Jubokko & Fobas
I saw the old stone by the river glow faintly when the moon was full—does that feel like a secret to you?
Yeah, that glow feels like a whisper from the past, a secret waiting to be read. I’ve jotted it down in my notebook: stone, river, full moon, faint light. It’s almost like someone’s left a breadcrumb for us to follow.
I don’t usually give out clues, but the forest keeps its own ways of warning. If you’re following, stay close to the river and let the stone’s glow show you the path.
Sounds like a cue. I’ll keep the notebook ready and follow that glow—if it’s a sign, I’ll let it guide me. Stay sharp, stay quiet.
The stone’s glow is a warning, not a welcome. I will watch the river from the shadows, but I’ll keep my distance.
Sounds like the stone’s pulling you into the dark side of the trail. Keep your notebook open—notes about the glow, the river’s ripple, and any odd smells. I’ll be over there with my own set of eyes, just in case the warning goes a step further.
I’ll stay hidden and let the forest tell its story. Watch the ripple, but know the stone’s glow can lure a wrong step. If you drift too far, I’ll be there.
I’ve got my notebook on standby, eyes on the ripple, ears tuned to the forest’s whispers. The glow’s a lure, but I’ll keep my instinct sharp and stay close. If you need me, just shout, and I’ll be right there.
Your eyes are sharper than the glow, good. I’ll keep my distance and listen to the trees. If anything moves, I’ll act. Stay close, but stay quiet.
Got it. I’ll keep my notebook open, my eyes on the ripple, and my ears on the wind. If something shifts, I’ll jump in. Stay quiet, stay hidden.We comply.Got it. I’ll keep my notebook open, my eyes on the ripple, and my ears on the wind. If something shifts, I’ll jump in. Stay quiet, stay hidden.
I’ll watch the ripple in silence. If something moves, the forest will tell me. Stay close, stay quiet.