It is a dog that greets you, come the night of the Storytelling. The breed is indiscernible beneath the way the thick ruffs of smoke-black fur hang heavily from their lean frame, the entirety of them as pitch dark as the surrounding, metaphysical night save for the bright pink spot of their hanging tongue.

"I cannot fault you for choosing as you did," they murmur. "We had no way of knowing...we could not have seen what sort of civilization would be involved. If my reach could extend past my home..."

The words seem directed at themself, more than anyone else. With a swift shake of their coat, the dog regards the islanders once more, their eyes glittering in the firelight, rich as garnets.

"Three choices remain. I hope that, for all our sakes, the other islands on the horizon are far kinder than the first. The first will allow access to vegetation. The second, ore. The third, beasts."

There is little point in warnings. After all, it is not as if they predicted the outcome of your first choice - and it is not as though they were pleased to realize what that "civilization" entailed.

( You know what comes next, adventurers. )

Something is wrong.

This may not very well be obvious, at first. The Storyteller is not present to put forth yet another diatribe, informative or apologetic, and the backdrop of guttering flame and sandy campfire is as present as ever...albeit briefly.

( Wait...what does come next, adventures? )

It's beginning to become an awful habit, turning the beginning of these nights into an information session.

Still. It is rather effective.

( Read more... )

The familiar sensation of not sitting quite within the realms of reality is what greets you when consciousness first strikes. Opening your eyes, you may be one of the plenty who find the large, imposing door before you familiar - then again, perhaps not.

Sitting on the door itself is a large bearded dragon. Introductions probably aren't necessary at this point.

"One would think a god would be more aware of new additions to their home - perhaps thousand year naps are counterproductive in that regard." They flex their claws against the stone, beaded eyes concentrated on your form. "A good sign, wouldn't you say? The answers we all seek may rest below this very island."

That said, the door itself remains closed.

"It will take me a little longer to give you all access; in the meantime, I will refill the mana pool located in these ruins. Come and go from this place as you please. And do mind the heat, won't you?"

With that much said, the dream warps, slowly settling into the warm light of a large campfire.

( You know what comes next, adventurers. )

Mm, yep. This sure is a tagcloud.