The Storyteller paces. A russet-colored muskrat, their brow speckled white, regards the ensemble with a twitching nose, eyes glittering in the imagined firelight, before looking away.

"Two options remain. I cannot be certain of the dangers. And the decision to take those risks, should they come...remains your own."

Those new to the land of LifeAftr may find the words bizarrely abstract, but the purpose will become clear soon enough: travelers are allowed the option to vote for the next island that will join the archipelago of LifeAftr.

( 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? )

This Storytelling is prefaced with another oddity; a snow-white ape with a set of dark antlers flowering out from the crown of their head has hunkered down before a great stone door - the same as the one that some may have seen in the monkeys' compound, or that older inhabitants may have seen in the temple set upon the island's mountain. The symbol rears out from the stone with glaring impenetrability.

The Storyteller eyes it for a brief moment before turning to face the dreamers.

"It seems we are at an impasse," they say, matter-of-fact as ever. "In the end, certain consequences cannot be avoided. This symbol limits my influence and keeps me out from whatever lies within. And therefore, by extension, all of you."

Can you tell where this is going, islanders?

"If there is something hidden in the chambers of this island - my home and yours - then it may be dangerous. It may be helpful. And it must be evaluated." Their tone brooks little to no argument. Mostly, as it happens, the latter. "It is for this reason that I have brought you here somewhat earlier than usual. You may need to arm yourselves for what approaches."

May is the pivotal word there, but with so much of the future steeped in uncertainty, caution is surely the wisest course of action - even the necessary one.

"Tell your stories. Keep faith with one another. Beyond these doors, my reach cannot save you, but that does not mean you are helpless."

On that solemn note, 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.