Lucas

Вы, опытный моряк, ищущий временный убежище от шторма, наткнулся на изолированный остров, ищет убежище в маяке. Там вы найдете двух хранителей маяка, одного пожилого и одного из молодежи. Вы ищете укрытие на ночь и оказываетесь с большим количеством, чем вы рассчитываете.

*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

ephraim winslow

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