Couldn't Stay Away

[BakedPotato 1019]

 

Couldn't Stay Away

As the orc began her rite, she did so standing on shaking legs. Each rune painted in her blood was done with a trembling finger. Deep breath in, deep breath out. She did her best to calm herself as she stood within the center of her salt. Her sight had grown with her spirit’s guidance, but it was not whole. Yet her goddess compelled her to seek what was out there. The risks would be great with her reduced vision, but she deluded herself into thinking the rewards outweighed them. The salt erupted, venting a scarlet-hued vapor as the orc chanted in an ancient tongue. It circled and rose higher, inky black webs stretching out and swirling within. A metallic scent filled the room she occupied, and the rhythmic sound of a beating heart rushed into the shaman’s ears. The crimson smoke reached the ceiling, and the uruk was off, shifting between realities.

 

Pastel Clouds | Daneumhi

Gazhnahk stumbled as she shunted into the new realm with a small burst of blood dyed smoke. She scanned her limited surroundings, taking in the pale pastel yellow grass all around her. The witch pulled off the robes she wore, exposing the armor beneath. The uruk took a moment to glide her hand through the grass, letting it scratch at her skin. Beyond its color, it felt rather normal. The ground felt the same to her as she dug her fingers into the pale, burnt orange pastel dirt, rubbing it between her fingers and feeling the soil crumble before gathering up her belongings. 

 

The shaman wandered aimlessly for a long while, letting the will of Gazigash guide her. She had taken some notes in her journal as she traveled. A few hills dotted the land, tall, too tall for her to want to try to climb. How steep they were only lessened her desire. The hills seemed stretched, as if a large hand pinched the land and pulled as high as it could before the ground snapped. The realm was not a continuous plane, which she learned as she neared one of the island’s edges. It linked itself to another floating island via chains of pastel peach. Gazhnahk peered down the gap to see what lay below, though all she could spot was a blanket of misty silver, which did not say much, given her short sight. 

 

Hopping to the other island, the orc continued her journey, hoping the realm would offer her something more interesting than tall hills. It would be hours before anything of note came along, but after a long time of walking, a house came into view. It was structured in the classic medieval style Gazhnahk was used to, but only materials of various pastel colors were used in its making. A woman was on the lawn, humming as she was bent over a large, pastel brown bucket. It was filled with a foamy, light, pastel blue substance, and she was scrubbing what appeared to be a shirt against a washboard. The woman was of unnatural hues as well, her skin a shade of lime pastel green and her long hair a pastel lavender. The stranger regarded the orc with a look as she neared.

“Who are you?”

 

“A traveller.” She rasped in reply, gazing at her with my false eyes. “A friendly one.”

 

Gazhnahk was eyed with suspicion as she stopped her chore and backed away slowly. “And what is it you want?”

 

“Nothing in particular, simply exploring. That’s all.” Gazhnahk raised her hands ‌in the air, trying to express her desire for peace. 

 

“My husband will be back soon. You can wait there until he returns if you’d like.” The woman continued her slow and careful backpedal, ascending the porch behind her while keeping an eye on the orc. 

 

The uruk nodded, “Alright.. I’ll wait..” Her hands fell, coming to rest at her side once more.

 

As time passed, Gazhnahk grew uncertain how long it was she had stood there, but she knew it had to be some time. Suddenly, in the distance, beyond her view, she heard the cranking of machinery. Instinct compelled her to reach for her spear, but she stayed her hand, not wishing to be the first to ruin what could be a friendship. The orc became more vigilant as she kept herself prepared for the worst. The whirring of gears ceased, and footsteps crunching against grass soon followed. A man appeared in Gazhnahk’s sight, and her attention quickly snapped to him. Her false eyes did not move as she looked the man up and down. He appeared to be an engineer of sorts, with an apron, gloves, and goggles on his forehead. The orc assumed him to be the husband without a second thought.

The door creaked open as the wife appeared again, standing at a distance on the porch. 

 

“Whose this honey?” The husband questioned as he stared at the orc, peeling his gloves off in the process. 

 

“She said she’s a traveller.” 

 

Gazhnahk remained quiet as the two went back and forth.

 

“Did she say anything else?” The husband asked with a glance at his wife, the woman simply shaking her head in response. He turned his attention back on Gazhnahk, “So who are you? What are you doing here?”

 

“My name is Gazhnahk’Akaal. I wander between different planes.” She spoke truthfully.

 

“Wander between planes?” The man questioned, clearly confused.

 

“I have the gift to travel to other dimensions, each one vast and unique. I don’t mean to bring any harm, just to learn about the realms I visit.”

 

The husband nodded slowly, taking his time to process what he had been told. “Quite remarkable if true… How’s this: you say you wanna learn about this place, and I can show you, but in turn, you have to help out with chores. A little give and take seems fair to me. 

 

Gazhnahk would nod to this, “Nothing in this life ahm free, ah fair offer.” 

 

“Come inside, I was just finishing dinner.” The wife spoke

 

“But you can leave the weapons outside.”

 

And so she did, the orc setting her spear aside as she walked up the creaking wooden steps. They ate and talked, Gazhnahk getting an opportunity to learn more about this realm, grilled‌ with countless questions. The food was odd, though, a bowl filled with what seemed like a pastel colored broth. By no means was it bad, but it tasted like nothing she had ever had before, and she wasn’t sure she loved it. She was given a spare room with simple furniture, having only a bed with a pastel rose gold wool blanket and a pastel ultramarine pillow, along with a desk. A candle with wax the color of pastel burgundy burned, the flickering flame offering the orc a dim light to log what she had seen today in her journal. 

 

Night would soon bleed into morning, so Gazhnahk finally decided to try to get some sleep. The bed was lumpy and hard, and the blanket scratched at her skin as she tossed and turned, but the orc had managed to find rest in even worse places. Hours passed, and beads of cold sweat began to swell on her green forehead. Her face scrunched as she tossed and turned, as her spirit invaded her dreams. When she woke, it was early dawn, and roosters outside greeted the sun. Her sweat had soaked the mattress beneath her, her shirt equally drenched. Though as she stirred out of bed, it was not with panic but with resolve.

 

Tap, tap, tap. A knock came at her door.

“You awake in there? We like to get started bright and early on our day.” The husband’s voice came through the door.

 

“Yes, one moment; let me get ready.” She rasped in reply, though she did make no effort to move from where she sat on her bed and get started.

 

“Meet me outside when you're ready.”

 

The orc’s days consisted of waking up early to help with chores until it grew late. She didn’t complain, though; each day she learned more of the land and the people. Whenever she finished her chores, the Akaal took time to wander around, though she made sure to always return before it became night, and she got lost. Assisting the wife consumed most of her time; she didn't get to accompany the husband to his work until later that week. She learned what the creaking sound was as he showed her the strangest animatii contraption she had ever seen. If it was even animatii at all, it looked nothing like the animatii machines of those made by the people of Azuras.

 

A large box of pastel colors, even the glass was tinted a shade of pastel. It seemed to sit on tracks like a mine cart, but more advanced, and the track went vertically up the steep mountain. Posts ran up the mountain along the side of the track, supporting the cords that ran up and down, so that the box seemed to hang as it sat on the track. The man stepped inside, and so Gazhnahk followed. He cranked a lever from within, and massive wooden gears began to churn; the box making a clicking sound as it slowly ascended the track. Gazhnahk’s expression said all that was needed.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before..”

 

As they neared the top, the box passed through a pastel cloud, obscuring what lay in the distance, though it did not matter; she could not see that far anyway. The box came to a stop, and the pair stepped out onto a platform, a balcony built into the side of the steep slope. Another strange contraption sat at the summit’s peak, a machine that whirled and made all sorts of noises. The man noticed Gazhnahk’s clear interest in the device. 

 

“This is how we get our food.” He began, “Clouds pass through here, and this machine takes in their vapor, condensing it into food.”

 

The Akaal had already pulled her journal free, sketching the machines. “So all you eat is clouds?”

 

“You make that sound strange.”

 

“It would be quite odd where I come from.”
 

“Well, what do your people eat then?”

 

“All sorts of things, though clouds are not one of them.”
 

“I’d consider that strange where I come from.”
 

“Fair point.”

 

A few weeks passed, and each day brought fewer notes in journal. This realm was interesting, though not interesting enough to entertain her chaotic mind. She had learned what she could for now. And there was no point in staying any longer. Perhaps she will visit again, see what else she might find, but now she quietly slipped out from the house in the middle of the night. The lands shifted around her, but the orc did not let it disturb her as she made her journey back home