A new era in original, fantasy RP. Four populated nations surround the ruins at the center of the known world - each with their own, strong culture. This original tale is woven around lush forests, dangerous city slums, raging seas, and endless valleys. A writer's greatest adventure is an application away.
Be it advanced technology, a knightly order, the way of a hunter, or the strength of a gang as your shield.. the land's new-born darkness will tear away at anything in its path. Fight for the gods? Fight for you nation? Fight for yourself?
WHO WILL YOU BLAME.
That's right. Be wary. Each thread the desecrants show up in will have a maximum amount of players allowed to enter to fight it. Though they may not be defeated right away, you might make them think twice about facing mankind... and could very well find them somewhere else in the world later on trying to get better luck.
A competition has been set up to create your very own NPCs! Create up to five for around the world of From Dust and you have a chance to get them accepted into the site's beastiary! This expands on our member-created base as an original site, so have at it!
Her breaths were rugged, harsh, and made her chest tremble as the spurted past her lips and made her nostrils flare. She stared down at the girl, the stranger, the one who'd tied her and dragged her here.. and slowly began to recognize the face. She'd seen her in the forest.. she'd had her knife.. Her favorite, trusted blade that'd belonged to her father. Jonas had found it... he'd restored it - all rusty - and gave it to her bright, shiny, and new.
She must have had a hundred knives back home. But that was the only one with sentimental value. She could feel the weight on her leg too-... it wasn't there. August was about to spurt more questions-- but then the woman started explain. Domhan Tir.. she'd made it. She'd made it out! Then she started talking abou ther profession as an excuse for having so many sharp edges.. as if to make August feel safer. Tch... she didn't care about safety.. not from her. She was finally out of Gigas' and Ground-Bound's reach - preferably the latter. And now? The border seperated them.
At this realization, her grip loosened even more, still intently trying to keep up with the flow of information that made her head ache. The girl was Hrystic?.. The northern country of-.. of Brynne. The goddess. Damn, all that had seemed lifetimes away before.. and here she was with one of the citizens..
Shetani. Shetani Delacourte. A normal name, a nice name, no title of violence or underhanded doings. Offer her the home-.. til she was better? Oh. August took a quick diagnostic of herself and decided that was.. a bad idea as soon as she'd done it. Her leg was numb, her arm was on fire, and every breath she took made it feel like a shard of glass twisted into her side. That and the pounding feeling behind her eyes.. the sting above her brow..
Her hands slowly released the woman, nodding slowly in understanding as if it were the only thing to do. August attempted getting to her feet, scooting away from her and holding her hands up - open-palmed - to show her they were empty. She needed to find her knife.. she needed to---
With a wince against her weak leg, she fell to a knee, slumping towards the couch and hanging over one of the arms. Her fingers gripped onto the fabric to hold on. "Shit!.." she coughed, resting her forehead against the arm of the sofa as well. A few more feet and she would've been home free to lie down. She'd calmed down a little though, taking a few more breaths.. and eventually trying to ease out another word. "Aug-....st.." her throat took a deep and painful swallow as she attempted one more time, "...Ah-.. August.."
The woman seems to crumple by inches and Shetani obeserves this with a careful detachment of the sort a surgeon would: she has to measure and equally take measure, the sizing-up being done like that of a dog; her head turns and Shetani steps a foot or so away, watching August collapse onto her couch. Eyes twitch down, across, skittering here and there, taking in the edges and curves and the broken bits of skin. She's over an arm of the couch, and Shetani steps forward silently. August, her name is? August.
Shetani takes a sniff, her nostrils flaring, her eyes narrowing; she bares her teeth and grunts softly in the back of her throat. "Where are you from, August? You smell--" She turns, applying herself to pushing August down upon her back on the couch.
Ribs, Shetani thinks, and then kneels, her fingers prodding, finding the precise spot where there is a fracture. She knows enough of aid from knitting her own wounds shut; Shetani's eyes cut up to August's face and there is a shaky hardness there, a resolution that will not be challenged and it will be challenged least of all by a nearly-dead wreck of a stranger. Inhales through her nose again and Shetani tusn, teeth grinding. "That smells like sea water. You came from the sea. From--somewhere there. I found you on the beach but the smell is almost stale."
Shetani marches forward, grabbing a pillow, grabbing a fragment of board. "There better not be people--on your tail. I'll match them by scent. But this place is no good for that--don't talk overmuch, mind, you may actually hack up an organ." When she returns to August, the action of supporting her rib is done, and it is not done unkindly.
GUILTY FEET HAVE GOT NO RHYTHM THOUGH IT'S EASY TO PRETEND I KNOW YOU'RE NOT A FOOL
Nothing was really happening for a little bit. It was quiet. The girl was probably having a hard time hearing her.. or maybe August was the one having issues with thinking she was actually forming words. Her head wasn't exactly the clearest. Her breathing sounded off to her now. It wheezed and squeaked whenever air passed through her chest.
"Where are you from, August?"
Why did that need to matter right now.. She already gave her much more than she wanted - not remembering ever exactly reasoning why on earth she'd give the girl her damn name. Why didn't she make one up? Too late now... "District C.." The slum house of Vincit - large and populous in the country of Zhadrah. She saw no reason why that would hold any value..
Thanks-? AH! For as long as she'd been quiet, she screached out at the movements - the lack of adrenaline in her veins causing her to feel anything and everything. It was a horrid sound, cracking and violent and the girl moved her to lie on the couch. She tried to take a second to breath before she felt the fingers prodding up and down by her side.
August shot her eyes wide open and lifted her head before slamming it back down into the couch and clenching her expression. "AHH!.. Stop -- stop!.." she tried grabbing the woman's wrist, albeit weakly, and her heart hammered in her chest. August needed her lungs to expand with heavy breaths.. but they wouldn't. So they stayed shallow - making her head light. "Shit-!.." her teeth bit together and she peered her eyes open to look at the girl again with an intention to threaten her or order her to back the hell off---... until she saw the determination in her eyes. And.. then August remembered exactly what condition she was in and where the hell she was at. So she said nothing - but kept a hold of her wrist until she walked away.
Thank God, a breather. her head started swimming again as she tried to rest, sinking into the pillow that she didn't remember ever receiving. The brunette made a thick grunt against being situated with the wood but then-.. It was easy to breath. She sighed with relief and took her first deep breath in hours. It ached, but it was doable now. She couldn't believe she was saying it.. "-thanks.." her lips whispered. She reached out to hold the girl's wrist again, but this time it was not in defense or aggression. It was for the subconscious feeling of safety.
Well, not really...squirming. And--District C? Her eyes narrowed to slits. Alright, smartass. Shetani puffs out a breath and rocks back, scowls, and turns her head a bit--but then she's up, away. Shetani hears the thanks and shrugs her shoulders. "I'm not a heartless woman. I can't let--someone die." Her weakness, perhaps. If only she knew then what would her future would hold; would she have turned August away? No, probably not. But she wouldn't feel the slight satisfaction in her belly when she sees that she's okay. That she's helped the woman. Shetani looks at her, sees the rise of her chest, the deep breath, and shuffles away. The sounds of rattling pans can be heard and then the tick of flint, the rush of flame.
Shetani begins to heat up water, and hangs a small metal rod across the pan. There are rubber edges to it, and it is made to stave off conduction as long as possible. The girl then drapes a rag across, slowly sinking them into the water in the pot--oh, she's not going to tell her friend about this. "How big are some of those wounds?" She shouts, from her kichen, bracing herself.
"Tell me--how large is the biggest? Is there rapid blood loss?" Shetani murmurs, searching for large blunt metal objects; she knows there IS blood, and it IS from the woman, and that this is going to hurt, and her scarred back aches. She remembers--
I can't let you bleed all over the place. Hold still.
--and her fingers curl around a piece of metal. "I need you to be honest with me." Shetani knows she shouldn't be... this good at--what was it called, then? Field fixing. Or something. She doesn't care overmuch and instead she turns, clicks her fingers together. "Because I will not have a corpse in my house." The fine hairs on the back of Shetani's neck bristle up and she can hear it, really, can hear the burn of flesh, and her back seems to jerk, and Shetani hops forward, grabs her back, and whines loud enough to be heard from the living room. Phantom pains hurt and Shetani flings the metal away from her, hoping that August doesn't need that sort of help. Maybe the hot rag will do something. She can't. Cant' do that. Can't. She...won't be able to.
"Hn! Where are you frrrom. You didn't tell me--I know District C, but --where's that at?!"
GUILTY FEET HAVE GOT NO RHYTHM THOUGH IT'S EASY TO PRETEND I KNOW YOU'RE NOT A FOOL
Not a heartless woman? Couldn't let someone die? Holy shit - she was on the complete opposite side of the spectrum as far as reality went. August had to repeat the sentence in her head. Letting someone die didn't make you heartless.. not in Zhadrah.. did it everywhere else? Letting someone die just meant you lived on another day. Sacrifice.
"Surv-ival.." she swallowed, taking another deep breath, "Isn't.. some sin.." It was hard to speak still. It felt like her throat was made of rough sand or pumice stone - the new air going through her lungs stinging it and making it freeze. "You coulda..." she whispered to herself. Yeah, she could have left her. "...wouldn't.. ha-ve blamed y-ou.." But it felt damn good to lie still and rest now that she was getting some heat back to her body from the damn rain, sea.. everything.. though her wet clothes clung to her and made her shiver every once in a while.
How big were her wounds?.. The largest one?.. "My head-... ca-n't see.. and-.." she tested the side of her bad leg, feeling a hand around between her hip and knee. "Ah- Shit!..Ssss!" she hissed and clenched her teeth. When she lifted her hand back up, she saw the blood. It wasn't bleeding fast... the clothes were too wet and tight around it. "-..ah.. I don't-..know ho-w deep this is.." August let out a harsh cough from trying to explain so much - allowing her head to rest back again and shut her eyes.
Where was District C?.. She thought it was big enough that most people would understand.. But, then again, Hryst was the complete opposite of the world. When she heard the girl coming back, she opened an eye to look at her. "East Slums. What's.. with that?" she questioned while looking at the rag and whatever else was in her hands.