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Rhast

[Story] -

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[OOC]

 

I rarely write in first-person, though I felt it was fitting for the introduction. If I continue this story, you'll likely see me transition to third-person. I enjoy writing from an in-character perspective. Apologies in advance, I tend to be somewhat wordy.

 


Feedback is welcome!

 


Whoops...forgot to finish naming the thread topic.  O_o

 

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Chapter 1: Across the Threshold

 

The last thing that always comes back is my sight. I hear the world around me before my eyes can open. I smell the soil and grass beneath me, feel it against my skin, before I ever take that first look around. They tell me that it's nothing of consequence, that it's only a second or two. It may as well be an eternity, so vulnerable, so helpless. It sickens me.

 

The total numbness, mind and body, is a very odd sensation. In the many campaigns I've fought, across too many years to count, I've not found any better way to describe it. My body wakes and through it, I feel the world around me. I'm laying face down in the grass, though I push myself up onto my knees, and then my feet as best I can. I'm disoriented and though I am no stranger to this feeling it requires effort to focus in those first few moments. That time is mercifully brief and I look down at myself; I see armor and a sword at my side.

 

My memories become clear soon after. The haze of uncertainty begins to lift from my mind and I begin to feel at ease, my sense of purpose is restored. I recall the important things. My sense of self, a small flame inside that is 'me' and has endured despite the events of countless years in service to something far greater than myself. My name;

 

My name is Rhast and I am a Knight. 

 

The bulk of my armor and weight of my blade in its sheath assures me that my memories are true. The way my hand rests against the hilt is familiar in a way that little else is. I recall the room where I stood before waking here. I remember the ashen stone of the platform, inlaid with sigils that I only vaguely understood. I should remember it, I built that platform after all. The memories of many years working with hammer and chisel are quick to return, as is the knowledge that I enjoy seeing the proof of my efforts as a Stonemason enduring against time and the elements.

 

The memory of her voice comes to mind. She recites words that are themselves magical things, equal to that of the sigils that illuminate at her behest. The doorway opens and the thought occurs to me; with a great many words in our language why did we settle on something so mundane to describe the passage between our realm and one of the dying worlds? Doorway, it's almost laughable in its commonality. I remember the murmur of voices behind me and I recall stepping forward. They are uneasy, as always, so I step forward and across the threshold. Someone must lead and I know that they will follow, they always do.

 

The green grass of rolling plains surrounds me. The very same that I had seen through the doorway. I stand atop a small rise overlooking lowland plains. In the distance, I see a river, beyond it a grove of birch trees. Trunks of white bark standing in stark contrast to the blue of the afternoon sky. A gust of wind brings an unexpected chill and I turn to look as if searching for a cause. In the distance, I see foothills and mountains, and the gloom of the Hunger darkening the sky. A sigh escapes me and I know that we haven't much time to accomplish what we've come here to do.

 

Around me, I see those that had followed. I see an expedition on its knees, shaking off the effects of the journey. I see Men and Women, Humans and the Demi-races. I see my fellow Knights, I see Rangers and Druids. I see the towering Myrmidons and the diminutive Duelists. Hulking Champions in armor far heavier than mine, and Legionnaires with that almost indifferent gaze. A Confessor joined us as well, though I am still uncertain of her. Though in all of them, I see the trades that are desperately needed in this world if we are to endure. Everything from Cooks to Alchemists to even the errant Necromancer. He'll be sure to keep some distance from me, he always does.

 

The items we had prepared are littered about the area, though they appear in good shape. Rations to keep us in food and water until we can establish some small frontier post that will sustain us. Material goods, tools and the most basic essentials that will see us through a night or two. Beyond that, we're on our own. That thought doesn't bother me anymore, nor those that have stood with me in the past. It's a fact we've long since accepted. 

 

The doorway closed behind us. We're cut off from our home, our Kingdom, and no one will be coming to help.

 


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Chapter 2: Purpose

 

Soon

Edited by Rhast

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