The air rippled, as though something were heating it. Thin waves of distorting haze that broke the early evening light into curlicues and rivulets of colour. Cobbled stones scintillated and shifted, tiny growths emerging from them, emitting spores that drifted lazily like dust motes in a beam of sunlight. And yet there was insufficient light to be illuminating these tiny particles.
The distortion spread out across the concourse. Wooden beams of houses changed colour, window panes seemed to leer expectantly. From somewhere distant there came a clamour of voices and the faintest hint of music. But it was a tune that one could not quite capture.
A swarm of shapes burst forth from the ground. Bat-like, tiny chimerae, rising and spinning around in a wild dance of concentrated activity. As individuals separated from the vortex-like swarm in the centre, their small bodies warped and twisted. New shapes arose from them as they moved further out. One sprouted several yard-long spidery legs and straddled the buildings on either side of the street. Another burst into a ball of pale green fluff that rose higher and higher into the evening air. Still more dropped their wings and fell to the cobblestones, shuffling, scampering, crawling and oozing their way into the urban landscape.
Many more forms took shape. Most of them becoming ghostlike and fading as they spread out like an infectious cloud into the city; but some remained intact. Soon, all were gone. The ripples ceased and a blurred figure emerged from where the swarm had been, leaving behind a small crater-like hole in the ground. As the figure came into focus, all clad in black, he gestured behind him. The remaining cobblestones seemed to pull themselves inward, like a sheet being drawn over a bed. By the time the figure had left the alley, no trace remained of his passing.
He moved through narrow streets, nose wrinkling as two powerful aromas competed for dominance. That of raw sewage running through open drains and that of the nearby harbour. Both were powerful contenders, but as the dark-clad man approached the docks, the latter smell seemed to win-out, for the time-being at least.
It was early evening, but he noticed that drunken men and women sprawled on the cobbles already. One man groaned and muttered something in his unconscious state, causing the visitor to stop and look at him quizzically. For several moments the standing figure seemed to flicker and become almost translucent, while the sleeping drunk thrashed and twitched, then became calm. The younger man bent down, dropped a silver coin into the sleeper's pocket and nodded in thanks, then he straightened up and continued on his way.
Moments later, he was entering the vibrant glow of the Winking Mermaid, Adeluna's most famous drinking establishment. He slipped, almost unnoticed between patrons, reached the bar and leaned against it. Running a well-manicured hand over the sticky wood, he tapped it gently with his forefinger. It was not enough to make any sound, but the barmaid closest to him reacted as though he had hammered loudly on the wooden top. She turned with a start, then looked confused for a moment until she became aware the young man in fine-but-simple clothes and somewhat unkempt hair, was smiling gently at her.
“I would like…” He frowned, his thick foreign accent indicating he was having difficulty with the local tongue. He blinked, then met the woman's eyes for a moment. Again, she appeared confused, before seeming to come to her senses with a nod. “Of course dearie, a fine red from the vineyards of the eastern country for a gentleman like yourself.” The man smiled and nodded with relief, then turned away from the bar, taking in his surroundings with a searching eye.
While he waited for his wine, he produced a coin as though performing a conjuror's trick. It appeared between thumb and forefinger, then placed it on the bar next to him. The coin was not of metal, but instead fashioned from a dark green stone and marked with strange symbols that were of no script known to an Adelunan. In the centre of the coin was a square hole. The barmaid brought his wine in a wooden cup, but he raised a hand, before she could return to her duties. In his hand were several silver coins. “Leave bottle and bring other cup please.” The barmaid obliged.
Mendean leaned back against the bar and retrieved the coin, then began to roll it across his knuckles like a thimblerigger, back and forth. He smiled expectantly to himself, sipping from the cup that he held in his other hand.
God Abilities:
Can warp reality around him, so that the environment will begin to resemble his dream-like realm.
May enter and manipulate the dreams of others.
You cannot know Mendean for who or what he is unless he allows it. Even your memories will be altered to disguise his identity, unless he does not wish it. Even his aura is too widely spread for you to see.