Wormholes, Pots, And A Colorful Feast
Light shifts around the wormhole in a brilliant mirage of vibrant colors and staggering textures. The Nomads were brought forth into this portal by the beckoning call of a golden compass — which instructed them as “Speshies” to search out an unknown figure who had been “lost amongst the stars.” So, the Nymerian crew heeded the call and entered the shimmering gateway, which had opened up after the compass message had been read aloud.
The Nomads were not ones to neglect a cry for help.
The ethereal gateway comes to a close, and the group of Nomads are spit into a tantalizing forest covered in familiar greenery but is sprouting from doughy purple earth. Some critters jostle through the undergrowth of the woodland, and as the creatures move closer to the Nomads, small blue gemstones on the forest floor illuminate them. They are peculiar little lizards, petite in size and apparently in nature, as they nervously scurry about at the sight of the Nymerian squadron.
Ryker did not know how it had happened. The Nomads were the best of the best. Their senses heightened beyond anyone, their instincts striking out at the first mellow breeze of possible danger. Yet, the Nomads sit suspended in the air by a rough rope, dangling slowly over a boiling green pot of what could only be assumed to be a painful demise. Ryker cannot pinpoint the moment that the group were taken from the forest, and he is unable to ask his fellow captives about their capture, too, as a sticky piece of tape keeps his mouth tightly clamped shut.
Surrounding the dangling Nymerian troupe is a conglomerate of animalistic figures. They hum a slow chant softly, and with every low groan, the distance between the Nomads and the boiling green pot seems to shorten quickly.
Ryker understands the predicament he and his companions are in and looks around cautiously for options to remove them all from this dire situation. Inscribed on the crisp stone from which they are suspended are some curious symbols; a compass, what appears to be Ryker’s behind, a swirling portal-like apparition, and a group of humanoid figures tied up in rope. It is eerily apparent that somehow, someway, the Nymerians are meant to be in this exact moment — as the final inscription is the humanoid figures freed and eating an incredible feast. He can work with that.
Ryker lets out a stifled grunt, trying to direct the animalistic figure’s attention to the inscriptions above the Nomads’ heads. The restriction of the tape over Ryker’s mouth is not enough, and the chanting figures below gaze up at the suspended travelers — and past them, to the prophetic symbols carved in the stone. Their eyes grow wide, and they all make haste towards where the rope has been attached. A speedy cut, and a flick of an animal’s wrist, send the Nomads to the ground safely — out of reach of the boiling green pot.
The cultured cuisine of Nymeria’s marketplace, although tailored from the different realms of the old world, cannot hope to compare to this incredible grouping. The array of exquisite dishes that lay seductively on the great wooden table that the Nomads sit at is unheard of. One of The Six looks visibly moved by this assortment, holding back tears of joy as they shove unknown sustenance into their mouth. Ryker plops small pieces of nourishment into his mouth but almost spits them out when he realizes that his body is changing color depending on which tiny portion he consumes.
Ryker takes another bite and his skin changes to gold. This change prompts another gold image to work its way into the forefront of Ryker’s mind, aside from the current abnormal state of his body.
The compass.
The Nomads have a short-term mission, and while the food before them is of the most remarkable quality, it is not what they embarked through the fantastical portal to accomplish.
Some unknown character needs their help, and Ryker will ensure that they will be found. He leaps up from the table in a quick bound, riling the Nomads to his cause with a commanding glare, and the Nymerian scouts rush outward to locate the calling, helpless soul. Once outside, amongst the woodland realm once more, a figure approaches.
This, too, is an animalistic figure, but it is somewhat human in shape and resembles that of a cool and calm house cat. It points to itself and asserts that it is a “Speshie.” This single word is enough for the Nomads to trust this new character, and as a wormhole opens up beside the “Speshie,” the Nymerian crew avidly seeks to jump through.
Beyond the shimmering appearance of the portal, an imposing landscape can be seen in the distant background. A snaking purple river, a cave of an ominous nature, and a general foreboding aura emanate from within. The world beyond seems ancient, a relic of a past time. It is reminiscent of the old fossils found in Nymeria’s marketplace — it looks like it could be a Dino World.
