Familiar Ground (OPEN)

[Sage]

Philgast frowned as he saw his crowd had been unmoved by his splendour. It was to be expected he surmised, in these dark times there would be few who would believe that their salvation would be so easily attainable.

Even he would not have been so easily swayed by such a bold promise. But this, this magical crack, it was special. He could feel it in his gut, the way it made his skin tingle every time he saw.

Philgast nodded solemnly “I see the doubt on your face”

And indeed the faces in the crowd, both familiar and strange, outsiders and traders all watched him with thinly veiled contempt. It was to be expected he allowed, because they did not know what he knew.

The revelation had come to him just the other day, as he had been watching some of the kids throw stones at the crack in some kind of game. The children however had not noticed as the stones passed by unimpeded, all except one. It had touched the crack and disappeared, and sand had leaked from the anomaly like a torn bag of flour.

There was something on the other side he had realised, and after that his own wild speculations had allowed him to envision what lay on the other side.

History would not remember Phil the Farmer, the one who found an escape from this dark and bleak world that was cracking at the seams.

But Philgast the Great, that would be something retold thousands of times in the new world.
Philgast hopped of the barrel with a grunt, and palmed a stone he had been keeping in his pocket since he had finished rehearsing his moment of glory.

Philgast strode towards the Crack, feeling the weight of the stone as though to gauge how to use it. “But I am humble, and I will not deny any one of you a chance to flee this world before it burns”

He began to wind his arm back for a throw, his believe that this was his crowning moment was unshakable.

“For I Philgast the Great will show all of you the way!” He roared and threw the stone into the magical crack as hard as he could.

The crowd watched the moment intently, fully expecting nothing to happen and for the facade to come crumbling down. Philgast was not a wizard he was nothing but a simple farmer.

By right, nothing should have occurred. The stone would pass through and reveal the broken man for what he was.

The Crack split upon contact with the stone, and where once there was a minor abnormality in the seams of the world was now a gaping maelstrom of energy.

Unobstructed by the veils of reality a torrent of sand was freed to fall down to the ground as winds unknown to this world hit Philgast and the crowd with an intensity of a desert storm.

Philgast marvelled at the sight of the open portal, and though the image was distorted by magical torrents of arcane energies, it was impossible to mistake the sight of a desert on the other side amidst a sandstorm. He hesitated, and for the first time he felt unsure about this gate to salvation.

Just what was on the other side of that portal? And was he better off on this side?

The portal grew hungry, and a terrible feeling began to spread from its maw, a Magical energy so unlike anything else began to seep into this world. It felt Foreign, corruptive, malignant, as though it was like acid to all it touches.

A black form began to form on the other side, but before Philgast could even make out what it was it spilled through the portal and tumbled the brief seven foot drop to the ground and landed gracelessly in a crumpled heap.

It groaned a complaint and shifted the dark brown traveling cloak from its face, dislodging the sand that had been caked into it. Long dark brown weathered hair fell freely from its head as the humanoid rose from the ground and deposited a curiously familiar looking stone from their palm.

"Its a girl?” Philgast uttered curiously.

Not only did she look like a girl she also human and while young, Philgast certainly thought she was pretty. He also thought that she had the look of a scholar as under the brown traveling cloak was a dark grey robe that would have also suited a mage.

She turned to him as he said that with her brows dipped down over grey coloured eyes, looking as though she had just been insulted. But even as she moved to speak the words died on her lips as the girl suddenly looked scared as she swept her gaze across him and gathered crowd.

And then she turned around to look up at the still open portal above her and stumbled back in fear.

“Oh simose” cursed the boy called Sage Ainsworth, a soul thought to have been lost to Althanas.