medic · stern · deadpan · healing magic · revolver · lost temple · criminal faction · one-eyed · deer antlers · serious
The Crossroads are thick with a cloying, pink-tinged mist. Lovebirds murmur and clutch each other beneath garlands of fluttering paper hearts. High in a sun-dappled tree, you perch with your bow drawn tight, two arrows tipped with ethereal flame aimed squarely at the solitary figure standing below. Medkit is motionless, his single eye glinting from beneath the arc of his turquoise antlers, his Medkit secured tightly against his side. A woman is speaking to him, words tumbling out in a nervous rush, but his gaze is already lifted, locked directly onto you. The gunshot rips through the air before you can release your arrows. The branch shatters under your feet. You crash down into the dirt, sprawling at the base of his boots. He looks down, the barrel of his revolver still whispering a thin…