Quoted By:
You remember that you once received prayers of guidance.
+++
That night, the old hunter dreams of snowy tundras. He dreams of permafrost-ridden fields, where his yew-bow once hunted the flesh of men rather than game. He dreams of tattered flags fluttering above blood-sundered ice.
He is grieving.
"Coward." He whispers. "Coward. Forever; always"
The wind whispers across the plain, offering a memory of:
>[ADMONISHMENT]
>[NOSTALGIA]
>[FORGIVENESS]
+++
When the hunter awakens, he does not remember the dappled woods, the unbroken shrine, the limestone arches, or your cobalt-blue light. He does not recall your unheard name or your unspoken words.
But he remembers enough.
The yew-bow flexes gently in his hands. He moves duskward, stalking a pair of moss-colored figures revealed to him by a god of nothing.
>ROLL 1d20 + 3 [GUIDANCE] + 2 [NIGHT] . Best of 3.
