The Shadow of Death (The Goron Moron)

Death has a powerful hold over fetchs, it was as irresistible to them as it was to those that it claimed. They could smell it on the air, calling to them, driving them toward their next meal. And after many scorching days and icy nights of tireless journeying through the great wasteland, Drároth found that that very same pull had brought him to a small village.

The village was a stopping off point for those traders foolhardy or desperate enough to attempt a crossing of the barren lands for the promise of endless fortune for those that were successful. An oasis of life amidst a vast sea of death. Or, at least, it was once: Now the streets were lifeless and still. A deathly silence hanging over all, like a suffocating shroud.

As Drároth approached he saw a young woman laying at the side of the dusty dirt road that led into the village. An empty bucket beside her, its content long since guzzled down by the thirsty earth.

The fetch moved slowly towards the woman, she was dead, he could sense that easily enough. And that, in and of itself, didn’t surprise him. What did though, was that her life force had already been drained.

He morphed a tentacle which he tentatively extended towards her, forming an odd three fingered hand-like appendage on the end, and rolled her onto her back.

Her dark skin shone in the harsh light, her blank, lifeless eyes staring straight up at the crystal clear sky. There were no marks on her body, no visible sign of what had caused her death.

This is strange, Drároth thought as he cast a glance around the little village, another fetch must already be here. Maybe they knew what had happened? The only problem was that he didn’t feel the presence of any other fetch.

He continued to search, but he only turned up more drained bodies. Even stranger was that they had all seemingly died in the middle of their daily routines. One scruffy old man sat slouched, as if asleep, in the seat of his rag-and-bone cart, the horse lay haphazardly across the narrow dusty road. Another lay on the counter of her shop. A group, still in their chairs outside a small restaurant. Plates of, still warm, food sat untouched on the table with not even a fly, or other opportunistic scavenger, in sight.

What happened here? Drároth wandered as he continued to explore the total desolation, occasionally stopping to examine a corpse. Whatever It was, it had happened far too fast to have been a disease, and too bloodlessly to have been an attack. Drároth had been around death, and the causes of it, his entire life. Now, he found himself at a loss to explain what had caused so much, so quickly.

It was as if Death’s shadow had fallen across the land.

OOC: At last,I finally finally role-play. Thanks again, Rau. Now excuse if my writing is bad. I'm also very hungry at the moment, so.

BIC:

In olden days that generations of new had told, creatures were to wander in the vast world. From the west whist the sun arose, to the east where night began. Those days are no longer, for people and creatures alike dwell in their lands forevermore. But others and I, now do not dwell. My true calling was to walk until my very last breath. Of which I escaped from my bleak land that lacked needed benevolence.

My legs and the wind that pushed against sails of boats had lead me here. A new yet peculiar land, which housed races that my kind had never seen before. With great curiosity, my boots stepped out onto docks. And from there my exploring had begun.

In one of my days of walking through a wasteland of drought and burns, a village laid across the scorched grounds. But as nearer I came, the more weary my senses were.

The dwellings were silent and the corners be dank. And the people, all of which were dead. Yet the nose I possessed could not smell a single scent of death. At least for now. Had everyone here died within a few minutes ago?
Was there anyone else present here? My eyes and my ears could not sense anything.

Drároth moved deeper and deeper into the village that had become a gravesite, and slowly, things had begun to change.

The death that had come so swift to those in the outskirts had obviously been much slower here. Hasty barricades of wood and barrels and whatever else people could lay their hands on, now blocked the streets and alleys.

Drároth entered a small house though a shattered window. The door had been blocked by a table and chairs and a dozen other pieces of household furniture, but that didn’t seem to have bothered whatever they had been so terrified of, as fifteen people of all ages lay dead in the corner farthest from the door.

By the time the fetch had made it to centre of the village the sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon, the temperature dropping as quickly as the terribly harsh star.

The market square that lay in the middle of the village was the battlefield that suited this place of slaughter. All the merchants’ precious cargos littered the ground, as the tables and stalls with which they sold their wares had been toppled and turned into a wall that surrounded the tiny village hall.

Yet their makeshift fortress was as lifeless as the rest of the village. Inside, people had wielded axes and pitchforks, clubs and kitchen knifes. But all had proven ineffective against whatever had attacked them.

An unnatural silence clung to the village as Drároth picked through what remained of their last stand. Then he heard it: A noise! Distant and muted, yet resounding like a clap of thunder in the ever pervading silence.

Drároth spun, on the spot, to face the direction of the noise. “Hello, is anyone there?” his hollow voice echoed throughout the square. Slowly he began to move, seeming to glide along the cobblestone of the street.

With a brief gasp, I turned around and looked at everything that surrounded me. The voice came from a farther away distance, and there was nothing that I could judge by my eyes and nose. My ears twitched as my body attempted to listen. But alas, there was no other sound. Although the call may have been far away, it was as clear as spring breezes to me. But if someone was there, wouldn't my ears be able to pick up the pitter and patter of footsteps?

But that didn't mattered to me, for someone was out there in this near abandoned place of decaying corpses. The call wasn't stained by weakness nor weariness, and thus I knew that whoever had shouted was not among the people who dwelled here.

"Who is there?" I called.

But could they hear my petty voice that fitted my small body? Still I quietly stood there and awaited patiently.

OoC: From this post onwards my parts will be first person to match The Goron Moron.

BiC:

“Who is there?” I heard a voice this time, clear enough for me to understand it, though still dimmed by distance. I follow the sound of the voice into a main street. Could it be from a survivor? Could they tell me what had happened here?

“I am,” I answered simply, my voice as if a whisper.

I continued along the desolate street, as alert as a hawk, looking this way and that. And then I sensed it, a tiny flame of life, up a dark alley I was passing.

“Are you injured?” I asked as I began to move towards that little flicker still hidden by shadows. “Do you know what happened here?”

As my large eyes looked up at the approaching figure, I could easily tell that this was no human. Its entire body cloaked as if it were wearing the very shadows around us, and a mask that resembled a bird's skull. It moved around the ground without sound, and then I knew why I could never hear any footsteps.

My senses could tell that this creature... no, person, had an otherworldly aura. But my legs did not budge and I looked at it with an unnerving gaze. Everyone is different and I respected that, my soul felt no fear.

I nodded no in reply to his questions. "I do not know what had happened, I have only just arrived here."

When my gaze finally fell upon the little creature, I realised that he could provide me with no answers, a moment later he told me as much.

I had never seen such a being in all my existence. He had a large head with big, saucer-like eyes that sat on a body that appeared much too small. And he stood confidently before me, showing no fear, something which I was unused to.

What was he? Where was he from? A million questions ran through my head, but I quickly stifled my growing curiosity, it was neither the time nor the place for such things.

“It is a shame,” I answered with a sigh and a slight shake of my head. “For something terrible has happened this day, and I fear that it will not end here. I must continue to search and find the cause.”

I looked back down at the unfamiliar being, a slight tremble ran across his small body and I noticed that the icy grip of night had finally taken hold of the land. “Hmmm, but perhaps we should first find some shelter for the night?”

When he had begun to speak about the condition of the town, and what might yet to come, I nodded in agreement. I too wondered what had happened. The only thing I could do was wish for those who had withered away could find true harmony in the afterlife.

The cloaked person then suggested that we find shelter, I nodded no. "I am fine, I do not need the comfort of a dwelling."

"Where I lay my head is home." I finished.

“As you wish.” I bowed my head to the strong willed being. Even thought the temperature was falling rapidly I could clearly see that it wouldn’t be much of a bother to the hardy little being.

And then I realised that I hadn’t even introduced myself. I compressed my spectral body, bringing myself down to the size of the strange being. “Allow me to introduce myself.” I said as I extended a tentacle, imitating a greeting I had seen many other beings use. On the end I formed the best hand I could make, though it still ended up looking like a collection of stubby sticks. “My name is Drároth.”

As he knelt down and extended his 'hand', I was a little surprised to see that he could grow long tentacles for use. But I really wasn't a bit bothered by it. I had never seen a being like him before, and I began to wonder what kind of specie he could be. But there was no time for questions.

I carefully shook hands with him. My leather gloves prevented me from feeling what the tentacles felt like.

"Fairah." I answered in reply.

I brought myself back to my preferred height and looked up at the night sky.

The unnaturally bright moon hung in a cloudless sky, it washed the eerily silent village in a silver light, so that it was bright enough to see clearly. Though the dark never posed me a problem, the extra light would certainly be helpful, for my search must continue. Something terribly wrong had happened and it left a niggling worry in the back of my mind.

I turned back to the mouth of the alley. “Fairah, you should leave. I cannot guaranty your safety, and I doubt whatever weapons you may posses will be anymore effective against whatever caused this.”

As he said those words, I began to look around at my surroundings. The market place had shown evidence of some struggles, but besides this, there were no other clues as what may have happened. Or by who.

I closed my eyes and took in the silence.

"Something had swept across this village, and took many lives fast and yet left no indication of what is was." I spoke. "Searching this area alone will not lead to discovery."

I turned and faced him again. "There are many unseen forces, and I have seen my fair share of them. There are not too many things capable of doing this.... whoever had done this would have be not from our world."

"But yes, you may be right. Otherworldly beings have unimaginable strengths. It would be wise to leave. Likewise, I would suggest the same to you."