IndoWriter
Junior Member
Storms surged through the air, not of Zeus' or a beast's making, only of the hands of nature herself were they born.
The sky of the planet M'Quus, or at least the part towering over the Nublorna regions, was not the clear, sparkling skies people had come to know from generations upon generations of living here. Once in some long time ago--so long that it felt like nothing more than a lucid dream by now that only what was left of the older generations were cursed to bear on sleepful nights-- there had been so much blue. The heavens were always beautiful in those days, sometimes leaving people to wonder if the Great Zeus himself painted the sky with his own essence engraved into it. It was always the right kind of ethereal, electric sapphire that covered everything as far as the eye could see and dotted only sparingly with clouds. Even the clouds were majestic then, like powerful kings of the sky in all their fluffed whiteness and rain-bringing purity. The birds and fairies were like dutiful subjects to the fluffy kings, following their royal masters wherever they went on wings of obedience. While the ground could never meet the sky except for in the horizon, it was also a glorious sight in those days. Rich, hickory soil that bred life everyday thanks to the generosity of the sun and the sky. Plant life the color of crystal jade thrived like civilizations of old, with fields of gently swaying flowers and forests of towering tree giants being a common sight. Fresh mildew filled the hostels of those lucky few who cared to appreciate the sights, the smells and touches they had then. Paradise was the name of the world then--the world he watched from below in the comfort of the Pludai castle, the closest height anyone could be to Olympus itself. With his room so close to the sky, one had no choice but to appreciate the daily sights nature had to offer in the olden days.
Mud squelched and squished with each step he made. Lightning slithered through the clouds above him, but because of their natural random sense of direction, he paid them no attention. It was raining fairly hard to compensate for the heat of the summer, so hard that it was difficult to see more than a few feet out in front of you and describe anything in perfect detail. Sheets upon sheets were crashing down on the world, creating quite the cacophony for his sensitive ears. He could just imagine seeing tiny rivers and rivulets slithering down the rough exteriors of trees-- the homes of animals to drip from the upper panes of the tree branches. When the constant waterfall fell to the lower parts surrounding the tree trunk, it created the softest sound above the white noise of the raindrops that fell away from the castle. A never-ending wet splatter against a muddy base, that sounded like someone pouring water onto a floor made of clay. The raindrops alone were like static to his restless ears by now, though they would twitch occasionally if thunder boomed just close enough to her position. The mud would vibrate from the noise, shaking ever so slightly as a result of the air clapping back together at impossible speeds. The lightning would brighten the surrounding area, but it never added color with its presence. Such was a side effect the rain's soothing downfall--it turned the once colorful world around her into a realm of grey and white. Gone were the gentle giant trees and fields of smooth grass, for in its place were dying skeletons of thick bark, growing leaves hanging on by a thread and fields of black blades. The scent of rain could not drown the routing stench, a sign of several things long since dead in her vicinity.
It was one of the rare times Fulgur was pleased to be blind.
Fulgur tried keeping himself on the very edge of the muddy road, unhappy with the thought of being in the middle of the road anymore--where the line between mud and quicksand blurred. The collection of trees that bordered the 'sidewalk' only served to cast more water on her, but he was beyond caring at the moment. The young Wizard's old yet still reliable boots were caked to the heels and toes with mud, having seen even stormier days than this one. Water droplets rolled off his dark hooded cloak, his brown leather tunic wrapped round his pants and wool kneaded shirt kept dry as a result. The cold air still managed to sting beneath the cloak at places left untouched his clothes; goosebumps riddled all along the tanned skin of her hands, chilled his nose, his face nearly numb to the elements. The hood of her cloak concealed a head of black hair, slicked back and tied into a low bun. At his back was the pack he had, the very few things left of his and others held within.
A hiss drew his attention to his neck, where a scarf of red scales had been patiently seated. His milky white eyes fell to where the head of the Zajo serpent might be, trying to imagine the face of his pet the last time he'd seen it. No bigger than his fist, shaped in the manner of a python and blinking with large yellow eyes. He hissed again, his small forked tongue tickling his chin ever so slightly. "I know, we should be coming up on something soon. People wouldn't make a road going nowhere." Fulgur reached up, a finger gently rubbing beneath his pet's chin. Worried yet satisfied enough, the snake took cover from the cold again, giving his neck a squeeze he likely hoped was comforting. He almost smiled.
Fulgur tensed when the air suddenly vibrated with the booming sound of them. The things.
He could not sense how far away it was, but knew that if he was close enough to hear those wretched demons, he was in mortal danger. He hadn't the magic to make a distraction--no.
He had to flee.
The sky of the planet M'Quus, or at least the part towering over the Nublorna regions, was not the clear, sparkling skies people had come to know from generations upon generations of living here. Once in some long time ago--so long that it felt like nothing more than a lucid dream by now that only what was left of the older generations were cursed to bear on sleepful nights-- there had been so much blue. The heavens were always beautiful in those days, sometimes leaving people to wonder if the Great Zeus himself painted the sky with his own essence engraved into it. It was always the right kind of ethereal, electric sapphire that covered everything as far as the eye could see and dotted only sparingly with clouds. Even the clouds were majestic then, like powerful kings of the sky in all their fluffed whiteness and rain-bringing purity. The birds and fairies were like dutiful subjects to the fluffy kings, following their royal masters wherever they went on wings of obedience. While the ground could never meet the sky except for in the horizon, it was also a glorious sight in those days. Rich, hickory soil that bred life everyday thanks to the generosity of the sun and the sky. Plant life the color of crystal jade thrived like civilizations of old, with fields of gently swaying flowers and forests of towering tree giants being a common sight. Fresh mildew filled the hostels of those lucky few who cared to appreciate the sights, the smells and touches they had then. Paradise was the name of the world then--the world he watched from below in the comfort of the Pludai castle, the closest height anyone could be to Olympus itself. With his room so close to the sky, one had no choice but to appreciate the daily sights nature had to offer in the olden days.
Mud squelched and squished with each step he made. Lightning slithered through the clouds above him, but because of their natural random sense of direction, he paid them no attention. It was raining fairly hard to compensate for the heat of the summer, so hard that it was difficult to see more than a few feet out in front of you and describe anything in perfect detail. Sheets upon sheets were crashing down on the world, creating quite the cacophony for his sensitive ears. He could just imagine seeing tiny rivers and rivulets slithering down the rough exteriors of trees-- the homes of animals to drip from the upper panes of the tree branches. When the constant waterfall fell to the lower parts surrounding the tree trunk, it created the softest sound above the white noise of the raindrops that fell away from the castle. A never-ending wet splatter against a muddy base, that sounded like someone pouring water onto a floor made of clay. The raindrops alone were like static to his restless ears by now, though they would twitch occasionally if thunder boomed just close enough to her position. The mud would vibrate from the noise, shaking ever so slightly as a result of the air clapping back together at impossible speeds. The lightning would brighten the surrounding area, but it never added color with its presence. Such was a side effect the rain's soothing downfall--it turned the once colorful world around her into a realm of grey and white. Gone were the gentle giant trees and fields of smooth grass, for in its place were dying skeletons of thick bark, growing leaves hanging on by a thread and fields of black blades. The scent of rain could not drown the routing stench, a sign of several things long since dead in her vicinity.
It was one of the rare times Fulgur was pleased to be blind.
Fulgur tried keeping himself on the very edge of the muddy road, unhappy with the thought of being in the middle of the road anymore--where the line between mud and quicksand blurred. The collection of trees that bordered the 'sidewalk' only served to cast more water on her, but he was beyond caring at the moment. The young Wizard's old yet still reliable boots were caked to the heels and toes with mud, having seen even stormier days than this one. Water droplets rolled off his dark hooded cloak, his brown leather tunic wrapped round his pants and wool kneaded shirt kept dry as a result. The cold air still managed to sting beneath the cloak at places left untouched his clothes; goosebumps riddled all along the tanned skin of her hands, chilled his nose, his face nearly numb to the elements. The hood of her cloak concealed a head of black hair, slicked back and tied into a low bun. At his back was the pack he had, the very few things left of his and others held within.
A hiss drew his attention to his neck, where a scarf of red scales had been patiently seated. His milky white eyes fell to where the head of the Zajo serpent might be, trying to imagine the face of his pet the last time he'd seen it. No bigger than his fist, shaped in the manner of a python and blinking with large yellow eyes. He hissed again, his small forked tongue tickling his chin ever so slightly. "I know, we should be coming up on something soon. People wouldn't make a road going nowhere." Fulgur reached up, a finger gently rubbing beneath his pet's chin. Worried yet satisfied enough, the snake took cover from the cold again, giving his neck a squeeze he likely hoped was comforting. He almost smiled.
Fulgur tensed when the air suddenly vibrated with the booming sound of them. The things.
He could not sense how far away it was, but knew that if he was close enough to hear those wretched demons, he was in mortal danger. He hadn't the magic to make a distraction--no.
He had to flee.
