Who is online?
In total there are 3 users online :: 0 Registered, 0 Hidden and 3 Guests :: 1 Bot

None

[ View the whole list ]


Most users ever online was 38 on Sat Nov 16, 2013 5:43 am
Latest topics
» Emerald Spire Session Notes
Fri Dec 01, 2017 1:39 pm by Magyc

» A Journal Bearing the Adventures of Pathfinders
Tue Nov 21, 2017 3:15 pm by Magyc

» The "Bored at work" thread
Fri Sep 15, 2017 2:08 am by Eddick the Steady (XIV)

» Draxthious' Father
Thu Aug 24, 2017 9:55 pm by MrPrettyPretty

» For What It's Worth (Adanedhel's Story)
Tue Jul 04, 2017 10:38 pm by The Sub-Creator

» Mother Knows Best
Fri Jun 16, 2017 10:49 pm by MrPrettyPretty

» 3rd Watch, In Which Drax and Elle Have Feelings
Mon May 29, 2017 2:58 pm by TRU

» Letters from Derrack
Sat May 13, 2017 3:47 pm by TRU

» Post Mortem Discourse
Fri Apr 21, 2017 11:21 pm by Colin Marcus


Starlit Portents: The King's Dream

View previous topic View next topic Go down

Starlit Portents: The King's Dream

Post  Wynnsaren on Thu Aug 13, 2015 3:50 pm

Erastus the 27th, 4714

***

Splat.  

A thick drop of rain smacks you right between the eyes, bringing you to awareness of your surroundings.  Above you, an angry mass of clouds roll across the sky darkening the early evening hour, while rain -- a murky, mist-like substance, falls all around.  You find yourself standing upon the vaguely familiar balcony of the Skywatch observatory.

In the ruined streets below, you notice that the rain has been collecting in misty puddles upon the weathered flagstone, then unexpectedly as you look on, those puddles converge of their own accord.  Puddles become a pond and the pond becomes a river as the water begins flowing off at an ever quickening pace to the west.

Enormous angelic wings sprout from your back and you feel the conveyed urgency to follow.  So you do, beating along at a breakneck speed as the churning river swallows everything in its path.

You fly over rugged hills, a much more placid river and then sweeping, barren plains. The incredible pace of your flight confuses the mind, distorting any sense of time or distance, making it difficult to know how far you've traveled but for the geography below.  Abruptly, the tumultuous river diverts course to the north where you see a port city, squat and ugly, huddled along the edge of a lake -- a lake that seems to stretch on forever.

The river rushes on, so large and strong as fed by the constant rain, that it crushes through the walls of the city where it empties into the Lake.  You have come to the source and the rain has ceased, yet something else now pulls you, tugging insistently at the back of your mind that you must continue northward in the direction the river was traveling.

For miles and miles you fly north over the Lake.  Night is falling, Luthunar is rising and as the air around you cools in the pre-winter season, the water below begins to steam, blanketing the lake in a low and eerie cloud of fog.

Finally, you sense a presence.  Ahead of you, cloaked in a veil of mist, a being hovers over the surface of the deep.  It lifts its head to regard you with inscrutable eyes of blue fire, glowing cold in the darkness.  She -- as you find it impossible not to identify the gender as such, is clothed in a gown of silver and moonlight, and as she raises up to meet you in the air, you note the bright motes of light whipping in furious orbit around her figure.  Tapestry-black hair falls in waves past her shoulders, framing a face upon the sides of which glow large angelic symbols.  

The being seems oddly familiar, but as she hovers before you, unbreathing, unblinking, undying -- unnerving in the power that ripples through the air around her, you realize that any familiarity you might have shared with this creature was never more than a figment of your imagination.

"Have you seen?"

The reverberations from the musical voice hit you in the chest like a triple punch as the creature indicates the location of the water below.

"The Dreamer has chosen, you must tell them."

She closes the gap between you to even more uncomfortable a proximity, then reaches out two fingers from her right hand and touches them in the center of your forehead precisely where you were hit by that first drop of rain.  At this nearness, you notice a wistful smile gracing the corners of her lips, but it is the cold, distance of the eyes that you remember last after she whispers. . .

"Wake up."

_________________
Carpe DM
avatar
Wynnsaren

Posts : 742
Join date : 2010-01-21

Back to top Go down

View previous topic View next topic Back to top

- Similar topics

 
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum