Storm of the Anointed

[Melancor]

Closed. From now on this will continue as a solo. If you'd like to rejoin, please PM me.



There open temples — open graves
Are on a level with the waves —
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol's diamond eye.
No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently-
-Edgar Allen Poe


It's been a week since it started. What began as a soft and well-welcomed drizzle soon turned into a relentless downpour that has since not wavered. Some of the old buildings in the isolated areas have crumbled under the rain; it seems as if the cobblestones themselves have become loose. There have been many casualties, the poor and less fortunate, those no one ever desires to land a hand, have been left to die of hypothermia and pneumonia under the cold waters. Walls of sandbags have been strategically placed around the city, but they prove no buffer at easing the crisis.

The humans worry.

Communication to their cities in the south is non-existent, and it is believed Underwood has been swallowed whole by the current. Their government is completely paralyzed, never having to deal with a natural disasters of this magnitude they have not done much to stop the rise of the water. Rumor has it that some of its members have fled into Scara Brae and Fallien. The public's sentiment of betrayal is only comparable to their crescent fear. No ship is entering or leaving the island, and the Aelrarian air relief promised by the government never arrived. Not only have former inns been turned into refugee points, but public buildings and government offices have been taken over by floods of displaced citizens. The most desperate have payed thousands of graces to be shipped out by clandestine merchant ships, news of successful escapes never reach the island.

Violence and crime run rampant. Delinquent make use of the panic to break into businesses and ransack them off their goods. Now that commerce has come to a stop the city has began rationing its dwindling resources of food and drinkable water. The water's outside are twined with disease, those of thirstier ones that've drank from it have had their skin covered by abrasions that swollen and eventually burst making the victim bleed to death. Many pray to new and forgotten gods, in a time when everything they had once believed in has failed them, humans look for help from the heavens. They've never understood how much deities despise hypocrisy.

The days passed and I scraped for food, and begged for shelter. It wasn't until my body was completely empty that it stopped asking for the food that didn't need. As a human instinct had made me fond eating, making me commit gluttony. Soon I was profiled and thrown out into the rain, eventually the cold feeling of the water turned arousing. The water that had once caused me such displeasure had intruded me enough to amaze me.

Since the most basic of services such as food and housing were denied to foreigners like me, the city tending for the citizens first and foremost, I separated myself from the defenseless populace. It wasn't hard to find a place to sleep. I walked the desolate streets of the evacuated areas where entire families had once lived for refuge until I found it. Through the debris of building materials and drowned bodies I made my way into the lower district where I took over an abandoned room under street level. One had to walk down a couple steps to reach the heavy door that by now had its wood rotten. Judging by the low elevation of the place, and the way the door had been constructed I could imagine the type of activities that had once been carried there, anything but legal. Once I forced the door open the typical stench and the type of paraphernalia that littered the inside disclosed it had been a sort of pub. the water had already risen to the top of the room, only a small section of air remained, and I knew It would soon be devoured too. Regardless I purged the room from the mass of rotting furnishing, glass, and other such things.

Inside I built myself a sanctuary. I used the ability the avatar of mother nature had taught me that spring day I awoke and thereof was born. My body could breath underwater, as it once belonged to a sea deity. The avatar explained he still slept inside me, and that I, Sylvan was nothing but an intruder created to keep is body alive. Mel'dcor was his name, exiled by the seven gods of the seas, disliked by the natural world who'd been unkind to him, eventually betrayed and murdered, never knowing how to fend in a world for the first time he was vulnerable in. I lived each day in fear that a morning he'd awaken, leaving no room for me and killing me atlas. I understand my place however, and I accept it. My only reason of living is to return this body to its proper owner/ I wonder, however, if I'll ever be this selfless; I have his destiny at the mercy of my will.

Once the room had been emptied of air I slept, leaving my body suspended under the waters among the rat carcasses. I had decided It would be best to stay put and wait until the storm passed. My plans of visiting Fallien would have to be suspended. I rested for entire days, occasionally awakened by the flash of lanterns of the many rescue men patrolling the city looking for survivors that often took me for a dead body. Lightning sometimes stuck buildings nearby and my body was more than twice shocked by the traveling electricity. I was careful to keep the infected water away from me by making the liquid pivot around my body, pushing the stale rain out each time I was disturbed. My clothing suffered slightly for being submerged for so long, but it withstood. On top of everything I felt safe. I wasn't entirely preoccupied; Neletia, one of Melancor's former familiars had explained that rains such as these happened every so many centuries, it was a way for the world to keep itself balanced. And as long as I detached myself from the rest of the humans and their suffering there was no room for me to feel distraught. That was, however, before I knew this event was not what nature had intended.

[Cyrus the virus]

The streets of Radasanth were uninhabited for the first time in years. Instead of the occasional vagrant floating around in the sea of people, trying to blend in and become invisible, debris and bodies flooded the streets.

The military and government were not totally inept, and boats patrolled in an effort to rescue survivors and bring them to a safer location - entirely different boats were used to gather bodies and try to keep the city cleaner. For what purpose, nobody knew; it seemed as if the rain would never stop.

A bright flash of green light heralded the arrival of one Luc Kraus, a wizard of no small power whose main interests in life included such anomalies in nature.

Cursing, the mage observed for the first time what was happening. A field of some magical origin protected him from the rain, and a wind current focused on his body kept him from falling into the water. Under his arm was a tome he'd obtained months before hand, one he'd yet to finish. Diversions such as this one were necessary to keep him from a hermit's life lost in the book.

"I'd no idea it was so serious," he mumbled to himself. Looking to the sky, he observed an eternally stretching expanse of clouds. He could move them, but to what end? They seemed to go on forever.

He looked back to the ground, pointed a finger and wiggled it. The water below danced in response. This, too, he could move... But to what end?

"Very interesting. Is this a cosmic enchantment, a punishment from the gods? Wizardry?"

He cursed himself for having spent his last few months underground. What else had he missed?

[Lightfoot]

Drip...drip...drip...

"Wake up." said the voice . It was deep and gravelly.

drip...drip...drip...

"Wake up!" There it was again, but louder.

drip...drip...drip...

"Wake...UP!" Jasker let out a deep grunt as the man kicked him in the side. Suddenly the halfling became extremely aware of his surroundings. A dark man stood over him, frustration written on his brow. A drenched hood, trying to keep the man's also-drenched hair dry during this torrential downpour, clung to his skull and neck. Tiny rivulets of water streamed down his face and clothes and rode their way to the little puddle forming at both their feet. Jasker looked a question at the man.

"It's no longer safe in this area. Make your way to higher ground." The thief looked around the roof of the local bakery - one he had been standing on about a week before, waiting to do an assignment that was botched in more ways than one - and saw the rising rush of water from down below. The dark man offered his hand. Jasker took it and rose to his feet. "You're lucky I found you when I did," the man continued, "I mistook you as another corpse for the day." The man used his thumb to point somewhere behind him. The halfling's eyes followed the finger to the man's boat, tied off to a sturdy piece of wood not yet submerged in the flood, and full of pale blue bodies.

"How many today?" Jasker asked the man. Citizens of Radasanth were dying at an alarming rate, and whether from morbid curiosity or a respect for the dead, the thief wanted to know. The man scratched his head and gave a moment's pause to tally up the count.

"About a score 'n a half."

Jasker nodded slowly. Things were going to get worse before they got better, and the halfling had a feeling hundreds - if not thousands - more were going to be claimed before this damned storm let up. "Would you mind giving me a ride up?"

The man shook his head. "Sorry, mate, there's work to be done yet and I'm heading in the opposite direction." He nodded his head towards the slums, back behind the halfling. Jasker had been that way the day before, staying at the Barrel of Monkeys while he was in the city for his assignment. The inn was a known Syndicate hideout, but they usually kept out of the thief's hair as long as he gave them a small cut of his earnings. Now, even it was under water. "I think you still have time to take the planks up."

Jasker's gaze went to the makeshift bridges that connected the bakery's roof to some of the buidlings nearby. They were used by rescue teams and corpse-gatherers mostly, but there were a few folk - without a place to stay, in Jasker's case - that strayed and could be seen walking on them. The halfling nodded and began to walk away. The man's voice stopped him. "If you don't mind me, why were you out here?"

Jasker's voice was soft. "Just trying to get some sleep." The halfing kept walking. His limbs were weary. He didn't know how long he had been resting, but obviously it wasn't long enough. Not much had changed in the passing time though. Rain still fell heavy from the sky. The streets were deserted, all that occupied them was water, corpses and their handlers. There were still a few rescue teams out searching for survivors, but Jasker had a feeling they'd be giving up soon. After all, the rain had been falling for days without any sign of relenting.

Thunder and lighting clashed and danced throughout the storm more frequently than before. The clouds were darker, the wind blew harder. No, the end of the storm wasn't even close, they were barely even to the middle. Jasker gazed out over the city, in the direction the storm had come, and thought he saw something. The halfling didn't quite know if what he saw was real or a biproduct of his tired eyes, but he thought, out among the rain and the lighting, he saw a city. Dark and huge, the details seemed just out of Jasker's reach. But the overall form seemed familiar, and in the back of his mind, he had a feeling that this storm was anything but natural.

The halfling thief couldn't help but laugh to himself. Things were going to get a lot worse before they got any better.

[Melancor]

Just like awakening from a nightmare the sensation of falling and a horrible sense of danger rousted me. What I had seen in my sleep moments before had terrified me, a pair of big gaunting eyes that glistened from within a dark ocean abyss gazed into me for what seemed an eternity. If I'd known any better it almost seemed as if it prowled for what rested within my insides. Unlike a normal nightmare however the invading feeling of terror didn't fleet me. Instead something told me I needed to leave the place immediately.

My sanctuary was no longer safe.

I slammed my body against the door. Now that I moved I was able to notice the dramatic decrease in the temperature from when set myself to sleep. "How long have I been away?" I thought to myself, noticing how much dimmer the hidden sun's hue had become inside the room, underneath the waters.

When I was expecting a sunny day outside, the water to have receded and the rain to have stopped, I opened the door to a completely flooded street. the water was already higher than some building's second floors, and across these ran a poorly made bridges, some of them being only planks connecting roofs. It seemed as if the city itself was sinking into the sea. The rain was still waking its trashing music as it fell against the flood. My visibility had been reduced to almost zero, I didn't need my eyes to realize what I was swimming on; all around me I could feel countless pieces of debris, crates, bricks, planks, arms, legs and some torsos.

It seemed I had picked the wrong place to make myself a nest. As water washed through the streets higher up in the city, all what came from them, the waste, the sod of failed bags, rags and numerous pieces of broken wood, of course, bodies, where all ending up and pooling at this part of the city with low elevation.

I didn't stay long to enjoy the pleasant view, when my instincts told me to get the hell out of somewhere I didn't questioned them, most of the time they turned out to be not of my own. I held to the once ornate metal bars of high windows, pulling myself up from the mass of water, the bulk of my wet attire holding me down. I pressed my feet against the walls or the occasional large pieces of debris that had anchored along the streets. And slowly made my way out of the cities drain.

Like this I struggled through the rivers that now replaced the paved corridors of Radasanth until eventually the silhouette of a man appeared from within the curtain of water a couple yards from me.

"Hey!" I yelled out of instinct, pulling the heavy hood from face.

At first the person didn't seem to see me, for I moment my pale figure must have blended with the gray scene surrounding me. It wasn't until he noticed the corpse avoiding the pull of the current he spotted me. "Stay there! I'll come to you!"

It was the first time I'd been glad of hearing the raspy voice of another man. Ignoring his order I summoned all the strength I had after sleeping under such cold water for who knows how bloody long, and threw my body into the water. When I normally am, by nature, an incredible swimmer I was stumped countlessly by the large numbers of trash of inconsistent sizes, my bow often latching onto them or flat-out slamming into me as I desperately reached for the man. I was upon him before he had a chance to realize I'd disobeyed; he'd been looking for a rope on the bottom of the raft.

"Are you mad?!" He yelled at me in genuine anger as he extracted me from the soup, "Rescue brigades for this section of the city stopped a couple of days ago. We're the only ones who still go through here, and we only do cleanup." With a swift motion he removed his only coat and made an attempt to cover me. I denied his offer; he needed it more than I. He frowned believing he understood: I knew I wouldn't last enough, after all I was soaked, cold as ice, and died blue. "I didn't expect anyone to still be living in there. Why didn't you get out when they evacuated everyone?"

I laid down for a second and gazed at the cinder sky through the cold drops that blurred my vision. Arching my head further back i was able to appreciate the raft's cargo. More of those pale blue bodies. Why hand't I left when I could? Moreover why hadn't the situation improved while I slept? "I just woke up," finding my breath I said half-jokingly, "slept through the whole thing."

"Asleep my ass!" retorted the man, "you must be one of those fanatics that stayed behind, believing this was Radasanth's punishment, but pansyed out at the last minute. I've got quite of those here with me!" He said, greatly aggravated, "If you people hadn't stirred up all that commotion when this all begun my load would be much smaller, well now, you're recieving what ya' wanted, ain't ya' glad?"

With those harsh untrue words I fell asleep again, having been awakened prematurely, I was still exhausted. The next time I opened my eyes I was no longer surrounded by water, but dampened streets at the feet of a large statue. There were too many of them to put a face to them all, but numerous bodies had been placed atop me. Many of them had, like me, fallen asleep though the had never rousted. the great majority however had been pulled from the freezing waters. I stood up to find myself in the cities square, and In the distance some of the helpers, many of them soldiers unloaded their cargo.

The scrunched, drenched figures wobbled through the cobblestones, many of them looking for food among the dead. At the other end, more of them, citizens, tons of them packed themselves under worn-down buildings were they received small pieces of bread. The situation had taken a turn for the worst. What had become of the prosperous city?

It wasn't the destruction and death around me that alarmed me, I had seen much of that before and I'd grown cold to compassion. Instead I was more curious about that powerful enough to awaken me from hibernation, what could have been dangerous enough to make me flee like that? I decided it would be best to learn more about this indirectly than straight-forwardly asking the refugees. They did not need more worries on their plate. Through those streets I wandered, perusing each of the crowded inns without much success. Mary Devapel's, The Horse Shoe, Red Ale had all been in my path, but I was never able to find a soul calm enough to spare five minutes to talk about something that seemed to be all over. My last stop was at The Moonlit Stone an inn that had decayed as all others. Inever entered however, but sat at the edge of its door. Expecting a crowd inside, and not wanting to deal with more of the dreary disgusted faced that had greeted me outside all the other hostels, I sat and stretched my aching limbs.

At this point it seemed the only thing left to do was to wait, either for the rain to secede, or for the city to be leveled to the ocean.

[Cyrus the virus]

Luc spent some time exploring the city. He looked over it like a god, as if he'd been the one to summon the flood and punish the infidels. He took no joy in what he saw, though, it merely heightened his curiosity.

There was no explanation that he could come up with. For a magical storm to create such a calamity, it would require a wizard of far greater power than he. No natural rainfall was so remarkable, either, to continue for days without any sign of halting. He needed to speak with some of the locals, with anyone who could give him some kind of guidance as to when this had begun - any indication of where the clouds had originated would help him.

It was this in mind that he approached the town square, where one could normally see a plethora of people gathered around the massive central fountain, a structure which depicted the first king and queen of the region gazing outward majestically.

Today was no different. The square had been sequestered from the rest of the city, massive stones and barriers and dams surrounding it to keep the flood from spreading. It was here that the Radasanthians were making their last stand against the elements. Their speed in constructing the refuge must have been impressive.

The city had a slight slope to it. The slums and the area approaching the dock were completely submerged, and the city officials were hoping their makeshift barrier could protect them.

Luc hovered down to the ground, his boots sloshing into the muddy ground. Many paid attention to him, knowing his face and clothing. The mage had a longstanding reputation as a murderer, a rapist, a manifestation of selfishness and power disguised as a human being. His arrival was just more bad news as far as the citizens were concerned, but most were too spiritless to say anything.

He was also dry and fed. He could manifest food from other worlds, easily enough to feed the entire town. Luc had the power to change things for these people, but doing so wasn't what was on his mind. He merely wanted to know the cause of the flood, the continuing rain. He sought understanding, not to change his reputation.

Everyone knew better than to approach him. Luc walked toward a nearby building, examined the outside - looking around for anyone who looked official. He would have been approached for looking so different, but people knew who he was and knew better.

"When did this begin?" he wondered aloud. He had no idea who was running the rescue effort or where to find him. Luc needed a feel for the city.

[Lightfoot]

Jasker glanced over his ivory pieces, across the board to his opponent. The old man - taking his time, as all old men did - ritualistically scratched the scruffy gray hair on his chin. He was planning his next move, trying to find gaps in the halfling's strategy and revising a strategy of his own. A small wry grin cracked at the edges of the thief's lips, which were firmly holding his palewood pipe in place. He loved to smoke his pipe for such an occasion. Not only did it help liven up the smell of the moist, humid air, it seemed to be troubling his opponent.

The old man wasn't a smoker, Jasker could see that much, but the fact that the elderly chap didn't ask the halfling to put out his pipe meant that Jasker had him right where he wanted him. The thief exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Are you going to make your move or would you rather we die of old age?" The man eyed the thief for a quick second, before getting back to his thoughts. "I can guarentee you that you'll lose out on that race quicker than I." The old man snickered in response and cracked a small smile.

"Patience young one," the old man replied, "wait long enough and you might just learn a thing or two." Jasker smiled in return and gave the old geezer all the time he needed. The thief looked out into the city square from his seat on the porch of the Red Ale, a local tavern, and watched the crowd of refugees and soldiers. Lines formed out of some buildings; people in desperate need of food stood in the rain for almost an hour just to receive a loaf of bread. Others huddled themselves inside inns or under awnings as Jasker had with his elderly friend to get out of the rain.

The talk of the crowd was a mixed affair. Some wondered when the rain would end, others mourned over loved ones lost in the flood. Doom drew itself in like a fog to envelop the citizens of Radasanth, the once proud and noble people. The Radasanthian Guard tried their damnedest to help combat the elements. Makeshift dams had been built to help stem the tide against the massive flood. The men and women were constantly unloading cargo from the crafts that had been sent out.

There had been talk of disappearances among the guard. Men that were sent out, searching for supplies, never to return. Some suggested that the water itself reached out and swallowed them whole. Such statements only proved to escalate the paranoia amongst the city folk. Still, some part of him thought it might be true. He hadn't told anyone what he had seen, a dark forbidding city out in the storm, and wondered if the two were somehow connected.

"Check," said the old man with a wide grin on his face. Jasker looked back to the board and tracked the movement of the old man's piece. The halfling hid his grin at first, feigning displeasure, but once he moved his piece diagonally into position, he let it grow from ear-to-ear.

"Checkmate," the halfling replied triumphantly. He watched as the man's grin melted away and his eyes darted across the board. Jasker blew out a thick smoke ring. The old man sat back, one hand on his knee, the other on the back of his head, and began to laugh.

"Well, I say," he muttered. "You're quite the player. I didn't even see that coming!"

"Good competition always brings out the best in me," Jasker said. The old man took the compliment with nod. Slowly, he stood up from his chair, bones popping and cracking as he did. He just let out another laugh.

"I'm not as young as I used to be, haha." He reached out his hand to shake Jasker's and the thief gladly obliged. "I'd love to stay and play some more, but I need to be seein' to my family. Can't wait till this blasted rain lets up! Some part of me's actually starting to believe them fanatics' hogwash." The man collected his cloak and his hat and stepped out into the rain. "Best o' luck to you, goodsir!"

"And to you!" Jasker replied. He watched the old man wobble off with a grin on his face, despite the dire circumstances. The halfling scoffed to himself, At least some of us can keep a smile on our face. The thief blew out another cloud of smoke.

[Melancor]

My interrupted slumber was still having an effect on me. As I sat outside, for as they reserved the inside for citizens, I made an attempt to sleep under the pubs awning. Regardless of how exhausted I was, falling asleep was proving to be a hard task. It wasn't the rattle of the people, or the trashing of the rain, some conflict with my conscience, but a mumbling noise that'd been there since I arrived.

I followed the sound into the alley next to the pub. There sat a haggard-looking man; bags sagged from his eyes, the skin of his face and arms was covered by abrasions, and cuts and bruises stained his body. He was not sane; I could see the whole of his red eyes, and he rocked back and forth and he laughed and giggled, telling himself wonderful stories of disaster.

I approached him but he did not acknowledge me. After I lowered to his eye -level by bending my legs I asked him, "Are you alright?"

He didn't answer my question, but kept on rambling, "They live sinful lives, and then ask themselves where their gods have gone. The hypocrites, they pray." He reached for his thumb and dug his teeth into it, "End it. Why don't they end it? Many did it already, why do they resist- they dare resist punishment."

I didn't know whether to walk away or make an attempt to help the guy. By now I understood that he was one of those fanatics the rescue men had mistaken me for. People like him had been responsible for the deaths of many. In dire times humans had a tendency to look for easy exits.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, already plotting to steal a loaf of bread for the man, that like me, must have been a foreigner, "I don't have anything on me at the moment but I'm sure I could get you something."

The man let out an exaggerated laugh, "I won't need that soon. I'm already bon- bones. Indifference is one of their graver sins, and even in the end they don't try to redeem th-." He shook his head.

I looked around. How long had he been outside? The Alley was deep, large cans of waste stood at the end, the walls had been heavily stained by the water and dirt that'd been carried by the water had deposited just where he sat. Eventhough the place had been constantly washed by the rain for days, a stench of urine was abundant. He was covered by a blanket, the fetal position he'd balled himself into made me assume he wasn't wearing anything underneath. It seemed not all of his misery had been self-inflicted.

His breathing then became heavy, and his body began to quake, "I'll end it!" he screamed, and the commenced rubbing his skin forcefully enough to tear the flesh off his abrasions. His moans were full of pain but twined by laughter. All I could do was yell a "Hey!" and grasp him by the shoulder. He jerked his scabby neck and set his gaze on, for the first time viewing me. His morbid grin thawed into an expression of terror. He stopped, and his mouth opened slightly, it seemed he was having another hallucination.

"You won't kill yourself with that. I think you've suffered enough to atone the whole city. You should be glad," I smiled, trying to ease the man of his tension, "I should stop raining any time now. So just get yourself together, and wait until it clears out." Even if he saw right through this innocent white lie, it tranquilized him enough to allow me to move him under the awning shielding the back door of Red Ale.

His body was amazingly light for a man who seemed to be around his thirties. Hunger had taken the best of him.

Believing it would help him warm himself I placed my damp cloak on him, "I don't think they'll let either of us inside so just try to stay warm. I'll go see if I can snatch a loaf or two. Just stay here, and wait for me." I turned back one last time before leaving the alley and entering the street, he was fastening the wet rag onto him, for a moment I thought I heard him say "forgive me."

That was the last time I saw the man.

When I came back, my quest for bread unsuccessful, the man had disappeared. My cloak had been dragged through the mud into the edge of the sewer. The cobblestones underneath me had been misplaced. The thrashing of the rain was the only thing to be heard.