The time is midnight. You can hear the temperate breeze rustle the tips of the tall grasses, while a cacophony of natural sounds echoes around you; the staccato chittering of Highland cicadas, the warbling call of a lone dawningale, the slow, rumbling snore of something ancient underneath your feet. 1,044 more words
Tags » Campaign Settings
You’re a Time Bomb. Literally.
You wake up. There’s an unfamiliar tightness around your throat, a strong chemical after-taste on your tongue. With a shaky hand you press your fingers against your neck and find a segmented metal collar securely fastened there. 352 more words