A Renaissance Nightmare
Before you have time to exhale, the ruby eyes of your snake-shaped staff head begin to glow. Light pours out of them and blinds you. The red beam expands throughout the entire forest and forms waves that ripple behind your closed eyelids. Your eyes flutter open to see Noraa slowly shrinking from the sky. His arms morph from branches into flesh, and he stretches his legs in relief that they aren’t attached to the ground anymore. The large, mossy tree that caught your eye earlier also begins to shrink. The moss crinkles in folds on top of a wrinkly head and the trunk is transformed into a brown cloak not so different from the one you’re wearing.
“My child, thank you for coming for me!” the man exclaims jollily and reaches out to embrace you. You stand confused as the man wraps his lanky arms around your jolted body. This man seems awfully cheery for someone who just transformed from a tree to a human in front of your eyes.
You pull away from the man. “Who are you?” you inquire. “My dear, dear child. The real question you should be asking is who you are. For you are the one who was able to unlock me from a lifetime of imprisonment in this forest with my mighty staff. You, my child, are the chosen one.”
The man extends his arm and snatches the staff from out of your hand. He grins and gives you one command, “Go! Go, chosen one, and return to the game where you will save the Renaissance Festival!” And with a wave of his staff, the man disappears in a flash of red.
Wow, you’d better do what the man says. The only game that comes to mind is the game of strip Jenga that’s set up near the bonfire. “Come on Noraa, let’s go back to camp,” you command. Noraa is sways and stumbles trying to recover from his transformation.
“My child, thank you for coming for me!” the man exclaims jollily and reaches out to embrace you. You stand confused as the man wraps his lanky arms around your jolted body. This man seems awfully cheery for someone who just transformed from a tree to a human in front of your eyes.
You pull away from the man. “Who are you?” you inquire. “My dear, dear child. The real question you should be asking is who you are. For you are the one who was able to unlock me from a lifetime of imprisonment in this forest with my mighty staff. You, my child, are the chosen one.”
The man extends his arm and snatches the staff from out of your hand. He grins and gives you one command, “Go! Go, chosen one, and return to the game where you will save the Renaissance Festival!” And with a wave of his staff, the man disappears in a flash of red.
Wow, you’d better do what the man says. The only game that comes to mind is the game of strip Jenga that’s set up near the bonfire. “Come on Noraa, let’s go back to camp,” you command. Noraa is sways and stumbles trying to recover from his transformation.