Chill meanders in the worried wake,
When forest once teaming—suffocates,
Still-warm earth with fate, grey-cloaked,
Whispering embers drained all beats,
Absence’s sound rings thickly now,
Remnants, revulsion; starvation, compulsion,
Turn down not this gifted plate,
There is a great plenty; join friends, eat.
— Voice of the Nightmare, On Grateful Meetings
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Keep reading for process details and character lore.
The poetry is an in-universe snippet, written by myself, from a larger prophecy. It was a deeper meaning and I’d love to just dish it, but too many of my fellow players could find this so I can’t speak on it or risk spoiling things for later. But one small bit I can say freely here is that Farren’s father, Lord of the Heart of All Woods, is a literal Nightmare.
Will post a Timelapse soon, maybe? Let me know if you are interested!
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If i told you that I don’t feel like one of the living, could you blame me? I know I’m physically alive, but inside I feel a ghost piloting a corpse. I believe the issue resides within the realm of not feeling any discernable emotion. I don’t feel happy, angry, or even depressed. I just don’t feel, and it leads me to believe I’m but a living corpse.Â