1.1 Madness and Prophecy

All of you started the day in your home towns, working your way through the daily routine of your lives. At some point in the day, you felt your thoughts becoming muddled and cloudy. You tried to walk it off but the feeling got worse. You drifted into unconsciousness.

Suddenly, as if falling into a dream, your head clears and you find yourself sitting at what appears to be a bar in an inn, looking at a balding, mustachioed man as he dries a tankard. The man’s nodding his head slightly in an effort to appease the ramblings of another man, who’s seated two barstools down from you and a three similarly confused looking strangers.

The rambling man is clad in tattered robes that might once have been stately and his eyes are wild with an energy that belies his advanced age. His words tumble out in rapid staccato and his narrative staggers like a drunk, but you hear a fair bit of gibberish about dark energies, living shadow, and terrible visions of the future. The man concludes by downing the remains of his drink then stating emphatically that, "the dark moth-folk are coming for me, to stop me telling people the truth - that the world already ended."

Elke's eyes narrow sceptically as she looks around the inn. She doesn't really register what the man says at first because while the cloud of confusion clears, the four day headache she had just managed to clear rears it's ugly head again and she shakes her thick red hair in an attempt to clear it. It doesn't work.

She takes a step towards the robed man and catches the last words he says about the fact the world had already ended. She opens her mouth to ask him more but notices others in the inn and realises she's surrounded by strangers. Her back tightens and she feels for the weight of her weapon on her back. For the first time in her life she's not inclined to be brash and bold. She readies herself for....something. But looks around to see if anyone takes the man seriously or if he's known to hysteria.

Give me a roll using your nomad background.

The barman turns to you all, seemingly unsurprised at your sudden appearance, and says then sighs heavily. The barman then glances at Domitius and says As you continue to get your bearings, your attention is drawn to a woman flipping cards by candle light at a corner table. Her weathered, old brow is furrowed as she watches the cards and her diminutive frame vanishes within a voluminous blouse, layered skirts, and patchwork cloak. She wears a headscarf in the "babuska" style and large hoop earrings. In short, she looks like a cross between everyone’s favorite grandma and a woman who could kill you with the evil eye in an instant.

She looks up at you all and, after a moment of inspection, gives a wide, nearly toothless smile and a laugh. With the crook of her finger, she
beckons you to her.

The old woman strains her neck forward to see better in the gloom of the inn.

Demetra adjusts her clothing to make herself more comfortable and says:
She suddenly swings her milky eyes in the direction of the window as sudden, shrill and frantic cries of "Amalia" reach you on the breeze from the street beyond. A young woman is running back and forward shouting for assistance with increasing panic. Strangely, nobody is helping her. In fact you'd swear they are closing their shutters to her and barring their doors.