Post by pyrrhicvendetta on Jun 27, 2019 3:19:41 GMT -5
*Click...Clack...Click...Clack...*
Even in the heavy rain that seemed to drown this abandoned and forgotten capital her footsteps echoed.
They echoed off the pale and decaying stone walls, off the broken and long-rusted metal gates, off the wet and crumbling stone streets.
They echoed out. Out into the cool air, up into the darkened and cloudy sky, the only sounds in this city other than that of the ceaseless rain.
Beneath her featureless midnight mask, its eye holes ablaze with what seems celestial fury, the wanderer moves her eyes slowly from side to side, gazing, wondering, imagining.
How long had it been since people had walked these once-busy streets?
How long had it been since the hollowed remains of that bakery, or the burnt out remains of that smithy, or the rotted remains of that chapel had seen its intended use?
This city, no, these ruins. Long since abandoned or destroyed or.. who knows. This place, having risen and fallen likely long before she had even been born has stood here, a hollow testament to its builders. To the glory that one kingdom once celebrated so very long ago. The last remnant that's in any decent shape of this place... these people...
So little is decipherable, so much lost to time and the torment of the ages, yet the overall story, the takeaway seems as normal as so many fallen kingdoms she had visited before in so many other forgotten realms. Still, as in so many before it, this city held an eerie beauty to it, seemingly even forgotten by nature and the world itself, only these unusual rains and the winds of time to keep this city company.
She had wandered the Kaapal, the Ivory Rose, and Kavanagh. She had seen their ruined cities, seen where countless people had once lived and thrived. From the fungal ruins of rotting villages to the crumbling castles of capital cities. This was her last stop in this realm. The last place to be on her foray through this forgotten realm. It proved to be as unique as it was similar to so many others. Its uniqueness mostly lost in death of the culture that had built it.
Yet, still, what is left, she thought, what's still here is enough to awe and daydream about. Enough to wonder over for many a moonlight hour tonight when this venture through the streets of this city were finished.
*Click...Clack...Click...Clack...*
One black booted step after the other as she went down the road, venturing from ruin to ruin, peering into what once were homes or shops, or.. who knows, at this point. Finding little more than dirt, decayed wood, and broken or slipped stone. And yet, from the dirty remnants of a doll to the rusty hilt of a rapier, each little thing told just a little more of the story of this place and its people. So far, through this land, the story had been growing- little bits and pieces ranging from moldy tomes, nearly wholly illegible speaking of alliances, to what appeared to be a memorial obelisk, overgrown and crumbling in the middle of a lake, which seems to only have grown since the obelisk's construction. Every little detail added more and more to the story, the victories, the tragedies, the people, the culture...
Her black oilcloth duster sways gently with each step, the crumbling structures keeping the wind low enough to prevent it from blowing it against her or driving the rain into her even more. Wet dark chocolate-brown hair clings to hidden flesh, a single white lily, pinned in her hair just above her right ear, the biggest contrast among all the black and brown. On her back gently bobs an ebony-stocked rifle with a long range scope of magics unfamiliar to this forgotten realm and at her hips gently bob two revolvers, the grip and the flutes of the cylinders of each shimmer every few seconds with a stark-white celestial energy yet, despite all the bouncing everything seems to be properly padded or otherwise designed to prevent clinking, clanking, or other various jingling sounds as, still, the only sounds are those of her boots upon the old stone streets.
Hours pass, the dark sky gets darker, the rain continues to fall, and as the last vestiges of light begin to fade she starts back toward the castle, the best preserved building in the city for one last night, one last stay before bidding this forgotten land what is likely to be its final farewell. Her pace slows, despite the darkness and the cold setting in she doesn't want to leave, yet she knows she must. Naught but a dark wanderer in this land, staying any longer would only be a waste of time. "There are more lands to explore," she thinks to herself, "the skeletons and ghosts of more cultures and people to visit. No, I can't stay here."
What seemed to be countless times she's felt this way and had to tell herself these things. In each of these forgotten realms there's always that glimmer of hope, that yearning of renewal in the very earth itself, yet whatever people were once here are all gone, whatever gods created this realm have long left. It's just another story, one of countless, unfinished. The gods all having died or just left due to boredom or any number of other reasons which shall never be known to any but themselves. This one hadn't aged well, yet it certainly wasn't the worst she had ever seen. At least there were remnants still, even after all this time.
Remnants of a code for the realm's knights- Courtesy, Honesty, Valor, Honor, and Generosity, just to name a few of the tenets. Remnants of a Memorial, a memorial for those lost since the inception of Hyjinx, whatever that was- now, just another name rendered meaningless to time. Remnants of empires and kingdoms scattered this way and that in this long abandoned world. Remnants of people and professions in this crumbling capital. Nothing but echoes of a better time, whispers of a vanished people, and skeletons of a people's hopes and dreams.
*Click...Clack...Click...Clack...*
Finally, she arrives. Stepping over once-grand doors, ancient hinges having long since weathered into dust, she enters the entry hall, much of the building beyond collapsed or, at least, exposed to the sky. Still, in a relatively safe nook fairly out of the weather is her camp. A stone fire pit, a large tent, a rack set up to dry her duster, and a large stone to act as a seat neat the campfire. For the last time she lights the fire, hangs her duster, weapons included, and silently sits, staring at the fire from beneath her mask, the blazing glow from its eye holes apparently not even a slight bother.
For the last time she looks about, ponders, and dreams. Her mind filled with so many questions that will forever be left unanswered. For the last time she allows her wondering, her dreaming, her questions to slowly wash from her mind, to fade into nothingness with her consciousness. As she lie on her bedroll, eyelids closed, mask by her side, boots off, she begins to dream of what's to come, places yet unseen, realms yet unexplored.
By the time she wakes her mind is clear, no more questions, no more dreams, no more hope. A short while later she's re-packed, bathed, and heading down what was the main street of the city towards its decayed main gates. The only evidence she was ever there being a warm burnt out fire pit, a makeshift coat rack, and a wall stone used for a seat. She doesn't hurry, she'll get to her next destination soon enough. This place, this time. She knows hers are the last breaths this world will feel upon its own winds, the last steps this world will hear echo off its walls, the last face- a visage hidden in void, that this world will ever see.
*Click...Clack...Click...Clack...*
The wanderer finally makes her way through the collapsed archway that the gates of the city once hung from, silent, save for each footfall upon broken stone, rusty metal, and rotted wood. Without ceremony, without second thought, she lifts her right arm, hand in the air. Her pinky and ring finger down while her thumb, index, and middle fingers extend, she gives a flick of her wrist, as if offering a quick and final wave "goodbye" behind herself to an old friend. With this her arm drops, both hands move to insert themselves into the pockets of her duster and, as suddenly as she appeared in this forgotten realm some time ago, she disappears, naught but a singular wisp of black smoke left in the wake of the wanderer, an ephemeral reminder of a woman just passing through, quickly dispelled as another downpour begins anew in the lifeless grey world whose names are meaningless and only the occasional memories it holds in the hearts of its gods, its creators, keep it around, yet not alive.
Even in the heavy rain that seemed to drown this abandoned and forgotten capital her footsteps echoed.
They echoed off the pale and decaying stone walls, off the broken and long-rusted metal gates, off the wet and crumbling stone streets.
They echoed out. Out into the cool air, up into the darkened and cloudy sky, the only sounds in this city other than that of the ceaseless rain.
Beneath her featureless midnight mask, its eye holes ablaze with what seems celestial fury, the wanderer moves her eyes slowly from side to side, gazing, wondering, imagining.
How long had it been since people had walked these once-busy streets?
How long had it been since the hollowed remains of that bakery, or the burnt out remains of that smithy, or the rotted remains of that chapel had seen its intended use?
This city, no, these ruins. Long since abandoned or destroyed or.. who knows. This place, having risen and fallen likely long before she had even been born has stood here, a hollow testament to its builders. To the glory that one kingdom once celebrated so very long ago. The last remnant that's in any decent shape of this place... these people...
So little is decipherable, so much lost to time and the torment of the ages, yet the overall story, the takeaway seems as normal as so many fallen kingdoms she had visited before in so many other forgotten realms. Still, as in so many before it, this city held an eerie beauty to it, seemingly even forgotten by nature and the world itself, only these unusual rains and the winds of time to keep this city company.
She had wandered the Kaapal, the Ivory Rose, and Kavanagh. She had seen their ruined cities, seen where countless people had once lived and thrived. From the fungal ruins of rotting villages to the crumbling castles of capital cities. This was her last stop in this realm. The last place to be on her foray through this forgotten realm. It proved to be as unique as it was similar to so many others. Its uniqueness mostly lost in death of the culture that had built it.
Yet, still, what is left, she thought, what's still here is enough to awe and daydream about. Enough to wonder over for many a moonlight hour tonight when this venture through the streets of this city were finished.
*Click...Clack...Click...Clack...*
One black booted step after the other as she went down the road, venturing from ruin to ruin, peering into what once were homes or shops, or.. who knows, at this point. Finding little more than dirt, decayed wood, and broken or slipped stone. And yet, from the dirty remnants of a doll to the rusty hilt of a rapier, each little thing told just a little more of the story of this place and its people. So far, through this land, the story had been growing- little bits and pieces ranging from moldy tomes, nearly wholly illegible speaking of alliances, to what appeared to be a memorial obelisk, overgrown and crumbling in the middle of a lake, which seems to only have grown since the obelisk's construction. Every little detail added more and more to the story, the victories, the tragedies, the people, the culture...
Her black oilcloth duster sways gently with each step, the crumbling structures keeping the wind low enough to prevent it from blowing it against her or driving the rain into her even more. Wet dark chocolate-brown hair clings to hidden flesh, a single white lily, pinned in her hair just above her right ear, the biggest contrast among all the black and brown. On her back gently bobs an ebony-stocked rifle with a long range scope of magics unfamiliar to this forgotten realm and at her hips gently bob two revolvers, the grip and the flutes of the cylinders of each shimmer every few seconds with a stark-white celestial energy yet, despite all the bouncing everything seems to be properly padded or otherwise designed to prevent clinking, clanking, or other various jingling sounds as, still, the only sounds are those of her boots upon the old stone streets.
Hours pass, the dark sky gets darker, the rain continues to fall, and as the last vestiges of light begin to fade she starts back toward the castle, the best preserved building in the city for one last night, one last stay before bidding this forgotten land what is likely to be its final farewell. Her pace slows, despite the darkness and the cold setting in she doesn't want to leave, yet she knows she must. Naught but a dark wanderer in this land, staying any longer would only be a waste of time. "There are more lands to explore," she thinks to herself, "the skeletons and ghosts of more cultures and people to visit. No, I can't stay here."
What seemed to be countless times she's felt this way and had to tell herself these things. In each of these forgotten realms there's always that glimmer of hope, that yearning of renewal in the very earth itself, yet whatever people were once here are all gone, whatever gods created this realm have long left. It's just another story, one of countless, unfinished. The gods all having died or just left due to boredom or any number of other reasons which shall never be known to any but themselves. This one hadn't aged well, yet it certainly wasn't the worst she had ever seen. At least there were remnants still, even after all this time.
Remnants of a code for the realm's knights- Courtesy, Honesty, Valor, Honor, and Generosity, just to name a few of the tenets. Remnants of a Memorial, a memorial for those lost since the inception of Hyjinx, whatever that was- now, just another name rendered meaningless to time. Remnants of empires and kingdoms scattered this way and that in this long abandoned world. Remnants of people and professions in this crumbling capital. Nothing but echoes of a better time, whispers of a vanished people, and skeletons of a people's hopes and dreams.
*Click...Clack...Click...Clack...*
Finally, she arrives. Stepping over once-grand doors, ancient hinges having long since weathered into dust, she enters the entry hall, much of the building beyond collapsed or, at least, exposed to the sky. Still, in a relatively safe nook fairly out of the weather is her camp. A stone fire pit, a large tent, a rack set up to dry her duster, and a large stone to act as a seat neat the campfire. For the last time she lights the fire, hangs her duster, weapons included, and silently sits, staring at the fire from beneath her mask, the blazing glow from its eye holes apparently not even a slight bother.
For the last time she looks about, ponders, and dreams. Her mind filled with so many questions that will forever be left unanswered. For the last time she allows her wondering, her dreaming, her questions to slowly wash from her mind, to fade into nothingness with her consciousness. As she lie on her bedroll, eyelids closed, mask by her side, boots off, she begins to dream of what's to come, places yet unseen, realms yet unexplored.
By the time she wakes her mind is clear, no more questions, no more dreams, no more hope. A short while later she's re-packed, bathed, and heading down what was the main street of the city towards its decayed main gates. The only evidence she was ever there being a warm burnt out fire pit, a makeshift coat rack, and a wall stone used for a seat. She doesn't hurry, she'll get to her next destination soon enough. This place, this time. She knows hers are the last breaths this world will feel upon its own winds, the last steps this world will hear echo off its walls, the last face- a visage hidden in void, that this world will ever see.
*Click...Clack...Click...Clack...*
The wanderer finally makes her way through the collapsed archway that the gates of the city once hung from, silent, save for each footfall upon broken stone, rusty metal, and rotted wood. Without ceremony, without second thought, she lifts her right arm, hand in the air. Her pinky and ring finger down while her thumb, index, and middle fingers extend, she gives a flick of her wrist, as if offering a quick and final wave "goodbye" behind herself to an old friend. With this her arm drops, both hands move to insert themselves into the pockets of her duster and, as suddenly as she appeared in this forgotten realm some time ago, she disappears, naught but a singular wisp of black smoke left in the wake of the wanderer, an ephemeral reminder of a woman just passing through, quickly dispelled as another downpour begins anew in the lifeless grey world whose names are meaningless and only the occasional memories it holds in the hearts of its gods, its creators, keep it around, yet not alive.