Form and Function: Adventures in AnimismOOC Thread.CHAPTER 0: A Hero(?)'s Beginning The song of an ancient bard fills the air, accompanied by a cacophony of creaking and groaning, as the very bar you sit at despairs at it's existence. The wind blasts through the open windows, blowing sand into your hair, and drinks. As you look around, you are met with only the sight of the drunken bartender, a miserable looking warty toad, who, ironically enough, is the one telling his troubles to the only other patron in the bar. She is not listening, and you are unsure if she is still alive, as her jet-black feathered body is missing patches, and her eyes have rolled into her skull. Again, bitterly ironic, is the crow picking at her crow corpse.
The other tables could barely be called such, as they have been worn down through the endless torrents of sand and time. An oddly large, misshapen lump of cheese seems to be singing, if you could call it that. The sound seems to blind your ears of the horrendous sandstorm, but is it really any better? She smells, too. Which doesn't necessarily help the smell of corpse and beer, which one could not easily distinguish even in their best moment.
Yet here you are, sitting at a table with your companions, drinking what you have been told is beer, and waiting for the sandstorm to pass. The bounty board piques your interest, one of the few things not torn to shreds in this place. A single bounty lies on it, and boy oh boy do you need the money.
You take in the whole scenery, and the urge to collapse into tears is hard to fight. But, push on. For death is inevitable, but you can only know if you try.