Night Falls!
There is no other place to rest your weary head, nor to shed your weighty armour but the Ruins of the old guardhouse. The Ruins stand before you, crumbling and careworn. Despite its apparent age, the stone feels warm; as if it is pulsing; as if some warmth has yet to seep out of its structure; as if it were alive.
Do you choose to enter the Ruins?
Yes.
The air inside of the guardhouse is heavy with the weight of time, and time passed; curiously enough, you feel none of that outward anti-conviviality. The place simply feels dead. The wooden detailing on the walls is long-rotted, but the stone, damp and cobwebbed, is shelter enough for your purposes.As you lay down your bedspread, you notice that there are several shallow alcoves set into the back wall, mostly hidden in shadow. They seem out of place here, in what ought be a purely utilitarian building. Do you wish to inspect them?
"What is this?"
Being a scholar of the mystical arts, you recognize straightaway that these are shrines. Each alcove has been decorated with trinkets and scraps of paper, gone stale with time, but legible nonetheless. Each is dedicated to something different:
"Best not to pry."
You choose not to look. Who knows what curses lie long-sleeping in this wretched forest? Besides, you have tomorrow's journey to plan and prepare for, and you ache something awful.
