Bornsun

The sun had perished.

A world once full of life remains now tucked into an endless night, barely lit by stars whose embrace isn’t felt. That wouldn’t be the only worry though, for soon after a pernicious fog from mountains far north, would engulf what was left. It was endless, its assault and takeover relentless covering every inch of the world, and its whereabouts, its self? Ever old and ever new.

Man would not fall easily though, and in a desperate bid for survival, a last rebellion against forces unforeseen in a universe vast, they would send the most capable of those left to the far north, discovering what was once lost, The Wall.

A ginormous structure built an eon ago, and its gates being where the fog would travel out into the world.

More than a year has passed though, and no news of those great gone has been spoken, and the lands of man are in chaos, kingdoms resorted to warlords who bicker over what few is left, and people are malnourished and soon to starve. There is no hope, no purpose anymore… now only some few remain give their answer to a purposeless existence, venturing north, towards The Wall.

One such man, Alwin, had come a long way south. Now he trekked up through trails unused, through thick fog that allowed no light with only the few feet infront of him being lit by his shabby torch.

He was rather stubbed in height, feeble and malnourished though, not an uncommon sight. Atop his head was a rusted helmet from days of glory pass, however, some of its legacy remained including a batch of vulture feathers adorned at the peak, and a visor that covered the top half of his face, with the nose covering being outward like a beak.

His few clothes though weren’t much to describe, a long dirty tunic that reached right above his knees with a red scarf tied at his waist, and fur boots on feet that had been torn from a long travel. Toes stuck out at the end. After quite some time he had come across a rustic village.

Dingy place, might have some food?, he thought.

The idea of investigation came at him, and he succumbed, walking closer off trail and towards the broken shacks, but before he could even wave and call out, a broken chorus of cries and pleads was heard.

He would meet it with silence.

Not worth it.

The dead grass behind him would get pushed aside, crunching a bit as he stepped into it and left small clouds of dust. Eventually after some backing, he would begin on the main trail again, more clear and left with engraved prints from a large expedition a time ago.

His walk at first would be quiet, no animals were left, so no chirping or howling this extra-full and endless dark night, so he thought… until all at once, his throat would feel as if stabbed from the inside with thousands of nails, and lungs punching his ribs.

On the ground now he flopped like a fish. He clutched his throat as to stabilize himself and forcefully massage the pain gone, but oh no use came from it, never it did. Dirt would run up his ears and stain his tunic some more, but after enough flopping, the fit would go and Alwin would take his hands off, revealing purple bruises stained upon his throat.

He could only frown as he slapped the dirt off like routine, and carried up the trail.

As if the trees corresponded with the rising height of the ground he walked, they’d been turned more shorter and twisted, making it seem as even though he went up, the trees at the top and bottom would be the same.

He shared a few looks yet still, carried on.

The fog only became thicker, a good sign he’d be near and soon enough, he saw it. In front and above him, was The Wall.

Its sheer size was hard to feast, especially with the limited view Alwins torch had given, so he could only try to imagine the rest of its size, with the light only being able to illuminate a few massive boulders that made up the many in its exterior. The gate itself was a site to behold, carved beautifully of stone with many drawings that depicted a history on it, showing a people sized lifely, traveling enmass into the mountains, and then carving it out.

Alwin would stand with his hands resting on his hips, and admire for quite some time, before remembering his true task at hand, and finding a tree near to rest at.

It felt coarse upon his back and neck, but no harm for he was used to such conditions and ignored them altogether. He’d begin to reach down his left boot, touching a dagger as he did, and pull out a letter. Fancily he sat straight, coughed to clear his dry throat, and read it.

“Bring my cloth past the wall north, bring it no harm, and bring a reward and cure for you, I will. I’d never lie to you Fadeus. -M”

Alwin scoffed. “Bring this, bring that oh the gaul to say you do not lie!”

Remembering what the letter had said though, and having his curiosity piqued again, he’d reach down to where his scarf was, and grab a pouch tied to it. Yanking it up, he opened it and carefully pulled out a burning cloth that warmed his hand. It felt pleasant at first, but quickly it rose in heat and he dropped it in shock, quickly picking it up and slapping any dirt off to then put it back.

Weariness had befallen Alwin though, and so, he rested his head, the helmet scraping against the tree, and fell asleep.

Some time later he’d awake to stomps in the grass far. Pulling his visor up he’d rub his eyes and hide more behind the tree, yet leaning his head further. “Now who are you?”

The cause of the sound, was a towering giant of a man, wielding a mace which he used as a cane and walked towards the inner gate with. His armor was quite splendid though very different from Alwin, with instead a bascinet visorless and made to look as if a tower and enough chainmail to cover a horse. Though the most curious to Alwin was the mans heraldry on the tabard he wore, it was nothing familiar to him, no birds or feathers, no instead a sickly mutt impaled by a sword, and going west.

“A dying breed, a knight!” Alwin exclaimed to himself.

Though when the knight’s back would turn as to walk inside, he’d see something ever so exciting these days, a giant knapsack so full of food and a stick of bread poking out. Alwin’s stomach would emit a great rumble.

I am hungry, he thought, imagining what bread had tasted like.

There was no question of what to do, only further motivation to go through the gate, so Alwin stretched, stood, and began his quiet pursuit of the man to take what he had.