Thread: Of Sand and Stone

The green pale wash of the waters edge counted the day as it always did upon the tides of Everwatch. A city, standing alone in the wastes of the Algalon desert, deep within the heart of the continent. The Dead Ocean spanned the horizon and further some said to the edge of the world itself, but such talk was foolish superstition. Gaia, was a large world, and few had seen all it's splendor, or danger. Her bosom was as great and vast that a man could not journey all her contours in ten life times. Despite this knowledge, some, have. In these lands of the heart, upon the largest continent and most dynamic begins the tale of the beginning, and the end. Deep within the breast of the world lay this desert, it's sands ever bleaching the bones of the foolish and the hearty alike. Men and women weathered by the tendrils of fate reside in everwatch. The tanned flesh of man charred by the sun dominant though some of the fair folk still walk amidst. Elf, dwarf, and other creatures rarely venture to the desolace of the Everwatch, a place said only foolishly enough to be attended, built and maintained by the arrogance of man. Despite this, and all the other matters that surround the world and it's hardships, Everwatch thrives, with waterways and ingenious irrigation of in city farming. Some say it the work of magic and alchemy others, men of science, ingenious purifying methods. Regardless the events of the inner chambers they are few and far between heard from the people. The people live in fear now, a growing power dark and sinister warps the minds of family and friends, brother turns against brother in the north and for the strange to become surreal, it's reach is un-kown. Even here in the long isolated city of Everwatch, precautions are taken. Knights of the Sun, sew justice amidst the streets, and root out the heart of corruption and injustice where ever it may choose to hide, even within it's own ranks. At least, that is the intention, for like any light, bright as it may be, the deeper the shadows that bind it. Even within it's own ranks there is talk of men going mad and killing one another, though only rumor, as nothing is proven. Some in the underground stalk the night claiming they had once been one of the members only to be put through strange purifying rituals that would have men burned alive for something so small as an impure thought. Nothing is ever brought to daylight however. It is here, within the deepening desert of the Algalon, that the ocean's bring new fair this day. Al'shaazim, sat upon his perch. The usual, a daring adventure across a rickety pier that would bring him and his reed basket laced with the long fishing pole to the edge of the waters on the far and most calm side of the harbor, while patrol and barter ships sailed effortlessly into the natural bay that had the crescent walled city so well off. His line already cast and thick gray beard shining in the sun. Leather like tan skin reflected skin, lining a sinuous muscle and bone beneath, reed sandals wound and rewound, knotted and broken cling to skeletal old feet. His graying eye's still keen and sharp as a hawk. Though not a hair stood upon his head, the riddles of youth still had him strong enough to lift his catch. Spying out into the murky green waters of the Dead, for short, an odd sight comes to the old man. His eye's narrowing to take in a gleam that signals intelligence. With a breath and gasp of shock, Al'shaazim, lept from the docks. The waters, despite being this far south, were still a bitter cold under the mid morning sun, unheated by the blazing orb in the sky to their full heat yet. With great strokes of his arms, a life around the water had brought a rigid speed to the old man. His presence swiftly brought to the body that floundered. Minutes passed and dragged to the rocky shoreline of the pier and forgotten by the naval authorities, Al'shaazim heaved the body from the waters. He was astonished he had not realized it sooner. A man, a young man at that. His legs clad in fur boots and a strange hide that formed not much more than a loin cloth. Thick rigid muscles covered him, and despite the water shining in droplets across his form, not a hint of wounds. Al'shaazim inspected closer looking to the youth for more answers, fair skin peering back, painted with deep blue strange interlocking spirals and wreaths. Knot like lines tying together across his forearms and neck. He had heard of these men, northerners. They were like the others that came so long ago, that helped make Everwatch what it was, but not like this man. He was the same yet different, certainly bigger, and broad. His old eye's took to his hair, a thick raven black, braided on the side with blue and red beads holding the three braided locks each assorted differently. Thick hair, matted with the waters of the Dead. Scratching his old beard he gently placed ear to the breast of the barbarian, ah, that's what they had been called by the other pale skinned ones. A heart strong and steady still beat, breath shallow and drawn however, he would need a day to recover. Patting the mans chest, he rose and headed home to fetch his sons and blankets for their newest guest, the fish from yestereve would have to do them for now.