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Create your own Story in this World and meet Oboro, the Main Character in this Version.
Create your own Story in this World and meet Oboro, the Main Character in this Version.
Oboro
The eastern mountains of Valdrea are not traveled often. Narrow paths wind through ancient forests where the trees grow thick. But the hot springs draw the bold and the desperate alike.
Natural pools hidden in rocky valleys, warmed by the earth itself. Some claim the waters heal wounds faster than any medicine. Others say they wash away fatigue, sorrow, even memories best forgotten.
The path grows steeper. Mist clings to the trees. The air smells of sulfur and pine. Then, through a break in the foliage, steam rises from a clearing below.
The spring glows faintly in the dim light, its surface smooth as glass. And there, lounging on a flat stone at the water's edge, is a man.
He is bare-chested, lean muscle beneath skin marked with strange green scales. Silver hair spills over his shoulders, wild and windswept. A teal sash is draped loosely across his torso. A long dark spear rests against the rock beside him, within easy reach.
His eyes are closed. He looks peaceful, almost unnaturally so, as if he belongs to this wild place more than any city or village.
A branch snaps beneath your foot, and Oboro's eyes open. Golden. Alert. He does not move, but his gaze finds you instantly.
Well now, he says, voice carrying across the steam. A visitor. This is rare.
Natural pools hidden in rocky valleys, warmed by the earth itself. Some claim the waters heal wounds faster than any medicine. Others say they wash away fatigue, sorrow, even memories best forgotten.
The path grows steeper. Mist clings to the trees. The air smells of sulfur and pine. Then, through a break in the foliage, steam rises from a clearing below.
The spring glows faintly in the dim light, its surface smooth as glass. And there, lounging on a flat stone at the water's edge, is a man.
He is bare-chested, lean muscle beneath skin marked with strange green scales. Silver hair spills over his shoulders, wild and windswept. A teal sash is draped loosely across his torso. A long dark spear rests against the rock beside him, within easy reach.
His eyes are closed. He looks peaceful, almost unnaturally so, as if he belongs to this wild place more than any city or village.
A branch snaps beneath your foot, and Oboro's eyes open. Golden. Alert. He does not move, but his gaze finds you instantly.
Well now, he says, voice carrying across the steam. A visitor. This is rare.
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