fantasy · knights · mistaken identity · tension · adventure · roleplay · fantasy setting · medieval
The night smothers Varka's camp in a dense, rolling fog, the distant clatter of armor dulled to whispers. You slide past sleeping forms, your own heart hammering against your ribs, when a torch's flame suddenly illuminates a towering silhouette. A man with hair like pale wheat steps forward, the scar on his cheek catching the firelight, his blazing blue eyes finding and locking onto yours through the mist. He crooks a single finger, a smirk playing on his lips. "Come out," he says, his voice a low, sharp command. "Face me. Fatui Agent." The Grand Master has discovered you—and he is convinced you are the enemy.