In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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Marmadue turned his face towards Erik, who was commenting on the name of his villager. So far so good, he seemed to have calmed down and it didn't look like he was about to be… Well, reminded of all the loss again. "It is ah, named after the lake right beside," he commented on the comment himself. Or maybe the lake was named after the village. Honestly, he didn't know which came first. He'd assume the lake, but who knew for sure…
The Yuke had been distracted by his own grand dilemma for a while, his gaze wandering and snapping back to the man once he spoke once more, speaking of what he had imagined based on what little he had heard. A soft mmh escaped his mouth, perhaps somewhat amused in tone, yet not exactly confirming Erik's first impressions to be true. Rolling hills and crops… While this creature was not a Clavat despite very much resembling one physically, Marmadue couldn't help but feel like in a way, he resembled one mentally as well.
"We're ah, not quite farmers, my tribe," he started, straightening his back a little. He was a Yuke who could talk for very long, when given the chance. It seemed like a chance was given. The ice had to be tested. "I ah, mentioned the lake. My village is… Ah, well it is not quite right next to the water and more ah, on it. Flat rock formations and bridges that connect them together, something that perhaps used to exist there in a more natural form now shaped into a, ah, more suitable form. Not the most fertile of fields, but not perfectly barren, either. More ah, some grass and shrubs with the occasional tree. A bit more greenery on the mainland side…"
Marmadue was just getting started. No one had really asked him to try to describe his village before – after all, pretty much everyone he had met who would be interested came from his world, and, well… They would have been in the village if they ever had the chance to talk to him! "You would see more of those croplands you imagined if you went to the fields of Fum. An arid wasteland ages ago turned into an arable paradise by Yukish ingenuity. Or ah, something of the sort. The Clavats have made it their home, definitely more of the ah… Soil-tilling sort."
