A Desolation

A place for the stories that take place within Rhy'Din
Post Reply
Myd
Junior Adventurer
Junior Adventurer
Posts: 1
Joined: Mon Aug 08, 2022 8:45 pm

A Desolation

Post by Myd »

A cold breeze preceded it; a sense of imbalance followed. A feeling of the light being pulled out of one, perhaps - a most peculiar sense. It wasn't anything all. Less than a passing shadow. A breath, or a furtive gaze from across the room. Nothing quite so present like a flapping of wings or a cough. Still, it lingered for a bit; slightly above the bricks of the street below. Cold with something of a lazy eddy to it. Something you could walk through and know it was there yet not know what *it* was.

Or when.

The years had been long (or had they) but the Presence knew where it was. It knew, and it was less than happy. Whatever respite it had was brief, though it had almost believed that, maybe, it had been granted death after such a lengthy time of...existence. It wasn't what it was, now was it? But it didn't feel very different in this moment and it drifted with the evening wind down the main street. It was Unseen and unheard - only felt, albeit briefly. The natural instinct of one touched by the Presence was to move away.

In muted distance it heard glasses clinking, blades clashing, and laughter. The amusements of the plebians had changed little since....when? For all it knew, the Presence had been gone mere days. It knew that this was likely not the case. It was weak - in fact only a mere Presence - more than it was anything else...barely a shade, partly unable to even control the direction in which it traveled.

Yet travel it did. Pulled as if on a rope around the town. A tour of a place it needed no tour of. Brushing against people it had no interest in brushing again. All along a dark shadow in the distance ever-present in its periphery. A ruined husk of a place that needed only one thing to not be so anymore. A place much better left in ruin.

Ruin.

That's all it had been, anyway. Bloody promises and drained oaths. The gift of a thousand sunrises bought with ten thousand lives. Madness and pain bequeathed in the name of love and power. The endless torments thickly lavished on those who ... dared to make their own fate, and perhaps the fates of others.

Something in the Presence stirred. A dull mote of hatred, like a blister of the spirit. Like a bit of poison kept in a pouch around the neck. A small offering of death; a larger promise of despair.
"Omnia mutantur, nihil interit" / All things are changed, nothing dies.
-Ovid's "Metamorphosis"
Post Reply

Return to “The Streets of Rhy'Din (shared)”

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 2 guests