The Backways Bar [RP]

The boy looks visibly scared, and nearly runs over to the counter. An automaton 'looks' up, at least, that would be what it was doing if it had eyes.
"May I have a napkin?" he asks it. The automaton folds in two, grabbing a slightly dusty napkin from under the counter, and hands it to the boy. The boy half-runs back to the man and gives him the napkin, smiling tentatively.

 

The man smiles and laughs.
"Appreciated, little man! I am Neioliiae*, but you call me Aen if you desire! What is your name, little man?"
[*roughly pronounced 'nā-ōh-lē-ā'.]

 

SQUELCH.

With a disastrous sound, the door loosens open, its frame on the inside temporarily shifting to something Other. A squelch, and a the start of a roar that trails into a death rattle. The view on the other side is a barren, blasted expanse. No sun can be seen hanging in the haze-grey sky.

A few moments later, a figure finishes rounding their kill. Limping into frame, formerly pristine robes of the Lunar Priesthood rent to rags, is Neshu, pas Anaclaria, the advance of sunset. Their body, too, has seen better days. Huge swathes of skin have sloughed off, revealing brilliant blue blood and viscera. A horn is broken. Their eyes are firmly shut.

The near-coprse glitches, now and again. Is there something else, something beyond, something you cannot see? No, there can't be. It's a trick of the light, nothing more.

Neshu seems to have at some point lost their cane. The priest walks with a torn branch, a small crystal haphazardly tied to it. The new cane is not for show - they visibly walk with a stagger, any pretensions of practiced grace long since tossed away.

Neshu slams down into a barstool. Lacking a voice box, they sign the bartender an order for an Iorn Goutcleanser, as well as the Blue-Gold Elixir. The construct, recognizing the urgerncy (the customer is decomposing in front of its eyes), takes to making the drinks with a mechanical frenzy.

 

“Well, hey there!” Bill says, walking up to Neshu. He’s seemingly completely oblivious to their condition.
“What brings you here? Ohs, I’m forgetting my manners again! My name’s Bill. What’s yours?”
Bill sticks out a hand, evidentially for Neshu to shake.

 

Neioliiae looks over and gives Neshu a disturbed look, and Bill a disgusted one. He walks over.
Neioliiae breaths in, and begins to chant in a language filled with harsh consonants.

You see Neshu's skin begin to repair itself, but never finish - the healing rapidly decelerates and finishes, leaving large patches still missing.
Neioliiae continues chanting, but there is no longer an effect. Neioliiae scowls, and stops, then speaks again in his own native language. They take a deep breath, and pull out a black-feathered quill.

They stab themselves with it.

Then they write strange symbols on their own arm, with their own blood, and resume chanting.
The same thing occurs again - Neshu is still grievously wounded, but the healing effect works again.

Neioliiae turns away and begins talking to himself in his native language.

 

Luthan, again taken aback by the shift of circumstance in the past few minutes, sits at the bar. He finally decides to have some of his drink as he stares into a green shard of glass, from which he can see a world torn to ruin by Concept. Soon, the whole Plane will fall, and there will be nowhere to return. He puts the shard back into his cloak and sighs, unsure what to do.

A familiar face. Unusual. Of the two Vylmarans who had planeshifted their way out of the bar, only one had returned, and barely alive. Beyond that, they are evidently touched by some force beyond Physicality. As Neshu receives their drinks, Luthan simply asks: “What… happened?”

 

Alenna immediately rises from her seat, noticing the newcomer. Her eyes fall upon the robes Neshu wears-she immediately tenses upon seeing them, almost drawing the dagger on her belt in response to Daekkan’s crescent symbol.
Trying to repress her instincts, the Jossinarian steps towards them almost tentatively, opening her mouth to speak.
“You are Vylmaran, are you not? What happened?”

 

A trapdoor opens in a wall. Bill Jones sticks his head through it, says something that can't be heard from this side, and then closes the trapdoor, which disappears.

dw he's still here he hasn't retired or anything