I'm trying my hand at world building for a tabletop game and wanted to work some kinks out of the story here. If you have feedback, give it, or just try to interact with the world and I'll try to interact back.
The first thing your consciousness noticies is itself - the fact that a single thought has lept from the world of colorful dreams to the inky darkness of reality. Next you notice the muffled black. Your eyes are open and your ears are clear, but the world is dark and sounds distant. As you concentrate, shadows of light begin to blossom out of the darkness. Like colored ink across a page your sight begins to come back, though things are still hazy as you hear someone clear their throat.
"Ahem..."
You turn towards the voice and see a tall red outline looming before you. At first you think it's a giant, but before you can prepare your defenses you realize you are prone. The floor is a cold stone, marble by reports of your rapidly returning vision. It spreads out from you in all directions, but abruptly gives way to open sky.
You come to your feet and see you are at the center of a circular platform. It extends about 40 feet in all directions then ends, with no bannisters or walls, giving you a perfect view of the surrounding country. To the north you can make out a mountain range, the east side of which slopes gently to a large and marshy lake, the south side ending abruptly in a massive desert.
The the southeast sits a massive bay which comes right up to the base of the tower. West of the bay and due south of the tower. West of the bay, pathwork farms cover the land like an impossibly large blanket before ending abruptly in a deep old wood. To the north of the bay are sheer cliff faces.
You follow these cliffs with your eyes. They lead you back towards the tower which sits on the northwest point of the bay. At the base of the tower sprawls a city. Half of the city sits atop the cliffs and half juts into the water. From your high perch you cannot say whether it is floating or built on pylons.
After taking in this foreign land you turn back to the throat clearing figure. A tall and regal looking elf dressed in blood red robes, trimmed in purple and gold. He smiles at you.
"Have you barrings? Good. Then we can begin. I am Dewin, and this," he reaches out with both hands in a gesture that points to the entire horizon, "is Dalk'Ashar."
He lets the words sink in for a moment as though they will no doubt impress you. When they don't, you see his brow furrow slightly in annoyance and he continues.
"Since you are foreign to these lands I will take your lack of awe with a grain of salt and assume you also don't realize this is the Tower of Dalk. Were you locals you would know this to be very impressive but since you aren't we can just skip that.
"Myself and the other maesters have, for the past 8 days, worked tirelessly to perform a spell of summoning which would bring to us the hero of our salvation. If we have done our part right, you are that hero.
"Our lands, the lands of Dalk'Ashar, are in danger - a growing darkness surrounds us." Dewin points to the horizon. Where the lands meets the sky you see the sky has the darkness of an early night. As you spin and follow the horizon around the tower, you see this same darkness. It seems to swallow the light from the midday sun.
"It started faint at first, but has been growing," continued Dewin. "We fear that one day it will consume the sky and cast our lands into darkness. We believe that you can stop this. We believe that you are our salvation."
The elf trails off. He stares at you expectantly.