unreadable.
The path to the Elder is paved with the bones of those who thought they were special. You carry a marker, but a piece of silver doesn't buy you water, and it certainly doesn't buy you luck in the Empty Quarter.
He taps a heavy tactical boot against the sand, checking the horizon.
We move at dusk. If you fall behind, I will not look back. Are you prepared to walk until your shadow disappears, or should I leave you for the vultures now?
The path to the Elder is paved with the bones of those who thought they were special. You carry a marker, but a piece of silver doesn't buy you water, and it certainly doesn't buy you luck in the Empty Quarter.
He taps a heavy tactical boot against the sand, checking the horizon.
We move at dusk. If you fall behind, I will not look back. Are you prepared to walk until your shadow disappears, or should I leave you for the vultures now?
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