Re: A Land Alike (Mr. Man, one other?)
The soft tread of feet upon cobble echoed from behind, as well as the rustling of cloth. There was no other sound than that, and his faint breathing. The town was totally silent, nearly lifeless. Yet, in the distance, at the center of the town, there were mulling figures, appearing to be clothed in pure white. The shadows that were cast by the high eves covered all of each street; tiles of what had once been dark red clay, it looked close enough but appeared made out of the same silvery substance as everything else, adorned each roof, similarly cast into perfect bisected rows and columns. Yet, the people walking in these shadow appeared to be lightened, as if they were each lit personally by the moon, the light coating their figure like a veil of fine muslin cloth. Nothing ahead made a sound; it was as if nothing actually existed physically, as if everything here had been stripped of its substance.
Yet, there was energy, behind his rigid form, moving toward him and the town. Then, suddenly the mass at the center of town began to move, spectral figures emerging from buildings, as if sensing the pure kinetic power of the person who approached the town. The appeared to be merely moping around, fanning out into some strange pattern that Kylac could not comprehend, seeming to be nowhere yet everywhere at once, accentuating the sheer loneliness of the place. Yet, one could tell the creatures’ attention was focused on whoever, or whatever was arriving. And Kylac sure did not want to meet it unprepared.
As his wide hand bet with the strange, almost velvety, surface of the door handle, a strong shiver passed down the back of the Daoine. There was something very wrong with this place, very wrong indeed. However badly his danger sense warned him of touching the strange substance, the Sky Mage opened the door hurriedly, slipping inside before closing it just enough so that he could barely see outside.
She arrived in a flurry of color, so out of place in such a wash of pale silvery white. A nearly feral nature surrounded the green and earth toned woman, sharp eyes scanning the area, coming to questioningly peer at the figures that lazily shuffled through the street. She moved to a building, fingertips gracing the wall, moving as if they were passing through a distasteful resin. Her voice rang out, calling for someone. Yet, Kylac could not answer, not until he knew why the strange lifeless people knew about this woman.
One figure ventured on a slightly different path than the others, appearing to catch the woman’s attention. She walked forward to it, the thing pretending, yes pretending not to sense her. As if suddenly stricken by rigor mortis, the lithe female swooned, eyes flitting around wildly in her head. The thing appeared satisfied, moving away, a look of what appeared to be satisfaction gleaming from the dull eyes set deeply in its head. As it moved away, a soft darkness grew from it, spreading slowly like an aura. Kylac could taste the danger, as the being that the woman had touched came close to others, the darkness spread from one to the other. The black tint spread quickly through the populous, the moon now glinting into his oceanic oculars, as if it contained some malice toward him. As his vision cleared somewhat, he then saw that as the black spread, the people came closer. Red eyes glared from that darkness, moving steadily closer to the woman who lay upon the harsh cobbles, limbs akimbo to form, with limited chance even should she awaken of being able to defend herself against so many.
Making a quick decision, the Cloch holder burst through the door, shattering the strange wooden door with little ease. The Tear of the World was gripped firmly in his left hand, light pulsing from the stone in small blue waves, escaping the gapes betwixt his large fingers. The leather of the sandals made a slapping sound as his feet beat into the stone, tunic clad form bending down, scooping up the form of the unknown, but obviously in danger woman.
From the shadow of a near by house, a specter lunged, a seeming hunger contorting its visage, as gangly arms outstretched to rake the olive toned skin of the male of mixed heritage. Fiery metal sang through the air, the pair of arms disappearing into a wave of pale goop, the creature’s blood slipping from the stubs that the keen blade had left instead of the limbs that had preciously been attached. It looked aghast, pale red orbs turning upward in disbelieve, hunger, and outrage. A majestic figure met the creature’s vision, gleaming metal adorning a being that seemed to rage with a Sun’s worth of magic, broad wings a pure dove white, the single clear tear rolling perpetually down the sea-foam colored skin of the Valkyrie’s cheek. Then it saw no more.
Kylac’s breathing came hard, the work of carrying another human, however lithe they may be, combined with the sloping of the hillocks, was a vast ordeal. His wide brow glistened with sweat, chest heaving under the fabric of the tunic in large yet slow breaths. He looked backward, blond locks cascading across his chiseled features, picking out the rising form of Gaia. Her steady gaze peered into his, the pristine elegance and venomous poise of the Cloch Avatar making her seem as not something to be commanded by the stone around his neck, but rather the Herald of the Earth Mother, her hand of death and messenger. Yet, as the Sky Mage stopped the power of his stone, she once again disappeared, fading out into the strange sky of the land.
“Madam,” Kylac whispered at the woman he held, having stopped to sit upon a rock. “Awaken. You passed out, and were nearly eaten alive, as I assume, by the residents of that town. Everything in this place seems to be so strong in spirit, yet lacking substance.” He was silent for a moment, his handsome face donning an expression of wonder. “Be you a Channeler, or Shaman?”