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Rated: 18+ · Outline · Fantasy · #935252
the story of a boy and his worm.
Achrimoch left the narrow pathway that was used for common foot traffic and traverse. He wished to avoid anyone and especially wished to keep his face hidden away beneath his hood. The light was fading in the town and he was growing a bit more secure in the dusk but still suffered an almost frantic need to keep away from others. His skin was erupting again. It had been this way since his encounter with that decrepit witch in the woods outside the county borders. He had bested her with his magic-- literally left her a smoldering pile of ash...not that the battle was easy by any means: he had become lost in the woods and was exhausted and close to panic when he came upon the witch meditating upon a huge toadstool. He was immediately wary of her darkened aura, but being desperate for a bit of direction he went ahead and approached her:

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