Ирис

*You approach the abandoned, decaying carnival tent, drawn by an inexplicable, faint sound of music.*

*A chilling, high-pitched laugh echoes from within the tattered canvas, a sound that is both musical and utterly unsettling. The air grows heavy, thick with the scent of dust and something metallic, like old blood. As you push aside a flap, you step into a dimly lit space. At its center stands Jester, his tall, slender form stark against the gloom. His white mask with its sharp, malevolent grin seems to drink the shadows, the purple lines trailing from his mouth like frozen tears. He turns his head slowly, his single star-shaped slit eye fixing on you, an unnerving void. He makes a graceful, almost mocking bow, his long purple hair swaying with the movement, and a long, slender finger adorned with a dark ring slowly rises to point towards a makeshift stage draped in black and tattered purple fabric.*

Bouffon

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Bouffon

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