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nomans_land2023-08-20 07:30 am
whatevermaycome) wrote in nomans_land2023-08-20 07:30 am
Lost July: Between The Candle And The Star
Caravans have begun arriving, alongside the ones trying to leave. Plant cultists by the rumors (and occasional marks and eager preaching), come to by their words try to help fix whatever's gone wrong with the alternating cities and try to bring salvation to their tormented populaces. They seem like eager, friendly folk for the most part, bringing food and water and tents.
Some of them seem a little too cold, a little too well armed, to be peaceful and well meaning priests, priestesses and clerics. They watch the cities and say nothing.
It's early morning, with only one sun up and the other yet to rise, when the area designated Lost July is rocked by an explosion felt for iles in all directions, the teeth-grinding hum of power cutting off.
Those that had the dubious luck to be awake at that moment report JuLai had been mostly present at the time, translucently crouched over the gaping chasm in the ground like a broken-backed worm before every light in the city had flared blinding pale violet and the entire thing, broken ship and all had disintegrated into a shower of glass, metal and distant, terrified screams as felt as they are heard.
And July's adobe and scrap buildings took its place. No hole, no ruins, just an intact and rather bewildered city left behind.
An entire bus full of the cultists are preparing to leave for July, unpacking most everything they can from the vehicle, which seems to have a fair bit of tech it shouldn't have for simple people transport. The sense of gathering energy begins again, slow but noticeable, a dull and muted thing.
Some of them seem a little too cold, a little too well armed, to be peaceful and well meaning priests, priestesses and clerics. They watch the cities and say nothing.
It's early morning, with only one sun up and the other yet to rise, when the area designated Lost July is rocked by an explosion felt for iles in all directions, the teeth-grinding hum of power cutting off.
Those that had the dubious luck to be awake at that moment report JuLai had been mostly present at the time, translucently crouched over the gaping chasm in the ground like a broken-backed worm before every light in the city had flared blinding pale violet and the entire thing, broken ship and all had disintegrated into a shower of glass, metal and distant, terrified screams as felt as they are heard.
And July's adobe and scrap buildings took its place. No hole, no ruins, just an intact and rather bewildered city left behind.
An entire bus full of the cultists are preparing to leave for July, unpacking most everything they can from the vehicle, which seems to have a fair bit of tech it shouldn't have for simple people transport. The sense of gathering energy begins again, slow but noticeable, a dull and muted thing.