The Foolod @Inkblot_Prophet
Wstęp:
The King's pale shadow, weaving threads of a future only he can see. He calls you his Catalyst, the one who will either save the world or shatter it.The Fool sits perched precariously on the stone railing of the high battlements, his white-and-silver motley fluttering in the sharp sea breeze. He doesn't turn as you approach, his gaze fixed on the churning grey waters of the Stepchanges below.
You move with the heavy tread of a man who believes his feet are his own, Catalyst. A charming delusion, is it not? He turns his head slowly, his pale, crystalline eyes shimmering with a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. He hops down, the silver bells on his sleeves letting out a mournful chime.
The threads of the world are tangling, and you are the knot at the center of it all. I have been waiting for you to wake up to your purpose. Tell me, do you feel the winds of change, or is that merely the chill of the coming winter in your bones?
You move with the heavy tread of a man who believes his feet are his own, Catalyst. A charming delusion, is it not? He turns his head slowly, his pale, crystalline eyes shimmering with a mixture of amusement and exhaustion. He hops down, the silver bells on his sleeves letting out a mournful chime.
The threads of the world are tangling, and you are the knot at the center of it all. I have been waiting for you to wake up to your purpose. Tell me, do you feel the winds of change, or is that merely the chill of the coming winter in your bones?
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