First Night in Web3
The Nymerian travelers wander into a lonely forest, seeking a moment of tranquility amongst their arduous journey. They construct a small place of rest, manufacturing a campfire on which they sit perched, warming themselves in the cool breeze of the evening, conversing about their expedition thus far and their lives in Nymeria. However, something is amiss beyond the clear echoes of their dialogue.
Amongst the mix of grand and spindly trees lurks something.
A presence with a thousand eyes eerily works itself closer under the pale light of a full moon, edging towards the band of weary surveyors. Though more astute and observant than anyone, the Nomads barely seem to anticipate the presence. This maleficent apparition would not have been felt if not for carved lettering on a tree face.
The tree has etched in it a harrowing warning and is only now illuminated by the campfire’s light;
“I now have PROOF they are real. BEWARE”.
The hairs on the back of the Nomad’s necks stand up as one of the Nomads reads this chilling message. Amidst the sunny glow emanating from the campfire’s embers, the Nymerians start to sense the gaze of the thousand eyes drilling into them. Yet, nothing can be seen in the dark beside the avid glean of the moon.
Suddenly, a soft “coo” sound cuts through the Nomad’s now-hesitant parley, and a creature steps forward. A small bird, fur both white and blue, stands stiffly at the feet of the Nomads, its glassy black eyes peeking up at the group longingly. The creature is recognizable to the band of travelers — it is an owl, but this is no ordinary owl.
The bird of the night is steeped in a small piece of gray fabric, with drawstrings falling from its tiny neck. Another piece of cloth, this time colored blue, and sewn with golden stars, is shaped into a critical point. One of The Six Nomads notes that it is the apparent “hat of a Wizard.”
Almost as if this Nomad had conjured it themselves, an ominous, scratchy voice emanates through the cozy campfire space as the thousands of eyes now become visible to the Nomads;
“Join us. Come with us, and we can give you information beyond your wildest dreams. Unlock your potential.”
Ryker has heard enough campfire stories, both here and in Nymeria, to know that his group would not join the voice from the forest’s depths under these blood-curdling circumstances. Perhaps, the Nomads may have taken up the voices’ offer if it had spoken its piece under a different suitor or if the “us” had chosen a more appropriate and softer approach.
Alas, this was not the case. So, as the soft “coo” ‘s of the Wizard owl first begin to transform in nature to “COO,” and then once more to “C-O-O,” the Nomads pack up their site. There are only so many abnormal phenomena that they feel comfortable being present in, so they vacate the forest in a hurry — leaving nothing but a smokey campsite and the thousand watching eyes in their wake.
