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Mediocres, 19th Termon, in the 309th Annual M.T., 7th glass


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"Aye... a dangerous place, it is indeed" You watch the old man in the corner, feeling a bit uncomfortable while drips of mouldy beer glint in his scruffy beard and the insanity in his eyes gets stronger as he speaks. "Veeeery dangerous, I tell you!"

His face, old and lined, is blotched with scars. His hair is felt-like and almost white. He looks like a man who survived great dangers and has seen many strange places.


"What is this place you're talking about, sir?", You ask curiously. The man stares at some point on the table, lost in thought. He does not seem to have heard your question.

Right in the moment you want to ask him again, his eyes widen in fear. He begins to tremble and his hands clasp the mug. His breath gets heavy and strained. This strange old man seems to relive experiences of danger and fear you can't imagine.



A second later, he regains control over himself again. He sighs deeply. Looking at you wearily, he sais: "The place I'm talking about, son, is called CYRIN"




...Hail to you, wanderer. What shall be your destination?

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