Crimson

Chapter Thirty

Walking through the throngs of elaborately dressed Ak-Wo, Pligal, Dorn, and the patchers all gazed wildly at their surroundings. Each taking in a specific nuance, observing how others watched them move within their city. Clearly foreigners, to the denizens of Reyopa, the group seemed to unnerve the crowds as they allowed a great space to move freely while they closed the distance with one another. Their orbs dancing nervously amongst the crew, lingering for many moments upon Dorn.

Dorn, the massive Eron. His frame casting wide shadows upon the inhabitants of this land, his size far greater than most in this land. Throughout the wrappings of interwoven fabrics, Pligal saw their biolight flicker nervously as he neared while calming, once he walked away. Favoring, his right foot as the other was recently stabbed by the small summoner of the Vior, Dorn limped towards their unknown destination, splattering small specks of life-fluid with each step. Dabs of fluid, caking up blue, purple, yellow, and a swell of golden dust into the fluid.

In his mind, Dorn watched the area around him, the new metropolis unfolding before him. Each nuance profoundly exposed before him his insignificance within the land. The vision of the plains of Nasfa, the beautiful light emitting, radiating, dancing melodically, calmly, eagerly exposing their desire to connect, and now this land. Here, he saw through his wide orbs, the elegance, the regality, and the energy within Reyopa consumed him.

"Simply marvelous. The gods truly inspired these structures." Dorn thought as his mind ignored the lingering pain on the pad of his foot.

Moving forward, as Pligal and the patchers surrounded him, taking in the views of the marvelous city. Dorn allowed his comrades to direct his path as he let his mind float. Every inch of this land, he absorbed into his mind, painting the glistening obelisks, the mountain peaks cradling, yet protecting the land as the peaks shimmered with inhabitants, Dorn assumed, made to watch over the lands from distant enemies.

Walking for many moments, in silence as the group silently observed the new land, Dorn noticed much of the denizens shifted from bustling individuals to a lighter flow. Five obelisks shorter than surrounding structures circled a large purple mound of soil speckled with translucent stones. As they neared the circle, Dorn felt his scales throb slightly.

"Fascinating structures. What are those stones?" Dorn thought to himself as his mind continued to float.

Bumping into Pligal, Dorn's attention shifted quickly before him to their escort. The short Reyopan stood poised their orbs fixating upon Dorn, while ignoring Pligal and the patchers. Gesturing towards a nearby tower, shifting his attention towards the point their talon, Dorn stood astonished. Amidst steps leading to one of the obelisks, a multitude of individuals wearing seafoam green wraps, marked with the brand of the Vior, adorned with black streaks stood regimented, quiet, ready for Dorn.

Turning to Dorn, Pligal watched as the behemoth of an Eron remained in place. His bio light pattered as it betrayed his feelings, unkempt, raw, and unsure. After a few moments, Pligal reached out toward Dorn to rouse him. Before his talon could reach Dorn, he moved toward the regiment of Reyopans.

As he neared, the regiment shuffled collectively, marching in place, they parted as a sole figure wrapped in a canary yellow wrapping, nearly the color of their scales walked forward. Their bio light steady, centered around the scales of their orbs, they fixated upon the giant Eron. Fixated, driven, they closed the distance.

Mere moments away from Dorn, they stopped with their bio light intensifying, spreading to their crown, radiating brilliantly through the terra god's light. Shifting his gaze away from the beacon, beaming brightly, hurting his orbs, Dorn turned to see the others shielding their vision, groaning audibly.
"Come, Dorn." He heard close behind him. A seywaw's voice, commanding, yet sweet beckoning, enveloping him.