In the Name of Kerahl? - The Dark Rising #2.0

[Stargazer]

The dull sound of rain thudding upon the roof underscored the uncomfortable commotion in the tavern. The people seemed tense, yet the feeling is unexplainable, and pondering the subject would only invoke a greater sense of restlessness. It was easy in this hazy atmosphere to get lost in thought or distracted from the natural world; to be drawn away from life's constant perils. Somehow... in some way... these perils would inevitably return.

The commotion of the tavern came to a sudden and disturbing hush as the entry door opened, inviting the ominous storm to a few words before being interrupted by the door closing. All eyes were upon the newcomer for a brief moment before returning to the mindless chatter and bustle. A traveler, cloaked in a black robe and hidden under his hood, approached the worn table and sat uncomfortably nearby.

But the distracting aura of the tavern no longer seemed to be in effect around this individual.

He spoke, this seemingly unnatural being, in a manner uninvited, and of things entirely irrelevant. "Storm's coming," he said, drinking from an old flask. "But not this one." He spoke as if to jest, yet the small portion of his visible face suggested a grim revelation. "I've seem 'em, those dark followers..... and you better watch out. They're coming." He took another sip from his flask, but this time his hand shook nervously as he did. "I've seen 'em do terrible things. I've seen 'em murder in the coldest way. I've seen 'em sacrifice living people to their...", his voice fell to a whisper, "...their dark gods..." He turned away for a moment, watching the door solemnly but turned back. "But the worst thing I've seen 'em done..." his head bowed tragically as he spoke, "I've seen them turn the hearts of good folk to the darkest evil. They don't just ruin lives... they.. they corrupt souls!" He turned to the table and rocked himself back and forth, whimpering; rambling incoherently, perhaps, trying to convince himself that the horrors he apparently witnessed did not exist.

"..and always.....always in the name of KERAHL!"

Again he turned quickly and frantically, but seeing nothing he calmly turned back, regaining much of his composure. "Do ye see this?" Pulling down his sleeve, he revealed a scarred mark on his arm. "Whenever ye see it, turn back! Kerahl is coming! Oh, Kerahl!"

Upon his arm was a most ominous mark:

\+/

Fear seemed to overcome the traveler, as he looked in total horror at a corner of the tavern. Standing in that shadowy corner was yet another man in a black robe, who from under his dark veil seemed to be gazing menacingly at the traveler. Overcome by absolute fear, the traveler stood immediately, frantically attempting to step off the bench, but instead tripping over it and crashing into a passing patron. The commotion caused by the shattering mugs and dishes caused the entire tavern to come to a hush, with all eyes on the frightened traveler. "THEY'RE AFTER ME!" he bellowed, pointing. One by one the other patrons looked to the corner and then looked again at the traveler skeptically.

What? Did they not see the stranger in the corner?

"It's the followers of Kerahl! They've come to kill me! Oh, Kerahl! Beware of Kerahl! Kerahl!!"
Immediately the man dashed to the door, throwing it open and disappearing into the darkness of the rain. The silence remained for a moment, but soon the commotion returned, as if nothing had happened. Looking back to the corner, the dark one was still there, still waiting, still gazing silently....... at you. How did the other patrons not see it? For what purpose did it stare?

But most importantly, who, or what, is Kerahl?

All these questions filled the mind, like a plague that could not be stopped. There seemed to be a mark carved into the table, clearly by the traveler.

\+/

Once again, the strange symbol of Kerahl. "Turn back..." The memory of the frightened voice of the traveler echoed in response to the sight of the mark. The dark one was no longer there, but the unnerving feeling of its presence remained. The tavern door remained open, and the foreboding image of the dark, rainy path instilled a feeling of doom, but the urge to walk it was compelling.

But it couldn't have been curiosity. It had to be much more than that. It had to be a matter of the heart.

[JoshuaLee]

Very nice.