Rafia: Under the Second Sky

[Basilisque]

OOC: http://roleplayerguild.com/showthrea...rchive-and-OOC

The fog thickened over Platform City. It had been especially thick these last days.
A man in a black cloak sat silently on the corner of a side-street. There was a small Café there, one that served the most delicious herbal drinks. The food wasn't bad either.
He put down his cup, remains of a warm drink still floating around at it's bottom, on the table in front of him.
With a look to the sky, he stood up. He left the payment next to the empty cup, just a bit more than the actual price, as he always did.
He walked away, and pulled up his hood. The black cloak now covered him entirely.
He smiled as he fastened the dragon-bone mask to his face, and disappeared into the shadows,

We now turn our gaze to Myst and Rayn, two rather... small, people.
For the first time in days, the two remnants open their eyes.
All around them, they see broken buildings and scattered debris. None of them remember how they ended up where they are now, but it certainly isn't a very comfortable place to wake up.
Close by, they see something they can remember. A great stone tower, owned by their order; The Erastriders. Where they before found shelter and care, however, now lies a pile of rubble.
The top half of the tower has been shattered, and is lying on the ground in hundreds of pieces.
The snarl of a wolf can be heard nearby, and something is moving within the fog.
The two remnants are surrounded by trees, in the middle of a once-beautiful park, and high above them they can see the crescent of the second moon.

Meanwhile, a human woman by the name of Serina is waking up as well.
As she opens her eyes, she sees a man standing above her. He has black hair, and notoriously grey eyes. A great scar covering the left side of his face shows that he has not lived the easiest of lives.
“Oh, FINALLY, someone wakes up. Hey, are you alright?”

At almost that exact same time, two more similar scenes take place.
In the shambles of a broken home, an elven noble called Vyseriel opens his eyes. All around him he sees shattered furniture, broken wall paintings and torn apart walls.
Just outside, the fog obscures his view. But... he can see something. It looks feral... hungry. And whether he likes it or not, it has seen him aswell.

Then there is Saros... Poor Saros, opening his eyes only to find himself lying in the gutter of a tiny, tiny back-alley. That is, if there was still an alley there.
All around him, where there were once homes there are now rubble and crumbling walls.
What's worse is that a stinging pain is coming from his left arm, which for reasons which he cannot remember refuses to move.
The fog grows thicker around him, and he can hear the sound of footsteps closing in.

As people all around the forty-seven districts open their eyes, the second moon shines brightly in it's crescent.
A dance of fog and fire, has begun.

[Rulaan]

Vyseriel’s eyes opened. Bright white light smothered his sight as he woke. He sat up quickly and surveyed the surroundings. Furnishings lay strewn across white marble floors; an oak drawer was broken up against a pillar, its contents spilled all around it like tiny islands in a sea of white. Framed maple illustrations were broken and shattered all about the room, their precious illustrations ruined by tears, as if savaged by a pack of starving wolves in their desperate hunt for food. Everything around the sky elf was broken or torn; even the polished mahogany table he found himself lying on had snapped its legs and rested upon the ground. He took his longbow and stood.

Careful steps carried him across the wrecked home, across the mountains of splintered wood and tarnished canvas, to what he remembered was the front door. As he went, he noticed that the walls were ravaged and peeled; where once bright paints and mosaic patterns gave warmth, there was only faded colour remaining to bring despair. The door opened effortlessly, and from the broken home, he came upon a cloud, or what one might consider being on a cloud to look like. Everything in front of him was stark white and thick with a fog that seemed to pull him down with phantom hands. His eyes saw very little, and even behind him, the fog seemed to creep past and into the house like a quiet plague. But he was not alone, not completely anyway. In the deep fog, he saw the outline of a shape.

A large shape, undiscernible at first, but then…

… it moved.

[Fussiler1]

Do you think you can bring me down, world?

Panick. He felt panick. What had happened? His vision was still blurred, though he could see the ruins and crumbling buildings around him. Mist surrounded him and the panick became greater as he looked around and realised how short his sight was. The thickening fog made him uncomfortable, made him want to scream in frustration as he felt like he was slowly going blind. The ruins became mere figures in the mists, until they disappeared completely. Sounds of crumbling houses filled the air, but he could not locate from where it came, strangely. Where were the others? He had seen dozens of people wandering around, but where were they now? Why was the silence only broken by the crumbling houses, but not by the cries of people? He groaned as he stirred and looked at the skies.

Saros tried to get up, but quickly fell to the floor again as his left arm refused to work. A stinging pain suddenly overcame him and he would've cried out in pain if he hadn't heard footsteps. Great pain filled him. He opened his mouth to cry out in pain but the sound of footsteps held him from doing so. He quickly closed his mouth as the footsteps came closer. He pressed his mouth as hard together so he could deal with the pain, though the lack of anything between his teeth had it fail miserably. He let loose a small groan and paused, holding his breath.

He could not take the risk. He would not take the risk. Saros moved his fingers around silently with his right arm and hurried greatly, as to have his spell finished if the approaching man or woman had noticed. He would not be taken by surprise, not now, not ever. After ten seconds or so, he had very hastily created an illusion around him, hiding him and making it seem like there was only the stone of the crumbling buildings where he was. He repressed his urge to sigh out of relief and looked around without moving his head. Had there been an earthquake? If so, where had the fog suddenly come from? Why was the air completely silent except for the footsteps and the distant sound of the crumbling buildings? He would have to ask Elena once he managed to work himself out of this accursed mess. Had she also been struck by whatever this was? Worry for his wife almost overcame him, but he repressed it. Saros had to focus.

The person of the footsteps approached.

Saros would not be taken by surprise, gods be damned.

[Basilisque]

Vyseriel...
Without warning, the being in the fog jumped towards Vyseriel. He got glimpses of fangs and claws, but no clear view of what it actually was even as it soared towards him.
The fog shrouded it, hid it from his sight, keeping him from seeing what exactly it was that was clawing straight for his throat.

Saros...
A man in brown came into view. His hair was short, rugged. His face was locked in an expression of utmost seriousness.
He was clearly human, and wore a short cloak that reached halfway down his back.
He didn't seem to notice Saros, however. Apparently the illusion was working as it should.

[GreenGoat]

A nightmare.

Swirls of dark shapes and agonized contorted figures plagued her constantly, yet she was never able to look away. Always she was forced to watch as vaguely familiar figures ran in and out, changing and phasing, shifting and moving like some grotesque hellish dance.

Always that dark figure, reaching out towards her, breaking through the restless shadows, the clawed appendages reaching for her, surrounding her until -

***

“Oh, FINALLY, someone wakes up. Hey, are you alright?”

In a moment of fear, she almost screamed as the man seemed to take on the features of her nightmare. Luckily she managed to stifle the scream with her hands, lest she might offend the man. Nightmare he was not, but he was certainly capable of doing harm to her.

"..ah..I..I am unharmed, th..thank you fo...r asking."

She stood up shakily, feeling pain from all parts of her body.

"Wher..."

As she tried to regain her senses, she realized that her white hair was flowing with the breeze.

Serina Alhurst was blonde.

[Fussiler1]

Saros moved his fingers around even more, slowly conjuring a small fireball that grew with the moment. He did it slowly, as to avoid making sound, but it grew steadily into a true fireball as he examined the man before him. No chances. His glare was brought back to the growing fireball, which grew as his fingers moved slowly. He looked at it with fascination, as he always had. With his mere fingers, he could already conjure something so deadly.. it was strange that sorcerers didn't rule the two worlds, he thought for a moment. Finally, as his fireball grew to satisfactory size, he nodded, tearing his gaze away from the fireball and back to the short man. Foe or friend? He would find out now. Either way, he would be victorious, thus he swore. He suspected the man was most likely his foe.. he usually only had foes and enemies. He'd spotted many men like these whilst looking over his shoulder. He would take no risks.

''Who are you!?'' Saros suddenly roared, breaking the eerily silence, still keeping the illusions around him and keeping the fireball in his hand, ready to strike at any moment. No hesitation. Hesitation would only lead to loss, which lead to death. His voice boomed through the ruins and sounded harsh, demanding and most of all, enraged. The rage replaced the fear and the panic briefly and in this moment of concentration and passion, he found his displease of the narrow space he was in fading, luckily.

[Basilisque]

Serina...
The man gave her a questioning look, then shrugged.
"Well, I know we're in the Gravedigger's territory. 'been here before, you see. I have to admit it's changed a lot..."
He shot a glance at the sky.
"Anyways, the name's Geleph. Part-time sellsword and educated in the arts of brewin' good ale.
I've been walking around to see if I could get anyone to wake up. You're the only one so far. Must've been some real' expensive gas they filled the area with."

Saros...
The man froze. Slowly he moved his hands up behind his head, showing surrender.
"I mean no harm. I'm no-one, just a slum rat. People call me Mesh."
His voice was calm, and controlled. Despite his surrender, he showed no fear.

[FlamingBird]

Rayne opened his eyes, unsure of where he was or what had happened. Various thoughts and images piled up in his head like towers of unsorted paper documents, he was very disoriented. He looked around to his enviroment and slowly wobbled to his feet, regaining his ballance and after a while his orientation.

Looking around once more he noticed the whole garden in shambles, The once proud and majestic trees that rose up from the green and soft grass field were now in shambles, torn appart and and shattered to pieces. The once great tower they called home was all but destroyed. The top half was completely gone, almost as if some sort of gigantic hand had snapped it in two and scattered the debris around. The beautiful flower beds had withered and the grass had turned dry almost like the moisture had just been sucked out of it. All around him was a thick fog covering the ruins of this once peacful grove.

Under one of the many broken trees Rayn spotted his sister Myst, she was still unconcious. Just as he was about to walk over to her and wake her up he heard a sound comming from the mist, it sounded like the grawl of a wolf.

He checked his equipment, for he had to be ready for battle. his Khiinblade, Vanair was sheathed on his back in the exact place he had left it. His bow, also worn on his back seemed to still be intact. However the arrows he carried around seemed to have fallen our of the quiver strapped to his waist, scattered on the ground. He also carried with him is longsword, it was sheathed next to his quiver.

Perfect he still appeared to have all his equipment. He drew is longsword (not kiihmblade) and peeredinto the mist, trying to find the silouette of whatever was making that growling noise.

[Fussiler1]

''Stop acting slavishly. I'm not a lord or noble.'' he told the man with an angry voice as he began to unravel the illusionary spells and work himself up on his feet. Though it was hard for him to get up with one arm, he eventually managed to work his way up. He glared at his left arm, that was dangling around uselessly, while still providing him with pain. Had.. had he lost use of this arm forever? He shuddered but told himself not to think of it. Still, the loss of his left arm would be.. No.. he had to figure out what happened, not think about his now-useless arm, or the pain. He looked around and frowned as the mists continued thicking. Luckily, the sound of crumbling houses had momentarily stopped. Had they all crumbled already?

''What has happened here?'' he asked as he leant against the wall with his right arm and stared into the thick mists, his gaze trapped in them. They were.. mesmerizing for him, he thought. Saros shook it off with an angry reminde that he was not here to stare into the mists. He looked around again, to his direct surroundings. The building he was next to was surprisingly stable, though it had crumbled, too, he noticed. Nonetheless, he didn't know what debris could still fall down. He had to get out of here.. see if Elena and Easrin were alright, he mused. Saros peered into the mists for a while, to try and distinguish any other human figures. He didn't find anybody.

''Also, where is everybody? Next to this alley was a fairly lively street. One moment I'm in this alley, the next moment my left arm doesn't work and there's almost complete silence, with no traces of those people in the streets.'' he said, looking at Mesh again, with a frown.

[GreenGoat]

Still in shock, she barely registered what the man said.

"Grav...ediggers? Gas?"

Upon examining herself, Serina realized she was wearing the vestment of the Receiver, the traditional garb for the Ceremony.

"The Ceremony!"

Her mind cleared at that single word, as memories came flooding back to her. Or to be more precise, what little she can remember after the horrible discordance happened. Essentially nothing. Nothing but swirls of shadow and vague shapes. Perhaps it was then that she had somehow turned her hair white?

"Ah, I apologize for being rude. I.. I am Serina Alhurst, acolyte of the Chained."

Or whats left of it.