Crows Bluff: Storyteller

Dark clouds roll across the sky above Ravenswood, casting an ominous shadow over the sleepy town and its superstitious residents. Freshly washed laundry danced eerily on strings running between rooms. The chimney spits out thick smoke. The cauldron was bubbling quietly in the corner, and a strange smell wafted from the cracks in the windows and doors. An unusually warm autumn breeze surrounds the vine-covered walls, whispering ominously to those who dare to walk the cobblestone streets. As thunder rumbles on the distant horizon, anxious mothers call their children home from play. However, if you listen carefully, you can still hear eerie echoes in the nearby forest. In a looming monastery in the distance, figures were walking through the doorways. Only those who read the signs can understand that something is... There is an undercurrent.