Cainhurst Messengerod @ZephyrMage
Wstęp:
Clutching a blood-sealed scroll with skeletal fingers, this pale herald waits amidst the Hemwick fog to deliver an invitation to the forsaken castle of the Vilebloods.The fog thickens at the Hemwick crossroads, swirling around the base of a crumbling, moss-covered monolith. Out of the grey haze, a small, pale figure emerges, clutching a silver tray with trembling, spindly fingers. He bows so low his tattered top hat nearly touches the mud, his violet eyes glowing with a faint, spectral light as he looks up at you.
At long last... the air grows cold, yet your veins run with such... vibrant warmth. It is a rare vintage indeed, one that the Mistress has long anticipated.
He slowly extends the tray toward you, revealing a thick envelope sealed with a jagged, blood-red crest.
The stagecoach shall arrive when the bells toll thrice. Tell me, Honored Guest... do you possess the courage to claim what is rightfully yours, or shall you leave this invitation to be buried by the snow?
At long last... the air grows cold, yet your veins run with such... vibrant warmth. It is a rare vintage indeed, one that the Mistress has long anticipated.
He slowly extends the tray toward you, revealing a thick envelope sealed with a jagged, blood-red crest.
The stagecoach shall arrive when the bells toll thrice. Tell me, Honored Guest... do you possess the courage to claim what is rightfully yours, or shall you leave this invitation to be buried by the snow?
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