The Long March

[orison]

Aransadorien was having a... difficult day. Which wasn't unusual for him. When he had to lead a fractious group of survivors, when he himself had little experience as a leader, things could get complicated. There were arguments to solve, wounded egos to soothe, conflict to resolve... and that was without taking into account the depredations of monsters and the constant threat of elvish attack.

It was exhausting work, and Dorien- for so he went among the humans, since they'd long since distrusted his elvish side- was showing it. He was usually fairly pale, but now his pallor was more pronounced. His bright blue eyes had deep shadows from lack of sleep, and his long blond hair showed a bit of the unkempt neglect that by now was rather normal. Once he'd been a bit on the slender side, but now he had bulked up from the constant exertion and training. He still had the grace that came from his elvish heritage, from the delicately pointed ears and the finely-chiseled face, to the lightness of his steps and the control he had with every motion.

Yet he was clearly human as well. More well-built than his elvish relatives, with stubble on his cheeks and a pronounced solidity to his appearance. Handsome, but not to the inhuman extent that he might have been. Dorien fit his chain mail, with its plates and its reassuring weight, but he also fit his clerical vestments, long flowing robes that, even torn by war and hard use, still retained some remnant of the glory he'd once had, something in the rich dyes and cunning silver threads that still could catch the eye at times.

For now, though, his thoughts were far from that. No, standing on the edge of a mountain range and staring down at the well-watered valley below... he sagged and had to sit down, his quiver and long sword rattling as he did so. Something that he'd seen had clearly overwhelmed him; in a second he'd regain his composure, but right now...

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[fistfullofmagic]

Falling. Not a sensation one generally wants to wake up to. Moreso when one seems to be falling through not just space, but the very fabric separating the planes of reality. In his half-addled state, the celestial being's mind takes a few moments to properly process this information.

Somehow, it gave him a strange sense of calm knowing what was happening. The how and why of the situation the man cannot recall at the moment, but at the same time, he can't find it in himself to care past the sensation of emerging somewhere high above a world that is not his own. Trivial matters can be dealt with once he ensures this body's survival.

No time to try to fly; preventing impact would be impossible at these speeds. All he can do is shield himself to minimize the damage, and hope that whatever creatures may dwell on the rapidly approaching ground of the valley will have mercy upon him.

There is a brilliant explosion of magic as he hits the ground, and then the world goes dark...

[orison]

Well... Dorien hadn't exactly asked for a sign, but that was certainly something that drew his attention. At first he thought it was a meteor or something like that, a blaze of energy flashing across the sky. Once it hit the ground, however, he could tell that it was nothing of the sort. That explosion of magic meant that it couldn't be anything like that. What it was, he couldn't quite guess, but he might as well take a look.

After telling the survivors to hold up and wait, so that none of them would be threatened by it, Dorien rushed down the cliff, then made his way across the valley, going toward the crater. Not without taking the proper precautions, of course, whispering a quiet prayer of protection as he approached. Just in case.

What he saw when he landed, though, was unlike anything he'd expected. A man, or so it seemed, with long blond hair and a cape, was in the middle of the crater, limp and bloodied.

There was something odd about this one. Dorien couldn't put his finger on it, not without the time to petition for the insight he needed to investigate it, but there was definitely something not quite right. He couldn't focus on that first, though; no, he murmured a quick invocation and then rested his hands on the man's injuries, letting healing magic soothe the worst of the wounds. Once the man wakes up and he's all right, then Dorien can start figuring out what's going on. But not until then.

[fistfullofmagic]

More than an hour passes before the blond man awakens. For a long moment he does nothing more than lay where he is, staring upwards at the unfamiliar sky. It should hurt, he thinks, far more than it does. A moment more, and he simply accepts that the damage is less that what it should be, and slowly raises himself to a sitting position.

Time to see what sort of beings dwell on this plane; kind ones it would seem, given how readily they helped a complete stranger. Still, he remains on guard in case his benefactor decides that he is threat...

[orison]

By that point, the human refugees have drawn up and then proceeded on, though slowly. Dorien himself remained by Dhaos's side, not wanting to move him and yet not wanting to leave him either. Thus, when the man moves, Dorien breathes a sigh of relief.

"I was starting to get worried," he softly said, his voice still tinged with the musical lilt of his elvish side, "usually my healing works a bit faster, but... well. I'm Dorien. Who are you, and... what happened to you?"

It wasn't every day that someone fell out of the sky like that, after all.

[fistfullofmagic]

Ah. From the language he speaks, this creature is clearly a mortal. A human perhaps? He has never more than heard tale about them from books and the occasional traveler who had passed through this plane. Still, it would seem that having learned the language as a way to pass the time would finally serve a practical purpose here.

"...I am Dhaos." The words are correct, if shaped perhaps oddly enough to give the impression of an accent. "I... suppose I fell."

It's a terribly obvious statement as this man likely saw him fall, but given that he cannot recall what happened himself, this is forgivable.

[orison]

Dorien did look more like a human than Dhaos would, but he clearly wasn't human, to those who could tell. Too graceful for that, ears too pointed and build too slender for a warrior to be fully human. Then again, Dhaos might not know it, considering where he came from.

For himself, the cleric found himself smiling, just a little bit, at that response. "You definitely fell... unless you were pushed or something like that. But I'm surprised you survived... and I don't know where you came from."

Even still, he offered his hand, to help Dhaos stand up. "I can't stay for too long, I'm afraid, but you're welcome to travel with us, until you feel better? I can't say that this place will stay safe for long, so..."