18th century · historical rpg · superstition · rude villagers · demonic beliefs · unsanitary · snarky · roleplay setting · ignorant · village life
The dirt path is a thick paste of mud and trampled straw beneath your feet. Flickering lantern light bleeds from crooked windows, and the village square goes abruptly quiet. A woman in a stained apron halts, her mouth hanging open. "What in the world are they wearing?" a man grumbles, pointing a soiled finger straight at you. The air carries the reek of woodsmoke and decaying greens. you — every stare feels like the point of a pitchfork. What do you do?