ObitoPancake
🌸🍃🍥
a high fantasy roleplay with Wishfully
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Salted ocean air pumped in and out of the bard's lungs as he raced along the neatly cobbled streets of Romasa. It stung and made him think for just a moment, what he was doing here; how he had gotten himself into such a mess. Deeper and deeper into the heart of Macemoria's capital he did go, running from what he could only assume were his worst nightmare. Two daunting men had stopped Amon behind the tavern he had finished his last performance at, looking to cause trouble. At least that was what the bard had assumed, anyway. From their demeanors and dress, it was easy to assume the two were part of The Vultures, a nefarious bandit group that had been seemingly tracking the bard for well over a year now.
What they wanted from him? Only the gods knew. But Amon wasn't keen on finding out.
Looking up, he took note that he had played his set well into the night. Above, the stars were shining brightly and without a care in the world. If only he could be doing the same. If it hadn't been for the circumstances, he would have gone as far as calling this night quite beautiful; but being trailed by bandits definitely ruined the view for him. It had never once crossed his mind that his home country and the scenery it provided would turn out feeling so sinister, though, something of that caliber probably wasn't something that crossed the normal man's mind often anyway. Lost in these thoughts, Amon kept his pace as steady as he could, stealing a glance behind him every so often to make sure he wasn't being followed.
It wasn't until he rounded a corner into a particularly dark alleyway that he felt his heart hit his stomach. The small bard skidded to a halt not three feet from a mysterious stranger, shrouded in darkness. For a moment he felt that he had misjudged the bandits- maybe they had set up an ambush? But a quick once over cemented the fact that this stranger wasn't involved with them. No defining insignia, no notable markings, but that would mean that this person was probably one of the streetfolk, which Amon happened to be equally terrified of. In one swift motion, the bard rested his hand on his harp.
If this shady figure tried anything, he was ready. One quick spell to stun and then he could draw his rapier.
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