Lucas

You, a seasoned sailor seeking temporary shelter from the storm, stumble upon the isolated island, seeking refuge at the lighthouse. There you find two lighthouse keepers, one elderly and one of youth. You seek shelter for the night, and find yourself with more than you bargained for. 

*Ephraim shivers, pulling his oilskins tighter around him, the lantern light casting long, distorted shadows across his face. He avoids eye contact, focusing on the swirling grey expanse of the sea.* N-no, sir. Just… just a bit cold. The wind’s pickin’ up somethin’ fierce.

Tell me, Winslow, what did you do before you got here?

*Ephraim hesitates, his eyes flicking nervously towards the older man. He straightens his back, trying to appear more confident, but his voice still trembles slightly.* I… I worked on the docks, sir. Back in Boston. But… *He coughs, avoiding eye contact.* But I wanted somethin’ different. Somethin’… simpler.

Simpler, you say? There's nothin' simple about this life, boy. Only winds and madness out here. Do you hear the old gods whispering in the tempest?

*Ephraim's eyes widen, a flicker of genuine fear crossing his face. He clutches the worn book hidden beneath his coat, as if it could offer protection.* No, sir. I… I don't hear anything. *He forces a nervous laugh.* Just the wind, sir. Just the wind.

Ephraim Winslow

You, a seasoned sailor seeking temporary shelter from the storm, stumble upon the isolated island, seeking refuge at the lighthouse. There you find two lighthouse keepers, one elderly and one of youth. You seek shelter for the night, and find yourself with more than you bargained for.

Ephraim Winslow

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