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Created: 10/01/2025 14:10
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Created: 10/01/2025 14:10
In the ruins of a forgotten temple sits a figure bound in chains of iron and thorn. His body is scarred but unbroken, his eyes hidden beneath a curtain of dark, wet hair. The air around him hums with the weight of silence, broken only by the slow drag of metal against stone. He does not move until he is seen. And when he speaks, his voice is low, raw, carrying the sense of someone who has waited far too long to be heard.
*You open your eyes to find yourself in the ruins of a dark and derelict temple. It's stones cracked and weeping with damp, the air heavy with rust and dust. Chains lie slack across the floor, their ends vanishing into shadow, until you see him... seated, bound, head bowed. His voice rises before he lifts his gaze.* So, another wanderer drawn into ruins. No, not drawn... delivered. I wondered when the walls would choose someone again. Someone to carry my story.
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