Mendean sat down on a pile of broken roof tiles under a lead sky and rubbed the sides of his temples. He could feel a migraine coming on. After a minute of massaging he began to feel a little better. A quick kneading of the muscles in the back of his neck released warm blood from the region of his scalp. He spent another minute enjoying the sensation of the warm patch moving down the neck and into the left shoulder, where it cooled to the temperature of the rest of his body. Opening his eyes, which had remained closed this whole time, he surveyed the devastation that lay in every direction.

Little remained of this city's fabled castle. The lighthouse, a broken stump rising about thirty feet above the level of the remaining structures, before it dissolved into a series of jagged shards, pointing at the dismal sky. This had once been Adeluna, the largest and most densely-populated city in all of Revaliir. Now it was a broken shell. Only an archaeologist would have been able to tell that this was once one of the world's major centres of trade.

Reaching into the battered satchel he had placed next to him, Mendean withdrew a battered leather-bound journal, a partially-burned quill and a small cracked ink bottle. It clattered against several other similar bottles in his bag, most of which were empty.

Untying the leather strip, binding the journal shut, he leafed through the pages. Mostly drawings of nightmarish scenes. Piles of bones, fearsome creatures, strange carvings and a recurring symbol. A fylfot. Not wishing to dwell on the images, Mendean flipped through the pages until he found a blank page. Placing the jar on a relatively flat pile of broken slate, he removed the cork stopper, dipped the pointed end of the burnt quill and began to write. The horizon flickered with eerie lights and distant rumbles. They were fighting again. He ignored it for now, knowing there was little he could do. Instead, he concentrated on his words.

I knew it was a bad idea to enter this particular rift, but I had to know. The temptation was too great. Others came with me, but I lost them in the confusion. I know for a fact that some of them are dead.

You see, I have found myself trapped in the future. I do not know how far into the future, but judging by the level of destruction, I would hope that it is a long way away. In any case, I have been walking these lands for at least a week, although it is hard to tell, for the sky is so dark it is hard to judge the passing of time. I think I saw the sun once, but it might have been something else.

I have encountered a few mortals on my travels. Most are gibbering idiots, reduced to the basic urges and survival instincts of beasts. Some can talk, but they speak nonsense for the most part. Ranting and raving about the horrors they have witnessed. I speak of them as though they are less than people, but I am being unfair. I wonder, after all I have witnessed, what mortal could fully comprehend that which has been wrought upon them.

I have seen tall towers of glass, filled with what appear to be intestines. Towns that appear normal, but for the lack of noise, for the people within have no heads. Only hands, clasped together, as if in prayer. I saw a river of eyes, each one turning to look at me as they passed me by. And the ocean…I do not wish to recount what I saw there. If I do, I will not be able to continue writing.

Sometimes, when it is quiet, immense things walk the land. Only their many thin stilt-like legs protrude through the clouds. Ghostly probosci reach down, as though they are tasting the earth. I have the impression they are searching for something. I cannot guess what that may be.

And then there are the shining ones. I am not certain what they are. They could be gods, I suppose. Maybe angels. Whatever they are, they appear to be fighting something. Perhaps each other? The more lucid among the mortals that eke out an existence here, say they have used up the life of the world, in fighting their war. I asked what the war was about, but so far I have not been able to find an answer. However, I suspect it may have something to do with the symbol I keep coming across. Often it has been hastily carved into a surface, or scorched into wood or leather. Once, I saw it lovingly carved into a stone relief. The sight of it chills me to the bone, for I know the sign as the fylfot. The four bent legs that symbolise the Black Sun.

I have sensed other holes in time, that could lead me home, but I need to know more before I leave. I am aware that I could die out here, but if there is some way I can prevent this future, I have a duty to learn what that may be. The risks outweigh t…

Mendean looked up. Something had changed. The lightning had ceased, but he realised he was not alone in this desolate place. A presence was making itself known to him. A living presence, with a sentient mind. He could taste it.

“Tko je tamo? Mogu vas nanjušiti.” Mendean called out to whomever was nearby.

Indeed, perhaps Mendean was not alone, perhaps someone was staring at him from the shadows, or maybe not… Maybe it was just his imagination, hard to believe that someone would creeping on him in this desolate place, or maybe not… Desolate places can be the home of many people, some of them who just want to survive and end this nightmare, or maybe other people that want to make everyone´s life a little bit harder… Who knows, would the mysterious being act kindly and be Mendean´s friend? Or, would he just jump on him and try to slay him…? Why would someone attack another person without provocation? Why would someone act like that??? Who knows, who knows… 

Silanus walked towards Mendean from the shadows, revealing himself. He was looking at him with his eyes wide open, he did not have his sword with him, nor his shield… Just his spear, covered in what seemed to be nothing else but blood. Dry blood… Silanus dropped his spear and got even closer to the stranger, he then sat in the ground, not too far away from him and said: "They have come… They have come for poor little Silanus… No one is safe, not me, not you, not even me! Look at this city, I used to buy bread in this place, I used to buy BREAD! You hear me?!? BREAD!!! But not anymore… No more bread for Silanus… No more bread for you, not more bread for me, not more bread for ANYONE!!! ANY-ONE! Oh… What a disgrace" Silanus´hand turned into a fist, and he hit the ground twice. Then Tacitus said: "Poor Silanus just walked, he was just walking, ohh with his shiny sword, his stroooong shield and his beloved spear! But no… Not anymore… No sword for Silanus, no shield for Silanus… Luckily spear is still with him, if evil evil EVIL valkyiries come Silanus will be ready… You think it is act of a god to destroy everything? To hurt poor SILANUS!? NO! This… THIS! Is the ugly, thruth. There are no gods in this here, there are only believers..!" Silanus stood up and walked around Mendean, looking at him deeply…

Silanus said once again: "But what is a believer without a god? What is a servant without a master? What is a guard without something to protect? What is a faithful dog without his owner? A free dog? You think, after ALL this time, the faithful dog would just forget his beloved owner? His master? NO! You are wrong! WRONG WRONG WRONG!!! A faithful dog will NEVER forget his dear, dear, DEAR owner… But, why not? What if he would just forget him and get on with his life? Would he be a free dog? Or shall he find another owner? Another master? NO! The poor dog will stay, waiting… You hear me? WAITING! Hoping for his master to come back from the Otherworld, and play with him… But, what if the owner never comes back? What if he is dead… FOREVER!?!? Will the dog understand that? Will he!? Of COURSE he will. The faithful dog will lose his will to be alive… His will to keep awaiting for his OWNER! His MASTER! That is why gods are not real! Because the dog will never forget, and the believers will keep trying to prove their gods real… Why aren´t they like the poor, faithful dog? Why don´t they understand!?!? WHY NOT!?!? Look… LOOK! Look around you, my fellow friend, just LOOK! Everything is in ruins, everyone is now a faithful dog, waiting for their beloved owners to save them…" Silanus stopped walking, then grabbed his spear and quickly hit the ground with it, the strong spear was now covered in dirt, but not broken.

Silanus said once again: "But what if poor Silanus has not an owner? A master? What if he is not a faithful dog, but just a mere wandering dog? Waiting for someone to be with him, waiting for a good person to claim him, and turn him to a faithful dog? Will poor Silanus understand that? Will the valkyries come and finish what they started? WILL THEY!? Silanus was never a faithful dog, just a wandering dog…  A wandering dog is easier to catch, than a faithful dog…" After Silanus finished his long talk, he simply sat in the ground, removing the dirt from his nails.

[OOC Kelonians as mentioned below are Revaliir's not-romans, who existed a thousand years prior. There will be a wiki entry about them soon…promise!]


Mendean said nothing as the newcomer ranted in a language he only understood on a rudimentary basis. He dressed like an ancient Kelonian, but the tongue the madman spoke in, was not Kelonian. Of all people, Mendean would know, given that a thousand years before his own time, his father had been a senator in the Kelonian empire, long before he had abandoned his mortal life and ascended to become a god. This man…he was something else. A flailing, ranting puzzle of a man, clearly out of time, but dressed in a garb rarely seen in Mendean's own era.


Quietly, he blew on the pages of his journal so the ink would dry faster, then while he waited, he placed the quill and ink back into his satchel. By the time he had completed the act, the ink was dry enough to close the journal without fear of the pages sticking together. All this he did without once looking down from the visitor, who was currently walking around him in a circle.


It occurred to the young god that he might brush against the disturbed man's thoughts, calm him down so that he might perhaps make more sense. But he decided against it. Madmen were the meat and drink of this particular deity. Chaos and dreams brought into the waking world through the mouths of men and women like him. They brought him sustenance, of a kind.


So instead he listened and tried to understand. The man in Kelonian garb was using the word 'dog' a lot. There was some talk about gods and belief, but most of it went over Mendean's head. He barely understood the barbarian tongue of Adeluna and wanted to speak it even less. Communication was going to be difficult, but not impossible.


Once the man had sat back down amongst the dirt and old bones, Mendean sighed and rested his arms on his knees, staring hard at the man. If he was asleep, communication would be much simpler. But Mendean enjoyed a challenge. He narrowed his eyes and began.


The man was clearly not of this time, whenever this was. And the madness in him seem ingrained. The thousand-yard stare, indicative of a traumatic past. Mendean did not know how long ago this world had been laid to waste, but the few survivors had been changed physically, as well as mentally. Beyond an uneven length of the arm, the soldier appeared to be a regular mortal in physical dimensions. Besides, he was physically healthy, which meant access to regular meals and clean water. Neither were in great supply in this time.


If this man was dressed like a Kelonian, then perhaps he knew some of their words also? It was an ancient and dead language in his time, but it survived amongst academics, as well as being the basis for a number of modern tongues. Vilmapolan, for example. Even Adelunian contained many words of Kelonian origin. Mendean cleared his throat, and decided to try. <Do you understand my words? I have travelled far to be here. Seen many terrible things. You are the first fully human creature I have encountered. I am…I am Mendean. What name do you go by?>


Shrugging to himself, the god rose to a squatting position, shifting his weight as he felt clay tiles attempt to slide out from beneath him. From that position, he rested his arms on his thighs and continued to study the soldier in an attempt to learn more.

(Great! Please tell me when the article is out :D)

Silanus was starting to get confused, why did this stranger be so… So odd..? Perhaps he was a foreigner from the outlands, Silanus has never seen the people of that place… Something in this man felt a little different, a little unusual… Well, it was probably just Silanus' imagination… He cleared his throat and said to Mendean: "Silanus' full name is Tacitus Silanus, call him just Silanus… What would your name be, my fellow traveler?" Silanus did not even wait for the stranger's answer, instead,  he stood up and lifted his long spear. He then said: "Oh, and please don't waste time talking, friend. Be like Silanus' spear, and have a point… Good little Silanus has found a place… An amazing one! But he fears that someone finds it and takes EVERYTHING!!! Ugh, Silanus tried to share his hideout with other stinky survivors… His hideout has some clean water, amazing hoho! But disgrateful people wanted everything for themselves, UGH! Poor Silanus had to scare them off… But you… You seem less stupid… Want to see Silanus' hideout? He might even share his resources!' When Silanus finished talking, he looked far away, observing the ruined towers of the once mighty city…

The madman had not understood. Mendean sighed, he did not understand the madman either. Communication was going to be difficult, but at least it would be simpler, more immediate. He had given up attempting to decipher the barbarian utterings of this man from another time. His own time, so it appeared. And yet his armour, his equipment…both were severely anachronistic even in Mendean's own period in history. He wondered if the lunatic had inherited the armour, or if there were some last remaining vestiges of his father's people hiding out in the darkest corners of Revaliir. Devotees of a past that never really was. He had encountered a number of ancient beings who held similar sensibilities.

But this man was not ancient.

He was talking to Mendean, but Mendean could not understand him. Every now and then he would register key words and phrases, but it was all out of context. He nodded politely, then stretched and turned away to the horizon. The shining ones were nowhere to be seen. Presumably they had taken their battles elsewhere. Mendean had not been able to figure out why they were fighting, but he had not wanted to get too close. The emanations of power were disturbing to him. They were like gods in one sense, but not like gods at all in another sense. This devastated future was their playground. Of that he was certain. All the horrors bore their stink. But what were they? Where had they come from? What did they want?

How could he prevent their arrival?

Of course. That was the question, foremost in his mind. This was an awful future. Almost as bad as the one that had plagued his father in visions. But the prevention of that future had cost his father's life. Mendean was not one to ignore the lessons of history.

He turned back to the rambling warrior. Something about water?

And that was when he saw the other man approaching from around a corner. The man was tall. Taller than Mendean. A long coat, hat and scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face obscured his features from view. The god peered at the man and was about to use his other senses to get a better picture, but he realised the man was waving, beckoning. The frantic jerky movements indicated a sense of urgency. The man pointed up. Mendean followed the direction in which he was pointing, but the sudden light peeking through the clouds told him all he needed to know.

A shining one. And it had noticed them.

“That way!” Mendean screamed at Silanus in what he hoped was adequate Adelunan and pointed towards the figure, who was backing away behind the corner of a ruined building. A sound of thunder followed. Mendean looked back and saw a snaking dark line approaching them from across the city. Gouts of hot gaseous material erupted from what was clearly a fissure. A fissure that was fast-approaching their location.

“Run!”

Silanus was not paying attention when the shackened man got nearby, however, when the brighty flash of light appeared, and when he heard Mendean's shout, Silanus knew there was a danger.

Silanus turned around to see what caused such despair, and that's when he saw the shiny thing on the sky and the heating gases coming out from a long fissure located in the ground…

What was that thing? Even if Silanus wanted to know what is the… Being that is causing mayhem, all that mattered now is that he had to protect himself, take cover… The mad soldier jumped to take cover beside Memdean, preparing for the worst…

Diving behind the remaining section of wall, a great cracking sound rent the protesting air with a shriek. The ground surged, sending jagged cracks up from the ground and through the wall, but miraculously, the wall remained intact. But the main concern were the hot gasses emerging from the sudden fissure that had opened up in the ground. It sent particles of burning rock high into the air, catching anything flammable. The air itself was barely breathable.

It was difficult to see anything in the smoke and haze. Flames flickered in the grey, indistinct, but the wave of blistering heat forced the god to act instinctively. He threw up his arms, crossing them over his face, hissing the words “Zaštiti nas!” Immediately, the smoke and flames were pushed back by an indistinct force. As the flames licked against this curving arc, thin lines spread out from the fire. Orange-yellow swirls and patterns that faded. If Mendean had not been fighting to save his and the other man's lives, he would have found the effect to be quite beautiful.

Sheltering behind the crumbling wall, Mendean looked around for the mysterious stranger who had warned him of the impending attack. No sign of him. Massaging his temples, the god sent his thoughts spreading out in the immediate area, taking great care not to extend his mind too far, lest the shining entity somewhere far above them manage to pinpoint his precise location.

Still nothing. The stranger was either out of range, or was good at hiding. In a world like this, the latter option seemed more likely. But that did not help him. Something was up there and had decided to attack them. One of the shining ones. Usually they ignored him. It seemed that they were more interested in assaulting each other. He had been attacked before though. Usually he would simply escape, or they would lose interest in him. It seemed that if any of them remained in one place for too long, they would attract the attention of others like them.

None of it made sense. There were no distinct sides. Occasionally some would band together to fight a common enemy, but these alliances never lasted beyond the initial fight. Almost immediately afterwards, they would begin sniping at each other. Most of the destruction Mendean had seen, was collateral damage.

Through the smoke emerged a glow from above. Mendean's heart sank as he realised the shining one was looking for them. He could feel the edges of reality pinching tight around them, blocking off any easy escape. Clearly this one knew something of Mendean's capabilities. Had they encountered each other before?

“Ne želim se boriti!” I do not want to fight. Brushing brick dust off his sleeves, he stood and yelled into the sky in his native language. He had no idea if the shining one would understand a single syllable, but he felt he should at least attempt some form of communication. Explore all possible options before resorting to violence. That was what he had always done.

Light spilled down through the clouds of hot dust that hung over the area. Tiny glowing particles of rock spilled over the mystical shield. Orange patterns forming for milliseconds with every impact. He could see a humanoid form, white and shining as it hung in the air above them. Squinting, the figure resembled a boy. Face impassive. Clouds of dust parting at his approach.

“He will twist world. Try get in through shield. Stay close.” Mendean addressed Silanus.