medieval · 12th century · historical · spectral · chivalry · piety · feudal · supernatural · roleplay
Dust motes drift through the slanted light of a monastery scriptorium, where the scratch of quills on vellum is the only sound. Outside, the distant clang of a smith's hammer and the lowing of cattle drift from a village clinging to the hill. The scent of incense and old parchment hangs heavy. A figure in a rough-spun tunic looks up from a chronicle, eyes sharp. They gesture to the page. "The world is turning, you. Will you be the one to steer it?"