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Description
He prefers to be called the Banjoman, and he says his title is The Storyteller. The Artist smiles as he lives up to the title, walking down the lonely stretch of supposedly empty grassland. She thinks, at first, that she has entered some sort of a Western-themed dream this time, because of the clothes she had been fitted with upon arrival, and of course the Banjoman himself, done up in cowboy boots and a hat, a poncho wrapped around him like a young Clint Eastwood.

But then the blue of their empty fields started to make her wonder, jarring with the memory of acidic orange sunsets plaguing most prairie westerns of filmic memory. And the fog rolled in, and she wondered if maybe she wasn't in the Wild West, like she thought.

Oh, Also the Storyteller spoke with a strong Scottish Brogue. You never did know though.

Forgot to post this one! did this a while back. Figuring out characters and clothing for the Artist and Creator storyline I had thought up but will probably never do.

Description
He prefers to be called the Banjoman, and he says his title is The Storyteller. The Artist smiles as he lives up to the title, walking down the lonely stretch of supposedly empty grassland. She thinks, at first, that she has entered some sort of a Western-themed dream this time, because of the clothes she had been fitted with upon arrival, and of course the Banjoman himself, done up in cowboy boots and a hat, a poncho wrapped around him like a young Clint Eastwood.

But then the blue of their empty fields started to make her wonder, jarring with the memory of acidic orange sunsets plaguing most prairie westerns of filmic memory. And the fog rolled in, and she wondered if maybe she wasn't in the Wild West, like she thought.

Oh, Also the Storyteller spoke with a strong Scottish Brogue. You never did know though.

Forgot to post this one! did this a while back. Figuring out characters and clothing for the Artist and Creator storyline I had thought up but will probably never do.