57th day of Frost, 117th year of the Age of Steel
The strong winds howled on Riven's ears as the world darkened around him. The gathering clouds were so dense at that point, most of his senses were useless: his sight could only see a few feet further, and his hearing was blocked by the strong, sharp cutting winds that carried massive amounts of sharp ice crystals. His skin was numbed by the cold and the sharp ice needles of the blizzard. He was flying by himself in the middle of a brutal storm, no way to know when he would crash into a wall or be knocked down by the strong winds. It was terrifying, but somehow he trusted the wind under his wings, which seemed to push him alongside a current through the mountains. He had spotted peaks certainly close to him, but for now he hadn't faced immediate risk of collision with any large boulder. The largest part of his mind knew it was suicide. A small part had decided to trust his instincts and navigate within the storm... and Riven had ended up listening to the voice that told him to face death. Great. Most animals in the Astralar chain were smart enough to avoid getting out in storms, except for Icewing Eagles. Riven was no eagle though... so he was probably the most stupid beast in that sky. Good for him, of course. He was more scared than he'd ever been flying; he had been already going on for half an hour, with no sight of any kind of shelter close. He knew there was several caves in the mountainside, but he couldn't risk flying lower without significantly increasing his risk of crashing and probably dying there. Still, his wings weren't immune to the storm: the ice slipped through his feathers and hit the skin under with stabbing pain every time, and the ice crystals stopped by his feathers melted and dampened his wings, which were heavier every time. Riven was trying to push the water away with elementalism, but repelling that amount of liquid was quickly becoming a tiring job, and similar to fighting a waterfall with a bucket. The odds were clearly not in his favor this time. He needed to land, and he needed it fast.
The turbulence in the air was becoming more and more unsettling. It had started as a soft vibration under his feathers, a shaking feeling that would wear down his shoulderblades and wing joints after several minutes, but the cruelty of the storm had increased, and now the force of the wind was pulling his wing muscles apart and causing him true pain. The sun was beginning to set; the storm was more and more dull every time, and the freezing cold was only going to get colder. It might not had bothered Riven that much, but ice could do a number on his increasingly wet wings. He needed to land, and he needed to land soon. He wasn't sure of how high he was though; he couldn't plummet to the floor in that weather, but gliding down wasn't an option either; he would have to hover downwards, and that was not an easy task; flying vertically was extremely exhausting on wing muscles. There was a single option though, so Riven resolved to get ready for landing for as long as it would take; however, like if the storm itself had listened to his wishes, a violent windstrike from above knocked him out of balance and sent him spiraling down. Not again... Riven tried to flap his wings as strongly as he was able to to buffer his fall, but the wind current kept pushing him downward. He closed his eyes hard and tried to use his magic to make the wind push him upwards when...
WHUMP! His body sunk in a thick layer of snow. Riven let out the breath he had been holding while falling, chuckling nervously. It was a tremendously dumb situation after falling for less than ten seconds, but he was very glad he was alive and had his feet (well, his belly and knees mainly) on the ground. He reached for the bottom of the snow layer with both hands, touching grass, and pushed himself back on his feet. It was tough; he took a moment to balance himself, especially given that the layer of snow reached over his knees. And Riven was a tall guy. He looked around. He was, by the look of it, on top of a rock spire, the very small meadow laying on top of a pillar carved to a rounded shape by rain and wind. He was pretty sure, but not completely; the blizzard still fogged his surroundings and he guessed the sun had started hiding behind the mountain range. Darkness slowly descended around him, the gray clouds shifting into blacker tones. Soon, he wouldn't be able to see nothing other than blackness, and the temperatures would drop even further. He could survive thanks to his rune, he had done so before... but the Rune of Elementalism didn't seem to want to work with him. He launched a hot fireblast (very non controlled) at the floor next to him, melting the snow and giving him a place to sit. The storm seemed to blow softer; he could still feel the small frost daggers pinning on his skin, but they weren't as painful as before. He sat down, unsure of how he'd survive that night. He was worried; the frost could do a number on him if he didn't get his shit together.
As the sun had sunk behind the mountains though, the blizzard had started to calm down, and the snowflakes were beginning to be soft and harmless again. Still surrounded by a thick fog of nothing, Riven saw a faint glow behind it, a dim flickering light. He assumed it was moonlight... but the light was warm and it quickly grew in intensity without switching places. That wasn't natural light at all; it was fire, which meant there was someone lighting it up. Either a person or... well, the alternatives weren't all that likely. Determined, he stood there and focused his energy, his aether starting to amass and focus. He directed it towards the light source, trying to clear the clouds with a precise stream, but he caused a massive burst of air that cleansed all of his surroundings. He held his left arm, tired; that had been tremendously unnecessary.
When Riven looked up, he saw a gorgeous building complex built on an gathering of pillars, a single peak that had split into so many different pillars due to the effect of ice, water and wind. And it was brightly lit; every small building housed at least a lantern, and usually several of them. Various pulley systems seemed to connect its inhabitants to the ground, with simple wood and rope bridges connecting the peaks, and what seemed to be dangerous staircase leading up. Riven hadn't ever loved his wings as much as he loved them right now. Of course, he knew what the building was; the Temple of the Fallen Skies, so relevant to Kalzasern history and to the Synnekar. He had been told about it by Talon, and he had seen several traditional tapestries and paintings depicting it... but the real thing was much more impressive. A marvel built out of metal and wood, with details that reflected even the dimmest of candlelight. Talon had told him about the marvels of Eberrite; how amazing it was and how he wished he had a sword made of the material; and the monks living there knew how to work with it without ruining the floating metal's amazing properties. It was amazing... but all Riven cared about at that moment was that the building, unsurprisingly, had actual walls. If the monks were as generous as they were known to be, he was saved. Damn. He jumped off the pillar and extended his wings; in less than a minute, he was knocking at a huge, imposing front gate. He knocked several times.
A small door inscribed into the gate opened. An orkhan woman stepped out; she was pretty average sized and dressed with simple robes, but something in her gaze was... Riven couldn't had described it if he wanted to, but he knew she was someone he'd have to listen to if he wanted a bed there. She actually seemed prepared; she threw a thick blanket towards Riven's chest without saying a single word. Riven caught it, and the woman stared at him in the eye, and after a few moments under her scrutiny, she beckoned him to follow through the door. Maybe she didn't speak any Common; there were people like that... Riven just followed her, squeezing his large body into the smaller opening, and stepped into the grand hall. It was sober, and at the same time, an incredible display of architectural beauty. An exquisite design of wooden carvings and solid metal that joined them. The orkhan nun spoke to him in a clear, perfectly enounciated Common. "I was waiting for you. You're late. The bed's already made; you'll sleep in that room to the left. And tomorrow, in the morning... we'll see what you want, bird boy." Her voice was soft but her tone was stern; Riven was puzzled. How could...? She kept talking, but in the way a woman of just a few words would. Direct, pragmatic, unafraid. "You're freezing and soaking wet, and getting sick won't help. Undress; there's a towel in the room, and robes you should be able to adjust to your size. I'll take your clothes, wash them and dry them; you'll get them back in the morning." She said, and it was a statement. Riven stood there for a while, his mouth about to open to reply, but... "Come on, boy. I need to sleep as well, I have duties to tend to." She argued, and Riven was quickly undressing and standing in front of that unbothered woman in his underwear, blushing. He handed her the clothes and bowed his head; she nodded. " You can't go back to Kalzasi while the storm keeps raging. We'll see what to do with you in the morning. Goodnight." Riven didn't even have the time to thank her; he had just nodded when she turned around and she walked into the building; he guessed he had to get into the room when he heard a distant "You're welcome, boy." He rolled his eyes; the woman was extremely perceptive. He walked into the room, finding a comfortable futon on the floor; he put the huge blanket on top of the sheets and turned off the lights with a soft air current. He was going to sleep well, at least.
Enjoy your rewards!