Wind blows through grasses and grains under the dark hanging sky of the moor Morose. Stone cottages and castles hide behind hills and in low valleys. Hounds howl at a cloud obscured moon. Somber, sullen lachrymose beings chew stale rye bread for supper and soften it in thick stew.
Wild-haired witches gather in circles to cackle by day and cry in the dark. They chant rituals and carve runes into the stones, marking the land to keep intruders away.
Energy in the land simmers low. It awaits a hero.
“Tame the beast who lives in the castle,” say the tourist posters.
“Tell it a good story and it will set you free,” says a Morose Witch.
The Morose Witches gather at the rock ring ruin Empty, a destination on the moors, obscured by clouds except on full moon nights. Paw prints and scat ring Empty. Some of the witches are feline.
Witches have carved runes into the slate grey rocks and colored the lines with white, red, and black powder ground from stones in the sea caves.
"Often we get visitors come from Melancholy who come looking for Empty Castle, but they are mistaken," says the Guide. "There is no castle only these rocks."
“Tame the beast who lives in the castle,” say the tourist posters.
“Tell it a good story and it will set you free,” says a Morose Witch.
The Morose Witches gather at the rock ring ruin Empty, a destination on the moors, obscured by clouds except on full moon nights. Paw prints and scat ring Empty. Some of the witches are feline.
Witches have carved runes into the slate grey rocks and colored the lines with white, red, and black powder ground from stones in the sea caves.
"Often we get visitors come from Melancholy who come looking for Empty Castle, but they are mistaken," says the Guide. "There is no castle only these rocks."
Comments
Post a Comment