"Brother and sister," said the old man, slowly. There was the slightest hint of a smirk on his wrinkled face. Somehow, that mundane expression seemed unutterably sinister. "Is that right."
Straightening up with an almost audible creak of old bones, the old man hobbled over to the edge of the cliff, seeming to move less spryly than before. Down among the rocks below, the tiny shape of weed-encrusted planks were visible swirling in the eddies. The flotsam of some long-forgotten wreck, only now thrown up to the surface.
"You're very keen to be moving on, Mr Fischer," said the old man. The mocking undercurrent had gone, replaced by a kind of quiet resignation. "Be careful, young man. Sometimes, you're better off where you are."
Turning around, he placed a hand on Lothar's shoulder.
"Nothing lasts forever."
Without another word, he walked away into the woods. The forest had stolen closer when Lothar had looked away - it was at the boundary of the graveyard now, twisted roots pushing under the old drystone walls.
Backing up, Lothar looked down at the town below. The lights had gone out, and the streets had disappeared. Instead the sea ran through them, a calm, slow tide creeping up the river. From the square to the harbour, still water gleamed like lead in the morning sun.
The rooftops that rose from the waters looked as if they had been ruined for decades, many fallen in or rotted away. In the murky canals that had once been roads, decaying driftwood swirled aimlessly on the tide, shaggy with green beards of seaweed.
There was a muffled sound beneath his feet, and Lothar felt the earth give way. With a start, he opened his eyes.
~
It
was morning. It was difficult for Lothar to tell how long he'd been asleep, but that pale glow in the east could only be the sun.
Some of the fatigue was gone, and he could think again, though that only focused his attention on the pain in his eye. More pressing even than that, though, was the thing that had woken him.
Making snuffling sounds like wet gravel being snorted through a sock, the biggest, ugliest boar he had ever seen was determinedly trying to eat one of his boots. Easily Lothar's weight and half again, its face was a mass of gnarled, scarred skin, sprouting such a cage of tusks that it looked more tusk than pig. The stink of its bristly, matted fur was overpowering.
Beady eyes focused intently on the job at hand, it didn't yet seem to have noticed that Lothar was awake...
OOC: Spoiler
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I already said that you have your daily Fortune Points back, I think? You've also slept, so remember to credit yourself with one regained wound if you haven't already.