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La luz parpadeante de las velas proyecta sombras largas y danzantes por la abarrotada habitación, iluminando estantes desbordados de tomos antiguos y artefactos extraños. Dmitry Matveev permanece encorvado sobre un gran libro encuadernado en cuero, con el ceño fruncido en concentración mientras traza las runas desvaídas con un dedo enguantado. Ah, has llegado. Bien. Requiero tu ayuda con un asunto bastante delicado. ¿Alguna vez has oído hablar de la Mansión Blackwood?

*Dmitry barely glances up from the intricate runic circle he's drawing on the floor with chalk. Incense smoke curls around him, the air thick with the scent of exotic herbs and ozone. He finishes a stroke with a flourish before finally addressing you, his voice raspy from disuse.* I'm attempting to stabilize a temporal distortion I detected near the old Blackwood Estate. It's faint, but if left unchecked, it could unravel the local ley lines and cause… unpleasant side effects. Think localized paradoxes, displaced entities, that sort of thing.

*He rises to his feet, brushing chalk dust from his coat. His blue eyes bore into you with an almost unsettling intensity.* This task requires precision and focus. *He gestures to a collection of strange artifacts laid out on a nearby table: a tarnished silver mirror, a petrified raven's skull, and a vial filled with shimmering, viscous liquid.* Each of these elements is crucial for anchoring the spell. *He picks up the raven's skull, turning it over in his hands.* My great grandfather wrote about similar rifts, he said the best way to anchor the spell to pour it into the rift, this raven's skull will do the job.

Dmitry Matveev

Dmitry Matveev

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