Nomika

4 Avril, 4201 AO

The Sun rose slowly, pouring its orange light onto the numerous cresting waves of the Boroa Ocean. Beyond Staklo beach, the normally crystalline blues of the water catch the Sun's rays, producing a glow like a brilliant sea of flames. The smell of saltwater mixes with the newly bloomed flowers of the sea lavender plants that line the strand. The various beaches kinds of grass and flowers of this beach absentmindedly sway in the western trade wind. A small sand crustacean scuttles across the pale sand. The tide pours onto the shore, saturating the silky sediment that the many coastal villages and towns of Valwynn enjoy. A young priestess kneels on this tranquil beach; her soft, melodic hymn pours from her pink lips. Her white robes beat about in the breeze, and she clutches a necklace in her proper hand. A large, twelve pointed star-shaped amulet. It hums softly as if resonating with the priestesses song. Ten paces from the praying woman, a tall, armor-clad knight stands guard. The knight takes a steady breathe, their long, silvery cape billows from their back as their eyes trail across the ocean's waves.   An Aasimar girl, barely old enough to be out on their own, approaches the sleeping mass of the serpent. The gargantuan creature’s eyes open, and its voice booms through the girl's head. Rambling of prophecy, the snakes glowing yellow eyes pierce through the spirit of the shocked woman. The girl turns to her friends, to find them gone, and her surroundings, once a gloomy and mysterious cave, now that of a pale, white plain. No grass grew, only unusually massive craters dotted the landscape of the alien place. Her eyes fell upon a massive sphere, caked in green and white masses; all seemingly embedded in a larger, deep blue substance. By degrees, the great sphere spun in the star littered sky above. The girl turned back to where the serpent had been. There it lies, a massive creature, still as stone, the giant serpent. She spoke softly, "Where are we?". The serpent responded, but did not stir; the girl heard its voice within her own head. "Far from home."   A hobgoblin warrior analyzes his opponent, muttering a small poem in a foreign tongue under his breath. Unsheathing his blade, the preceding syllables of a long-forgotten haiku escaping his lips. His opponent, an Oni, patiently waited arms-crossed. A once menacing grin filled with rotting teeth suddenly frowned as the Oni looks down in surprise, a thick gash cut through their concealed chest. The Oni dropped down to his knees. He gasped for breath once. With the strength leaving his body, he looks up to the Hobgoblin once again in shock, before perishing in a pool of his own blood.