The Awakening

[Charwoman Gene]

The Scholar

You are awake.

Before you even open your eyes, as awareness begins anew... you hear distant sounds of violence. The clang of steel against steel, the cries of agony and valor.

Your eyes open to the diffuse glow of a gray, overcast sky, through a roof of vegetation above you. You see a great tree above you, and others around. You feel the tree's roots underneath you, and hear the din of combat distantly in the direction of your feet.

 

[Shayuri]

"Brilliant."

The man, for he was a man...he became aware of that almost at once, smiled widely at seeing what he saw, hearing what he heard, smelling and feeling and tasting. Was there any gift so intense, so pure and ultimately so fleeting as life? He reached up to touch his cheeks and chin with his hands and noted the azure hue of his skin; the darker stripes that twined down his forearm and split off to make an intricate pattern across his shoulders.

His body was tall and narrow in build, even a little lanky and as per usual, the primal spirits that had provided him with it hadn't included anything else...but there were only a few 'hatching grounds' in the world; places with wellsprings of primal spiritual power where devas could be reborn. A rebirth was a rare event, but most devas found time during their lives to visit a hatching ground at least once and secret away a cache. For all they knew, they themselves might be the ones to benefit from it.

He took a breath. It was glorious. He got up, and even the scratching of bark against his skin was electric. The crunch of dirt and grass under his feet. The sounds of...battle?

He quickly walked around the tree, peering into the dark places under the twisted coils of roots. If not there, he thought, perhaps near that stone a few paces off...no! There, wedged almost invisibly under a root was a cloth sack. He pulled it out and opened it...then grinned. A simple robe of dull grey-brown wool, a small crystal ball, a satchel with some basic supplies. Had he left this for himself? Or did he have some other deva to thank? Regardless, he donned the robe swiftly, grabbed the rest and hurried towards the sounds of combat.

 

[Charwoman Gene]

You emerge from the small copse of trees onto a sloping, brush covered hill.

The ruins of a caravan lie in the middle of a field of carnage. Many humans, orcs, and lizardfolk lay dead or dying, perhaps two dozen bodies. As you emerge, the last standing orc decapitates the last lizardfolk with his axe. You see he has a cloth bundle in his arms, and his wounds are bubbling with black ichor. He slumps to his knees, then falls over, his body covering the bundle.

 

[Charwoman Gene]

The Scholar:

There is a road to the west, running north and south... the sun is setting, and you see in the distance on the road to the north, about 5 humanoids just outside of your vision. They are moving south.