It's chilly. The wind whips by, rustling your clothes and freezing you to the bone. You're alone, walking down a dark road lit only by the occasional street lamp. You don't know how you got here, or what your purpose is. You keep walking. A shiver runs down your spine, and goosebumps raise on your skin. You feel like somethings watching you. You start to walk faster, the wind biting into your flesh. It's only when you start to run that you realize you're barefoot, the gravel from the road stabbing your feet with every step. You begin to slow, breathing heavily. You stop, panting, resting your hands on your knees. It's at this point that fear has started to creep through you, and you look wildly around at your surroundings.
You are about to start walking again when you hear a gentle jingling noise. A figure is approaching from the darkness, low to the ground. You begin to move back, but stop when the figure steps into the light. It's a dog. A fairly large thing, fluffy, black, brown and white. It sits under the street lamp. You walk closer, cautiously reaching a hand out. Its tail wags, and it stands, turning around. It begins to walk, looking back to see that you are following it. You are. You follow the dog for a long ways, cursing the pain in your feet, and the cold. The dog barks, startling you out of your thoughts. You stand in front of a large house, cozy looking, with a large garden.
You follow the dog inside.
<><><>
Welcome to The Gregory Linwell Home. You're here because you have been cast away from your home, showing signs of what we call 'magic.' People of all ages are welcome at Linwell's, and it has been a safe place for those with magic since its establishment in 1756. Here you learn to use your newfound powers for good, and to control the violent outbursts that tend to come along with magic. Please, come inside.
