Post by Thurghor on Apr 14, 2023 14:20:55 GMT
Blink.
Blue. So much blue. Like a flood.
Blink.
Light. Bright light from above. What is it? Is that… sun?
There's no sun in Menzoberranzan. Lights – yes. He's seen lights. Whenever the gladiators went into the ring, he'd see their muscled bodies silhouetted against the bright light at the end of the tunnel leading from the backrooms to the arena. There they went, to be devoured by the light.
If that's how powerful lights in the arena were, what could the sun do?
No. Light scared him. Perhaps he'd be better off in the shadows.
Thurghor turned his head to the side. It was hard to move, hair caked with mud and sticking to the ground like grass roots. Green darkness swam in front of his eyes.
Blink.
Forest. An actual forest of real trees, and not a stalagmite in sight. Tall conifers swayed in the wind, green shade of the treetops beckoned forth with an allure he'd never known. He'd never seen a shadow have colour either. They were just a darker shade of grey thrown across the grey of the caves and rocky corridors. But this one was green, and cool, and welcoming…
He raised his torso. All in one go, like he was doing sit-ups after dozing off. How long was he lying down for? He couldn't remember.
He remembered his world being grey and having a ceiling. And then everything went black. He hadn't heard an arrow being shot, hadn't seen a flash of a spell going off. His world just disappeared into the darkness.
And then there was light.
That was all he knew, and it wasn't much. Come to think of it, he barely knew anything about this strange surface world he ended up in. What were those trees? And these grasses? That purple flower in the distance, was it poisonous? What was that strange chirping sound in the branches? Where was he? Was it day or early morning? What season was it? What seasons were there?
Too overwhelmed by the influx of unfamiliar sensations, Thurghor took deep breath to ground himself. The breath felt stifled, like he had a lump in his throat. He brought up his hand to his chest.
Rags.
Strange.
And why did his hand not have its usual coating of hair?
He couldn't think in this burning sun, it was too hot. He needed to move. With an effort, he tore himself off the muddy ground and stood up to his full height. His knees buckled, and he was prepared to fall, but never did. His legs righted themselves almost preternaturally, like they had springs inside. His knees did not have springs. He was quite weak, actually, despite his name. Or maybe because of it. Either way it was given as a joke. Was him being in this strange place another joke?
He dragged his feet to the line where the merciful shade cut off the cruel sun in sharp vertical lines, just barely visible in the fresh air, like the gentlest curtains of pure light.
Nothing really changed when he shambled under the cover of the treetops. Didn't feel cooler, didn't see better. He felt… hollow.
He looked himself down, and tried to knock some of the dust off himself. Some of it came off. Suddenly, the air was filled with colorful particles: blue, yellow, green, pink, all fluorescent and weightless, as if he'd just stepped into faerzress. He shrugged in confusion, and looked around, searching for someone, - anyone, - who could provide some answers.
More trees, more of that welcoming shade. A footpath. Somewhere. Somewhere with people. Perhaps people who knew the answers. He could do with answers. At least one at a time.
Thurghor took another stifled breath and walked deeper into the forest in the direction where, looking over the treetops, one could just make out the towers and rooftops of Daring Heights.
Blue. So much blue. Like a flood.
Blink.
Light. Bright light from above. What is it? Is that… sun?
There's no sun in Menzoberranzan. Lights – yes. He's seen lights. Whenever the gladiators went into the ring, he'd see their muscled bodies silhouetted against the bright light at the end of the tunnel leading from the backrooms to the arena. There they went, to be devoured by the light.
If that's how powerful lights in the arena were, what could the sun do?
No. Light scared him. Perhaps he'd be better off in the shadows.
Thurghor turned his head to the side. It was hard to move, hair caked with mud and sticking to the ground like grass roots. Green darkness swam in front of his eyes.
Blink.
Forest. An actual forest of real trees, and not a stalagmite in sight. Tall conifers swayed in the wind, green shade of the treetops beckoned forth with an allure he'd never known. He'd never seen a shadow have colour either. They were just a darker shade of grey thrown across the grey of the caves and rocky corridors. But this one was green, and cool, and welcoming…
He raised his torso. All in one go, like he was doing sit-ups after dozing off. How long was he lying down for? He couldn't remember.
He remembered his world being grey and having a ceiling. And then everything went black. He hadn't heard an arrow being shot, hadn't seen a flash of a spell going off. His world just disappeared into the darkness.
And then there was light.
That was all he knew, and it wasn't much. Come to think of it, he barely knew anything about this strange surface world he ended up in. What were those trees? And these grasses? That purple flower in the distance, was it poisonous? What was that strange chirping sound in the branches? Where was he? Was it day or early morning? What season was it? What seasons were there?
Too overwhelmed by the influx of unfamiliar sensations, Thurghor took deep breath to ground himself. The breath felt stifled, like he had a lump in his throat. He brought up his hand to his chest.
Rags.
Strange.
And why did his hand not have its usual coating of hair?
He couldn't think in this burning sun, it was too hot. He needed to move. With an effort, he tore himself off the muddy ground and stood up to his full height. His knees buckled, and he was prepared to fall, but never did. His legs righted themselves almost preternaturally, like they had springs inside. His knees did not have springs. He was quite weak, actually, despite his name. Or maybe because of it. Either way it was given as a joke. Was him being in this strange place another joke?
He dragged his feet to the line where the merciful shade cut off the cruel sun in sharp vertical lines, just barely visible in the fresh air, like the gentlest curtains of pure light.
Nothing really changed when he shambled under the cover of the treetops. Didn't feel cooler, didn't see better. He felt… hollow.
He looked himself down, and tried to knock some of the dust off himself. Some of it came off. Suddenly, the air was filled with colorful particles: blue, yellow, green, pink, all fluorescent and weightless, as if he'd just stepped into faerzress. He shrugged in confusion, and looked around, searching for someone, - anyone, - who could provide some answers.
More trees, more of that welcoming shade. A footpath. Somewhere. Somewhere with people. Perhaps people who knew the answers. He could do with answers. At least one at a time.
Thurghor took another stifled breath and walked deeper into the forest in the direction where, looking over the treetops, one could just make out the towers and rooftops of Daring Heights.