Heavy rain fell upon the grime stricken cobbles of Old Town. A hooded man with a beard as gray and worn as the attire he bore shouted to the top of his lungs to the informal assembly of civilians. Fear laced their gasps, a visage of turmoil for the maddened words he preached of inevitable doom. The raving creature stood up on a turned over box pointed out to the crowd, his form drenched by the rain. “Nigh! Nigh is the arrival of the imperceptible foe! A horror of clicking claws along the streets and rooftops! They howl in the woods, they prey upon your husbands, your wives, your children!” The filthy toothless soothsayer spoke in inevitability, assurance. And the woeful masses devoured what he fed. Wailing madly that the end was upon us all. “The opulent Imperial Isle will face a greater catastrophe than the Lo Occupation! It’s fattened merchants and stirling guardians torn asunder by the mocking tone of stealthy otherworldly hunters!” He fulminated at the very idea of this being questioned. His gnarled nails and ragged fingers were marked up, the rags he wore displayed the very idea of sanity lost. But it was not just him who spoke these ill truths. All the isles and Crookback Bay itself were rife with the boasting of uncanny knowledge of what is to come by many gibbering prophets. “Beneath us the world will be torn asunder! And out of it the Void shall spill. All shall be swallowed whole! There is nowhere to run.” ===OOC=== Saturday the 29th @ 6:00 PM EST | 11:00 PM UK Location: Imperial Isle
Damon, under the guise of someone else completely, watched the old mans raving and though he found the words of a mad man to be hard to believe on their own, the clickers were dangerous and they were said to be a sign of the void invasion. He shook his head and made his way back towards the Imperial Isle, casting away his disguise when it suited him. When would this happen? And how should he prepare?
In the midst of the awestruck crowd, hidden beneath the many worried faces filled of concern and anticipation, stood a robed man with a cloak befelling his long hair of white. Rain flowed before his gaze as he stared across the populace with questioning eyes filled with Arken influence, listening with eerie, unprovoked intensity.
We shall know what the darkness discovers, If the grave-pit be shallow or deep; And our fathers of old, and our lovers, We shall know if they sleep not or sleep.
Within the crowds stood an Isldar, drenched in elven silks embroidered with a golden touch. She held a flat parchment, her fingertips lacing over the topics spoken as she'd make a few scribbles on the occasion she heard something that caught her eye. With her wishes satisfied, the Isldar began off in a quick move for her Kin, desperate to share the news.
(Letters go out across Gallovia) “Brother and Sister, Kin and Bonded this is The Ritualist of the 8 Old Gods son of the Warrior Theodora Larkson and the Ritualist Halhar Larkson. The Void has come to Regalia, arm yourselves but do not fear hold to the gods. May, Horns ring across the Valley we must beat it back again. Call forth the Were-beasts that remain within themselves and Gather all allies of your Villages the Void has brought forth Invisble horrors Called ‘Clickers’. My Ritual brothers sharpen the blade and forge the bones call to the gods and Prepare for war. The Old Fayth Soothsayers have spoken but we are Gallovians we stand as one unionist and Old Faith. To my family gather the clan, call to our blood and our bonded we must prepare to Stand AGAINST THE ACCURSED!!!” - Pagan of the 8 Gods, he who heard the voice of the All being.
The Reverend Mother returned quickly to the Regalian convent walking as quickly as her old legs could carry her to the small wooden chapel beginning to pray as she ran the troubled words of the soothsayer through her head. She prayed through the night asking the Spirit for guidance while writing in a golden-glowing Sanktist Script onto a nearby page.
A Kathar in the crowd listened to the words, looking heavily caught off guard and slightly fearful. "The fuck is this about a Void Invasion..?" He turned to put up his hood and walk on off.
Merlara quickly scrambled down the streets to her house after she heard this, clearly panicking. "Shit!"
Tiray, during her walk from work to home, paused to listen in on the man’s desperate shouting. The information, although from the mouth of a most probably homeless, attention seeking man, left the Diviner uneasy. Her brows furrowed in mild distress, and she rushed to the home she and her partner resided within, checking the locks on the windows and doors a mere three times before she was comfortable enough to get ready for bed, and rid herself of her rain-drenched clothes. “The end of the world,” she pondered beneath her breath, hugging a pillow to her chest as she pulled the sheets over her shivering form. “They act like it isn’t already here. Looming, every day, just waiting for an opportunity to happen. It’s inevitable.”
A rather old man, his beard as grey as stone, moved to sit and give his cane to his advisor. "The end is near, Gefferey."
A fat dwarf selling pies would stop, listening "I have survived last fifthy years in this damn city. I won't succumb to fear now. If they will really come, bring it on."
Their eyes shifted carefully before an annoyed grunt escaped the being known as the Harbinger. “Come out of retirement they said. It’ll be fun, they said. It’ll be good for you, they said. Ah yes, facing the invisible beasts is definitely on the list of things to do to have a healthy life.” A deep sigh came from their lips as they moved to prepare for what was to come. Perhaps offering up a prayer to whomever was listening.
