“Oi Rynth, com’ere, ay foun’ some’in’” a voice called from the trees, echoing down from the canopy to the brush below where Rynth sought out the origin of it. Praeth’Aer kept lookout from above, jumping from spear-like branch to branch, rarely stepping foot on the ground. After a week of scouting and he still wasn’t used to his masked companion’s distaste for the earth. They said it was wrong, unnatural, as if leaping from tree to tree was was.
Praeth’Aer found him first, climbing down to a low branch nearby, even if it was still four torsos off the ground. They hovered there crouching, lengths of leather draping down from their body as their cloak enveloped them, layered cut strips of cloth leaving no skin exposed. Their eyes watched in the distance, peeking out from several holes of their hood, the top half of their face covered by the cloak. The bottom half of their face was uncovered, the unmarred pale skin of a youth was the only part of themselves that wasn’t hidden by their cloak.
Rynth by comparison was underdressed, wearing simple traveling clothes, a light shirt covered by a darker vest and tough cloth trousers below, carrying both his and Praeth’Aer’s packs on his back. They said it was so they could have more mobility in the trees, but Rynth thought it was just an excuse to offload their luggage. Unfortunately he had to go along, given Praeth’Aer’s habit of traversing through the forest of too-sharp trees, the branches were spears caped by huge crimson leaves, as if limbs were draped in sheets soaked in blood.
“O’re ‘ere” they said before leaping to another tree, leaving Rynth to follow from the ground. They would arrive first, as always, but they would often need to wait for Rynth anyway. He had all the supplies, as well as familiarity with more languages. Praeth’Aer spoke a single one, but their usefulness as a scout meant they were still the best for locating newly Awakened. Rynth just wished they could slow down.
He followed the direction his companion took off in, wandering the forest alone. The trees were dark, ridged and rough like a scales, while the ground crunched underfoot from the discarded bark of the forest, shed like skin from a reptile. Avian creatures swooped overhead, darting between branches with incredible precision, their six wings granting incredible maneuverability, hunting grey rodents that scurried through the underbrush scavenging what they could off the dead land, wary of death from above.
It felt like wandering through a massacre. A constant ash fell from above, flakes of white and grey dusting the landscape. Steam rose from outcroppings of rock, funeral pyres lined with the bodies of deep crimson plants clinging to the vents, bodies left in the slaughter. White twigs snapped underneath Rynth’s footsteps like bones crushed beneath a halberd, while the trees bled sap tinted red from between their serrated ridges as flayed skin-like fronds hung from pike-like branches.
Rynth wished it wasn’t a Dimday. The constant fog cover shrouded the landscape in shades of grey, sucking the life and energy out of the world. This was compounded by it being Duskweek, adding an additional layer of clouds overhead, further darkening the surroundings, the remnants of a battle lost as the land bled into a dark scarlet. There was enough light to see, though barely, as if lit by moonlight through fog. As Dusk approached he would need to retrieve a lantern from his pack to light the way back, though hopefully they would be back at the settlement by then.
He spotted Praeth’Aer ahead sitting on a thick branch leaned up against the tree, waiting for Rynth while watching over his target; a small unconscious form on the ground. Short but stout, their skin was dark with an oily sheen that reflected light in rainbows across their body, obsidian carapace lining their forearms and sides of their bald skull. Strange, but Rynth was getting more and more accustomed to strange people. It was the way of the new world.
He unloaded his packs and brought out both his waterskin and some rations, simple dried meats and stale breads. Their stores were running low, but the scouts were privileged to get full portions, plus some. They were incredibly important, while also being useless most of the time. They needed to find more Awakened however, so it was a necessary uselessness.
Their new friend needed some prodding before waking up, dazed as always. Rynth stepped back, giving them some space while they came to. They wore a colorful poncho, a multitude of colors that played well with their dark reflective skin, and was noticeable enough to explain how Praeth’Aer found them. Eventually they moved to sit up but collapsed, their arms giving way underneath as they started to fall to the ground. Rynth rushed to catch and steady them, helping them sit up with their back against the tree.
It was important to give them some space, as Awakening was rough on both the body and mind. Rynth held out the waterskin, and after a few minutes of rest the stranger took it cautiously, downing most of it in several thirsty gulps. He then traded it for some of their rations where were also tenderly accepted in silence.
Rynth looked to Praeth’Aer, nodded, and the cloaked figure leapt back off through the trees, scouting the surrounding area for safety. They had located the Awakened, but now it was Rynth’s turn to take the lead, and with it came the hard part.
“Tha-heva, non alim kath?” Rynth spoke, trying one of the languages that seemed most common in the settlement. There was always guesswork with newly Awakened, and while Rynth’s mastery over several languages was commendable, there were still several at the settlement that he failed to understand. His range was the greatest however, and so he was tasked with scouting.
The newcomer looked back at him quizzically, puzzled at his speech. It always took a few tries, Rynth just hoped that he could form some basis of communication. As long as they could communicate somehow, it would ease the burden of Awakening.
“Pon fah ton tah?” trying a new language, which was again met with confusion.
“Prat nii wesh-” Ah, there we go. Rynth’s first two guesses were off, but his third sparked a light in their eyes as he switched to a language they recognized. “There we go, finally. Can you understand me?”
The newcomer nodded, still timid, though comforted by hearing something familiar. “He-hello. Ah. Where, are we?”
Here was the tough part. “Hello friend, not to brush you off, but can you stand? It will be easier to explain as we walk” as Rynth offered a hand. They shied away, hesitant, before taking it and working to get up to their feet. After a momentary struggle they stood, head barely coming up to Rynth’s chest, still nervously surveying the surroundings.
Praeth’Aer landed on a nearby branch, startingly the newcomer. “A demon!” they shouted, turning to run only to stumble and fall face-first into the ground. Rynth shot a glare at his partner before helping their new friend up. “That’s my partner, Praeth’Aer. My name is Rynth. Come along and I will explain as best I can...”
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She settled on the name Trorl, though Rynth assured her that she would likely find a better fit. It was common for people to shift names, trying them out as if deciding on an outfit for the day. People couldn’t remember their identity, but they still knew what felt right. Strange.
He, Praeth’Aer, and Trorl arrived at the town shortly after Dusk descended on the land, the overcast fog cover giving way to shadowy storm clouds, blanketing the earth in near-oppressive darkness. Rynth hated Duskweeks. The way the gloom perpetually held the day captive, waiting to seize its moment and strangle the light from the world.
They trotted through the town, which was little more than a small collection of buildings built within a clearing in the forest. Red dirt paths dusted with white ash wound through the village weaving between buildings surrounding the steaming vents and bursts of plant life, red and white wooden homes huddled close to the boils like a man around fire in the cold. White wooden supports held together the red walls like flesh on bone, sheltering the explosions of life like guts in the body. Like each building was a wound, a hole in the body bleeding out crimson entrails as the plants slowly spilled across the ground.
Eventually they encountered the night watch, a lanky white-skinned man named Yrysys accompanied by Pwearen, a woman that resembled a stout strong boulder, to the point that she may have had a mountain in her family. Both wore dark cloaks salvaged from one of the homes, holding lanterns to ward away the foggy darkness as they patrolled the town. They saw the scouts and strode over, Yrysys bounding on his long legs leaving Pwearen to catch up, thundering behind him.
“Aha, you’ve returned. And...” Yrysys, noticing Trorl “You managed to find another, ha! Good, new help is always welcome. Nethnal is in the mansion, they will be pleased today!” The tall man always was more cheerful than Rynth could bear for long, though Pwearen’s constant scowl balanced out the duo, like darks contrasting bright colors on a painting.
Trorl nervously hung beside Rynth, intimidated by the new people. He had warned her, yet it was still disconcerting being introduced into a new world. “Yes friend, much appreciated. Would you mind...” as Rynth shouldered off his pack, Yrysys moving over to grab it with his free hand and swinging it over his shoulder, his three-segmented arm extending far out of his cloak. Praeth’Aer had taken their pack back as they returned to the village, and though Yrysys offered to take it, the masked man declined. They liked to show off their burdens, just not while scouting. Trorl remained silent during the exchange, curious yet nervous.
After a few exchanged pleasantries, Rynth continued on to lead Trorl further into the town, leaving Praeth’Aer to converse and recount their day to the pair in fuller detail. The hooded man always loved talking with Yrysys, and Rynth was glad to leave them behind. Yrysys was helpful, though he wished he could be a scout rather than someone scheduled for night watch. Unfortunately he only knew one language, limiting his usefulness when finding new Awakened. Ignoring that he was terrifying with his mouth of dark fangs and body lined with piercings that made him look unnatural.
Rynth lead his new companion deeper into the village, eventually coming to Nethnal’s “mansion”, which really was just the largest building in the town, a three-tiered amphitheater-like structure, rooms on each floor with a wall open to the central massive jungle that sprouted from a massive boiling spring at the center. It served as the primary hub of the town, with the rooms housing most of the town's occupants. Some lived in the surroundings buildings, preferring privacy, but most of the survivors grouped together, trying to form a semblance of community at the start of the new world.
Walking on the curved porch, Rynth continued on into the main hall, the huge atrium open at one side to the elements, with hallways and stairs leading deeper into the depths of the building. Nethnal’s room was straight back, the largest in the whole town, double red-wood doors framed by white leading into a grand chamber, the central fixture a large oval table crowded by finely decorated chairs, back and sides extended upward leaving just an opening at the front to sit, reminiscent of the homes built in the town. A beautifully staged meeting room, where forgotten peoples would have once managed the people of this village.
And Nethnal had decided to make it his lounge. Luminescent gemstones lined the ceiling casting a ruby glow on the room, outlining a figure huddled in blankets at the back of the room, snoozing in the dead of night, soft snores matching the rise and fall of their breathing body. He always turned in early. And got up late. And took a midday nap. It was a wonder he got anything accomplished with how much he slept.
Trorl nervously followed Rynth to the back next to the sleeping man where Rynth proceeded to nudge him with his foot, gently at first, attempting to shake Nethnal awake. It only took a few shoves before Nethnal raised an arm in protest, Rynth backing away and allowing him to rise. And did he rise, towering over Rynth by at least two heads, one set of arms rubbing his eyes awake while the other set pulled some blankets around his body, hesitant to leave the warmth of his layers of cloth surrounding him.
“Is it Dawn already?” Nethnal yawned, eyes mere slits and blinking away weariness, stretching his limbs as faint cracks could be heard from his joints like rocks tumbling down a tunnel. Trorl backed away behind Rynth, using his body as a shield as the unnaturally tall being before them returned to consciousness.
“No friend, it’s Rynth. Praeth’Aer and I returned from scouting, and we found another Awakened,” gesturing behind him at the cowering black form in his shadow. Nethnal managed to peel his eyes open at this, taking an inquisitive look at Trorl. He bent down, shooing Rynth to the side to inspect the oil-skinned newcomer who shied away at his gaze, Nethnal visually dissected her, his bulging eyes taking in every detail.
“Grand. Get...” “Trorl”
“As yes. Get Trorl settled, and I will assign them duty and hear your report tomorrow. For now, I must return to my dreams...” as Nethnal settled back down in his nest of sheets, tucking himself in and returning to snoring within seconds. Trorl looked incredulously at Rynth, which he could only answer with a shrug, before retreating and waving for her to follow.
That went about as well as every other “report” went. Either Rynth woke up their defacto leader and was dismissed after a few moments, or he returned while they were awake and was dismissed only slightly slower. Nethnal didn’t have a mind for managing a town, he left that primarily to his assistant Ofin, but he spoke the widest variety of languages letting him converse and speak with all of the survivors. He should have been scouting instead of Rynth, but he declined the work and instead spent his days lazily overseeing the survival of the town, acting as the bridge between the various languages spoken by the survivors.
He wasn’t a good leader. But he was all they had, and no one wanted to step up and take the position. Even Ofin didn’t want to be officially in charge despite doing a majority of the management. He probably just wanted someone to point to should anything go wrong. Ofin was a slimy bastard, but at least he brought some amount of order to an increasingly strange world.
Rynth led Trorl to one of the unoccupied rooms in the building, settling her in, noting he would be back at Dawn to make sure Nethnal followed through, before leaving to return to his own quarters. Rynth climbed the stairs from the second floor up to the third, ready to turn in for the day. Only to start again tomorrow. At least today they had found another, adding to the handful that were already housed in the town, a small collection of strange peoples at the rebirth of the world.
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