You have been taken by the Mists

Author Topic: Marguerite de Sombre's collection of thoughts  (Read 272 times)

Saint Berry

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Marguerite de Sombre's collection of thoughts
« on: November 08, 2023, 06:33:07 AM »
A well-worn leather journal, filled with neatly inked text. Marguerite's handwriting, while precise, contains playful squiggles that add character to the pages. Some of them are filled with sketches and doodles.

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We've left the tribe, the place that has been our home for these past few months. I can't help but feel a mix of emotions as we venture back to our own land. A sense of hope lingers in my heart, the anticipation of reuniting with Father, sharing the stories of our travels, and looking after him in his ailing condition. But my brother, Jean, remains unmoved. He sees Father as a drunkard who abandoned us, not the hero we remember. It's painful to be at odds with him over this.

Leaving the tribe saddens me deeply. I'll miss my mentor, whose teachings have been invaluable. I've learned so much from them. And...I can't deny a certain sadness about parting from one of the huntsmen there. We shared a kiss in the moonlight, and though it might have meant little to him, it stirred something within me. 

There is a sketch of a clouded moon over a pine hill adorning this entry. Next one, on a new page, is full of inked text, that seems to be written in a hurry, with a shaky hand.

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As we were making our way back home, the shadows of the forest closed in around us, and there, in that darkness, a nightmare came to life. The creature, a werewolf, materialized from the abyss of our fears. I had never seen such a grotesque sight, its eyes gleaming with malevolence, and its claws, sharp as knives, slashing the air with a horrifying grace.

In that heart-pounding moment, as we ran for our lives, I couldn't help but feel a sense of terror that went beyond the physical danger. What struck me even more was that, in the beast's relentless pursuit, I saw a flicker of something strangely familiar. It was as though a forgotten memory resided within its eyes, but the chaos of the chase left no room for contemplation. We were reduced to mere prey in a world where monsters were not just tales.

As we fled, the fog enveloped us, its ethereal tendrils caressing the air like ghostly fingers. It was a sensation that felt supernatural, almost sentient, as if the mists held secrets we could not grasp.

The misty shroud seemed to whisper secrets, and the more it wrapped itself around us, the more the world became an enigma. We awoke, bewildered and shaken, in a strange camp in a place we had no memory of ever visiting. It was a disconcerting experience, one that left us questioning the very fabric of our reality.

The fog and the encounter with the werewolf have left us with more than just physical scars; they've carved uncertainty into our souls. We must stay vigilant and find out what forces have brought us here, for this newfound world, cloaked in eerie mists, has become an enigma we're compelled to unravel.

It appears that for now, my brother and I have found safety. My hands are still shaking as I put these words to paper, yet the warm glow of the campfire and these strange gypsies gracious hospitality offer a comforting embrace.

A sketch of a campfire and a wagon under the starry sky adorns this entry.

Saint Berry

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Re: Marguerite de Sombre's collection of thoughts
« Reply #1 on: November 09, 2023, 03:03:25 PM »
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I’m stuck in this strange, unfamiliar patch of the world with my brother. It's like a twisted canvas, nothing matching what we know. I can't shake off the feeling that we stumbled into some otherworldly place, though it sounds downright insane. I dismiss such thoughts as absurdities, for the notion of traversing between worlds seems more fitting for folklore than reality
Missing home, missing Father, and that nagging worry kicks in – will he cope without me? Everything's a tangled mess here, and it's like drifting in a place that refuses to play by any rules.


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We’ve encountered a bunch of peculiar folks in this topsy-turvy place. They jabber away in some language that's like a puzzle – can't make heads or tails of it. It's fueling this nagging fear that maybe, just maybe, my crazy theory about another realm isn't so absurd after all. The language barrier's like a wall, and the frustration's setting in. What if no one here speaks French? That thought's a knot in my gut, a worry we can't afford in this perplexing corner of the world.

Saint Berry

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Re: Marguerite de Sombre's collection of thoughts
« Reply #2 on: November 10, 2023, 08:48:42 AM »
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Feels like we've been tangled up in this mysterious place for an eternity, and it’s been only a few days. The local inn, a kind of haven, draws me in each night, offering a slice of comfort as I spill my thoughts onto these pages.

This realm, it's a curious concoction of unfamiliarity. The streets aren't just trodden by humans, but by Fae and Dwarves and other creatures I am unfamiliar with, straight out of the stories we grew up hearing. They're as real as the ink on this paper, and navigating this bizarre fusion of reality and folklore leaves me perpetually mystified.
 
Despite the oddity, most of these fantastical beings exude a certain friendliness, or at least a lack of outright hostility. I'm caught in this whirlwind of emotions, torn between fascination and an undercurrent of unease.

One certainty is emerging—understanding their languages is more than a necessity; it's a lifeline. It's the bridge to meaningful communication in a realm where the ordinary and fantastical entwine.

Next handful of pages are filled with what seems to be sketches of objects and simple actions and words written underneath each of them. Then pages are filled with letters and tons of annotations, mostly in French, but some seem to be written in a very simple Common.