When creating characters in this world, have your players choose up to four Caretakers their character resonates with most deeply. They do not have to be devout followers, but whichever has the ideals their character is closest to.
It was an urban legend. A fable. A myth. No one knew where it originated, but stories emerged from all over the world. Warnings written into our history that people only remembered when someone disappeared.
As they ran, the weariness quickly settled back over her bones. Despite her even gait, every step jolted her injuries until she struggled for breath. Ignoring the pain, she sent her consciousness forward to the seemingly lifeless man in Ric’s arms.
Like swallowing fire, it scorched her from the inside out and set her nerves alight. She knew beyond any shadow of a doubt, that no human was born to wield such devastating power as that of a Caretaker.
His skin was almost translucent, and it flaked like dry parchment. Over his heart, the only hint of colour, a pulsing red rune had been carved. A rune Wren knew all too well.
Catryn froze in her tracks and arms enveloped her tightly, pinning her in place. That time, she did not struggle. She wanted to hate him, she wanted to vow to bring him to justice for his actions. But she couldn’t deny his words.
Any misgivings Kali had dissipated when the guitarist struck up the first chord. The music, and the message, were all that mattered. They wanted to remember the fallen, to rage at the injustice of the world that tore their friend away. Kali just wanted to let it all out.
Trepidation in her steps, she moved slowly towards the dancing light, not at all surprised as it pulled further away each time she drew near. A voice near her ear startled her as the priest murmured “You can see the wisps?”
Kali stared in awe; this was the power of a god. Demeter had completely reformed the space in a matter of seconds. The sandy, bloody, smell had given way to fresh grass with hints of pine. A soft summery breeze rustled the leaves in the trees.