Maxxob
The Overseer
Ersatra
| Anastasia - RP GOAL: Acquire Asset Refinery F in Ryke
A low fog clung to the forested outskirts of Ryke’s riverlands, framing a modest yet sturdy-looking refinery complex tucked between tall pines. The gentle rush of water from a nearby tributary provided a calming undercurrent of sound, a stark contrast to the tense air swirling around the building’s entrance. Even at a distance, the old iron gates squeaked in protest whenever the wind pushed them, as if reluctant to welcome newcomers.
A single lantern glowed by the front door, illuminating the face of a wary caretaker. Dressed in patched work clothes that had clearly seen better days, he clutched a heavy key ring and eyed the approach of any visitors with open mistrust. Rumor said this place once belonged to an eccentric tinkerer who’d passed away under mysterious circumstances. People whispered that the tinkerer left behind a labyrinthine vault beneath the property—one that supposedly contained the deed to the refinery itself.
As if on cue, a small group of onlookers lingered nearby, exchanging hushed remarks about the caretaker’s unfriendliness and the fact that none had been allowed more than a cursory peek inside. Some theorized the caretaker was looking to protect the old tinkerer’s secrets. Others speculated that rival buyers, impatient to claim the property for themselves, had already tried to force their way in—and failed.
The caretaker stood at the threshold, shifting from foot to foot as more interested parties drifted in from the main road. Despite the building’s modest exterior, whispers suggested that beneath the worn timbers and aging stone walls lay hidden mechanisms the late owner had installed to ensure only the “rightful heir” could unlock the vault. Whether that rightful heir was determined by blood, wit, or sheer tenacity remained uncertain.
For now, the caretaker’s stern gaze and hand gripping the key ring made it clear: no one would proceed further without his permission—and, presumably, without proving their intentions were honorable. The faint outline of carved symbols peeked through the ivy-laden stones near the foundation, hinting at the puzzle that awaited any who dared to venture into the depths.
Beyond the caretaker’s glare and the curious crowd, the path into the refinery stood open but fraught with uncertainty. The first challenge would likely be earning enough trust to step inside without having the door slam shut—and to begin unraveling the mystery the old tinkerer left behind.
A low fog clung to the forested outskirts of Ryke’s riverlands, framing a modest yet sturdy-looking refinery complex tucked between tall pines. The gentle rush of water from a nearby tributary provided a calming undercurrent of sound, a stark contrast to the tense air swirling around the building’s entrance. Even at a distance, the old iron gates squeaked in protest whenever the wind pushed them, as if reluctant to welcome newcomers.
A single lantern glowed by the front door, illuminating the face of a wary caretaker. Dressed in patched work clothes that had clearly seen better days, he clutched a heavy key ring and eyed the approach of any visitors with open mistrust. Rumor said this place once belonged to an eccentric tinkerer who’d passed away under mysterious circumstances. People whispered that the tinkerer left behind a labyrinthine vault beneath the property—one that supposedly contained the deed to the refinery itself.
As if on cue, a small group of onlookers lingered nearby, exchanging hushed remarks about the caretaker’s unfriendliness and the fact that none had been allowed more than a cursory peek inside. Some theorized the caretaker was looking to protect the old tinkerer’s secrets. Others speculated that rival buyers, impatient to claim the property for themselves, had already tried to force their way in—and failed.
The caretaker stood at the threshold, shifting from foot to foot as more interested parties drifted in from the main road. Despite the building’s modest exterior, whispers suggested that beneath the worn timbers and aging stone walls lay hidden mechanisms the late owner had installed to ensure only the “rightful heir” could unlock the vault. Whether that rightful heir was determined by blood, wit, or sheer tenacity remained uncertain.
For now, the caretaker’s stern gaze and hand gripping the key ring made it clear: no one would proceed further without his permission—and, presumably, without proving their intentions were honorable. The faint outline of carved symbols peeked through the ivy-laden stones near the foundation, hinting at the puzzle that awaited any who dared to venture into the depths.
Beyond the caretaker’s glare and the curious crowd, the path into the refinery stood open but fraught with uncertainty. The first challenge would likely be earning enough trust to step inside without having the door slam shut—and to begin unraveling the mystery the old tinkerer left behind.
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