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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 17:12:13 GMT -8
February 2010 - The Darkness Zone is moving westwards, towards Hostor.
- Something that is probably nasty is reanimating skeletons.
- Dagdeoth troops disguised as bandits are roaming around Hostor.
- It might (*might*) be that somebody named the Dark Lady (Lady of the Dark woods, perhaps?) is in some way working against us.
- Characters from last season are starting to have dreams about traveling to a temple of the Nomad Sisters.
Enyari FenweSomething is about to happen; events are starting to pick up. For the earlier part of the morning I found myself caught up in a side hall, trapped behind a magic experiment gone wrong. The adventuring group had already been and gone twice before I managed to claw my way through a thick wall of thorny vines, and I arrived at the inn covered in scratches. As it turned out, I nearly missed them a third time - the innkeeper said that they set out to meet Brim Tiposius a little ways down the road. I raced after them and caught up without losing too much time; they had stopped and were discussing how they were going to approach the issue at hand. Apparently we were going to try to rescue a student - a noble - from a band of skeletons. They had already tried once and been driven back, incurring several fatalities among our number in the process. That’s where Brim Tiposius came in; he had decided to help us, and had come armed to the bootheels with spellstones as well as a particularly large stone that he would not explain. Before we continued down the road, the two of us that had not yet managed to level into a class - I had managed to get myself killed enough times to prevent my own entering into a class, personally - were transformed into fire salamanders by Brim. warm. warm everywhere, warm fire in my belly. sun is warm, sky is big. i am big, tail, four feet, long body. small-walkers all around, many, all walking. i walk with. another fire-eater, too. sniff, smell, know each other. good; friend. still walking, one foot and another foot all again and again. ground is cold. air is cold. sun moves high, warm circle moves up my back. tongue, lick air, sniff again. no smell of houses and streets; all smells of green and grass and sky. noises. click-clack, bones. white sharp dancers, darting back and forth with prick-sticks. friends scatter, attack back with prick-sticks. left and right, bones and friends fall down. i am angry. coals in my belly burn, and i spit fire at the bone-dancers. they jump and turn away, run at me with prick-sticks. more come, and more come, and i fall down with the pokes and become cold like the ground. i am the ground. cold and dull, eyes closed and cold stars in the dark. fire is gone, no warmth. now a spark - a spark, and fire is kindled again. a red-drake-kinfellow flies away, awakens the fallen small-walkers. it carries a round-rock. the bones come with their prick-sticks to shred the drake, but the drake is not hurt. i stand on my feet and walk again, and i spit more fire at the bones. i watch, and some fallen-bones stand with new un-life and no help from the dancing-bones. they keep coming and coming. they come and we walk away, run away. small-walker bodies laying behind.Let’s just say that, despite that Brim had shapechanged into a red drake, the skeletons still managed to force us into a retreat - we never did manage to find the student. Reward or not, nobody was particularly keen to try that again; many people had been mana-drained to death, and ended up with some form of insanity upon being returned to life. Soon after arriving back at the mage academy I reverted to my human self, and while we walked to rendezvous at the inn a few of my companions brought me up to speed. They had first been sent out to deal with a raiding party from Dagdeoth. This was news in itself; supposedly, Dagdeoth had been beaten back years ago. Who knows what a raiding party - one as far away from home as Hostor is- might mean? Luckily, they had managed to dispatch the troops. After that they had made the first disastrous attempt at rescuing the student from the skeletons, and had returned to resurrect and regroup. We found Jonas Defatious Stormshank waiting for us at the meeting spot. After a quick explanation about Brim Tiposius having gone to recover from the drain on his resources during the attack, he reviewed the choices with us and we decided to visit several of the local shines - those to the Nomad Sisters and the Celtic Gods. The shrines were outside the security of the city, and we had barely set foot outside the gates when a troupe of robbers rushed us. Compared to the skeletons, they were relatively easy to deal with; for the most part, we were unscathed when we found the shrine to the Nomad Sisters. The priests there explained that the group of robbers we had come across had been keeping people from visiting the shrine, and that few people were able to make their way there because of it. We then explained why we had come: in some cases to make an offering to the Nomad Sisters, and in other cases to become followers. The discussion proceeded from there, and somehow the names of our parents surfaced. “Children of the scarred” was the name that the priest used. I have never heard that term before. There were, indeed, many members of the group - myself among them - that were raised by heroes who had had dealings with the Elder Goddess and her daughters at a time when the Goddess was more than a memory. Some of those previous heroes had been branded for treason. I have seen that mark on my mentor’s cheek: a black T for “traitor”. She always used to jest that it stood for “Truth” rather than “Traitor”. Is that the scar that the name “children of the scarred” comes from? I wonder if it might refer to a different kind of scar - one that cannot be seen on the surface and the skin. But perhaps not. Who knows? Because of that direction in the conversation, we were all granted the honor of becoming followers of the Nomad Sisters. Each of us was given an insignia signifying this; depicted on it was a silvery centaur-like creature with a unicorn’s horn spiraling forth from its head. After this, we made offerings to the Nomad Sisters. A large amount of mana - more than 30, altogether - was sacrificed, as were a few odd weapons and the Sword of the Woodland Spirit. The weapons, and - I would assume - the mana vanished. Mere seconds afterwards, I felt a slight - how to describe it? - tingle, almost, or a feeling akin to the swooping feeling in your stomach when you jump off a ledge. From the expressions of my companions, it was clear that everybody else was experiencing a similar sensation as well. We were being given a blessing. The priest identified it as a kind of waking foredream; every so often, we would drift into another state of mind and see something that was about to happen - a prophetic warning of sorts, effectively. Such a gift is incredibly valuable, although it became apparent that in truth it is what you do with the foresight that determines its worth. It was soon thenafter that we departed the shrine and began to make our way towards the shrine of the Celtic Gods. Not long after we began to walk, I found myself doing something I do not often do: daydreaming. Borne on a cloud of thoughts, my mind drifted away from my body and I was suddenly faced with what could only be a waking dream. The figures in the vision appeared to be the same kind of highwaymen that we had come across earlier; there was then an image that showed the near history behind the figures. Dagdeoth troops unpinned their insignias and stepped into the tattered clothing of bandits. Off to the side, a several trolls also bearing the Dagdeoth insignia had hidden themselves away. Reality came crashing back down upon my head, and I blinked and shook my head to get rid of the residue of cobwebs left behind by the blessing. This could not be a good thing in the slightest, both in our near futures and that of Hostor. If all of the bandits that we had come across had been disguised Dagdeoth troops, how many had insinuated themselves across the island? And what could they possibly be doing here? There was no time to think after that, as it was then that we came across the raiders. Despite our forewarning, we milled about in a confused huddle as the raiders and trolls attacked. As a result, they ripped right through us. The shrine to the Celtic Gods was barely visible in the distance, and some people made a break for the safety offered there. That’s where we all eventually ended up, some of us on our own two feet and others dead and dragged behind a companion. Offerings were made to the Celtic Gods; they resurrected those that had fallen. After that, it was back to Pinnacle with us. As I peered through the chaos of my companions at the listing of missions, I was surprised at a sudden inner upwelling of a rather unusual feeling: guilt. We had not yet tied up Jonas Stormshank’s survey of the Darkness Zone’s perimeter, as we had promised. There was Brim Tiposius, too - he had given us aid in our skirmish with the skeletons, with no small draw on his own resources. And what of the merfolk? We had invaded their caves, awakened an undead being, provoked it into battle, and then fled like cowards and left the merfolk to be slaughtered. Each one of those circumstances, as I saw it, was a debt awaiting repayment. By some miracle, despite the near-disastrous outcome of our previous attempt, the option of returning to finish off inspecting the Darkness Zone was chosen by the majority. Following the same pattern as last time, we were briefed by Jonas and then teleported to the Roekron mainland by Ebony. As soon as we arrived, one of the elves (she would not tell me her name) grabbed my wrist and I squeezed my eyes shut, both of us fulfilling a pre-arranged deal. Remembering that we had not been able to see in the Darkness Zone until spending time in it adjusting, and also remembering that certain creatures made that difficult by picking us off, we had decided that one person would go blind on the hike to the edge in hopes that that person would be able to see inside that curtain of night without adjusting and thereby keep the other safe. The ranger, Marcus, led us onwards. At first, it was difficult forcing myself to go blind; my sight had always been my guide, and letting the elf take over that duty was an adjustment. We walked for some time - perhaps ten minutes - when the elf abruptly jerked me aside and started running. Behind us, I could hear the sound of swords being drawn and the pounding of feet in heavy boots and growls from some unknown species. It made sense, I suppose, to run; I would be a dead weight and a liability to her unless I opened my eyes, but if I were to do that then the purpose of our deal would be defeated. Guilt at abandoning our companions coursed though me again, but there was little that could be done. A few minutes passed and then the elf made her way back, patiently towing me along the way. We fell back into step with the group, and after a little more walking we came up to the Darkness Zone. Quietly, the elf counted, and on the third count, we leapt the river. I opened my eyes, and was pleased to discover that I could see. Not for very far - only five feet or so - but anything was better than blindness. In a reversal of roles I grabbed her wrist instead and was about to start walking when the ranger crashed into us and began making noise. Idiot. One would think that a ranger of all people would know how to stay quiet, but apparently not. Underneath the chatter, I thought I could hear something moving beyond my range of sight and shushed them. We stayed very still; eventually, the noises faded. Slowly, I led the elf along; we managed to avoid further trouble until her eyes had adjusted and we could both see about ten feet ahead of us. As we walked, we looked up at the trees. All of them were the whitewashed skeletons that we had seen previously; that was a good sign, or at least as good a sign as death can be. It was still nerve-wracking, hearing unseen creatures moving outside of our line of sight; most often, though, the movement belonged to our companions. The two of us - the elf and I - grew into three of us, four of us, and more as others joined us for the reassurance of safety in numbers. Nobody had forgotten what had happened last time - getting picked off one by one, and that creature that so decimated our number. I especially would not forget, after my katana had shattered; thinking of that, I gripped my new one tighter. This one had been a gift, making it doubly precious. It was surprising that we had not run into anything. The ranger was quietly commenting on that fact when some dim shape appeared on the edge of our vision. Whatever it was, it wasn’t another of our companions - we grabbed each other and broke into a run. That first shape didn’t follow, but others did; it was difficult to make out what they were in the dim, sickly starlight. We were quickly cornered against a boulder, and several of the creatures began to surround us. What happened next makes almost no sense: the elf snuck up behind Marcus and smacked her pommel into his head, which sent him spiraling into unconsciousness. She waved me over and we quickly revived him - then, as soon as he woke up, he leapt to his feet and charged at the creatures, screaming at them. They were caught by surprise, and he ran two of them through before they wounded him. The elf and I grabbed him and hauled him away at top speed, taking advantage of the opening that he had created. Seconds later we burst out of the Darkness Zone’s edge, and seconds after that everybody was teleported back to the inn. We stood blinking in the sunlight, pausing in the middle of whatever action each of us had been taking. One person toppled over as his momentum carried him past the point where an enemy had been moments ago. Squinting, we looked around; a few people were wounded, and a few were dead. We gathered together inside the inn, dragging the bodies into the circle with us. Ebony was sitting there. Of course it would be Ebony. Both groups - those that had traveled inside the Darkness Zone, and those that had traveled outside it - reported on what they had found. Several of the people that had chosen to walk outside had found trees that were devoid of leaves, all of them as dead and bleached as those inside the Darkness Zone. That would mean that the Darkness Zone is moving - and, judging by the placement of the trees, it’s moving west. Towards Hostor. Towards us. Nothing good can come of that. I can only hope that it takes its time in getting here... After we pooled our information, Ebony began to speak. At first, it was the usual seemingly-demented rambling. Then - then, she began to talk of chess games. Two sides to the chessboard, she said. And the opposite side’s queen not being captured... about moving quickly. Afterwards, she didn’t seem to remember what she said. Something about it, though... poetry on a piece of stone, script scrawled on a scroll. Ebony’s rambling was eerily reminiscent of the prophecies that the previous generation of adventurers had found. I had left the satchel carrying them behind today; I would have to look at them later. We voted, and ended up meeting Brim to help figure out what could be done about the diseased ents. He gave us a few bags and explained that we would need to convince the ents to put some of their sick leaves in the bag - and that under no circumstances were we to touch the leaves, in case the disease was transferrable. The road to the ents was long and winding, so we set out as soon as possible. We had gone but a little way down the road when there was a noise ahead of us - faint at first, but it grew louder. It sounded like footfalls from a horde of urukai, but bigger - heavier. Nastier. As we rounded a corner in the path, a pack of very large creatures (I never saw exactly what, as they knocked me unconscious quickly) tore through us. What was odd, though, was that apparently they didn’t actively try to eliminate anybody; if somebody was in their way, said person would be crushed - but for the most part, all they wanted to do was get past us. Everybody healed up and we were back on our way. After a long period of time and a set of far too many switchbacks in the road, we finally arrived at the ents’ territory. They were absolutely huge - many trees are not nearly as tall as the ents are. Several of them were wandering around, kicking a boulder back and forth in a manner reminiscent of children with a ball. It seemed safe, so we all scattered into groups of twos and threes. Talking to the ents was completely infuriating. One of my companions had said that even though ents talk slowly, they are very smart. These ents were almost certainly not smart, and were in fact very stupid. Maybe I am being too harsh, though - maybe the disease was inflicting some sort of brain damage upon them. Many of the conversations that we had went as such: Us - “Will you please put some of your sick leaves in this bag?” Ent - “Why?” Us - “We want to help you.” Ent - “Help you?” Us - “No, help you.” Ent - “Help you?” Us - “Fine. Help me.” Ent - “Help me?” Us - “Yes!” Ent - “How?” Us - “Put some of your sick leaves in this bag.” Ent - “Put some of your sick leaves in this bag? You don’t have leaves.” Us - “No. Put some of my sick leaves in this bag.” Ent - “Put some of my sick leaves in this bag? Why?” Us - “We want to help you!” It took a very long time to get each ent to put one of their sickened leaves in our bag, made longer by the fact that they were constantly getting distracted by each other. At long last, though, we procured samples from each ent and made the journey back. After giving the bags to Brim, we walked back to the inn to determine what the final task of the day would be. Unfortunately, there would be no voting. Melissa the Scald was presiding over us this time, and given that she was absently fingering her everflaming whip deterred most dissident voices. Before deciding what we would do, she brought up the subject that there had been complaints about her and that people had blamed her for things. “And,” she said, “I do not like to be blamed for things that I did not do.” Amazingly enough, it seemed that she was in a good mood - “good” being relative - and let us investigate the case of the student-turned-phoenix-turned-arsonist instead of sending us to our deaths by way of battling those skeletons. We spread out around the town and the Mage Academy, and asked questions of the people we came across. I did not participate; I merely followed the others around for the sake of not getting set aflame by Melissa for not going along. What we found out put together an interesting picture. There seemed to be some connection between the student and Melissa - not a positive one, either. He seemed to have scratched into the roof of the Academy, “Obey the whip, obey the whip”. That could only refer to Melissa’s lovely coil. Once we thought that we had the picture of what had happened - that it was Melissa that had driven the student to arson - we made our way back, dragging our feet every step of the way. If only it could be somebody, anybody else besides Melissa to be there... Just before we stepped into the inn, we had a waking dream. We were calling unknown things out to Melissa - the dream did not give speech - and she grew increasingly angry. At last, as one person made what seemed to be a hot-headed, accusatory statement, a column of flame enveloped the inn completely and totally. The inn and everybody inside it expediently blackened and turned to ash... I blinked as we came out of the waking dream and were delivered back into reality. I twisted to see around everybody’s heads and look inside the inn - Melissa was still there. A sense of apprehension crawled through all of us as, reluctantly, we filed inside the inn and gathered around Melissa. One by one, everybody explained what they had found out - but it was very different from what we had told each other. Each statement was carefully manipulated to avoid suggesting that Melissa had been the one that had caused the student to set fire to the village. Slowly, as it became apparent that Melissa was not on the edge of exploding, we relaxed. Another waking dream drifted across our minds. At first, it was a curious sense of going backwards through time - as if the previous waking dream was being pulled back into nonexistence and being erased. A new series of events then took its place, one that did not involve everybody getting fried to soot. Rather, everybody walked away unharmed. And so we did. We knew the truth of what had happened, of course - or at least we hoped we did - although really, we had done nothing about it. I suspect that these all events are going to rub against my conscience like a grain of sand for a long time: Melissa’s seeming hand in the matter of the student, her willingness to wantonly set aflame those people that disagreed with her, and that we had done nothing about either of them. We (or at least some of us) claim to be ready to bring down justice on the heads of those that do wrong - slavers, kidnappers, mercenaries, and arsonists - and yet, like now, when it comes to a choice between righting those wrongs and saving our own hides, we choose to run with our collective tails between our legs. In some ways, we are no better than those that we throw ourselves against. My thoughts were dark, then, when I returned to the room I was renting and began to run the day’s events past the notes and research that my mentor had sent me with. As always, I plopped down on the cot and pulled out a rubbing of a stone tablet first. The tablet is written in another script, but there is a translation scrawled beneath each line of text. What it says is something that my mentor takes to be a prophecy. It’s terribly cryptic, of course, as prophecies always seem to be. The Darkness Zone was the most obvious thing to consider. It had been tied up in another prophecy previously, and if it was moving again, that was news. Big news. Especially since it was moving to, of all places, Hostor. I scanned the page and lingered on the line, “The game has gone beyond, and we must follow”. My mentor had thought that it meant that the “game”, otherwise known as the battle of the Sisters or other such forces, was moving on to another form or plane of existence. But now - now, it seemed that it meant that the game is moving beyond the shores of the Roekron mainland and instead to Hostor. Of course, that left the question of what exactly this particular game was. My mind drifted back to Ebony. She had rambled for a few moments about a game of chess. I didn’t like the mage one bit and indeed thought her completely insane, but what she had said about the chess game fit all too well. Besides, my mentor would berate me for carelessness if I didn’t at least consider the possibility. So, then - what had she said? That the queen from the other side of the board remained uncaptured, for one. In chess, the queen is the piece on the board capable of doing the most damage. It would make sense, then, that capturing the queen would be a good thing, since then the piece would not be able to inflict untold damage on us. In order to capture the queen, though, we’d have to know what it is. So what could it be? Monarch queens didn’t seem to fit. Monarchs belonged in the realm of politics, and the prophecies seemed to deal in the realm of the divine. I scanned the rubbing again; two specific people had been mentioned: the Dark Lady and the Grey Lord. Two people, two sides to the chessboard - and both had been mentioned in forms of both prophecies, which spoke to their importance. If the Dark Lady was the Lady of the Dark Woods - for it’s possible that she’s not - it seemed likely that she would be the “queen” that we needed to capture and that Gristodemdal might possibly be our “queen”. It fit. It fit very well. The problem was that it was based off of Ebony’s ramblings, and Ebony seemed altogether too crazy and detached from reality to trust. I sighed, and looked up from the papers. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something that didn’t belong: a white square of somethingness. I stood up and retrieved it; it was a letter. Curious, I opened it and recognized the handwriting of my mentor. Enyari - Of late, I have been having recurring dreams of the Three Nomad Sisters. I have been in contact with several of the adventurers from my generation that were involved in events from that time, and they have also been experiencing similar dreams. You understand the significance, I think. I will be traveling to Pinnical, and expect to arrive in a month. With luck, I shall meet with you soon. -Nyanar I folded up the letter and slipped it in the pouch with the other papers. If Nyanar was going to travel to Hostor, then something was happening. The dreams, of course, referred to the prophecy I had just been analyzing; that in itself was big. Who knows what is about to happen?
March 2010 - The temple to the Nomad Sisters is, in fact, a nomadic temple. The land that it is made of may have belonged to the Grey Isles at some point.
- We had a vision at the temple that is possibly important - see the flashback.
- The creature that was reanimating the skeletons escaped - we probably need to find it, especially given that it’s possibly a Litch.
- The creature in the sea caves that ended up awoken still seems to be actively animating dead merfolk.
- Wilst talking to Ebony (and thinking about her time-warped-backwardness - connection) we saw a vision (or perhaps Ebony’s mind spilling over) of a cat-like creature, and it could see us through the vision. This is probably not a good thing.
Nyanar--Flashback: Three days previously-- At long last, the shore was in sight. The dream-pull was stronger than ever; Amir Ford was unquestionably where the temple to the Nomad Sisters was located. It was merely a smudge on the horizon at first. The city slowly grew closer, larger, and somewhat clearer as our boat neared the dock, and very quickly we found ourselves stepping down the gangway and onto solid land. It was almost as it was in the old days - Ara and Annabeth had both come along, as had many of the others from those times. Together, we made our way towards the outskirts of the city. I had noticed when we had stepped onto the shore that there was a thin layer of silky, dense fog draped over the ground; it rocked back and forth as breezes cradled large pockets of it. As we walked onwards, the fog hung thicker. It swilled around our knees in spirals and other curious patterns, and eventually grew so high as to pool around our torsos. The dwarves and hobbits could scarcely see above its surface. If it were not for the insistent tug of the dream-pull, we might have become entirely lost as the fog grew even more opaque - yet there it was, and in the end it guided us until we were safely at the temple’s foot. Upon first glancing at the temple, I thought that we had been turned around and were gazing back at the river. What I saw was an island surrounded by overcast ocean waves; the moment passed, and I realized that it was actually the fog, rather than water, that enveloped a hill whose surface was completely unmatched to the land around it. A cluster within the group began to murmur amongst themselves, perhaps checking to see that they were not deluded; for the island appeared to match what they remembered from their journey to the Grey Isles. The fog did not peter off when we entered the temple. Rather, it became increasingly thicker until we could no longer see each other or any of the other people that wandered in the temple’s halls. We shuffled forwards, arms outstretched to detect solid objects in our paths, until we came to a place where the fog was abruptly cut off. There, we found a vast, round room. We stood at the foot of one of three gargantuan statues, each one an image of the same creature: they had the bodies of a horse and the torso of some kind of humanoid, though they did not seem much like centaurs - and from the center of their foreheads spiraled forth a long horn. Their horns met in the middle, and at first seemed to touch - but looking closer, it became clear that there was a tiny gap in between the horns. Although the statues were identical, each one radiated a different feeling. One brought to mind a web of emotions; one seemed almost sharp and fierce, and certainly fearless; and the third was very difficult to feel out, but seemed to watch us. As soon as we puzzled this out, however, the feelings shifted and lurked in one of the other statues and became difficult to pin down. I could not help but become reminded of the room with the three-six doors that the sisters had lurked behind previously. In this room, as we gazed upon the statues, we had a vision. As we drifted into the half-world where they occurred, I could see that some of my companions were unsettled by the feeling; others, each of whom had frequently been a part of scrying, seemed to relax into the vision’s ken. At first, I saw an image of myself walking down a path. As I walked I began to fall into pieces and chunks, and became quite distressed as I watched my arms turn into disks of meat, my legs break apart into shards of flesh, and my mind crumble in upon itself. But as I looked on, all of those pieces slipped back together to form that image again - but I looked different. Healthier, perhaps. Scars that I carried with me had been erased, and scratches and bites had been healed over. The scene then disappeared, and I found myself gazing into a pair of eyes that were utterly and completely black. If it were not for the slightest hint of silver on the inside of the iris, I would not have been able to distinguish it from the pupil. The skin around the eyes was very pale, and indeed nearly white. The eyes, though.... the eyes all at once pulled me in and repulsed me, and sent the hair on the back of my neck tingling; and despite that they frightened me, I could not look away. At last, the eyes disappeared and were replaced with an image of many bodies. The bodies belonged to anonymous people sleeping on bare rock; as we looked on, they all disintegrated into dust - into white sand. Then, we saw a spiderweb. A flock of birds flew in its general vicinity, and one bird became trapped in the center of the web. From the very outer edges, an absolutely microscopic spider began to crawl towards the bird. As it walked closer to the center it grew larger and larger until it was absolutely monstrous. It leaned down to the bird and placed its clicking mandibles to the body. When it withdrew, the bird was not dead, but rather changed. It disentangled itself from the web and flapped away, but its wingbeats were lifeless and halfhearted. The bird began to call to its kin, and when they followed the call the rest of the flock flew into the spider’s web. There, the spider turned them into that which the first bird had become. The image morphed, and once again I could see myself - my face. Upon it was an expression of such fear - such extreme terror - that I nearly became panicked myself, even knowing that it was merely a vision. I could not see what it was that had caused this mortal fear, and I am not certain that I would have looked for it even if I could navigate within the vision. It was... disturbing in a way that watching flesh spontaneously falling apart is not. Luckily, the image shifted moments later. I saw four cities: Amir Ford, Pinnical, a dwarf city, and a fourth city that I did not recognize. Overlaying each city was an image of that same pair of absolutely black eyes that appeared earlier. The next image was that of a map - and though I did not recognize it, I felt as if I knew it - but I cannot say how. The final departing note left by the vision was a sense of urgency that persisted even after the vision ended. After shaking the afterwash of vision-cobwebs from our heads, we exited the temple. We began to make our way back to the main city, but stopped and turned around as a light burst of wind began to push at our backs. The hill - the temple - had uprooted itself from the ground, and was beginning to rise upwards. It drifted higher into the sky until it disappeared into the clouds lingering far above our heads. The temple of the Nomad Sisters, then, is itself a nomad - it is fitting that it should be this way. Having congregated at the temple, my companions then split into two groups: the first decided to stay in Roekron. The second group - with which I went - set off for Hostor, where it seemed that events were afoot. That sense of urgency from the vision still persisted, and after twenty years of relative quiet it was time to slip back into the game. --End of Flashback; Beginning of the day-- Upon arriving, I followed everybody to the rendezvous point in order to get a sense for where it was and how the procedures in this particular location were set up. In the room, there was a crowd of people jostling and nudging each other and generally making a hubbub; I did not recognize most of them, but there were a couple of faces among them that belonged to my generation. I also did not see my student; I would have to seek her out later. A minute or two later, a voice from the midst of the huddle called out for quiet, and the extraneous noise from the chatter dropped off. The voice belonged to a mage who introduced himself as Brim Tiposius. At he first began to talk, it seemed as if the morning’s bulletin was proceeding smoothly enough, which was a treat; it is rare for anything to proceed as smoothly as one might hope. Unfortunately, it did not last. Being that the mages in our party had been trained in Astengrad and that we were present in another mage school, I suppose that it was inevitable that there would be a conflict eventually. It began when Ara mentioned the fact that we were from Astengrad. The following conversation turned out somewhat similar to that which follows: “Oh, you’re from Astengrad, are you?” “Yes. I think that it’s better than Pinnical, though.” “What?! It’s better? Don’t you tell me that Astengrad’s better. Did you know that they were going to cast a counterspell that would destroy three unicorns? And that we countered their counterspell onto an arcane mage? Well, we did. Maybe Astengrad is more powerful, but don’t tell me that they’re better.” Naturally, Ara understood the significance of this, and backed off immediately - even renouncing her earlier statement that Astengrad was better, and saying that she was not so fond of it anymore. Luckily, after that particular rut in the road, events turned back to their previous smoothness. Brim sent everybody off to deal with a band of skeletons that had kidnapped a couple of students. I instead searched out Enyari so that she could give me her own report. I returned to the rendezvous point after being briefed and sat down to wait for the return of those that went to fight the skeletons. In addition to the information that she had collected, she had also explained the kind of circumstances that they had been facing - what creatures they were facing, the kind of sicknesses that were loose on the island, and so on. It was just as I was thinking about these circumstances that the adventurers trudged through the doorway, most of them covered in some combination of mud, blood, and other assorted gore. It seemed that this battle had perhaps truly been a battle. As they talked, it became clear that it had indeed been thus; the skeletons that they had left to destroy had been continually reanimated by some unknown creature. That creature eventually managed to escape despite their best efforts, though was being tailed by several people. And still, they had seen no sign of the students that those skeletons had captured - even after, or perhaps because of, months of trying. Rather than sending us out, Brim called for a vote as to what to deal with next. Looking at the listings, the mention of a shrine to the Nomad Sisters jumped out at me. It seemed that there were dark heroes roaming in the area, and the shrine needed protection. The poll was taken, and in a curious turn of fate, it was the protection of the shrine that was chosen. This was of great importance, it seemed, and so I joined with them. The walk was, I will admit, a little tiring, though it was not so much that I was unfit to enter the battlefield. There were not merely dark heroes, either; a plethora of zombies also roamed the area, as well as a shadow drake and some creature that was vaguely reminiscent of a demon. In some ways, it is then good that one woman inherited an old circle of protection from her mother - it was a good place to bring the wounded for healing. The bellyside of this is that, given the nature of those creatures on the field, most often the group would huddle inside the circle rather than run out to fight. I would perhaps not have ended up inside the circle had I not been wounded myself. It would seem that my reflexes, after so many years of inactivity, have grown slow. It is to be expected, it is true; but it can mean the difference between keeping your life and losing it to a sword or a spell, and I would rather like to keep my life. After I had been healed I set to work healing the other fallen adventurers; my back was turned to the shrine, and I was quite focused in my casting. As such, I did not at first notice that the dark heroes had congregated around the shrine and begun to tear it apart. Nor did anyone else. When at last we did notice, there was at first nothing that we could do but stare at the scene, transfixed and utterly horrified. I awoke first and shook the others, and we raced towards the shrine with weapons drawn - but it was too late. As we neared, the temple finally gave way and collapsed, turning into naught but a pile of rubble. It was not merely that - one could almost feel the energy of the shrine cry out and fade away as its dwelling-place died; it is not something that I shall soon forget. We still did not stop running towards the shrine until the dark heroes and company turned from it and began to charge at us - there was no choice other than fleeing at that point. Not if we were to have the slightest chance of returning to the shrine to rebuild it. As we walked back, I felt as if I were floating. The process of choosing the next mission is something that I cannot recall, detached as I was; nor can I remember the journey to the sea. It was when we reached a steep set of cliffs that the world stole back my attention - for the track down to the water was spare and required full concentration to descend safely. It was the merfolk, then, that we were approaching. At the bottom of that trail, we found a small platform of land that remained above the surface. There was also a fisherman in a small boat, nets cast off the side and actively tugging on them to pull something back up. When at last he managed to haul it into the boat, it turned out that it was not a writhing mass of fish; rather, it was a dead merperson. It looked as if it had been dead for a long while, given the loose and pale state of its flesh. There was also a spear sticking straight through its body, from which the blood had been washed away some time ago. One man in the group leaped into the boat and was promptly shooed out by the fisherman. After some discussion, we managed to drag the merperson onto the shore, at which point someone began to resurrect it. Understandably, he panicked upon awakening. Before we could calm him down, he slipped back under the rolling water and disappeared. The fisherman was back to trying to fish; in the end, he pulled up another merperson. We pulled that merperson a little further back away from the water and then resurrected it. As the last one had, this one panicked upon returning to life - it seemed as if he were fighting something. After a few moments, he realized that there was nothing to fight and it calmed down a little. We questioned him; the last thing that it could remember was fighting a horde of undead merfolk. Apparently, the creature that had been unleashed some months ago was still at large - and still animating dead merfolk. Those merfolk still alive had been fighting their undead kindred ever since. We thanked the merperson, and he too slid across the rock and dove into the water. He did not disappear, however; one of the other members of the group called out to him before he swam away. The two began to talk back and forth, negotiating the possibility of the merperson towing the man into the sea caves. I began talking with some of the others, and thus did not see what happened to the man; I also did not see the fast-moving shapes beneath the water until somebody else cried out. Those shapes exploded out of the water in a huge froth of movement, and most of us were caught unawares. We were besieged with a battalion of undead merpeople, but managed to beat them back. As we healed the wounded and resurrected our dead, somebody else cried out again: another wave of merpeople was coming. I suspect that, despite being better prepared, our weakened numbers worked against us. However, I cannot be sure; I remember more pale and rotting faces bursting forth from the sea, but nothing afterwards until being resurrected back at Pinnical. As soon as I could walk, I made my way back over to the inn and found the adventurers already clustered around and listening intently - perhaps more intently than usual. I tiptoed into the mesh and leaned forwards in order to catch what the mage was saying; she spoke very quietly. Her manner was a curious one, I thought; as if she were permanently daydreaming, perhaps, or in a state of complete calm. Her eyes seemed to be focused on something that we could not see, or else not focused at all. She seemed to match Enyari’s description of Ebony, although despite that Enyari had implied that she was insane, I could not see the insanity. Detatched, yes; as for crazy, time would have to tell. A few people began to become antsy and rambunctious as Ebony spoke. As they became increasingly ornery, she began to turn them into frogs. One of them sat on her head, but that didn’t seem to phase her in the slightest. When at last it was decided that the assassinations of mage students connected to James Tobias would be investigated, I and a few others stayed behind to try to talk to Ebony about the chess game that Enyari had spoken of. As we found out through talking to her, it seemed that Ebony was living through time backwards. It made it difficult to ask her about the chess game, as she could not seem to remember it; that which we perceive as the past is seemingly what she sees and the future, and so to her it had not yet happened. We tried nonetheless, switching the tenses in our speech around to compensate. I was turning that concept of time around in my head and trying to figure out how such a state could possibly work when it seemed as if something spilled against my mind. An image formed; I saw a world that appeared to be made of clouds. Within this world, there was a strange creature: it was very reminiscent of a cat in both its form and its manner. Its eyes had a slit pupil in the way of a cat, but when it blinked, the eyelids slid sideways across its eyes. Black hair fell in a sheet from its crown to its feet; a pair of wings grew from its back. Its jaw was oversized and drooping down ever so slightly; it was lined with an assortment of huge, sharp-looking, and particularly nasty teeth. Most disturbingly, through this image, I could sense the awareness behind it - and I knew that it was aware of my presence and could see me through that image just as I could see it. I traded glances with my companions; they had seen it as well. Shaking it from our heads, we turned to talk to Ebony again. Ara had spoken but two words when Ebony disappeared; it seemed that she had teleported away. We turned to questioningly look at one another once again, then stirred to leave since the interview appeared to be over. Mere seconds later, Ebony reappeared, motioning and speaking as if she were teaching a class. There was a pause in her speech, and then an “Oh” - was her teleportation involuntary or accidental, then? It is a strange quirk, if that is the case. That said, Ebony herself is a little strange overall. At that point, the interview was indeed over. We retreated to a corner and talked - debated about the image we had accidentally seen, more precisely - until the thick tromping of many heavy boots pounded through the room, signaling the return of the adventurers. Quietly, we joined their ranks and craned our heads over those in front of us to see the teacher that was directing us this time. She was, it seemed, a flame mage at the very least. The coils of a whip were looped through her hands, and though tongues of flame licked and flickered up and down its length, the fire did not burn her. As she talked, she stroked and fiddled with it, making it look almost as if it were some kind of fiery snake that slithered through her palms. She glanced at the crowd surrounding her. “Oh,” she said, “I think I see some new faces here - experienced ones, mages. Well, welcome. We’ll see if your Astengrad training meets Pinnical’s standards. If there’s anything you need, just ask.... and keep asking.” This was, without a doubt, Melissa. Both Enyari’s report and the whisperings of the local adventurers had described her thusly. If those words were anything to go by, it seemed likely that she would choose for us. Instead, however, she turned to one of the mages of my generation - the storm mage, who was possibly the highest ranking member of the party - and said, “Well. You’re certainly not a child. Why don’t you decide?” The mage - perhaps wisely - responded by saying that it was Melissa who was in charge, and that the decision should fall to her. She paused thoughtfully and then began to pace back and forth; meanwhile, two members of the adventurers crept around the edges of the cluster and, when Melissa had her back turned, picked up her chair and started hurtling in the opposite direction. A shiver of tension cascaded through the group, but Melissa did naught but glance in their direction and then ignore them. Then she said that there was a creature roaming outside of town. It was thought to be a demon by most, but Melissa did not think it was a true demon; rather, a demon impersonator. “I’ve seen demons before,” she said, “and that’s not a demon.” But where? When? Why? I can certainly see this surly flame mage facing down a demon - or, perhaps, dealing with one, though I am more inclined to allow her the benefit of the doubt - but the circumstances surrounding such a meeting are a source for curiosity. I do not think, however, that I will be asking her about such things any time soon; when the two chair-thieves returned and began to heckle her further, she turned and flicked her whip at them. As it snapped across their backs, the flames blazed into a high fury and set afire anything that they touched (excepting, of course, Melissa herself). The two troublemakers screamed horribly and sank to their knees, nearly beating at themselves to try to put out the flames. Even their noises, however, were dinned out by a blast of cheering from many of the group. Cheering. This younger generation - have they no compassion for their companions? But perhaps I step before my thoughts; they will learn, in time. That, at least, I can hope. After that, Melissa dispatched us. I talked to some of the others on the way; the general consensus was that Melissa had been more cheerful than usual. If that is cheerful, then I am not so certain that I would like to see her when she is truly irritated! There was also some talk of what they had found out on their investigation; all of the students assassinated had been, it seemed, connected to James Tobias. Those remaining mages had hired mercenaries that did not properly do their job, and everyone fled after one of those mages was assassinated even as the investigation was proceeding. One must admire the work of those assassins - to pull such a thing off in public. It is an art, in many ways. We soon arrived approximately at the place where the demon - or demon impersonator - was said to be located; a horde of zombies stumbled through the landscape, but there was no sign yet of the demon. The adventurers charged the zombie, and at once the air was filled with the dull noises of flesh being mangled and bone hacked to pieces - but still no demon. I scanned the field and, despite looking, it is clear that I was not looking quite hard enough - I think it is most likely that, for the first time in a very long time, I died. The next thing that I remember afterwards was a sense of the wind being knocked out of me - or perhaps into me, as that seems a more apt description - and sitting up inside both the circle of protection and within the ring of a resurrection ritual. Outside, the battle raged on - and there, in the midst of it, was the form of the demon. Counterintuitive as perhaps it may be, I wanted to get closer to it - to see it better, to study it. In the end, I observed the movements of the zombies, and after exiting the circle of protection, tried to fumble and trip my way along as if I had been animated as one. I had managed to make my way quite close to it when the shape of one of the adventurers - someone that was alive, not animated - swelled up out of the background and caught me on the end of his sword. The dark surface of the dirt rushed up to meet my face, and I began to drift along the winds of the mind - far away, where the sharp smells of grass and blood did not intrude. When I regained consciousness - was healed - we were back at the inn. My head pounded as if a thousand dwarves with their anvils and hot metals were working inside my head, but a shake quieted them. There was the sound of speech that was almost familiar, though I could not quite place it; I slipped, once again, back in among the throngs of the group. By the listing board, there was a very short hobbit that, I realized, I knew; it was Embarcarious. It is wonderful to see a familiar face on this island, even one that I knew but briefly. The established routine followed; we voted, and walked back out the inn door to attempt to repair the broken shrine of the Nomad Sisters that we had abandoned earlier. As luck would have it, the surroundings seemed at first to be relatively quiet. The woman with the circle of protection activated it so that it encircled the shrine, and then we went to work. The shrine was very much a pile of rubble, and it was a challenge to fit it back together - as if it were a puzzle in three dimensions, and a large one at that. To make matters worse, the pieces were apt to fall apart very quickly after being put in place. A cloud of dust arose from the ruins as we worked; it made my mind turn back and separate itself from my hands. At first, I remembered tall stacks of old and dusty books from a bygone time in my life; and then I remembered the streets of my home. They were dusty, as well. Occasionally, there was a quick flicker of movement from outside the circle of protection; small shapes fighting larger shapes, and being plagued by large brown clouds of feathers. I did not pay much attention to it; the problem of the shine falling apart was more worrisome. After some time of working, it finally pulled together properly, and I thought almost that I could feel the return of the fled spirit that had dwelt there earlier. Curiously, one of the life mages stooped to pick up a medicine ball spellstone from the rubble and pocketed it; perhaps that was the problem. It needed magical help as well as physical work. As we returned to to city, the husky blues and purples of dusk began to slip over the sky; to the east, stars winked from the smoother inky-blue of the sky from which the sun had already retreated. The stars, at least, are quiet; though the mumbling chatter of friendly voices is comforting, so too is the quiet, uncaring calmness of the stars. But walking back to the town underneath the rising night-tide, spellstones warm in my palms and companions laughing together - I had forgotten this. It is not the same as it was, and neither should it be; but I think that, with time, I could walk back into it. It has been too long since I have wandered in this way, and it is time for me to take to the path again.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 17:16:39 GMT -8
April 2010 - The people involved with the unicorns previously have all just had a dream - important!
*]There might be a litch wandering around Hostor and causing havoc, b[ut no idea if that's actually what it is.
- There are three golden dragons outside of Pinnical, with (of course) unknown intentions. But they don't seem to be actively hostile, which is good. Said dragons had an interesting conversation with the Familiar Of Awesomeness that seems to indicate that said familiar is interfering with things somehow - though whether that's good or bad, we don't know.
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Nyanar
What is a dream? A thought, a wish, the garden of a sleeping imagination... Insubstantial, but still real as rock to the dreamer. And they persist; even after one becomes awakened to the world, a dream still lingers.... Despite a dream’s seemingly less tangible nature, it often means more to the dreamer than simple reality...
Less.... more....
Less and more.
We were once less, and more.
In a single movement, I leapt to my feet from under my blanket as I was shocked to full awareness. My limbs, unlike my mind, were not fully awake, and tangled with each other as I stumbled across the room and groped for some parchment and an inkwell. The dream.... if only I could remember the dream! It had been important. A voice... a voice talking about what once was and what perhaps might come to pass. And there was a plan - a task - but I could not remember what. Now that I was awake, the dream was slipping from my mind very quickly. I feverishly scrawled down what I could remember, not caring that runaway spots of ink were beginning to pepper down onto the parchment and my hands. It was not enough; I threw on a cloak and grabbed the parchment and the inkwell and yanked open the door-
-To see Ara standing there, about to knock. She looked nearly as disheveled as I must be. We went together to hunt down the others, then collected in one of the rooms. We began to shoot back and forth all that we remembered; what one person said would sometimes spark another’s memory - though whether or not that memory was imagined was sometimes difficult to tell. In the end, we collectively gathered a large portion of the dream, though much was still missing and we had to resort to guessing; it became clear, then, that there were three different dreams. The first was present in everyone’s memory.
There was a time, when we were other than this We were less, and more Stronger, and more fragile We have become, what we were And we have joined what we had undone.
The second had been dreamt by the men.
Our presence... Secrets to be kept in the dark There was a plan.... (("the plan went awry"?)) Those of us who made the plan..." (("unjust, unloved, and untruthful"?))
The third had been dreamt by the women.
The sleepers awake... We destroyed them, so they could sleep... But the plan has been turned And the sleepers no longer obey...(("the plan", "their master", "the game"?)) The game has gone beyond... ((“webs”?)) Unless we bring the light forth We charge you... They are sleeping, under every city.
Without the complete transcript, it is difficult to glean the full meaning of the words that were said. Ah, dreams! Such troublesome things to be chosen as messengers! So apt to slip from one’s mind, as a butterfly from a windstorm. With what we did manage to remember, however, I suspect that it refers to the Nomad Sisters. That dream which came to all of us is the road that we travel now. The remaining two are a sort of fork in the path; two roads that we can tread after some decision yet to come, and two different ways that the matter of the Sisters may tip. In the mens’ dream, it seemed as if the future spoken of was one in which the Sisters reverted to their forms as unicorns and demons; where they splintered apart once more. The dream of the women, however - though the words escape me, the cobwebs of meaning behind it makes it seem as if it was speaking of a future in which the Sisters merge together to become one being.
It is merely a theory, however. If it is to be confirmed or denied, it will require more information than we have at the present moment - which of course, likely condemns myself and others to either risking life, limb, and mind through oracles or breathing in ages’ worth of that thrice-curst dust trapped in library scrolls and books. I had hoped that those days were over, but it would seem that I have not yet managed to escape them.
We parted to retrieve various weapons and other such equipment and then made our ways down to the common room. Embarcarious was there, waiting for the rest of the adventurers; in their absence the room was still quiet, so we took advantage of this and explained to him the three dreams that we had had. After that, there was little to do but to wait for the others and to enjoy the morning air wafting in through the doorway.
When the rest came, it was clustered together through that door rather than trickling down one by one from the rooms as we had. Evidently, they had already been sent out while we were conferring. The lot of them looked thoroughly beaten up, and if their skin was not mottled purple with bruises it was bathed red with blood. The ogres - for they had been sent to help the military deal with a large group of ogres that had banded together - had, it seemed, been beyond them; and it is not surprising, if these ogres are facing and defeating military forces.
Embarcarious hushed everyone up and then proceeded to announce a rather interesting piece of news: three gold dragons had landed outside of Pinnical and were settled there. From what had been observed of them, one of the dragons was always asleep and the remaining two would always be awake - they would trade off periodically. What their intentions were, nobody knew; contact had not yet been established. On that note, Embarcarious forbid us to speak to them; he feared that one misstep could anger the dragons and cause them to tear apart the city.
There was a pause after he said this, and then Ara burst out with “Um, sir, I have a belt that attracts dragons!”
Embarcarious did not seem especially pleased to hear this. “Ah,” he said, “give it over here. Don’t want that around here!” Ara handed it over, and with a muttered phrase he teleported it to some place unknown to us. He then continued through the morning’s bulletins and missions, which surprisingly included looking into the dreams that we had told him about. Perhaps even more astounding was that, of all the choices, that is what the majority voted to pursue.
After explaining the dreams, we searched out a spider - remembering both the word “web” from the dream and the spiderweb from the vision at the temple to the Nomad Sisters. We found a rather large spider that belonged to a breeder; it was a great lumpy, brown, hairy thing with glittering eyes and flickering mandibles that were all slightly off-putting. Through one of the nature mages, we asked if it knew of any inordinately large spiders in existence. It did; those spiders were the spigas that live in the Wildwood. If the spigas are the only such spiders, perhaps literal spiders were not meant in either the dream or the vision - for I cannot see how the spigas would have become tangled in this, though I may also be blind to that connection if it does indeed exist.
We then returned to the inn to find Brim lounging in a chair. As Embarcarious had, he moved directly to the matter of the dragons; however, unlike the head life mage, he did not have anything against us attempting to talk to them. The sore spot in the matter was that if we went, we would renounce all protection from and affiliation with the city of Pinnical; they would bar the gates against us if the dragons attacked us. However, we would be free to walk back in unhindered if events did not turn downwind.
That was a reasonable price, I thought, for being allowed to attempt to speak to the dragons - such a chance does not come to one very often. Not many others agreed - either that, or perhaps they were simply afraid of the dragons - for few of us went to seek them out.
The dragons were not very far from the city, nor had they taken great measures to hide themselves; it was not difficult to find them. As we neared, one of them approached us. It was a formidable creature; many, many times taller than an ordinary building, and it nearly glowed as sunlight scintillated off its scales. It was not merely that; a cave troll, though large, has a certain dullness about it that wears away a little of its magnificence. A dragon, however...A dragon is intelligent. It is not merely physically strong, but mentally as well - and that awareness is sharp. Sharper than a knife or a sword or an axe. To feel such an intelligence perceive you is humbling.
Luckily, the dragon did not seem hostile. Warily, we greeted it; in order to show our goodwill, one man offered one of his weapons to the dragon as a gift. The dragon said that it could not in good conscience accept that gift without a gift to give in return. We replied that knowledge - information - was the only gift we would want in return. The dragon took the weapon and indicated that we should ask a question.
At that moment, one of those curious waking dreams from the enveloped our minds. The setting was very nearly the same was what was before us now, but for two things. Behind the the three dragons there came a line of hobbits, and the dragons pounced on them and began to play with them as a cat would a piece of string - batting them about, chewing on them, and tearing them apart. The other difference was that three of our group - though we could not tell which three, as the feeling shifted between people - were dead.
That was a sobering glimpse of what the outcome of this encounter might be. Even more so than it was before, it was important to tread carefully. At the dragons prompt, we asked what the intentions of these dragons were - why they were here. The answer was, of course, that dragons do not give away their intentions.
Dragons! If there is anything more irritating to try to pull information out of than dreams, it is dragons. I have only dealt with them once before - that, another gold dragon that we were allowed to call “Solaris” - and that one was just as enigmatic as these dragons were. Nevertheless, it is always worth it to try.
The exchanges continued - a weapon for a question. Very quickly, we discovered that the gift must come first - one man asked a question of the dragon before offering it something, and the dragon first ate the man and then answered his question to the rest of us. This happened several times, as people would become spurred to ask another question after the dragon’s answer - and for the time at which one man asked the dragon “If you bit my arm, would it come off?”. One must wonder what he was thinking.
The other questions mainly pertained to the prophecy that was found written on a stone in the grey isles. One was “What are the sleepers?”. The dragon answered that it did not know; when we requested that it guess, it answered “Dark-skinned ogres”. Another was “What do we need to do?” to which the dragon answered “The prophecy tells you”. After a few questions, the dragon ambled away towards the sleeping dragon in the background; the other wakeful dragon walked over to us to continue where the other had left off. This one seemed as it it might be female.
The dragon stopped for a moment, and then turned her head towards Annabeth’s familiar. The familiar is an image of the Nomad Sisters, if a rather small one; it can be carried quite easily. It has also been known to perform extraordinary feats of power, which perhaps relate to what was about to be said. After a moment of staring, the dragons told the familiar, “You are early. Much too early.”
The familiar responded, “My time is my time.”
The two began to talk back and forth as if locked in their own world and oblivious to everyone and everything around them. They both were clearly referring to other events that both were acutely aware of. The dragon’s comments amounted to disapproving of the familiar’s presence and its potential to interfere and change things around; the familiar shot back that what it was doing was not something for the dragon to stick its nose into. The entire exchange was quite interesting; I wonder what it was that they were referring to. It seems to me as if it is related to the strange dreams and visions that we have observed of late.
After that exchange, there were no more questions asked - for at that time, the hobbits that we had seen in the waking dream came into view. The female dragon abandoned us to join her companions in tearing them apart. There was little that we could do; of the seven of us, four - rather than three - had been eaten by the dragon, leaving only three members remaining alive. Three would not be enough to successfully stop one dragon, much less three; we turned and trudged back to Pinnical. Having not provoked the dragons, we did not find the gates barred against us upon our return, and we were able to return to the inn without incident.
Jonas was there. Just as Brim and Embarcarious had, he cut directly to the matter of the dragons - though dragons of a slightly different nature. Embarcarious, it seemed, was in a high fury over the fact that we had gone to converse with the dragons - and that he had wanted to expel us from the city. Jonas explained that he personally did not see a problem with us going, knowing that many of us were followers of the Nomad Sisters and that followers tend to take risks. As such, he had dissuaded Embarcarious from taking such measures, but that it might be a good idea for us to decide what we were to do and then leave quickly so as to give Jonas a little more time to calm Embarcarious down.
It was decided that, as suggested by one member of the group, there would be an attempt to recover several magic items that had in some way been lost previously. I was not keen on accompanying them, and so spent the time during which they were gone both mulling over the dreams and talking with Enyari - and staying carefully out of sight, should Embarcarious enter the area.
Some time later, the loud rumbles of a multitude of boots over the wooden floors shook the building. I flitted down the stairs to join the adventurers. There was not yet one of the teachers from the school to direct us, and so there was much milling about by most of the group. Then - it could not have been more than twenty heartbeats past their return that the room quieted as the earthy scent of smoke wafted through the doorway like a silent herald, announcing the presence of Melissa.
She was a frightening sight. Patches of her skin had been singed bright red, and her hair stuck out from her head in the most ridiculous manner; it also smoked slightly. The bottom half of her trousers was so wet and thick with blood - whether it was hers or that of others, it was impossible to tell - that they clung to her legs and were even so slick with it as to reflect the light. As she crossed the inn to the taskboard, people shrank away from her; behind her, a trail of deep red, bloody boot-prints peppered the floor. Perhaps most frightening of all, she was very nearly grinning.
Melissa told us that she had been hunting dark heros. We, of course, would be doing the same - except that we’d be doing the small-time dark heros. She would tackle the more powerful ones. I do not think for a moment that she minded taking on this particular task. Certainly, nobody questioned it; if her whip was not enough to deter commentary, her particularly savage appearance was. After a moment of thought, she amended her statement - only some of us would be hunting the dark heros. Those that needed to continue their Elder Sorcery studies would stay behind to learn. I will admit to being thankful for Melissa’s thoughtfulness; gaining knowledge - particularly useful knowledge - is nearly always preferable to being hacked apart on the battlefield.
She dispatched us, and the groups separated - the larger set to go down the mountain, and the smaller up to the mage school. We wound through the school’s halls until we found the room that Melissa had told us to go to; upon opening the door, we found Embarcarious waiting for us. The members of our small group glanced at each other, and at least one person gulped. Nearly half of us had gone to speak with the dragons. Embarcarious did not, admittedly, seem especially riled, but of course appearances can be deceiving. We all crowded through the doorway and found seats, and once we were settled Embarcarious began to speak.
Right from the beginning, he began to emphasize the dangerous nature of Elder Sorcery. Like all power, it has the potential to be used both for good and for ill - and both well and badly. He began to illustrate the many ways in which Elder Sorcery could go wrong. Midway through this explanation, he paused - then said, “I wish that you could just know how dangerous this magic is instead of listening to me tell it to you and you taking my word for it, because sometimes people tend not to listen when they are told that something is dangerous. Like talking to dragons.”
He referenced dragons multiple times throughout the lecture. Many multiple times. Were it not for the gravity of the situation and the subject matter, it would likely have been amusing. That said, its effect was rather more of putting us in our collective place. And, of course, he did not merely reference the dragons - the majority was still about Elder Sorcery. He talked about the intent of a spell and that it is the most important part; he described the Elder Sorcery words and how words of different tiers behave; and he explained the way that energy is used to cast a spell, as well as which methods of delivery take the most energy to use. It was midway through his lecture on the forms of delivery that one of the adventurers came skidding into the room and began to rapidly explain that things had quickly gone sour on the battlefield - that they needed help badly.
Embarcarious decided that this would be the opportune time to take a field trip. And so we all followed the adventurer out the door, partway down the mountain, and onto the gory mess that was the remains of a multitude of bodies - many of them seemingly missing their heads. We watched as he rebirthed a few of our allies and displaced the bodies of a few dark heros. Then he told us to cluster around one body, and he used a spell to talk with spirit that still lingered nearby. Embarcarious asked if he had been hit by a spell - the man said yes, a spell that imploded one’s head. After a little more conversation it became clear that not only had the spell been a cascade, but this man had been the original target - something that seemed to excite Embarcaroius. For a little while longer, he explained how these circumstances applied to Elder Sorcery - what this kind of spell would do, what would be involved in creating it, and such other things.
We returned to the mage school shortly thereafter, and Embarcarious took a little more time to explain the concept of storing mana in items - what kind of items can store mana, how much mana can be stored, the advantages of storing mana, and so on. After that he dismissed us, and we hurried back down to the inn where the others had certainly gathered by now. As it turned out, we arrived nearly at the same time; the last stragglers were filing into the door when we reached the inn, and we were able to intermingle with the rest of them rather than try to crane our heads over those of others - a very good thing, as it was the soft-voiced Ebony that was waiting.
The debate over which task to pursue next stretched on for a very long time; eventually, one voice piped up from amongst the rumble and asked Ebony to choose. One by one, a chorus of voices followed, all agreeing that Ebony should choose. It is a very curious thing, this - they dread having Melissa choose for them, and yet they ask Ebony to do the same thing. Nevertheless, she agreed, though as is seemingly characteristic of her she chose to teleport those that wanted to go rather than simply say what she had chosen.
I have not teleported before, but the sensation was strangely familiar. It is very much like oracling in some ways, though it applies to the body as well as the mind. It was also a little disconcerting, as the move was rather unexpected. One moment, we were standing in the square, wooden box of a common room; the next, we found ourselves in stumbling over a rough cave floor. Scattered through the pits and crags of its stony surface were silver weapons of several kinds - swords, and perhaps even an axe. Upon seeing them, there was a huge burst of movement as people nearly threw themselves at the weapons to get their palms around the hilts first and claim them for their own.
Not two heartbeats after each and every weapon had been taken, we were teleported again - to yet another cave. It was very vast; I could not see its ceiling, and its walls were very distant. I did not spend much more than a moment gazing at the cave, as it was teeming with skeletons that did not take kindly to our presence. Nor did we take kindly to theirs; immediately, the crashes of steel on steel began to fill the air. As the noises echoed off the cave walls, it began to sound as if we were caught in the middle of a thunderstorm. Thunder - that impression of thunder - and running is all I can remember before waking from darkness to find Annabeth and her familiar standing over me. She then rushed off to help another. I unpocketed one of my spell stones - the medicine ball - and began to creep around the edges of the cave myself, searching for wounded allies.
Time passes strangely in the dark; more so when you are surrounded by constant flickers and whirls of movement. It could not have been very long since being healed, and yet... it is as if the time has no meaning. There is no way to judge it. Annabeth shouted to grab any wounded skeletons; I dove for the nearest one, and almost as soon as I had clasped its brittle wrist we were all teleported out of the cave and back to the inn - with Ebony waiting. She paced along the edges of the group and, from each skeleton, collected the spirit that was attached to it. Once she had gathered them all, she then pulled out a small silver jar and, after sorting through each spirit, let all but two spirits roll off of her hand and into the jar like so many marbles. The remaining spirits, despite being of normal dimensions, looked tiny in her hands; she was holding them almost in a pinch, as if to keep them from floating away. After a glance at each of them, she began to ask them questions - it was to the one in her left hand that she spoke first.
It was a simple “Why, Nikkolas?”. The response of the spirit - Nikkolas - I could not hear but for little mumbles and hums that were unintelligible. Ebony, however, could understand them. She replied to him, “Oh, you didn’t have a choice? I see. Go be summoned.”
With that, she released that spirit, and it rose up and began to trickle its way up to the resurrection rooms. Ebony then turned to the spirit in her right hand; what she said, I could not hear - it was quieter than usual. Though I did manage to catch the name: it was Selene. The Selene-spirit nodded in response to what it was that Ebony had said; the two began to talk back and forth, though I was able to make out little of it, quiet as they were. Eventually, Ebony said a little more clearly, “I understand.” A moment’s pause, then she added, “You are a fly. Go be summoned.”
The other spirit, after being released, also made its way towards the mage school. What happened? I do not know. It is clear that these were the spirits of the two students that had been kidnapped by skeletons some months previously, but it also seemed that there was more to the tale than simply that incident. At that moment, I realized that I still held the skeleton, and tossed it out the door - what is done is done. Just as this lifeless skeleton was now just that - dead completely, rather than given the half-life of an undead - the matter of the students was to the best of my knowledge finished. In any case, had I wanted to ask Ebony, it would have been impossible at that time; almost as if she had evaporated, she teleported herself and was gone.
Embarcarious entered the inn soon thereafter, and the voting commenced. It was, indeed, actual voting this time rather than having it chosen for us. It was a haunted house that we chose to investigate, in the end. This pleases me; haunted houses always intrigue me. One can see the way that the haunts of the dead wander through the place where they once lived. This curious mingling of worlds is a fascinating paradox, of sorts. I was given plenty of time to contemplate this, as the trek to the house was rather long. The chaos of city streets swilled around me, but I heeded it little. It is the city, and it is chaotic nearly by nature - to attempt to fix it is silly and indeed a violation and rejection of that nature. I interfered but once - to heal the leg of a man whose ankle appeared to be broken - and otherwise continued to swim down the streets with the rest of the adventurers as salmon in the currents of a stream.
At last, we came to the haunted house. Although it appeared to be as normal a building as those around it, it felt significantly different; cool and dark, almost like a tomb or crypt. Wind softly blew from behind it, and the house almost sighed - almost whispered to itself some reminder of a past time when it was still full of life and laughter. Cautiously, we pushed the door aside and crept inside; it smelled musty, but not unpleasantly so. A little puff of air entered the house behind us and stirred up a spiral of dust from the floor; amongst the dust, a multitude of spirits paced about the room.
The first adventurers through the door wandered through the spirit’s paths with a little apprehension. It was not long afterwards that many of them tore, screaming, from the house and tumbled over the doorstep in their haste to exit. As I slipped in the midst of the spirits, I could feel their fingers on my arm every now and then - little touches, cold and misty. Perhaps they frightened the others - now that I think of it, they may have been using feartouches, which would explain quite a bit - but I found it difficult to see why they would be as such. They are like forms of light, thin, translucent silk - so beautiful. And so sad. So terribly, terribly sad. Death is a fascinating thing, but to not be able to dance or to smell or even simply breathe sweet morning air... Such a loss. Merely imprints of what once was and what never will be again.
Though despite their delicate appearance, they are certainly capable of doing damage. Even with the others running from the house in blind terror, I managed to forget this. I remember feeling as if something shoved me in the back and I remember sprawling onto the wooden floor, but then nothing until one of the other life mages resurrected me outside of the haunted house. I entered back into the house - this time remembering the dangers that it posed - and discovered that, in the center of the floor, somebody had smashed a hole. Several people lingered down its gullet, evidently having jumped down in order to look at the lower level. It was a rather large drop down, however - but what is one to do? I braced for impact and leapt into the hole’s gaping mouth, and hit the ground hard enough to stun me. Nonexistent colors and lights drifted across my field of vision as I lay there mostly insensate. One of the others that had also jumped down helped wake me from the impact, and I picked myself back up from the floor just in time for a haunt to drift in front of me - two of them.
They were both hobbits. At first, they sat around a table and drank tea - both were laughing uproariously and seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Then one pointed out to the other something in a corner across the room - what it was I do not know, as it was invisible to us - and they both rose from the table and walked over. As they reached the corner, both began to fight that unknown thing with martial arts. For some time they punched and kicked and ducked at what appeared to be naught but empty air to us, and then then walked across the length of the room to another corner. There, they disintegrated and disappeared. After a moment or two both haunts appeared back at the table - and at the beginning of the time loop that they seemed to be caught in.
After watching that loop a few more times, I reached out to touch one of the haunts as he passed. Nothing happened, or nothing that I could see - the loop continued on as it had the past times. Others touched them as well; some tried standing in the corner where the haunts fought, some tried to block the haunts as they moved, and others tried interfering with the tea. So many things were going on at once, then, that it is difficult to tell what it was that brought about the change in the haunts - for, after a few more loops, they began to knock out those that walked or stood too close to them in their loop.
Unknown quantities of time passed as we watched them and tried to figure out what happened. As I scrutinized them for what felt as if it were for the hundredth time, I realized that there was something different about the wall opposite to me. I was not the only one that noticed, either; the other necromancers in the group began to drift towards it curiously. What it was was an imprint in the wall - a sort of after-image, more than anything. It was humanoid and human- or elf-sized; it also appeared a little faded, and was perhaps two weeks old. I brushed my fingertips over the wall and they were met with nothing but the hard-packed dirt that formed all of the walls in this cellar. Still - this was likely the creature that the two hobbits had fought. It had been able to travel through the earth in some incorporeal form, and to do so for a long distance.
It was also quite possibly the same creature that had battled with the old hobbit woman in the haunted house that these adventurers investigated earlier this year. There are certain parallels between this incident and that; the size of the creature, certainly, and that in both instances it seemed to have killed the hobbits through the use of magic or abilities reminiscent of magic - but not with blades. If it is the same creature, one must wonder what it is. A litch, I think, would fit - the withering on the chest of the hobbit woman is characteristic of undead, and it seems as if the creature that killed these two hobbits had necromancer abilities. It would perhaps also account for the strange hooded figure that was reanimating the skeletons that had kidnapped the students - something that a litch has the ability to do. But of course, it could be many other things - and the two may not be related, either, though the similarities in the two incidents would lead one to believe that they are.
Aside from the print on the wall, nothing changed. Eventually we all hauled ourselves out of the hole and walked away from the haunted house, leaving the mystery still unsolved. Perhaps it would be possible to try another time to unwind the endless loop that those haunts are caught in - but not this day, when there are other things that might be done and yield greater results. That final thing turned out to be, in the case of the mages, continuing our training in Elder Sorcery. This time it was not with Embarcarioius; Ebony, instead, took over.
Where Embarcarious had laid the general foundations, Ebony built with more specific cautions. She went through each mage type and explained the dangers and risks associated with that kind of magic. Storm magic, for example - time, she explained, was something to be wary of if one is a storm mage. Oftentimes if one tries to go to the past to change something, a paradox is created and the caster becomes nonexistent. The idea of paradoxes made me briefly drift back to thoughts of the haunted house and the time loop - perhaps there was some connection there. Nature magic was another curious one; it was shapeshifting that was a problem for nature mages. Ebony quietly explained that if one were to assume the shape of another creature for too long - particularly one of low intelligence - one starts to become that animal. She gestured at a snowy-white gull that drifted on the air currents overhead, and murmured “Like that bird over there - could once have been a mage. Many mages have turned into animals and forgotten how to change back.”
Interesting as the quirks of the different magics were, it was when she began to talk about necromancy that it became truly intriguing. She started by explaining that necromancy was effectively slavery of spirits and that one must keep in mind the ethics of such practices. The members of the group then began to ask her about the kinds of things she had done and the kinds of undead that she had raised - and one man asked if she had created a litch. She had; another asked if she had made it do “horrible things”.
In that dreamlike manner, Ebony responded “Define horrible”.
That sensation of images spilling across my mind began to form. I saw pools upon pools of dark red blood. I saw skeletal creatures wading through a sea of hobbits and ripping them apart; stray body parts - feet, hands, even heads - flew left and right, creating immense piles of carnage that sullied the ground on which they landed. There were images of those same innocent hobbits fleeing from the creatures. Mothers clasped babies to their bodies, lovers died shielded one another from the oncoming slaughter, and children ran screaming and parentless from the scene.
The wave of images receded and reality faded back in. Several of the mages present looked pale and stricken, and at least one looked as if he might have to be sick. Quietly, Ebony said, of all things, “Oops.”
She then proceeded to say that that would be a good definition of horrible and then continued teaching the lesson - but she never did answer that question. She is a curious one, Ebony is.
Once she went through all the mage types, she put us in a room that gave the illusion of Elder Sorcery to those that were within it; we experimented for a little while, dueling one another and trying to get a feel for the mechanics of the magic. Once each dueling pair had exhausted itself, she gave us the final lesson: firstly, that dispelling can be the most useful magic of all, and that a sword is still a danger to any mage if one is not quick enough in their casting. With that, she teleported away nearly mid-sentence as she is apt to do.
The day was over; I returned to the inn and the relative peace and calm that it offered. Such quietness is the best environment for pondering - pondering those dreams, in particular - and so ponder I shall. Perhaps its meaning will become clear as the night wears on.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 17:23:12 GMT -8
May 2010 - Jonas has gone missing, and has probably been captured by Tezcatilpoca.
- This same Tezcatilpoca has placed a curse on the city of Pinnacle, which makes all citizens of the city blind to any orks.
- We've discovered a shrine to Tezcatilpoca, and there's a darkness of sorts (and a morganti-wielding mithril golem, possibly an avatar) surrounding it; it's a "second darkness" starting. Maybe the beginning of another Darkness Zone?
- We found papers in the lava tubes that talk about H.A.M. (the Hobbit Abolitionist Movement) - an organization which still exists today, and which Brim Tiposius is a member of. (Technically neither of my characters know this, but several other peoples' do.)
- One of the shrines to the Nomad Sisters has been destroyed - also probably by Tezcatilpoca, through that golem. One wonders what the deity's motivations are.
---- EnyariEmbarcarious Petrafloutous’s expression was grave when he called for all of the adventurers to gather. Standing in the middle of the huddle of people, he looked even smaller than usual, if that were even possible. He was worn-down and haggard, and had dark circles under his eyes - the telltale sign of someone that’s been awake for an entire night or more. I can’t blame him - the news he delivered was one bad thing after another. Firstly, those three golden dragons were still lingering outside the city and still hadn’t made their intentions known. While they hadn’t shown much hostility yet, they could still change their minds - or pounce at the opportune moment. That time would probably be now, if there was ever a time to do it. Secondly, one of the five teachers - Jonas Defatious Stormshank - had gone missing without the slightest trace of what had happened to him. Apparently, it was discovered that one of the shrines to the Nomad Sisters had been completely destroyed. Being that he is one of their priests, he wanted immediate action taken to figure out what had happened - so immediate that he went out to investigate it himself. That was the last that anyone ever heard of him. A mage as powerful as him going missing - well. Not only does it lessen the pool of the mage school’s resources, but something that could seemingly erase such a person so completely can’t be good news at all. And if those weren’t enough, the god Tezcatilpoca had placed a curse on the city of Pinnacle. This curse made all orks completely invisible to any citizens of the city - which of course meant that the orks had decided to seize the opportunity by massing into a giant army and preparing to attack. Even if they’re thicker than bricks, they certainly know how to make a bad situation worse. That in mind, Embarcarious quickly sent us out to deal with a band of ogres and urukai - and most likely orks, as well - in an attempt to lessen the forces soon to be throwing themselves against the city walls. As soon as he gave the order, the adventurers began to shuffle out the door - some more eagerly than others. I was about to join them when Nyanar beckoned me over from among a throng of some of the other older adventurers. Of course. For a moment, I gripped the wakasashi that hung from my side as I watched the line of departing adventurers disappear - then released it. Annoying as it sometimes is, my first duty is to the prophecies that they concern themselves with. This I have sworn, and so it shall be. They discussed the matter of Jonas Defatious Stormshank, especially concerning the destruction of the shrine to the Nomad Sisters and what could possibly have the power to do such things. The discussion didn’t last very long; the battle had evidently been an easy one since the people that went returned soon afterwards, most of them laughing and joking or cleaning their weapons. Embarcarious dashed in a little after that - he had left almost as soon as they had - and conducted the deciding session that followed. Thankfully, the majority chose to attempt to find Stormshank and to rescue him if necessary; especially now of all times, the city needed as much help as it could get - as did Embarcarious and the other teachers. I can’t help but pity them a little, what with the huge burden that has been given to them to carry; but such is the weight of leadership. In order to find Stormshank, it make the most sense to start at the Nomad Sisters’ shrine. After all, that is where he had intended to go - so perhaps there would be some hint of what had happened. We hiked down the side of the volcano without too many mishaps, and little time had passed when we reached the shrine. It had been described as “destroyed” by others, but destroyed seems too mild a word - shattered, maybe. Disintegrated. There was nothing left of it but a pile of shards of stone, none of which were bigger than my hand. We rooted around in the remains in hope of finding some clue as to Jonas’s whereabouts, but it turned out that we didn’t have to - it came to find us. An undead jaguar silently ambled up behind us. It was so completely unobtrusive that, until one or two of the people on the fringes of the group drew their weapons, most of us didn’t even know it was there. Amazingly enough, it did not attack us; instead, it gazed at us for a moment and then began to sprint away. Having found nothing at the shrine, we tailed it. It ran for a quite a long time, and we nearly lost sight of it more than once. After following the jaguar around a large hill, the beginnings of the answers to the various mysteries - to the jaguar, to the shrine, and to Stormshank’s disappearance - all became untied within the next two minutes. Tucked away in this place behind the hill, there was a temple. The grounds around the temple were teeming with more of the undead jaguars, and the sky was full of harpies. It was the temple itself, though, that caught the eye most: it was surrounded by a layer of darkness, but the temple seemed to emit a faint, silvery glow reminiscent of moonlight. With all of this activity surrounding it, it seemed as if this was probably a temple to Tezcatilpoca. People began to rush at the creature surrounding it, and the creatures began to launch their own counterattack. Knowing that I would be unable to harm the jaguars, I looked instead to the harpies; one of them descended to gather arrows, and was engaged by one of our allies. With no other weapons, it stretched out its neck to bite him instead - and as it bit down, the features on its head seemed to shift slightly and become more like those of a jaguar’s than those of a birds’. Being that I had fallen to the back, I did not have much of a chance to engage it myself, which is somewhat disappointing - but in the end, it might have been a good thing after all. From somewhere in the vicinity of the temple, something stirred. Something big. Something very big. It looked like a statue pulling itself loose from the temple’s stonework. The statue was made of some metal that I didn’t recognize, and its head was shaped to look like that of, once again, a jaguar. Then it lifted its arms, and the weapon that it gripped in its hands became visible. The metal that the blade was made of was so black that any nearby light seemed to be drawn into it. Weapon raised, it began to advance.There comes a point at which, regardless of the importance of the situation at hand or the honor of defending one’s allies and city, running is the best option. When a giant, animated metal statue belonging to the deity that has just cursed your city starts to charge at you with a morganti weapon, that point has probably been long since crossed. Not, of course, that anyone was considering logic at that moment. A wave of fear so intense that you could almost smell it cascaded through the battlefield, and everybody began to scream in terror and flee from the statue. As we flooded back around the hill, the statue hurled a boulder into the chaos; it hit one of the men. Miraculously, he only stumbled with the impact of the boulder but continued to run on - bits of his armor began to fall off in chunks, though, and nearly tripped several people running behind him. I’m not entirely sure how long we ran. We were certainly far past the destroyed shrine to the Nomad Sisters when we finally stopped. Everybody was pale from the combined exhaustion of running and the lingering traces of fear that had yet to disappear entirely. Some, though, were even paler than others - both the woman with the familiar and one of the paladins looked as if they were verging on collapse. The familiar looked exceptionally tired as well - it was nearly drooping and looked as if it might melt into a puddle of mud at any moment. After a little rest, we began to troop the rest of the way back to Pinnacle in a decidedly wilted manner. We returned to the inn. After the brightness of the sunlight, it seemed very dark inside, and it took my eyes a few moments to adjust. Once I could see properly again, I scanned the room and saw Ebony huddled away in a corner. After the temple, the last thing that I wanted to deal with was Ebony and her cryptic, foggy lack of focus. I headed straight to the stairs and retreated to the room that I was renting to recover from my first experience with morganti. Death is one thing, but permanent death is another entirely. --------- NyanarIt was a rather long time before the adventurers returned. While I did not mind the peace and quiet that their absence left, the large gap of time before they reappeared was a little unnerving. When at last they did cross the inn’s doorway, it did not appear as if they had encountered much in the way of battle; this is a good thing. Nevertheless, their collective manner was still that of those come fresh from the battlefield: at once sapped of energy and yet still hypervigilant to their surroundings. I mingled in with the river of people as they arranged themselves around Ebony - Ebony, and another mage that I did not recognize; I think that, if I had seen a staff flickering with blue flames before, I would remember the carrier. For a very long time, Ebony did nothing but gaze at the rows of adventurers silently. At last, she said simply, “Oh, so many wounded souls.” Though it appeared to apply to everyone, the statement seemed to be especially directed at Annabeth and her familiar. Without warning, Ebony vanished, leaving the other mage alone. He asked what had happened; the tale that they told in response was a fascinating one. It seems that they had stumbled across an unknown temple to the jaguar-god Tezcatilpoca, and that they had encountered a giant morganti-wielding golem at the site. More important than that, however, was that the shrine had not only been actively glowing pearlescent with moonlight, but that it had been surrounded by a thick cloud of darkness. As they explained this, Ebony reappeared behind Annabeth and began to poke at the woman and her familiar as if she had discovered something very interesting. She then teleported back to her seat and began to converse with the other mage. As she spoke, a curious thing became noticeable - her voice sounded different. Hoarser. Older. I wonder why it was that it was different; perhaps it was merely the increased strain from Jonas’s absence - but with Ebony, one never knows. She is a rather fascinating enigma, this necromancer - indeed, after discussing the matter of the darkness around the temple, she murmured that a second darkness was starting and that she did not need another one to deal with. With that, she teleported away once more, and did not return. Lacking the central figure of one of the head mages, people began to drift off. Some began to talk to the mage with the flaming staff; others wandered back outside or up the stairs. I found an empty chair on the edge of the room and began to consider the implications of what had happened. What had Ebony meant by a second darkness? The only other such darkness that I could think of was the Darkness Zone. If that temple is the seed to another such Darkness Zone that now begins to sprout - this is not a good thing. And how was Ebony dealing with the darkness? The more that one discovers about her, the more questions bubble forth... Some time later, Brim slipped into the inn and announced that he was taking over for Ebony. After everyone was gathered back together, he briefly spoke of the effects of having not one, but two mages missing or otherwise occupied. I do not like this - the teachers being drawn away one by one. It is a very worrisome thing to be happening, especially in times such as these. After collecting everyone’s opinions, Brim sent us to look at the lava tubes; interestingly enough, the mage with the staff went as well. The tubes were not very far to walk down the mountain, but still we had a few run-ins with groups of ogres and urukai, as well as several orks. It is good that we have so many experienced adventurers - those groups were little more than a nuisance, and did not pose very much of a threat to us. In some ways, the descent into the lava tubes was more difficult than the encounters with ogres and urukai. Though the track that led into the tubes was not entirely vertical, it was a near thing; a rope had to be draped into the hole as an aid to climbing down. And even if it had not been so steep, the slick surface of old, hardened magma would likely have slipped up all but the most cautious of climbers. Once everyone had descended, we began to creep through the tunnels. We had not long been walking when the dimly lit, shambling shapes of zombies loomed out of the gloom; Ara suddenly turned aside and led me and a few others into a small inlet in the wall where we would be safe from the fighting and unpleasantness that such things bring. When at last the echoes of the skirmish faded, we rejoined the ranks of the adventurers. Together we walked a little more, and soon afterwards came to the dark openings of four side tunnels. Some people, it would seem, had been to this place previously and knew where it was that they wanted to go; without any pause for hesitation, those people all plunged down the same dark hall. The rest of us followed them a little less surely, but still followed nonetheless. When we did catch up to them, we saw them crawling through a tiny hole in the wall. One by one, we all followed suit. It was not a long passage, but it was indeed very narrow and difficult to claw through. When we emerged on the other side, we found ourselves packed together at one end of a cavern; on the other, there was a line of skeletons that stood shoulder to shoulder against one another, forming a wall around some object that we could not properly see. There was not even empty space above their skulls - the ceiling slanted so that the crowns of their heads rested against its stony surface. These skeletons were most certainly undead, not merely empty bones - but unlike the other undead in the lava tubes and nearly every place else, they did not seem hostile. They merely stood still and watched us. Once everyone had made it through the crawlspace, the mage with the staff began to back us all further against the walls so as to make sure that we would not be hit by a spell that he was going to cast. When as everyone was far enough away, he turned to face the skeletons. As he cast the spell, two of the skeletons broke their formation and rushed at him and tackled him; all three went down, and chaos ensued. My only thought was for the breach in the skeletons’ wall - I dove for that gap, as did several of the others. The object that the skeletons were guarding was a stone sarcophagus. Its lid was far too heavy to budge. We did discover a black handprint upon the lid, however; one of the men placed his hand upon it and immediately went rigid. A few moments passed and he pulled away and groaned with pain or discomfort; curious, I placed my hand upon the print once he withdrew completely. As soon as my palm touched the mark, I could feel one of my mana drain away and my hand lock fast into the print’s impression. My vision was swallowed with blackness, and a voice reverberated from some unknown place. It spoke a riddle; the words were, to the best of my memory, “For the chill of my death you shall soon mourn/And as I die, I cannot be borne.” I do not know how much time passed as I turned over the riddle’s words in my mind. Eventually, I decided that the most likely answer was “fire”, and sent that idea out to the voice that had spoken the riddle. A moment later, the blackness fell away and I could see the sarcophagus again; I was able to withdraw my hand from its lid painlessly. Upon pulling my hand away, the lid of the sarcophagus rolled away to reveal a bow and several arrows, one of which identified as magic. I lifted them out, and then those people still remaining in the room trickled out through the crawlspace. The bow and arrows made it even more difficult to navigate, but nevertheless I was able to shuffle my way through. We began to make our way out of the tunnel to try another one. Without warning I heard a noise behind me, then felt the impact of something slamming into my back. After that, there was nothing. ---- EnyariThe crashing sounds of several pairs of feet racing into the inn’s common room shook the entire building. Normally that would’ve announced that the other adventurers had returned, but there weren’t nearly enough footsteps for that to be the case. I picked up my weapon and tiptoed down the stairs in case there was trouble to be had. I peeked around the corner and saw some of the adventurers - a couple of which I recognized - all looking rather frantic. Behind me, the clomping of a few other previously resting adventurers cascaded down the stairs. Evidently, things had not gone especially well down in the lava tubes. Most of the party had been ambushed by undead, drained of their mana, and turned into zombies; the only ones that had managed to escape stood before us now. As they explained, more adventurers drifted over until it became clear that we had a sufficient number of people to attempt to reverse the damage. I ran back upstairs to don my chainmail; seeing as how my mentor had not returned with them, she had apparently managed to get herself turned into a zombie - which meant that I was obligated to rescue her, regardless of what else had happened. Moreover, since she hadn’t dropped the prophecy papers off with me, she’d probably taken them along with her. Idiot. Yet another reason to go attempt to slaughter a plethora of undead despite having no means with which to harm them. Luckily, we didn’t run into any stray squads of orks or other such creatures. It wasn’t long before we clambered down the chute one by one, each of us clinging to a rope and attempting not to trip over our own feet and end up as a bloody heap at the bottom of the slope. Once everybody was down, we clumped together and advanced down the tubes. Zombies are not the quietest of creatures, and we could hear them tripping all over the bumps in the ground long before we finally caught glimpses of them. As per the usual, though, it was what I couldn’t see that ended up taking me out. I know that there was a light puff of air behind me, and then the next memory that I had was sitting up inside a ritual circle on the lip of the entrance to the lava tubes and one of the mages of the elder generation finishing up resurrecting me. How he got me up there I have no idea, and I didn’t think to ask. Once the ritual was completed, I grabbed the rope and made my way back down into the tubes. Any attempt at banding together had clearly long-since dissolved. Either people roamed alone or they were locked in battles with the zombies and what seemed to be specters. Nothing attacked me as I padded my way down the tubes, but I could still feel adrenaline boiling through my blood every time something flickered on the edge of my vision; the possibility of being engaged by an undead and having no way to harm it grated on my nerves. Eventually, I came across a safe haven - a circle of protection - and slipped inside. There were a couple of adventurers there that had managed to avoid zombification by hiding; mostly, however, the circle contained dead bodies. I crouched down to take a better look at them. Nyanar was not among the bodies, which posed problems. Hopefully someone else would find her, since even if I were to go out and try to hunt her down I would be unable to accost her. I was about to sit and wait for someone else to turn up when I realized that I was rationalizing why not to go back out of the circle. It seemed that the zombies scared me more than I thought they had. After all, even if I couldn’t fight, I could still help; the zombies wouldn’t know that I was completely harmless - that meant that, at the very least, I might be able to distract or otherwise inconvenience one in in order to give someone else a chance to escape. The woman in control of the circle of protection opened up a hole for me; I stepped back out, pushing my fear the back of my mind. Surprisingly, the tubes were deserted. Not only were there no adventurers or zombies, but there were no bodies, either. Most of the action, as it turned out, was near the entrance. The specters had vanished, and the zombies had finally all been defeated - the surviving adventurers were working on tying the bodies to the rope and pulling them back up. I checked - my mentor was among the body count - and ran back to give the all clear to the people in the circle of protection. -------- NyanarIt is a wonderful feeling, to breathe. I notice it every time after being resurrected. Of course, breaking through the veil of death is not only rejuvinating, but also a little disconcerting. I reawoke in the mage school rather than the lava tubes that had been the last imprint upon my memory, which caused a brief period of confusion. There is also the matter of making sure that everything is as it should be - are all the limbs still attached properly? Has anything important been stolen? I was relived to find that my limbs were indeed still attached and that the satchel containing my notes was undisturbed. And my spellstones - no. My spellstones were still there, but they felt...different. Off. Perhaps spellstones can be tampered with; it seemed to be a good idea to find someone that would know of such things. Upon leaving the resurrection room, one of the scholarly-minded nature mages of the adventurers intercepted me and said that an old paper had been found in the lava tubes, and that he and several others were gathering in a room to examine it. I followed him to the gathering place and found my companions - as well as the unfamiliar mage with the staff, which I thought quite interesting - huddled around the paper. The paper was only pieces - it was torn, and the top third of it was missing. As we looked at it more closely, it became clear that it was some kind of journal entry, evidently by a barbarian. It was clearly from some time ago; the Dark City was referenced. Celendil, dragons, Dagdeoth, and vampires featured in the entry as well - it sounded as if this person was working with some army force to take down vampires and possibly the Dark City as well. In terms of unknowns, it also mentioned a person named “Thistle” and the acronym “A.M.” The acronym in particular was of interest; none of us knew anything about it, so we went in search of a historian. The historian could not help us with the name Thistle, but he was able to tell us about Feanorian attacking the Dark City. The time from which the entry, it seemed, was likely during an unsuccessful attack; the way in which it fell apart was interesting. The Feanorian forces had gathered near the Dark City and were preparing for an assault. Some time before this, they had come by some very powerful, apparently flawless weapons - weapons that were not in fact flawless and had likely been planted by the Dark City. The weapons would give the owner a lawful evil subpersonality that would surface only after a time of great stress. The night before the attack, the Dark City cast a spell that, for a very brief moment, caused those forces to have a surge of emotional agony and crisis - which made those subpersonalities emerge. The army then effectively ate itself from the inside out, and that was the end of that. It is a very well-devised tactic, that. There was a moment of silence in the room at that point, and my mind briefly turned back to my tainted spellstones - they felt worse. Too warm, perhaps, or dirty in some way; I felt an urge to take them somewhere and bury them. The moment passed, however, when more questions were asked of the historian. We also asked about the acronym. It seemed likely that they were initials, so we asked if the historian knew of any people with the initials A.M. or at least initials ending with those; there was nothing to be gleaned from that question. The historian was making to leave when we realized that it might not be a name, but rather an organization - we asked before he could depart fully, and as it turned out, there was an organization with the acronym “H.A.M.” - the Hobbit Abolitionist Movement. It was created to free hobbit slaves from Svodlun by any means necessary, and during the reign of the Dark City, from there as well. It was an old organization, the historian said; it was unknown whether or not it was still in existence. After that, he left. There was an assassin among us, and she left to see if she could find someone that could lead us to H.A.M. if it was indeed still in existence. Some time later, she came back saying that she was set to meet someone at a restaurant the following day. That done, I returned to my room in the inn; it was unlikely, I thought, that the adventurers were still active this night, as darkness was beginning to roll over the sky. In any case, I was weary - and there was a weight upon my mind that was becoming far too heavy to allow for any such exertion. Upon returning to the room, I found a small, wooden box and a square of cloth. I wrapped the cloth around my hand and extracted the spellstones from my cloak pocket, depositing them into the box. On each transfer, it felt as if a burning coal was dropped into my body - as if a fire was beginning to catch inside of me. Once they were all in the box, I closed it and tied it tightly shut with the cloth; for a moment, I merely glared at it, then could not stand to set eyes upon it any longer. I picked up the box and, with all the force I could summon, hurled it against the wall. The box shattered, leaving the spellstones in plain sight. Magic! I cannot stand the presence of it! It is not merely my own spellstones that are tainted, but all spellstones and those monstrous people that would use them! I knew, then, that there was a task that must be done - but I did not have the appropriate tools. I wended my way through the hall to a place where it was certain that I could find what I required. ---- EnyariIt had been an extraordinarily long day - the longest I’d had in many months. Not only had there been the curse on the city, the disappearance of Jonas Stormshank, the statue at the temple, and the lava tubes, but Melissa had just finished threatening us with a morganti dagger. Someday, I’ve got to do something about her - but not just yet. Not just yet. Not now, when Pinnale is so shorthanded. Given the way that the day had gone so far, I didn’t think that it could possibly get any worse. I tromped up the stairs to my rented room to go find some release from the world in sleep, and discovered that the day was, indeed, capable of falling even further down the mountain. The door to my room was ajar, and I could hear the noises of someone rummaging through my possessions inside. A thief. Of course, a thief. I drew my wakasashi and moved to push the door open and capture the intruder - only to see Nyanar pawing through everything. She turned towards me; her eyes alighted upon the blade. A crazed look crossed her face, and then she rushed at me and grabbed for the blade. Being that I was caught completely by surprise, she managed to pry it out of my hands. Just when I thought that events couldn’t possibly become any more bewildering - I should really know by now not to make such judgements - she turned the weapon around so that the blade was poised over her belly. There was no time to consider what on earth had gotten into her. I ran forwards and slammed into her, which sent both of us tumbling down onto the floor and the weapon soaring across the room. Nyanar started desperately scrabbling for it, even going so far as to snarl at me - but I got to the weapon first. Moments later she was clawing at me, trying to pull it away from me once again; left with no choice, I punched her in the head as hard as I could with the hilt. She crumpled into a heap on the floor, unconscious. After slipping the weapon back into its sheath, I tied my mentor’s limbs together and began to drag her up to the mage school. I’d have said at that point that the day couldn’t possibly end any more horribly, but to be frank, if I said anything it’d probably find a way to do so. That was the last thing that I needed - that anyone needed - now that our situation was so dire. We are balanced on the edge of a cliff; the slightest misstep, and everything is going to come tumbling down.
Campout Chronicle #1: 06/27/10 (June 2010) - We woke up the Stone Dragon and heard the poem-thing that we got a few months back (with the parts for the everyone and then for the girls and for the guys). There are some new lines in there.
- We also re-heard the song that the minstrels sang and have the entire thing; apparently the dream section is only from "I am the now" to "The dream is yours", which makes everything make a lot more sense.
- We have tablet pieces and a Ruby Medallion of Torm. But keep hush-hush about them!
--- (Some Weeks Previously)NyanarI cannot get that song out of my head. Ever since I heard those minstrels play, the tune has reverberated within my mind again and again. It is strangely reminiscent of the dream-vision that we had in Celendil; and, though I cannot remember the dream, I can sense it in the song. It is... not quite the same, I think, but it is close enough. This, and the exact words slip my mind. It seems that the minstrels have moved on, and so I cannot ask them to sing it again; perhaps, however, they can be found by the others. This day, we walked to the temple that houses the Stone Dragon. It had been long since I have come this way, and yet I still could remember the smallest details - though much has changed, these twenty years. Some flowers formerly blossoming along the path to the temple have died and not been revived; I miss their bright, sun-smiling faces. The paths themselves seem to have fallen into slight disrepair, though perhaps it is merely my own perception and memory at fault. And, of course, the faces found among the priests and priestesses of the temple were different. There are some new, some changed, and some gone entirely from the temple’s presence; though, this is to be expected. My companions and I asked one of the priestesses about the Stone Dragon that slumbered curled around a pillar at the far end of the temple - had it awoken at any time during these past years? It had, she said. It woke periodically - sometimes every few years, sometimes yearly, sometimes every few moons. When it wakes it makes a round of the temple and the grounds; walks around the perimeter of the Skull Demon’s holding area, and does the task that it was created for. When it returns to its spot it echoes its refrain - “Payment is due” - absorbs a follower, and falls back into its sleep. It awakens more often when Roekron has been in greater danger; recently, it has been stirring every moon. Together, we walked the path that it ever takes around the temple. At last, when we stood before its rocky talons, Kyrin Silverwind and Oreyn Fenwë and I wrapped our cloaks around ourselves, laid down upon the floor, and let ourselves slowly drift off into dreams with the Stone Dragon. It took some time, disconcerting as it was to be gazed at by the attendants; nevertheless, eventually sleep took us. Oreyn and I awoke within the grasp of a dream, though at first we could not tell it was a dream; we stood inside the same temple, though now it was deserted of any soul save ourselves. Outside, there was naught but an endless stream of grey; occasionally, flickers of movement coursed through it, but it was otherwise inscrutable. Before us stood the Stone Dragon, awake as well and standing upon the floor. It looked at us with those curiously color-shifting eyes, and then uttered a single word: “Why?”. Gazing up at it, I answered: “To dream. To seek. To find.” Once more, the Stone Dragon asked: “Why?” Oreyn answered, “To survive.” The dream slipped from our grasp, and we descended back into our bodies. This time we woke truly, inside the world of physical things. The Stone Dragon now stood roused upon the floor as it had in the dream. A moment later, Kyrin woke as well; startled, she scrambled to her feet and cried “My God, the Stone Dragon!”. Another companion - Batgirl was her name, if I recall aright - flew to the ceiling and hung from it upside-down, clinging to it with her clawed feet. After a moment of silence, the Stone Dragon repeated again that single word - “Why?”. As I pondered its question, another of my companions nudged me and indicated my satchel, miming writing; I drew a piece of parchment and a charcoal stick from it and handed it to her. She and the others began scrawling unspoken messages on it, passing it back and forth between them. I continued to think, and eventually turned back to the Stone Dragon and answered, “To heal.” The Stone Dragon rumbled, “To heal whom?” This puzzled me; it was not whom that I had in mind, but rather what. Looking back upon it now, I perhaps should have answered otherwise - but there is naught that can be done about it now. In reply, I said, “Not whom, but what; to heal the poison.” The Stone Dragon then turned to Batgirl and murmured, “Remember”. Then it spoke in a three-chorused voice that rose and fell in a manner such as ocean waves as it echoed through the temple - the words caught and hooked upon my memory, and I recognized them as the words spoken in the dream that so many of us had had several moons previously. I grabbed the parchment and charcoal from Kyrin’s hands and began to, as quickly as I could, scribe down those lines. The Dragon spoke quickly, and I found later that many of the lines that I had so furiously scribbled down were ones that we already knew; but several important gaps began to fill in. It also happened that Batgirl’s familiar - a parrot - had memorized much of the latter portion of the dream-words; it repeated them back, and though it could not mimic those three shining chords that the Stone Dragon spoke in, the tone of voice that it repeated the words in was eerily similar in the way that it swelled and diminished. In this way, I was able to scrawl down a few more lines. This, now, is what those lines read, though much may be misplaced or missing altogether in my attempted reconstruction: There was a time when we were other than this We were less, and more Stronger, and more fragile We have become what we were And we have joined what we had undone. Our presence... ...Secrets to be kept in the dark... ... There was a plan Those of those who made the plan No longer agree with the plan It is unjust, unloved, it lies The sleepers awake We destroyed them so they could sleep And then use them in their time of need They are moving toward the center And the sleepers no longer obey their master The game has gone beyond ... Unless we bring the light forth We charge you, those of the now To change that which is waking Fear nothing but your self You are the betrayal, the (...), the lies.The silence in the aftermath of the echo of those words was nearly as loud as those words themselves; it was thick and drew itself around all those present like a cloak against a nighttime wind. I braced myself for what I knew must come next. As it has done time and time before, it would ask for payment - and I was prepared to offer myself to allow my companions to carry it onwards. Those words rung out: “Payment is due.” But the Stone Dragon turned to Batgirl as it said this. It was Batgirl and her familiar that it absorbed; then, slowly, it rose and curled back around its pillar. As we watched, its scales that had been shimmering and pliable with life began to harden and cool, locking the Dragon into place. I looked once more at those ever-shifting, multicolored eyes and then they were obscured by the stony shells of its eyelids as, once more, the Dragon resumed its sleep. ---- The First Day Enyari StaráflurSuppertime at the local tavern is generally a noisy affair - tonight more so than most. Merrymakers, drunkards, and brawlers, most of them rowdy with drink, filled the common room up to its eaves with shouts and laughter. At this rate, it seemed unlikely that even if those minstrels arrived that anyone would be able to hear them over the din. ‘Though I did manage to have a brief conversation with one of the other, more civilized adventurers - Razerock was his name - that I hadn’t yet had a chance to meet. That, and I managed to bump into that idiot ranger Marcus again, and he seized this unexpected opportunity to insult me. Again. Swords were drawn, and had the innkeeper not told us to sheath it or take it outside we’d likely have dueled on the spot. Instead, we settled for exchanging glares as we stalked to opposite corners of the tavern. It took some time before the minstrels - or minstrel, rather, since only one was able to make it - arrived. When he finally entered he made his way over to the common fire, and the patrons began to gather around him in a tight circle. I nudged my way in between some of the other adventurers. The minstrel announced that he had two pieces tonight; the first, a song that was an original piece that he and his partner had written. The second, one of the more popular poems on the Roekron mainland right now - “Seekers of Many Things” - written by Lady Miri of Amir. After clearing his throat, he began to sing that first song: A lady she was, traveling through the trees Long she walked and watched upon me Till at that point when the sun fades away She raised her voice in a song of the ley “I am the now and the past cries out As I have become so she must be now It is the beginning to the start of the end She has died and her I must defend Before she is born to other than my daughters In this I will watch, and in this I cast others But the shadow moves as well, it I cannot hold Keep it from the future, from growing old The mind will betray you, be careful of thee The dream is yours, my fair young ladee” Then she strode to the tree and she bade it farewell I shall never forget that lass at the well.That sounded pretty similar to the song that Nyanar had instructed me to watch out for; I resolved to try to speak to him about it after he finished with the poem. The poem, as it turned out, was about a group of five adventurers with a sixth companion. As far as I could tell from the one recitation, they ended up being torn apart by some kind of unsuccessful love affair. Couldn’t tell for sure, though; poetry has never been my forte. Afterwards, many people dispersed and went back to whatever business they had been attending to before the minstrel arrived. I and a group of some of the mages approached the minstrel and asked about his song. It had come to after he woke up, he said - many of his ideas for songs do. This one he’d gotten in Celendil; that’s where he’d gotten the idea for the trees and the forest. Evidently, parts of the beginning and end were things that he added on to the original in order to create a sense of setting and continuity. Pressed further, he defined the original as being nearly everything inside the “song of the ley”, ending with “The dream is yours”. I suspect that Nyanar will be very happy to know that, especially since I managed to procure a written copy of the song from the minstrel. It’s amazing, the difference that a few lines can make in the meanings of these things. He also talked a little of the poem, as well. The subjects of the poem were real people and real adventurers from the Second Age. The lot of them had some kind of special items that the minstrel described as ‘finder items’ or ‘pointer items’, which were rumored to be sentient. They were using these items to locate a couple of books that contained amazing quantities of experience and knowledge, it was thought. The main focus of the poem - the human - was the only female among them; her name was Penelope Ravenblade. She was named so because she had a morganti blade named “Ravenwing” - a rather special one that was, according to history, only morganti for undead. Interesting form of morganti, that. Anyway, Ravenblade and the sixth companion ended up falling in love, but were unable to be together for some reason. One theory is that the sword ended up jealous of the sixth companion and Ravenblade was forced to hide her love for him and to turn away his advances - I personally haven’t a clue, but that sounds pretty reasonable. And really, I was impressed with what the minstrel had managed to dig up about the poem. For someone that was not trained as a historian, that’s quite a feat. The conversation between us and the minstrel dwindled down soon afterwards, and we drifted off. Not five minutes later, I heard a familiar voice outside the tavern door - for some reason, Lord Embarcarious Petrafloutous was paying a visit. He finished tying up some issue with a skeleton - not sure what that was about - and then he entered and settled himself by the fire where the minstrel had been. Once again, the adventurers gathered around in something resembling a mushy circle. One of the first orders of business was the subject of teachers. With Ebony exorcised, Jonas dead, Brim an outlaw, and Melissa on leave chasing him - hate her as I might, may the gods be with her on her hunt - Lord Petrafloutous was left trying to cope with far too many teacherless classes in addition to his other duties. Luckily, there were a couple mages among us that were sufficiently experienced to become teachers. From there, he began to tell us of a former teacher of Storm Mages that was going to be visiting the following day: Laura White-Locks. She seems a rather prestigious woman; in addition to being a great mage and a teacher, she also stepped up to serve on the Wizard Trade Order after Eliyana Starlight left to deal with the elves. That opened up the subject matter to the incredibly messy world that is politics and current events. Evidently, the fact that Laura White-Locks was now on the Wizard Trade Order was a matter of some controversy; that makes for two hobbits on the Order - and given that Hostor doesn’t belong to the Wizard Trade Order, they could push through standards that Hostor wouldn’t have to follow. And honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that the Order sounds more corrupt the more you hear about it, I might agree with the protestors. But speaking of corruption, apparently Svodlun has been attempting to cover up the real reasons behind the disastrous weather up north. It seems there was an island discovered that was generating huge quantities of mana every day, and the dwarves quickly started setting up taps for all that mana. In their haste, they crisscrossed everything together and the whole operation blew up in their faces, sending tons upon tons of mana into the air and water - thus the weather. This causes several problems in addition to the weather, it’d seem. For starters it’s been mutating the animals into some kind of mana-twisted drakespawn. There are also huge patches of mana with a mana-free buffer zone around them. They suck all the mana out of you, would probably overload and evaporate you if you survived being drained of mana and you encountered the actual mana-patch, and then if you survived that you’d have another manaless zone. The patches haven’t hit Hostor as of yet, as luck would have it - and hopefully, they’ll disperse before they can make it here. I shudder to think of what would happen if they did pass over Hostor. The talk dwindled, and our little nook inside the tavern became a bubble of silence for a few seconds. Then Lord Petrafloutous began to talk about something that he had been working on but no longer had time to pursue - he wouldn’t say what, exactly - and that maybe some of us could look into it in his absence. He asked for the mages with 11 levels or higher to come with him; a knot of people rose and followed him out the door, presumably up to the mage school. I’d have come with them, except that I’m not a mage. Never mind that I’m acting on Nyanar’s behalf and that if she were here instead of traipsing all around the countryside, she’d go right along! But really, this is the right way to do things; making exceptions to the rules is a tricky, tricky business and more often better not done at all. Everyone that hadn’t gone up to the mage school slowly dispersed around the tavern again. I spent a little more time examining the song and poem by the firelight; I was about to gather up my cloak and return to the inn when one of the mages that had gone with Lord Petrafloutous - Oreyn Fenwë - diverted me to the mage school. We went into the room to which the mages had gone to look at; everyone was still there, examining what looked like a couple of chunks of stone and some kind of amulet. One of the pieces of stone was passed to me. Upon closer inspection it seemed not to be a mere stone at all; it looked like part of some kind of tablet. The mages said that it registered as being magical, but only just barely. It also had writing on it - writing that appeared to have, rather than been carved into the stone - actually written into it while the rock was still hot and malleable. Most of the words were unintelligible given that they had been split in half at the edges of the piece, though the word “sand” was discernible. I haven’t any idea what that means; Lord Petrafloutous said that he would be getting in another shipment of pieces tomorrow. Maybe if we can figure out how they all fit together, we can figure out what exactly this tablet is. After I passed the piece of the tablet onwards, one of the mages handed me the amulet. The stone set into it was a bright red ruby that slowly pulsed with some kind of inner light - pulsation, I realized, that matched my heartbeat. That realization was a little discomforting and I did my best to shove it to the back of my mind as I looked at the rest of the amulet. It had a sentence inscribed on it in tiny writing in some language that I couldn’t read; it looked as if it might be rooted in Dwarven, but maybe not a strain that I was familiar with. One of the mages explained to me that it was called a “Ruby Medallion of Torm”, and that it was found buried in some mounds in the vicinity of the Wet Mountains. People thought that it belonged to some kind of ancient cult of the Wet Mountain Dwarves in the early Second Age. The writing had been translated as “Find the way, I dream of doors, I keep my dreams and I aspire”. And unlike the tablet, this was certainly magic: it gave the wearer an empathic ray and jumpstart heal (as well as creeping you out by making you aware of your own heartbeat!), though it was un-gluable and attracted thieves. We were asked to look into these items in Lord Petrafloutous’s place - and to keep quiet about them, lest our activities draw unwanted attention. I’m not certain that, if that’s the case, I should be writing about this so plainly or even at all in the event that someone should stumble upon it and look through it - but I think that I’ll chance it. I hate coding things, and this should be recorded in some way at least so that we can keep track of what we know about it as we try to learn more of its history. This sort of business has a horrible habit of becoming more complicated the more you find out about it, and if you’re not careful everything gets mixed up and nobody knows what’s going on anymore. Once everyone had finished, we all filed out of the room. Lord Petrafloutous locked it behind us, and then we each went our separate ways. I returned to the inn, as I was originally planning on doing - which is, of course, where I am now. I’ve stored the transcripts of the song and the poem away safely, to be looked at sometime later. It’s off to try to find some sleep; if those tablet pieces come in tomorrow, it should prove to be a busy day.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 17:28:42 GMT -8
The Second Day (June 2010 Campout, Day 2)
Enyari Staráflur
Overland travel nearly always turns out to be interesting. As was decided last night, we were traveling to pick up and escort Lord Embarcarious Petrafloutous’s shipment. It was still early when we left - early enough that it was still the mostly-dark light of the pre-dawn hours. Pinnacle was only just beginning to stir, which made an eerie, empty contrast to the bustle of the afternoons and evenings. The hope was not only that we would return sooner, but that we might be able to avoid many of some of the more aggressive of Hostor’s residents by passing them by before they were fully active for the day.
Plans of any kind never work out exactly as you mean them to, though. We did run into a few creatures and had a couple of small battles, but they were relatively tame and we can out mostly unscathed. Not all of the creatures were hostile, either; somewhere in the nexus of wet, dew-slicked hills we bumped into a giant that was looking for herbs. He seemed a nice enough fellow, and we spent a few precious minutes rooting through the plant life to help him find more. Not much time had passed when we heard a couple of unfamiliar shouts. I stood up, bundle of plants that I hoped were herbs in hand, and saw a pair of people from the law enforcement running over. They seemed suspicious of the giant and as a result suspicious of us; at first they didn’t believe us when we told them that we were helping the giant find herbs (most of us had stopped collecting herbs and instead switched to spectating). Pointedly, I walked up to the giant and handed it my handful of plant matter. They left us alone after that - and soon after, we moved on.
Eventually we found a merchant carrying a chest; assuming that this was the shipment that we were looking for, we took it off his hands and the amazons among our number flew it back to Pinnacle. The rest of us started the trudge back. Maybe halfway back to the city, we saw the shapes of those same amazons again; when they landed, they said that we’d gotten the wrong shipment - the one that we were looking for would be at the docks. That was that; we turned around again and headed for them.
By the time we arrived, the activity around the docks was already up and lively. After the long stretches of quiet in the open land, the hustle and bustle and noise of the docks was a little shocking. We found the right merchant reasonably quickly, ad after his crew unloaded the goods - contained in two chests and two large carts - we once again started back towards Pinnical. The chests were flown back by the amazons, who all took off immediately; the carts were too big to transport in such a manner. One of said carts was towed along by a man that somehow had the means to grow until he was twice as big as even the tallest member in the party; I and another man pulled along the other.
Some ways down the road back, an ork crashed out of the brush along the path. Startled, I and a few others reached for our weapons - but the ork did not attack. Instead, he nervously told us that along the path up ahead there was a gang of urukai and that we might be better served by taking an alternate route. Stupidly, we ignored his cautionary words and kept plowing ahead on the same route. Sure enough, just a little ways further along there was a sudden flurry of movement near the front and half the party took off running with swords in hand. I was at the back - lugging that cart made it a necessity - and thus couldn’t see what was going on. As more people left guarding the carts to rush into the skirmish, it was easier to watch - that, and it looked like the fight was creeping closer.
That wasn’t good.
Simply watching and guarding the cart while waiting for the fight to come to me frayed my nerves. My adrenaline and battle-sense were up, but I couldn’t fight; I had chosen to guard the cart, and couldn’t leave it now. I couldn’t stay still, though, watching the battle. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, tightened and relaxed my grip on my wakasashi, and waited and looked on as the others succumbed tot he tide of violence and one by one dropped down to the ground. At last, one urukai came too close; as he and one of my companions danced nearer, they crossed some invisible line of which I was not previously aware and I lunged at him. For a brief moment we locked blades, and then he slipped his past mine and ripped his sword across my torso.
When our resident life mage revived me I found myself sprawled in the dirt. I didn’t remember falling, but I suppose that through the fug of pain of the wound I wouldn’t have. Once we were all healed up and back on our feet, we had a brief conference and decided to try to track down the urukai and take back the stolen carts. They had a head start on us, yes, but with those carts they’d both be slower and making huge tracks. Once the trail was picked up, it was pretty easy going and we caught up to them quickly. The scuffle that followed was much more successful on our part; we managed to incapacitate them, at which point we took the carts and continued traversing the remaining distance back to Pinnical.
Upon arrival, a hobbit inspected everything. He found several secret compartments in the chests and carts, most of which contained more pieces of the tablet; another contained an elder sorcery scroll that might’ve had a dispelling spell on it - though once he looked closer, he found a second secret compartment there and pulled out another tablet piece. Once we were pretty sure that all of them had been found, we slipped up to the room with the other pieces and began trying to fit them together.
It became clear pretty quickly that we didn’t have all of the pieces yet, and that a significant number were still missing. There was one large piece, though, that was rather interesting: it looked as if a crater had been smashed into the center, or maybe some word purposefully removed. The irregularity was cause for mild concern, although we wouldn’t know what exactly what might belong there until we had the complete tablet. Hoping to at least get an outline, we shuffled the pieces around and tried to match up likely-seeming words and sentence-ordering together - but it didn’t really work. There were still far too many pieces missing. That decided, we all rose from the table and left the room again, locking the door safely shut behind us.
As we walked through the halls towards the doors from the school to the town, we were stopped by a hobbit wearing an elaborate cloak and leaning on a walking stick. He introduced himself to us as historian Gavin Whitecloud; Lord Embarcarious Petrafloutus had apparently suggested to him that we might want to talk to him. The lot of us wended our way through the streets until we came to the tavern - at this hour, it was relatively quiet - and we seated ourselves around the table and began to talk.
First, we asked him about aspects of the poem that the minstrel had read last night - “Seekers of Many Things” - and what he knew of them. He told us that the items that they had were called Pathfinder Items; there was a ring, a cloak, a shield, a sword, and a staff. They allowed the user to triangulate the location of any object or even any concept, but only up to a certain point. The North Star in the poem referred to a man named Eden; he had an item that could give the exact those same objects or concepts as long as they were nearby. Working together, they were able to find a great many powerful items. But, as the poem said, Eden and Penelope Ravenblade were forced to separate by the sword Ravenwing, which marked the end of their partnership. After this, the original five disappeared into very dangerous uncharted territory around Teriock. We also asked about the lion shields; the shields actually had the forms of lion heads on them, and those heads were capable of biting and even eating other beings.
We moved on to the sword, Ravenwing, and its origins. Whitecloud explained that most of the morganti in existence was forged by Merigrad, son of Astengrad; Merigrad was taught the secret of morganti-making by a dwarf named Hragnor. It was said that Merigrad was obsessed with making the “perfect morganti”, and it is possible that he eventually achieved this feat - though nobody is quite certain. He also admired the archmage of the Grey Isles, Gristodemdal, and even studied under him for some time.
From there, we proceeded to the topic of Dagdeoth and the Dark City. The two had a long history together; what I find interesting is that they eventually split apart and had a civil war. Afterwards, they went on a manhunt - or “something-hunt”, anyway - that lasted 20 years, with the Dark City eventually finding that which they were looking for. Soon afterwards, the Dark City effectively ate itself from the inside out, and nobody knows why. It might have been a special force from Dagdeoth, or political disagreements from within the Dark City, or perhaps that which had been hunted for 20 years was somehow involved; nevertheless, that was the end of that.
A creature named Broden also came up. Broden was an Elder Vampire thought to have been created by the Three; he turned on his creators when Dagdeoth and the Dark City split. Broden was the source of many of the vampires created. Carakwaiths also came up; apparently, the Dark City was the only place with the knowledge of carakwaith creation. Another piece of history that he mentioned involving carakawaiths came up - some time ago, a group of very powerful mages went under Krodigros and ended up trapped there. When they finally came out, the lot of them were carakwaiths - and given that only the Dark City knew how to create such beings, it was theorized that perhaps part of the Dark City was present underneath the city.
At that point, we realized that the tavern had begun to fill up and that we were fighting the ever-increasing noise. We departed to seek a quiet nook elsewhere, and ended up back at the mage school. Inside the room, there was another historian perusing a pile of books; she said that she didn’t mind us using the room as well, as long as we were quiet.
We asked about aspects of the Ruby Medallion of Torm after that - starting with the Wet Mountain Dwarves. This race, Whitecloud said, was obscure and not much was known about them. Though their origins were not known, it is certain that they are very old and were present in the First Age; sometime artifacts or pieces of a material called glimmerstuff were found that attested to this. The possibility that they might be related to another race of dwarves had been thought over - perhaps descended from the Mountain Dwarves that survived the genocide that the Polar Dwarves had attempted to carry out. The writing of the Wet Mountain Dwarves was a strain of dwarven that was similar to but didn’t quite match the languages of the other dwarven races. It’s possible that one strain of known dwarven spawned the others or that they all came from another, more ancient language.
As for the cult that the medallion came from - just as with the Wet Mountain Dwarves, not much was known about either them or what seemed to be their motto - that inscription on the medallion, “Find the way, I dream of doors, I keep my dreams and I aspire.” We began to puzzle over what this might mean; a moment of silence descended upon us, and then the historian that had been poring over her books piped up suggesting that it might be a mistranslation; more specifically, that “aspire” might instead be “a spire”.
Hinging on her suggestion, we looked over a map of the Wet Mountains, searching for any peak - or spire, as the case may be - that could have been prominent enough to be involved in a cult of the Wet Mountain Dwarves. After looking over the many mountains in the Wet Mountain range and finding nothing that seemed to fit, noticed a pair of mountains to the west that were very simply named “the Spires”. Oreyn Fenwë postulated that those might be the spires that the inscription spoke of - that, perhaps, they were a place of pilgrimage for the Wet Mountain Dwarf cultists.
Someone else suggested that if you substituted the word “dwarves” so that the phrase instead read “Find the way, I dream of dwarves, I keep my dwarves and I a spire”, that it still made a lot of sense. Curious, I asked about the dwarves’ creation story; Whitecloud replied that the dwarves believed that they had arisen from the mountains. When keeping in mind the possibility of double meanings or mistranslations, the creation story and the “dwarf” version of the motto lined up quite neatly; maybe the reason that the dwarves could have possibly revered the Spires was that the might have thought that one of the Spires was their birth mountain.
Soon after that, we realized while we had come up with theories as to what the inscription referred to, we still had no idea where the name came from - what a “Torm” was. We looked at the map again, hoping to see some landmark named “Torm” - and then realized that, while there was no “Torm”, the word “Storm” could be seen in several places. Likely, it was another mistranslation.
After that, we couldn’t think of anything more that we might be able to find out about the medallion unless we journeyed to the Spires. There was still a little time left before we would need to meet Lord Petrafloutous down at the inn, and so we asked Gavin Whitecloud about a race of people that he called the “Huro-Malak”. In theory, Roekron “discovered” them in the Fourth Age when a teleportation spell in Dsesnor went wrong and traded the person to be teleported with one of the Huro-Malak. However, it seemed that the Wizard Trade Order had known about them for centuries before that and had in fact instigated a genocide of them, leaving very few survivors. Again - the more you learn about the Order, the more corrupt they seem. In any case, a boatful of the Huro-Malak also landed on Hostor near the end of the Fourth Age. They encountered a carakwaith and, due to some kind of undead-withering aura that they seem to have, were able to kill it. What I found interesting thing is that, despite the strange powers that they have in regards to undead, they are merely humans. I wonder if those powers have any relation to why the Wizard Trade Order wanted to eliminate them.
Once Whitecloud finished explaining the Huro-Malak, our extra time had run out and we left to go into the town and the inn where Lord Petrafloutous would be send us out. Most of our companions had arrived before us - no sign of the head of the school yet - and we joined their ranks. He arrived not long afterwards; accompanying him was a mage that appeared to be a stork. Lord Petrafloutous introduced her to us; her name was Iakona - but she said later that we could call her Yuck, and so I shall call her that. Lord Petrafloutous also reminded us that Laura White-Locks would also be in Pinnical later in the evening.
When it came to deciding what we would be looking into, it was a reasonably smooth process and a decent majority. There was a Sorikonian Martial Master up in the mountains of Hostor, and nobody knew why he was there. Given that he would have had to travel a long way, that which he was here for must be important - and it might be something that we could help with.
Soon enough, we were on our way; the trek there was relatively uneventful, for which I am thankful. Clambering up the sides of mountains is energy-sapping enough without having to fight the whole way through as well. When we finally found the Sorikonian Martial Master, it was from some distance away; he was the tiny figure walking unharmed amongst many other creatures that were very much larger. Between the distance that we first sighted them at and the slight haze of the air, it was difficult to determine what exactly they were. Instead of proceeding up the main track to them with most of the rest of the party, I chose to take a slightly longer and slightly less trodden path - probably some kind of animal trail - in order to avoid a direct confrontation that might possibly upset them. Especially since I suspected that I would be greatly outmatched by any one of them, whatever they were.
Going up side path turned out to be a rather slow process, as I had to watch carefully to make sure that I didn’t step on a loose rock and go flying off the cliff to meet a speedy death some hundreds of feet below. Up until the last ten feet or so of the path, I was successful in avoiding notice; but as soon as I climbed up over the lip of the tiny plateau upon which everyone was now located, one of the creatures took offense at my presence and expediently sent me spiraling into unconsciousness. Within less than a minute a life mage managed to revive me for a whole ten seconds before the creature tromped over once again to take us both down. By the time another of our companions brought us both back into a state of awareness, most of the creatures had been taken care of in some form or another and a group was gathering around the Sorikonian Martial Master; I walked over to join them.
He was here, he said, to investigate some kind of power imbalance. He didn’t yet know what exactly that imbalance was, but he could sense it. In addition, he was searching for a stolen katana and wakasashi that was of some importance to his order. Teris Fenwë asked if he had been in the Odilwatch mountains, since recently there had been a Sorikonian Martial Master wandering there as well; he responded that he hadn’t been in that part of the world and that it was probably his brother. There was some brief confusion about familial brothers versus the idea of a brotherhood, but after that was cleared up several people began to explain to him the circumstances that surrounded their encounter with the other Master. Just like the rubies in the Medallion of Torm, it was bright red and pulsed to the beat of your heart - but unlike them, it was a rather large stone. The other Master had put the stone into a shrine. According to the Martial Master that stood before us, that must mean that the stone was a very good thing.
He then asked for our help; he was heading for a tomb that contained yet another object that he was seeking. We agreed, and followed him down the mountain. Eventually we ended up in an uninhabited village. It was clearly old, as the houses appeared to be built in a different style from many of the more modern houses. In its deserted state, it was also slowly crumbling and falling apart as the weather wore it away. The Sorikonian Martial Master wended his way through the streets almost as if he were familiar with the place, and certainly as if he knew exactly where he was going. We ended up, as expected, at the entrance to a tomb. It was tiny, and we had to file in one at a time. I waited patiently at the back behind the clog of people trying to get in first; while I stood there, one of my companions handed me a silver dagger, saying that he wouldn’t need it. A wave of gratefulness washed over me; I had been dreading going into the tombs and likely facing something that I had no way of disabling, should it come to that - namely, undead - and that dagger relived a little of that trepidation.
Still, though, I had to fight against the rising tide of apprehension when it was finally my turn to squeeze through the tiny opening into the tomb. The fact that the tomb seemed to consist of many narrow, winding stone passageways did little to mollify that insecurity - I hate having my range of vision limited. The one thing that was reassuring was that the tomb wasn’t completely dark; small chunks of ceiling had fallen out, leaving gaps that allowed a little sunlight in. I suppose another advantage of the stonework in the tomb was that it magnified noise so that what I couldn’t see I could at least hear. Most of what I could hear now were the multitudes of heavy footsteps belonging to those of my companions that had entered first. Cautiously, I began to jog along the passageways in order to catch up with them - both weapons at the ready, just in case.
Just as I caught up with the single-file line of my companions, I saw the first haunt. It reached out towards a man that was two people ahead of me, and when it touched him he shoved back past us and ran screaming - a feartouch. I shuddered and then walked past the haunt, which - thank the gods - took no interest in me. We continued along the passageway a little further until we came to a sharp bend; people were standing still and jammed together, all trying to crane over the heads of their companions to see what was going on ahead. There were vague scuffling noises and then everyone hastily started attempting to back up and run in the opposite direction; someone carrying a chest and being followed by an angry haunt pushed past us.
I and one other man stayed towards the back, trying to fend off the haunt and let everyone else run to safety. It downed my companion, but that gave me the chance to slip my dagger under its guard. The dagger caught - or made contact, anyway - and the haunt faded away. Once I healed my companion we started to run back along the passage towards the entrance; we hadn’t made it very far when we nearly ran right into three haunts all collected together. He managed to run ahead unscathed, but I wasn’t as lucky - one of them wounded me. Just as I was brought back to consciousness, someone violently yanked me backwards and then hit me with a treeform ball; we reverted and kept going once the coast was clear. The haunts were now actively hostile, and we ended up using the treeform ball quite a bit to avoid suffering their wrath. At one point we ended up in a particularly tricky spot, and were it not for the Martial Master coming back to find people we might not have been able to safely navigate through it. Though the process was time-consuming and at times terrifying, eventually my rescuer and I managed to find the entrance to the tomb and hurl ourselves out the doorway.
Most of our companions had already made it out and had seated themselves on the crumbling remnants of a wall that ran next to the tomb. I scanned the people waiting there, and saw more than a few faces missing. Evidently, we were not the last people out of the tomb - which meant that there were still people trapped inside. Reluctantly, I turned back to the entrance. It looked as if maybe a few others had the same idea; several people were attempting to go back inside. They were stalled, however, and there was some sort of chaos going on just inside the tombs. Upon peering over their heads, the situation became clear: there was a haunt guarding the entrance that was dueling anyone that tried to slip through. Eventually, the people ahead of me managed to back out. I slipped around a treeformed mage to meet the haunt, and was immediately challenged to a duel. Neither of us was willing to give the first blow, so we simply stood on guard and glared at each other. Then another haunt crept around the edge of the room and, when it was mere feet away, the samurai-haunt bowed out and the new haunt hurled a spell at me. At the same time, the mage behind me grabbed my shoulder, yanked me backwards, and treeformed me - I love my comrades, I truly do - less than a second before the spell hit. The two haunts backed off long enough for the two of us to hastily back out the doorway again.
Not long afterwards, the Sorikonian Martial Master and the rest of our companions emerged from the doorway, most of them caked in large quantities of stone-dust. The Martial Master said that it wasn’t worth trying to take the object from the tomb now, as the haunts were riled and it would endanger far too many lives. He planned to go back later once the haunts had calmed down and at that point either try to enter by himself or with a very small party.
We started back towards Pinnical at that point. Somewhere along the way, most of the party split off to go investigate a shipwreck since it was on the way back; I didn’t go with them. After all, I had a meeting to make - I had been allowed the honor of accompanying a few others for an evening meeting with Laura White-Locks, and very much didn’t want to miss the hour at which we were supposed to gather.
That, and I was looking forward to taking my armor off. It’s wonderful protection and I’m very happy to have it, but it’s also very heavy and I find that if I wear it I tire much more quickly, even when performing the least strenuous of tasks.
Luckily for those of us heading back straight off, it was a quiet walk. When we reached Pinnical I quickly stopped at the inn to change out of my chainmail, and then headed up the hill to the mage school with Oreyn Fenwë, Kyrin Silverwind, Nina Earthshooter, Iakona and a few of the other adventurers that were invited to come. We navigated through the school’s halls until we came to the room in which Laura White-Locks was located.
The precautions set in place were impressive. We had to walk through three circles of protection just to get into the room, and once we entered we found a giant pentagram drawn on the floor. There was a chair placed in the center of the pentagram, where a woman that was presumably White-Locks was sitting and, presumably, eating dinner. We carefully stepped around and over the numerous candles that were set up as part of the ritual until we reached a few other chairs that had been placed - again, very carefully placed - within easy speaking distance of the chair in the center of the pentagram.
I rather like Laura White-Locks. She seems a very sensible woman with a keen eye, and even if she isn’t one she’s got the mindset of a warrior - serious, sound judgement and, above all, she seems very focused on the task at hand. I admire that in a person. And it goes to show that, even if the Wizard Trade Order as a whole is corrupt, the individuals that fill the seats are good people. Or at least some of them, anyway.
According to her, though, some of them most certainly aren’t. It sounded as if a few of them have recently been intentionally deluging her in paperwork in order to keep her from noticing things that they’d rather she didn’t notice - for example, the catastrophe with the mana well. That, and there have been all sorts of circles to step through that keep getting in the way; on the whole, it sounds like the politics within the Order are a complete mess.
At some point, the conversation transitioned on to the Ruby Medallions - there had been more of them found besides our single one. We began to explain to her the connections that we’d made and what we thought we’d found out, from the historian’s discovery of the mistranslations to the Spires being involved. As soon as the Spires were mentioned, White-Locks’s eyes widened; a book and a quill flew out of her bag, seemingly of their own accord. She told it to write down that something had been discovered about the mountains and that Eliyanna was not to go through with the purchase and was not to go near them, and that she had to meet with her - tonight.
Once the quill wrote everything down in the book and both objects made their way back into the bag, Laura White-Locks turned to us and explained that the Wizard Trade Order has been buying and selling parcels of land, and the the Spires just came up a couple of days previously. Eliyanna Starlight had been looking into buying them - though that looked as if that might not happen, now.
Lord Embarcarious Petrafloutous entered the room and the conversation at that point. The two began to discuss other matters. Eventually, Lord Petrafloutous became very grave; quietly, he said “I have to know.”
An unfamiliar hobbit, then, walking into the room, tottering under the weight of a large box. He placed it in front of Lord Petrafloutous, who then opened it to reveal three daggers of a rather unique design - they were curved all the way through the blade and the handle. Several people gasped harshly as the daggers came into view; one of them whispered to me that those were the same daggers that had been used to exorcise Ebony. The two mages told the hobbit to take one of the blades out; he complied nervously, and gingerly reached into the box and pulled one out. He seemed very uncomfortable with holding it.
Lord Petrafloutous and Laura White-Locks exchanged a look. They then gave some kind of signal to the hobbit, though I can’t remember what exactly it was; the moment is obscured in my recollection by the memory of what happened next.
The hobbit that, just mere moments before, had been handling the dagger with an attitude verging on fear was now very confidently gripping it - as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Swifly he turned to Nina Earthshooter and ripped the blade across the mage’s stomach; intestines and other innards spilled across the floor, and an awful stench rose from the carnage. Everyone else leapt back several feet, some people even knocking over their chairs in that sudden, violent motion.
The movement was an automatic reaction born on the battlefield - but other than that, I found myself frozen in place and unable to move, or even to breathe. Far too many conflicting thoughts were rising up in my head - was Lord Petrafloutous a traitor, just as Brim turned out to be? Of all the mage teachers in the school, he seemed least likely to commit such an act. For that moment, my previous assumptions about him shattered under the strain of that possibility. And what about Laura White-Locks? She had seemed a decent sort of person - but had we been deceived?
I am quite relived to say that that was not the case. Nina Earthshooter, they explained, had been charmed by a vampire. He had been planning to betray us - sabotage a battle, maybe, at a critical moment that might have resulted in the deaths of everyone present. Now that he was exorcised, they went about the task of healing him. Miraculously, he survived - though he had no memory of anything that had happened this year, and seemed a more than a little disoriented. We were dismissed at that point; I explained a little of what had happened to Earthshooter, but quickly went to retire to the peaceful bubble of my room in the inn.
Hopefully, the stress from seeing a companion gutted right in front of my eyes by people I thought were friends - and then being made to question that assumption, especially in light of the recent events surrounding Brim and Ebony - will fade quickly, otherwise I suspect that I will be suffering nightmares all throughout tonight. If, that is, I can get to sleep at all.
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Nyanar
I had, at last, finished a small journey around Hostor, and had not been returned to the inn that I have so recently learned to call my home for very long - I had been back an hour, perhaps, at best - when I heard Embarcarious’s voice float up through the floorboards beneath my feet. It was an unusual occurrence, this, for him to be present at the inn so late - especially now, I would think, that he is the only teacher now here of those five that used to dwell in the high halls of the mage school. I still mourn the passing of Ebony from her place in the school; and, now knowing who she truly was, I respect and mourn for her even more. Brim, too, I pity; I do not know what motivated him to commit such an act as he did, but whatever it might have been is not a thing that any person should have to grapple with. He did so - and he lost. If anything, he is as much a victim as Ebony was.
But I digress. Upon hearing Embarcarious’s voice, I crept down the stairwell to see what was going on. To my surprise, I found the adventurers gathered around him what looked very much like the circle of actions to be taken. This, too, was unusual; most often, when the curtain of night descends upon the soil, everyone retires because of the difficulties involved in traversing the land under cover of darkness. Not this night, it seems.
I slipped in between Oreyn and Kyrin and plied my ear to listen; one of the adventurers was explaining something about what at first sounded to be peaches, which was rather puzzling. It soon became clear that “Peaches” was a name they had bestowed upon a doglike creature that had been animating objects in a supposedly haunted house. They had very nearly brought it into the bounds of the city, but upon seeing the gates, the creature had whimpered and teleported away. Once the man’s telling finished, Embarcarious began to explain what we were to do next.
A Sorikonian Martial Master had entered the town, and was looking for help investigating a grey mage that had been seen wandering around the mountains. Even knowing that perhaps it was not the same thing, I could not help but think of the Grey Mage - of Gristodemdal - when this grey mage was mentioned. Certainly, it was worth investigating. Torches were gathered and lit, the Master met, and then we began to wend our way through the night-tinged tides of land and hill and peak. It was not a peaceful journey, as the cool winds and the gently shimmering starlight would usually have it; rather, it was a journey that tore and clawed at the nerves. For with nighttime, ever more so than daytime, there come many dangers.
Near to halfway through our journey to the mountains, we were attacked. Through the darkness, I could not see what it was that came at us; nor was it easy to distinguish friend from foe, and I very much feared that in throwing a death ray I would kill a companion. The battle took longer than usual, it seemed - though it may have, again, been the darkness distorting our perceptions - but eventually we managed to extract ourselves from its clutches and to proceed onwards.
We followed the Master through the mountains for some time - then, as suddenly as if it had been teleported into place mere moments before, a village came into our line of sight. As we walked through it, the feeling of something found and quickly lost overwhelmed my senses. The village itself, given the architecture and half-created state of the buildings, seemed to have been abandoned until very recently. That, and despite that there were very recent signs of life - freshly tilled earth, a smoking chimney - the village was absolutely deserted. It seemed almost as if a malevolent wind had blown through this place and simply whisked everyone away.
After walking through the outer streets for a time, we came to the center of the village. There, a plethora of haunts roamed the streets. They were of the kind that, as if they are caught in some unfortunate loop of time, were doomed to repeat their demise again and again. As we watched, the people of the town were obliterated by a force invisible to us. Just in front of me, a guard outfitted with full plate armor crumpled and was thrown to the ground. I have seen these kinds of haunts before, but never on the scale of an entire village; it was vaguely disturbing.
After watching a few repetitions, I began to look around the center of town to see if I could find some hint as to what had happened in this place. I found myself facing a storklike mage that introduced herself as Yuck; and, much to my astonishment, when she spoke it was with the same accent that I perceive in my own words. I have never before met another that speaks as I do, and the discovery is somewhat startling to me. Noticing my accent, she asked if I came from Teriock; I replied that I did not know my origins. We talked a further as we walked around the perimeter of the village square; in another curious turn of fate, both of us partook in the both the magery of life and of death. Once we completed our circle of the area, Oreyn and Kyrin drifted over; the four of us banded together and began to look through the streets closer to the outside of town.
At some point during our wanderings, Oreyn and Kyrin turned back towards the others; that left Yuck and me, as well as another man that I had seen but was a rather unfamiliar with, to prowl the outskirts and squint through the vague mist of starlight (for we had no torch) for further peculiarities. As we looked over the road that we had entered from, something stirred in the darkness outside of the village.
Swiftly, we dove behind a hedge; through the gaps in the branches, we watched a figure make its way into the village. From the outline of the figure, I could not tell if it was male or female; it seemed, in truth, to be beyond such bounds. A jester hat was perched upon its head in a manner reminiscent of a carrion crow watching and waiting for something to die; upon its head, there was a pale, ever-smiling doll mask. When it moved, it did not walk; rather, it pranced, almost as if it could slip into the strings of a dance at any moment. It skipped closer; when it was directly in front of us and barely a span away, I peered carefully at its head in hopes of catching a glimpse of the face behind the mask.
I realized then - it had no face.
A shiver paraded up my spine and sent my blood singing with tingles of silver. This mysterious creature - for I was not certain any more that it belonged in the ranks of the normal races - filled my body and mind with an unreasoning sense of dread and, perhaps, even of terror. I do not know why.
We waited until it was safely down the road, then crawled from our place behind the plants and began to trail it down the road. It had entered the village center, now, and the others had gathered around it - though they, too, seemed unnerved by the creature. Swallowing my fear as best I could, I walked up to it and asked, “Who are you?”
It spoke in a voice that slipped between my ears like a slender, smiling knife through one’s ribcage - and it repeated my own question back at me: “Who are you?”
For a moment, any other words that I might have had became lost in my throat. Once I regained control of my voice, I tried again and asked, “Why are you here?”.
Once again, it repeated my words back at me in that unnerving, sing-song voice: “Why are you here?”.
I backed away from it, not knowing what to do. I began to think - was there some phrase that it would respond to? Something I could say to it that, when mirrored back at me, would cause it to behave differently? At that point, I noticed that it had locked its attention onto Kyrin - and that, as it offered its mask to her, she seemed frozen in place. I quickly strode over to her and spun her so that she faced away from it, in the event that it had trapped her in some kind of spell or hypnosis that she was unable to break free from; as I turned her away, the creature lost interest and began prowling among the others, some of whom attempted to talk to it.
Kyrin, it seemed was unharmed; she thanked me, and then we turned once more to watch the jester-creature. Once again, a spike of silver coursed through my blood; now, it held a morganti dagger and it was pointing it at people. Perhaps that, then, was the source of some of the unreasoning terror that I had been attempting to shove into an obscure corner of my mind since the creature’s appearance. Many of the adventurers, I noticed, had begun to bolt down the road out of the town and into the mountains as rabbits before a hawk, regardless of what other creatures might be other there.
At this point, the haunts - which had up until now been peacefully repeating their patterns of demise - became active and began to attack us. Yuck, Oreyn, Kyrin and I drew together once more. I am very glad that she was a life mage as well, for I was wounded by these agitated haunts several times in quick succession - and, but for the final time, she healed me every time.
But after that final wound, I do not know what happened. I returned to the conscious world by the hand of another adventurer; very few people were left at this point. The creature was nowhere to be seen, and neither were any of the others that I was more familiar with; but then, it was difficult to distinguish anyone among the multitude of fleeing shapes. We raced out of the village then - down the road and through the mountains. When we could run no longer, we continued to walk - never stopping once, for fear of what might find us if we did.
It was late in the night when we finally returned to the safety of Pinnical and of the light-filled, glowing world of the inn. Nobody - not a soul - was willing to venture outside again tonight, after the events in that village. My blood still boiled with traces of fear, and I could not sleep; instead, I picked up Enyari’s report, which was rather much longer than usual, and tried to lose my mind in that. They had been set to work on a mysterious tablet and a Ruby Medallion of Torm - or Storm - and it seemed that a great deal had happened while I was away.
I had nearly forgotten the night’s events in my fascination with the puzzles at hand when there was a knock on the door. The noise nearly startled me out of my skin, and the calmness that I had so very nearly regained evaded my grasp once more. I crept to the door and opened it; it was Yuck. I let her into the room so that she would not have to stand in the hall.
She explained to me what had happened, first apologizing for not reviving me again - she had lost me in the darkness. She had gone up to the jester-creature and, when it had offered its mask to her, she touched it. With that touch, she was transported to another realm with the creature. It posed to her a riddle - “I have a neck, but no head; what am I?” - and then set an hourglass to whittling down the time she had to answer. After some thought, she had answered “A bottle” - which was, evidently, the correct answer - and was given the choice of several items. She chose its mask.
Then, she held out her palm to me. Branded into it was an image of the creature’s mask; what it meant, she said, was that for any riddle she was given, she would always be allowed an extra guess.
Yuck departed, then; to where, I do not know. I was left to ponder the enigma that was this strange being - who was it? And why had it come to that spot on this night - what was its motivation? Its purpose? Though I was no longer in its presence, mere contemplation of it still unsettled me. I was unable to sleep for a many hours afterwards; I merely sat and stared at the prancing flame of my lone candle as it burned ever lower against the night.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 17:34:02 GMT -8
Final installment of the June campout chronicles, for days 06/29/10-06/30/10. (June 2010 Campout, Days 3 and 4) --- - We had a few more run-ins with the Riddler
- The town with all the haunts in Pinnical appears to have been obliterated by a manasplosion
- All of the pieces of the tablet were found
- There is at least one door leading into the Spires
- The Stormshank Portal was open briefly
--- The Third DayEnyari Staráflur In the morning, people woke and began to stir much earlier than usual. I was rather rudely awakened by the slow tromp-tromp-tromp of boots through the hallway and voices that made their muffled ways through the walls. Something about peaches. That was that; there would be no more sleep to be had. I found the apparent early risers down in the mostly-empty common room, lounging around a table and talking amicably about whatever came to mind. A couple of them had acquired some kind of sweet flatbreads and were chatting between bites. I dragged a chair over and joined the lot of them. The conversation meandered all over the place; talk of hunting down a dog-creature named “Peaches” surfaced and resurfaced several times. The rumor was that Peaches wasn’t a dog, it was a goblin that was somehow smart enough to achieve guildmaster status in both storm and nature magic. It seemed that most people weren’t especially worried about it, though, despite its recurring presence; the fact that it had teleported away and we had no idea how to find it also probably didn’t help matters. As time passed, more and more of our companions rose and stumble-clunked drowsily down the stairs; the common room slowly accumulated its usual liveliness as the day broke into full-on morning. Adventurers came and went from the table, and small whiffs of conversation whisked by us as clusters of people walked by. Among the mostly impenetrable babble, a pattern emerged; it seemed as if a few people were trying to acquire a katana-wakasashi pair that was in the possession of some group called the “Rat Clan”. The strategy they were using to find it was interesting: it sounded like they had set up a network of animal spies throughout the island, and were trying to find the Clan that way. Useful, if the animals are smart enough to retain information. Some hours later, I rose from the table and went to meet up with everyone that had talked to the historian yesterday; there were still some questions that we had, and we had planned on trying to catch Gavin Whitecloud again today. After trudging up to the mage school we did manage to accost him and get a few more questions answered. The first thing we asked about was the Bone Machine; it’s popped up more often than I’d like, and I’m beginning to suspect that they might have larger dealings in various affairs than we first thought. They were created by Dagdeoth near the end of the First Age, it seems, in response to the golden age occurring at the time - but it was in the Second Age, after Gristodemdal blew up the Grey Isles, that they really got going. The Bone Machine is a group of necromancers - litches, maybe - that can control huge masses of undead. They are in some way connected to the Dark Council, too, which makes this whole mess even worse. The Dark Council, Whitecloud explained, is the group that is truly in control of Dagdeoth. While there may be a royal family that is theoretically a ruling force, it’s more of a puppet government arrangement than anything. That could explain quite a bit about the Bone Machine’s probable connection to various past events - letters that have been intercepted, assassinations of priests and priestesses and so on - and how powerful they seem to be, if they are indeed connected to the Dark Council. This does not bode well. There was also the Dark Guard Division. Among the Dark Guard there are death knights; that, and apparently this Division was known for using the same lion-headed shields that we learned about yesterday. We also asked about the name of a Dark Angel that had come into this plane an age or two ago; Whitecloud said, after a moment’s though, that the name was very long and that he couldn’t remember it - though it did, he thought he could recall, start with a W. This Dark Angel had actually warped reality with its mere presence; the abilities of barbarians, assassins, and necromancers shifted and began to almost bleed into each other. The shifting stopped when the being no longer occupied our plane - but they never twisted back, either. Lastly, we asked about what was underneath Pinnical. He replied that Pinnical was, of course, situated on an volcano. That meant that there were many lava tubes underneath the area. Some, like the one that we ventured into a few moons back, were empty; others were still active and full of lava. There were also rumors of a place that warriors went to test themselves, once they felt ready to pit themselves against the challenge - but that whether or not this place actually existed wasn’t certain. We thanked Gavin Whitecloud and left after that, some of us more urgently than others; one of them was involved with the apparent mess with the Rat Clan and took off at a run after we exited the room. I was in no hurry, myself; I’d decided that, unless something urgent came up, I’d probably take the day off of adventuring to, much as I might mislike the task, spend my day documenting the current goings-on and shuffling papers around rather than getting repeatedly beaten up with swords and other miscellaneous weaponry. Maybe I’ll go spar with some of the others later, if I can catch them. ---- NyanarI awoke late this day, it having had been late when I had finally succumbed to the tide of sleep the night before. At last, when a bright shard of the sun’s light slipped through the window and tickled me awake, I rose and blearily discovered that most of the morning had already crept past me. After spending perhaps the next hour working and slowly awakening the rest of the way, I began to make my way out of the room and down to the common room below. As I descended the stairs, Teris told me that the man that spoke only in a foreign tongue was looking for me. I stepped down the rest of the stairs and searched the room; he was navigating through the chaos with what appeared to be lunch in hand. I threaded between clumps of people and furniture and greeted him, asking what it was that he wanted; though, it is true, he could not understand me, I thought that at least he might recognize the tone and understand. Indeed, he indicated that I should follow him. We walked out of the inn and up to the mage academy until we found a quiet and undisturbed corner outside. Then, he began to motion at his mouth and shake his head and indicate the fuzzy forms of people down the road. It took me a few tries to understand what it was that he was attempting to say, but eventually I grasped it: “Don’t tell anybody about this”. I was hesitant to agree to this. The gravity in his manner seemed to indicate that this was important - which also meant that, were he to communicate it to me, I would wish to convey it to the others that I often work so closely with in order to have allies for support; this, and because I trust them and I trust their judgement, for they may think of many things that evade my own ponderings - and I would not wish to wrong them by mistrusting them. I value the bonds that we have created. Nevertheless, I eventually agreed - nodded - and the man extracted a slip of paper from a pocket and opened it. Upon the paper, he had drawn a picture. It seemed to be a town or city of some kind. A river ran down the center of the drawing, and upon it there were boats and what seemed to be a bridge; at its end, it seemed to lead out into the ocean. Over this ocean at the right, there was a picture of the setting sun. On the left, there was some kind of cloud. The man traced a path through the picture, starting on the sun and weaving through the city until he rested it on a symbol of some kind that I did not recognize. He pointed to this symbol and said “Ooshna”. For a time after that, I simply tried to understand what the many figures in the drawing were. I shall ever be grateful that we could communicate both yes - “ja” - and no - “nein” - , though we knew no other words. A flurry of miming and gestures, punctuated with “yes”es or “no”s, followed. The sun was “sul”; the cloud was “dag”, and seemed to be the approaching nighttime. The river and boats were indeed a river and boats, and the buildings were buildings; and eventually, we established that “Ooshna” was a piece of the mysterious tablet that we were attempting to acquire. Once we figured this out, I led him into the school and searched until I could find a map. I began to point to the cities to try to figure out where this piece was located, but soon gave it up. He looked lost at my pointing, as if he did not know. We returned to gestures; as we managed to communicate more of the drawing to each other, I began to suspect that the city was one of the many that sit in Svodlun. I could not determine this with absolute certainty, however, and it was not very much later when we found it time to return to the inn and the gathering that would shortly be taking place. Our discussion of what we would pursue was a simple one, and quickly done. We still had not found the Grey Mage that we had, this last night, gone to find; and now that it was daylight, it seemed perhaps a little safer to investigate the area. The creature that we had encountered in this place previously also was brought into the conversation. It had a name - the Riddler - and it was thought to be a truly chaotic being. It was said only to appear when there were mysteries and questions to be had - when a spot in the world had turned, in essence, into a riddle. We began to traverse the distance between Pinnical and the town that we had left in such haste previously. The land looked very much different in the light of the sun rather than the dim cast of the stars; it was not so frightening as it had been, now. The mountain paths, too, seemed different in the brightness of this light, though we did eventually determine which path it was that we had taken. When we were nearly to the village, we were attacked by what appeared to be ogres; I could not quite tell, from behind several rocky outcroppings and the people walking further towards the front. Mere heartbeats into the scrap, one of the mages casted an Elder Sorcery spell. There was a mere sliver of a moment when one could feel energy gathering itself into a spell; but the moment shifted and the spell twisted into something else. There was an explosion and then the feeling of energy - rogue magic - rushing out from the mage at ground level. I leapt for the nearest ledge and made it to safety only barely before the wave passed me by. In the wave’s wake, people and ogres alike had crumpled and now lie on the ground; the caster appeared to be dead. Gingerly, I stepped back down onto the ground; nothing happened. The others that had escaped the misfired spell began to prowl amongst their companions and awaken them. Those that had attempted to escape the magic through treeforming had to be forced out of the state - otherwise, everyone seemed to be unharmed. I resurrected the dead mage, and then we continued upwards on the trails until, once more, we reached the village. Now, the haunts had disappeared, leaving the city barren. All of the signs of fresh life had by now disappeared as well, and it seemed as if the village was quickly being taken by history and worn away into something of the past. There was nothing obvious in the streets that might indicate what had happened. We decided to look in the houses, all filing one by one through the door of the nearest one. Inside, we discovered something curious: against the wall, next to a still rocking chair, there was a shadow of sorts. It was not a shadow in the usual sense; rather, it seemed lighter than the wall around it, almost as if it had been bleached pale by the sun. The image moved, as well. It was a hobbit woman rocking back and forth in the chair. We tried to talk to the shadow; it did not respond. We moved in front of it, touched it, and one man even broke the rocking chair, but still she did not respond. With spirit guide, I could not see her; and when one mage cast identify on the shadow, it did not seem to be magic in any way. We trickled out of the house, then. It seemed, now that we knew of them, that the light-shadows were everywhere - against buildings, inside houses, and even in the form of irregular blobs in the center of the street. They marked the places where the villagers died, it would seem. A little time passed, and then there was a shout from the house that we had originally entered; it was Oreyn. We rushed into the house, but we need not have done so - he was not injured. There was, though, now a specter where the shadow had been. Once more, people began to talk and touch and prod at it, but it would respond to nothing. Through the commotion, Oreyn explained that he had forced a mana into the shadow, and that it was then that the specter had appeared. When the specter did nothing in response to their attempts to gain its attention, the adventurers filed outside once more. I examined the specter a little, now that they had cleared away, but was interrupted by shouts and screaming coming from outside. I rushed out to find people running for cover and a man crouched in the center of the town square; from the shouts, it seemed that he was about to shove a mana into the ground. I merely stood and watched - and, I will admit, laughed to myself at their panic when nothing happened. As they emerged from behind walls and houses and bushes, I returned back to the room and began to repeatedly cast medicine ball on the specter to see if it would respond to that. The specter did respond to that; it began to move around. As I cast the spell on it again, it became increasingly more agitated. It moved out of the house and began to wander through the town. I continued to cast the spell on it to see if its behavior would change further - at that point, it began to attack my companions with martial arts. Despite this, I continued to cast medicine ball on it further until they requested that I stop; at this time, we were back in the town’s center. Looking at the reverse-shadows in the area now, it was clear that they were cast in a sort of pattern. All of the shadows seemed to have been cast outwards, as if there was some force in the center of the town that had exploded outwards, much as the miscast Elder Sorcery spell had earlier. Piecing it together, several others came up with the idea that a mana sink in this place had bubbled in some way and wiped the village out. It seemed like a solid hypothesis, and I think that they are likely correct in this. Still, though, we continued to wander through the village, looking inside the various houses further away from the town’s center. One such house ended up being very interesting indeed; the fireplace appeared to have, at one point, housed a miniature guillotine. It was not merely that, either - as I neared it, the morganti brand on my cheek began to feel almost as if it was being burnt into my skin again, though I knew that this was not so. I recognized that there had once been the presence of morganti in this place, and likely it had been in the blade of the guillotine. One of the men next to it sunk into the depths of an oracle; once he emerged, he told us of what he had seen. He described a man walking out of the village and clutching the bleeding stump of what had once been a hand. The man then glared back at the village and said “I do not steal”. The description that he gave of the man sounded very similar; I think that I met him, once, all those years ago when we undertook that journey to heal Love. He had had a metal, three-pronged hand when we had walked with him. If it is indeed the same man, perhaps this explains a little of his story. In the aftermath of the oracle, the adventurers were nearly buzzing with endless speech and noise and movement; feeling a little suffocated by the commotion, I followed Oreyn outside along with Kyrin and one of the other mages. We talked a little as the others began to filter out and cloud the air with their noise again. Somewhere along the way, we decided to oracle to the Nomad Sisters. Of the five of us participating in the oracle - Oreyn, Kyrin, two other mages, and myself - I was the only one that was not a nature mage, and thus was unable to actually cast oracle. I have had some interesting incidents with such oracles and visions in the past, however, and now having the further advantage of being one of the Scarred, I thought that I would at least attempt to become woven into their oracle regardless of my ability to cast the spell myself. They began to oracle, and I could feel myself slipping into the trance with them; the solidness of the rocks upon which we sat began to come undone, and the noises that our companions were making faded away into the distance until they could be heard no more. A hill appeared in our range of vision. Walking up the hill was the Riddler, juggling those three morganti daggers as it came closer to us. I braced myself, holding back a tide of fear and uncertainty within myself; then, when it was close enough, I reached out and touched its mask as Yuck had done. The five of us, then, found ourselves transported into another realm. We were seated in a semi-circle, with the Riddler sitting across from us. In front of him, the three daggers were arranged in a triangle; inside the triangle, there was a blue orb and an hourglass that seemed to be carved from bone. He posed to us a riddle - “I range far and wide, but I stay in one spot. What am I?” - then delicately turned the hourglass over so that the sands began to trickle down through the glass. I had heard a similar riddle many years ago. It had been a part of a larger riddle, then; it was when we were faced with that single, first door inside ourselves when we were on the path towards reuniting the Unicorn Sisters and Demon Sisters into three beings. The answer then had been “belief”. Perhaps, I thought, that would be the answer for this riddle as well - and so I answered to the Riddler, “Belief”. The next sensation that I had was the smallest finger on my right hand being hacked off with morganti. The hourglass’s sand still spiraled down and, given my now-missing finger, I had not given the correct answer. Through the hazy fug of pain that clouded up my mind, I still tried to think; perhaps the situation could be remedied yet. But as I tried to push it away, the awareness of my wound crowded into my mind even more, and I found it difficult to think of anything else through the red flashes that began to wash over my vision. The others, perhaps fearing for their own fingers, remained silent until the last grain of sand dropped through the hourglass; I cannot blame them for it. When our time ran out, we found ourselves taken back to reality and sitting on the same rocks that we had begun to oracle on. My four companions that had oracled then noticed that their palms had been morganti-branded with the rune for “Riddle”. With a slight tinge of horror in their voices, they said that they sensed that what this brand meant was that any riddle that was posed to them they would have no choice but to answer; they would feel compelled and pulled to do so, however much they might wish otherwise. The others were gone now; likely, then had found nothing else in the village and had begun to walk back down the mountains. We did likewise, always skirting that which seemed it might be a possible threat to us. I clutched my bleeding hand the whole way down, trying to stem the flow as much as possible. It began to throb as we walked, beating with the pulse of my heart in hot, pounding thuds. Once we made it back to Pinnical, I found a piece of cloth and wound it tightly around my hand. That done, we found an empty room in the mage school and discussed what we would do now; in the end, we decided to try to face the Riddler once more. We oracled together once more, and found the Riddler staring at us. Its mask, upon which was normally perched a slightly manic grin, was now twisted into a disapproving frown. It held up a hand and put up three fingers. With the first finger, we saw Yuck; with the second, we saw a person that I did not recognized but who seemed from her appearance to be a mage of some kind; and on the third, we saw ourselves. Three tries, it seemed, was the limit - no, we could not try again. Then, the Riddler became still for a moment; it looked back at the first finger - Yuck. The corners of the mask’s mouth curved upwards back into that unnerving smile, and the Riddler put up a forth finger. Yuck’s extra guess, it seemed, extended to this situation as well. We were whisked away back into the realm that we had been taken to previously; as we faded into it, we had brief sense of the number four. As the world clarified that sense faded, and we found ourselves sitting in the same semi-circle arrangement with the Riddler. Just before it began to recite the riddle, my companions frantically motioned to each other to remain silent and to leave me the guesses. As, ah, thoughtful as that gesture may have been, I was not happily anticipating the possibility of losing three more fingers should I guess wrongly. After that flurry of communication, the Riddler posed to us another riddle. It was a different one than what it had previously given us; this one was much longer, and I cannot precisely recall it. I was more certain of this one, however; it seemed that the riddle was speaking of storms as it talked of the flashing weapons and thundering clashes on a battlefield. Once the Riddler finished, I thought a little further to make certain that storms were indeed the most likely answer. Then, when the mask turned to look at me (for it had been looking at each of us in turn, perhaps scanning the group), I answered to it: “Storms”. The Riddler then reached out and gently turned the hourglass, placing it on its side so that the sand no longer ran down its gullet. It then indicated several items in turn - the orb, a set of keys, the hourglass, and its mask - and quietly said, “Choose”. The relief that washed over me at not having lost another finger was short-lived, as my companions began suggesting which item to choose and trying to persuade me to choose this thing or that thing; I found that I could not decide. I did not want to choose the mask, for I already knew what it did; neither did I want to choose the bone hourglass, for fear of what it might be able to do. Both the orb and they keys intrigued me. The orb, because I knew nothing of it and the mystery that it offered was compelling (though I was not branded with the Riddle symbol, I find that I am often very little better off than those with the brand when it comes to riddles and mysteries - simply because of my nature). And the keys, because of everything that a key is - and that a key has a potential to be. A line drifted across my mind - “Key of the imagination” - and, teetering uncertainly between those two choices, I spent a rather large span of time simply sitting and weighing the choice. Eventually, though I very nearly chose the mysterious blue orb, I chose the ring of keys instead. Once I indicated that I had chosen the keys, I knew that they were not actual, physical keys; rather, they were a path to knowledge. I could sense that I could have any single question answered. That line of poetry associated with the keys sprung to mind once more, and I found myself wondering of these first lines belonging to the stone-scrawled prophecy: There is no lock strong enough No location safe enough No key clever enough to foil the enemies Then the lock of the mind Location of the self Key of the imagination Only those who hold the lock and the key Can open that which is hidden in plain sightFollowing that path of wondering, a series of images began to drift across my mind. First, I saw a set of three doors. These doors were present in me - and present in every person in the world, as well - but also the sense that nobody knew that the doors were there. These doors seemed locked, but also that if one chooses to do so, that one’s own doors can be unlocked as well. There was the feeling that this unlocking of these doors was very important to whoever or whatever scribed that prophecy; then, finally, an image of a woman working in the scorching flames and soot of a forge, crafting crowns. After that final image I could feel this realm melting away as we came out of the oracle once more. I awoke to find the man that had earlier shown to me the drawing frantically bursting through the door and nearly yanking me to my feet and towing me behind him in his urgency. Though my oracle-companions were, almost with equal urgency, barraging me with questions as to what had happened, I had to hurriedly gasp out that I would explain later what had transpired but that, for now, I must go with him; and, with that, we took off running down the halls and into another room. The man with the drawing excitedly poked at a city on the map hanging on the wall: Amir Ford. The drawing clicked into place, and I began to hiss a stream of curses between my teeth. “Dag” had not been “night”, it had been “darkness” - the Darkness Zone that sat with its rim nearly touching the city. I did not want to, under any circumstances, enter it; even the city was a little too close for anything even resembling comfort. Embarcarious entered the room, then. He explained that he would teleport us to Amir Ford so that the two of us could locate and procure the tablet piece. Once we had acquired it, we could either sail back to Pinnical or walk to Feanorian and teleport back from there, with the costs covered by Pinnical. We chose the latter of the two options. Another mage walked into the room; she looked as if she might perhaps be the person that the Riddler had shown with the second finger it put up. She and Embarcarious cast a teleport spell together, and for the third time so far this day reality shifted and slid out of our perception. This time, however, we moved. This time, once reality descended back upon us, we were in a different place. Sitting in a chair two spans away was a Lady of the Nightwatch; she looked up at us from a sheaf of paper. My mind was still spinning from the whirlwind of adrenaline and movement that had been my lot for the past half of the day, and I cannot recall what exactly took place then. I know that we ended up with a book that gave my companion the ability to read and write in the common tongue, and I know that we promised to return the book once we had finished in Amir Ford; but nothing else. We walked out of the building that we had been teleported into and onto the town streets. In the middle of the street, we found a man contemplating his house; I asked if he knew where Amir Ford’s marketplace was. He said that it was up towards the northern part of the city - and that, by the way, would we happen to know how to weatherproof a house? He’d heard that there’s been bad weather, and was worried about it coming this way. He was thinking, I assumed, of the storms sprung by the explosion of the mana-well near Svodlun. As such, I replied that the storms were mostly concentrated up north and would be unlikely to find their ways down this far inland, but he did not seem convinced by this. Wanting to return to the task at hand, I said to him that I knew nothing of building or weatherproofing houses - very true, this - but good luck to him. My companion and I then continued northways through the city, towards the markets. Upon finding ourselves amidst a sea of colorful banners and stalls in the marketplace, we discovered that it was a general market only. That which we were looking for was a magic bazaar, which was not the breed of shop that would be found in this particular kind of market. We retraced our steps a little way back on the street. Perhaps halfway back along it, a man unsteadily wove through the crowd and staggered up to us. His eyes were glazed and bloodshot, and when he spoke his speech slurred thickly. He waved a sword at our faces and began to single-mindedly challenge us to fight him. It took a little time to extract ourselves from the situation, but luckily we did manage to avoid having to fight him. A group of men at arms walked by; we caught the attention of one and asked if he knew where we perhaps might find any magic bazaars within the city. Obligingly, he told to us of the locations of three shops, and we made our way to the closest one. We went inside and my companion inspected it; then, in the book, he scrawled that this shop was the wrong one - this building was not the shape of the one that he had seen in his oracle. We exited the shop and wended our way through the labyrinth of streets towards the second one. We had barely set eyes on this one when my companion excitedly indicated that this one was the right shop. The interior of the shop was filled with an assortment of cases displaying artifacts of many kinds - scrolls, weaponry, stones, amulets, and so on. The bronze-tinged late afternoon sunlight spilled across the room, scintillating off of the objects and throwing bright patches of light every which way. Thick, sweet-smelling dust that clung to every corner of the shop hung, suspended in the sunlight, in a hazy curtain draped amongst the artifacts. My companion began to thread between the cases in search of the tablet piece; after a moment, I followed him. We found it near the back of the shop, against the wall. The shopkeeper wandered over to see if we were considering buying the tablet piece. I told him that we were, and asked how much it was. He replied that it cost 100 gold. My companion had the satchel with money, and I quickly scribbled in the book that it cost 100 gold - how much did we have with us? He wrote back that he had 106. This was very lucky, I thought; just enough to buy the tablet piece. As we had this conversation, the shopkeeper quizzically asked why we wanted it. I was not certain that giving the true reason was a wise idea, and invented a reason on the spot. I was a historian, I said, and the piece was interesting to me because of its age - but that, then again, I am a little eccentric, and that most others would likely not find it to be of much interest. I had not intended to belittle its value, but I think that this is what the effect of my words were. The shopkeeper paused and quietly thought for a moment, and then said that if we bought another item, we could have the tablet piece for no cost. I posed this idea to my companion, and he agreed. But then, this item should be something we found it worthwhile to spend the gold on, as well; we decided that we would try to find an artifact that was not a weapon and was also a little unusual. The shopkeeper listed off a few items that fit those parameters. The one that seemed most interesting was a whetstone with Species Lore, though it was rather more expensive than the tablet alone had been: 130 gold. We did not have that much, I explained; the shopkeeper said that we could work the price down if my companion advertised and if I supplied him with information on the items in the shop. I wrote this idea to my companion, and he agreed that it would be worth it. We did slowly wear away the 24 gold that we could not pay, though it was neither through advertising nor through information on the items. My companion gave the shopkeeper some news of the lands from which he originated that the shopkeeper deemed worth nine gold, at the beginning. The shopkeeper then also suggested that I could test out some of his newly-arrived magical items for flaws, with the gold worth varying according the resulting dangers and effects. It seemed to me the most expedient way to pay off the remaining gold; but dangerous as such a trial can be, I could not bring myself to the task. Not while the loss of my finger to morganti was so fresh and raw as it was. My companion, however, cheerfully agreed to test the items in this way. He was lead into a room lined with several protective measures and given a succession of items to try. The worst mishap, I think, was when the shopkeeper opened to door to find the man laying on the ground and a specter crouched over him and draining the unconscious body of mana. Nevertheless, it did not seem that any permanent damage was done, and when at last the price was worked down sufficiently, we collected the whetstone and the tablet piece and began the trek from Amir Ford to Feanorian. Only once did we walk into something that threatened us. It was underneath the soft greens of the forest canopy, in a small clearing amongst the trees. There, a pair of elves were sparring with each other. As my companion and I edged around the clearing, they caught sight of us and stopped their match. We tried to explain that we were only passing through and did not want trouble - this was most certainly true, as we had the tablet piece with us and trouble wound endanger its well-being - but they would not listen. They wanted to test their battle skills against us, I think, for they did not seem to be exceptionally hostile towards us; one of the elves challenged my companion to a duel. He had no choice but to comply with the elf’s demand. A quick battle ensued, which my companion won, and then we continued on our way unmolested further. The teleport back to Pinnical went smoothly, and we made our way to the room inside which the other tablet pieces and the amulet were locked. I pulled out the pieces from their place and found that, curiously, there were more pieces there than Enyari had indicated. Perhaps, while we had been hunting this one down, they had found another. My companion and I slid the tablet piece into the place to which is seemed to belong, and were pleased to find that there appeared to be only one piece remaining to find. As we placed the piece, those that had been present in the oracles with the Riddler entered the room. I asked if they had found another piece; they replied that it had been there since the day had begun, and that when they had first been lead to this room by Embarcarious that the head mage had hinted that Laura White-Locks would bring another piece and discreetly add it to the collection. They then asked what had happened with the Riddler, and I explained to them what had transpired and about the answer to the question that I had asked. It is interesting, the answer that I received; it bears an uncanny resemblance to an experience I partook in - more than two decades ago, now. It does not seem that that much time has passed, sometimes. There was a prophecy at that time that myself and a few others had devoted ourselves to, and following it led us to a place inside ourselves that had three doors as well. Though - that is not strictly true. At that time, there had been simultaneously three and six doors. We merged those doors into a solid three, and then from them emerged the Nomad Sisters. I wonder if, perhaps, those three doors shown as an answer to my question are the same set that we encountered all those years ago - and if, having set them into three doors, we must now unlock them. It would make sense if that were the case, though certainly it is possible that I am mistaken. However, if this is indeed what we must do, I wonder how we might carry this out. Before, we were aided in finding this place by the Stone Dragon; I do not know if that will work now. Perhaps, when there is time, another pilgrimage to the temple at which the Stone Dragon is located would be prudent. Such a journey will have to wait, however; at the present moment, time is not the most abundant of the resources available to me. After examining the tablet for the few moments that we had, our gathering walked from the school to the tavern in the city to take a quick meal before returning to the inn to continue working with the tasks given to us by Embarcarious. With of the surge of activity that had emerged recently, we would be exploring those tasks much later than is usual - as had also been the case this night just past. When the time came, we converged at the usual meeting spot in the inn, arranging ourselves in a half-circle around Embarcarious. He explained that, of the three most urgent tasks that had come up, there would only be adequate time to pursue two of them. Those tasks were, firstly, exploring a tomb in which it was likely that the final tablet piece would be located - though he did not mention the piece outright, he hinted at it so that those people involved with the tablet and the medallion would understand. Secondly, Laura White-Locks had a mission for us that she would not explain to us unless we decided to follow through with it. The third possible task was investigating the Stormshank portal - a rather fickle portal that opens only very occasionally, and which leads to the Elemental Plane. Embarcarious explained the little that was known about it - that those that return from the plane describe it as a place in which there are clouds underfoot and a sky permanently bathed in nighttime stretched far above. Sometimes those that return from the plane described it as deserted; others told tales of fierce battles raging. It is returning, however, that is the difficult part. He said that, on some occasions, those that venture inside the portal were unable to find the way back out and remained trapped there. Those people that had found ways out often had spoken of having had to answer riddles, though there was one group that had been pulled out of the realm through the use of a sending orb. I remembered this; I had been a part of that adventuring group that had used the sending orb. As such, when the discussion of which tasks to pursue began, I said to the group that I had previously been through this portal and that what Embarcarious had said was true. When we had slipped through, we had landed in the middle of several factions of elementals battling with each other; it had been very dangerous, navigating through that chaos. I also said that I remembered my companions at that time being pulled out through the sending orb, but that I had found the way out a little sooner by, yes, answering a riddle of sorts. That there was a being that we had encountered wandering around this plane that would ask one a riddle of sorts and allow them, if they answered arightly, to venture back out. One of the men sitting nearly across from me asked what the being had looked like. I explained that the being had wandered amongst the fighting elementals completely unharmed, almost as if it were not there at all. That I could not remember very much about it now, but that it had certainly been face- I meant to say faceless. Midway through speaking this word, I found myself tripping over a realization that shocked through my body and fuzzed over my tongue, rendering it incapable of completing my sentence. I put my face in my hands. The creature had asked riddles, and it had been faceless. The Riddler. I could not grasp how I could not have made the connection before this. What had the Riddler been doing there so long ago? What mysteries had been playing out that had drawn his presence? Though, thinking on it more, I was not certain that it was the Riddler that we had seen. It was true that the being had been faceless and had said nothing but questions that had a rather riddle-like flavor to them; but the being had had no mask. This, and the speaking patterns that it had had were more characteristic of the Lady of the Dark Woods or of the Stone Dragon than of the Riddler. I could remember... “Where will you go?” “Home.” “Where is home?” “Home is where the heart is.”Musing on it in this way, perhaps it was not the Riddler after all. I do still wonder, however, what exactly that being was. By the time I returned from the world of contemplation and drew my attention back towards the task at hand, it was time to decide that which would be pursued. The two tasks chosen were those involving the tomb and involving Laura White-Locks. They would venture to the tomb first. As they began to file out the door, I instead made my way to the stairs and up to the room that I have been staying in. Among my notes was a record of what exactly had transpired during that venture into the Elemental Plane, and I could not resist looking over it again to try to learn more of the being that had wandered through that world. --- Enyari StaráflurIt’s amazing how restless I get after a day of doing nothing but sifting through mountains of paper. By the time evening came, I was nearly bouncing in my seat. I decided that I’d had enough of it and shoved my seat away from the makeshift table that I’d been working at, then stalked downstairs. A sizeable group of my companions, every last one of them armed and armored, was making to leave. I asked what they were doing; they said that Laura White-Locks had some kind of a secret operation that she was going to explain to us up at the school. I rushed back up stairs to yank on my chainmail and grab my wakasashi, then nearly charged out of the inn and up the hill until I caught up with the rest of them. Even if I hadn’t been chained to a table all day, this was a request from Laura White-Locks; I guessed that, given her reaction to what we told her yesterday, it had to do with the Spires and the medallion. That would hopefully prove to be interesting. We made it to the school and met with her; she said that she wanted us to take a look around the Spires. She would teleport us there, but we had to decide to use one of two kinds of teleportation: either a spell that would take us there and leave us there to sail back on our own, or a spell that would teleport us back to Pinnical after a certain amount of time. It was now fully dark outside, and the idea of traveling back to Pinnical half-blind was unappealing; we decided to teleport with the time limit. That decided, Laura White-Locks told us a little bit more about what we would be doing. For starters, she wouldn’t teleport us all the way to the Spires; only near to them. When we teleported, we were instructed to walk in the opposite direction from the Spires for a while and then circle back around towards them, as well as to avoid any roads as much as possible. All of these measures were given to confuse anyone watching and attempting to figure out what exactly our intent was. She also warned us to try to keep from traveling either too far north or too far south, because of various dangers present in those areas. Once she gave us these instructions, we were off. One moment, we were in the warm confines of a room in the mage school; the next, we stood shivering in the darkness. As instructed, we began to move away from the Spires. Despite our attempts at becoming as unnoticeable as possible, with a group as large as this it was nearly impossible. We broke up into several smaller groups and began to take pick independent paths across the ground. I was with two others: Kyrin Silverwind and a man that I had not seen before. We had no torch to light the way, because it would attract too much attention; that left us to navigate by starlight alone. Our cluster hadn’t been walking for very long when we came to a road that ran directly across our path. There would be no walking around it, oriented as it was. Instead, we lay down some distance from the path and watched to make sure that there was absolutely nothing in the area, then dashed across and dove into the thicket on the other side. By this time, we were far away from any of the others - aside from the noises of the night creatures, the surrounding landscape was absolutely silent. Despite this theoretical lack of people, we spent much of the journey nervously clinging to the thickets and copses of trees before racing to the next spot of cover. It was some time before we circled back around. The journey was a quiet - if anxiety-inducing - one until we reached that thrice-curst road again. This time, we could hear the vague sounds of voices in the distance. What kind of person - aside from idiots like ourselves - would be traveling out in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, I have no idea, and we weren’t about to find out. We waited until the voices faded into the distance to cross the road again and travel the rest of the way to the Spires. When we finally found the mountains, we ended up taking a path to get up into the mountains. At that point there wasn’t really any other choice - the risks and impossibilities involved in attempting to mountain-climb up the side of a mountain in the dark are not risks that you want to gamble with. Of course, given that we were walking on a road, we were bound to run into some people eventually. The three of us rounded a bend in the path and nearly ran into a group of strangers. They greeted us and said that they were herbalists searching for glowing herbs; then they asked what we were doing up in the Spires. The foremost thought in my mind at that point was that we could not reveal what we were doing. A second later I realized that, much to my horror, my tongue had apparently gained a mind of its own and was spinning a lie about having gotten separated from our caravan and trying to find them again. The herbalists seemed to accept that, and then our groups parted ways. As the three of us continue to climb the path, I mentally started cursing at myself. Lying is something that Nyanar, honorless as she is, would resort to - but not I. Not as long as I can avoid it. ...Though perhaps, now, I understand a little of why she behaves as she does. There are some things that you simply can’t tell people about - as demonstrated here - and then what choice do you have when they start asking questions? Surely there must be a better way than lying, though. There has to be. My stream of mental cursing came to a violent halt when, up on the path ahead, we could see the silhouettes of several very large figures tromping down towards us. We scrambled off the side of the road and into a ditch, and then Kyrin Silverwind expediently treeformed all of us. We waited until they had long-since passed us to revert. We went through this process several times. On the final time, the shapes were not huge, but rather a multitude of smaller ones; we had feared a band of orcs or other such creatures, but they turned out to be the rest of our companions. The three of us joined their ranks, and then we proceeded to search for any kind of doors carved into the mountainside. Not long after that, the teleportation spell ran out of time and we were pulled back to Pinnical - without having found any doors. Or, at least, our group hadn’t. It sounded as if a smaller band had actually stumbled upon a door by chance, although it was difficult to divine what exactly had happened through the chaos of people dispersing from the room. A huddle of people - Kyrin Silverwind and others of that particular band -, I noticed, were in a particular hurry to get out. I trotted after them, intending to ask what was going on, but they answered the question before I had a chance to ask: the last piece of the tablet had been recovered, they said, and they were going to convene in the room that held the rest of the pieces. With that, we all began to rush through the mage school’s halls, which were now thankfully mostly empty due to the lateness of the hour. --- (continues next post because it was too long for this one)
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 17:35:22 GMT -8
Continuation of June 2010 Campout Chronicle, Days 3 and 4
(Ok guys, here's the deal. Assuming that it posts properly, everything from here on out is in a code because it's some rather, ah, sensitive information. If you want to know what it says badly enough to decode it, PM me what each symbol translates to in the English alphabet, and I'll PM to you what this says so that you don't have to go through the process of decoding the entire dratted thing.)
Nyanar
ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ʅᒍᒍʓ ʝᒍƷɖʝʋ ðƷɖɖƈɖ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɲᘟʝʝ ᘟʖ ȶ𐑕 ʖɲƈɕ𐑕 ᒍɕƈϛ ᒐƈɮȶϛɖ Ʒʖ◦◦ ᘟ𐑕 ʝᒍϛʆ ʝᘟʖ𐑕◦ ðᒍʖƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ʝƈȣ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ 𐑕ᘟɫƈ ɽᘟʅƈ ᒍȣ ʝᘟƷʅᘟ ɲɮȶ𐑕ƈ◦ʝᒍɽɫʖ’ʖ ʓȶʖʖȶᒍϛ ȣȶʝƈɖ ðʅξ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ ᘟϛɫʖȶᒍƷʖʝʋ ᘟϛɖ ƪᒍȶϛƈɖ ᒍƷʅ ɮƷɖɖʝƈ ᘟʅᒍƷϛɖ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ Ʒɕᒍϛ ɲɮȶᕊ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕◦ ϛᒍɲ ɽᒍʓɕʝƈ𐑕ƈɖ◦ ʅƈʖ𐑕ƈɖ◦◦ ðƈ ɕȶƈɽƈʖ ɮᘟɖ ȣȶ𐑕𐑕ƈɖ 𐑕ᒍʆƈðƈʅ ɫɲƷȶ𐑕ƈ ϛƈᘟ𐑕ʝʋ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ɲʅȶ𐑕ȶϛʆ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈƈϛ ȣʅᘟʆʓƈϛ𐑕ƈɖ ᘟϛɖ Ʒϛȶϛ𐑕ƈʝʝȶʆȶᒐʝƈ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ϛᒍɲ ɲɮᒍʝƈ ᘟϛɖ ʝƈʆȶᒐʝƈ◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ʅƈᘟɖ◦
ðƈ ʖɲᒍʅɖ ɕʅᒍ𐑕ƈɽ𐑕ʖ Ʒʖ◦ ɲȶðᒍƷ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ʋᒍƷ ᘟʅƈ ɳƷʝϛƈʅᘟᒐʝƈ◦◦ ðƈ ɲȶϛɖᒍɲ ʝᒍᒍɫʖ Ʒɕᒍϛ ðƈ ɕᘟð ƫᘟʅȶϛʆ ɳȶʖȶᒍϛ◦◦ ðƈ ʖ𐑕ᘟ𐑕Ʒƈ ȶʖ ᘟ ʖᒍƷʅɽƈ ᒍȣ ʖᘟɽʅȶȣȶɽȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ʆȶɳƈ ɕᒍɲƈʅ◦◦ ðƈ ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈ ȶʖ ᒍϛƈ ᒍȣ ʓᘟϛʋ◦ [======] ᘟ ɕȶƈɽƈ ᒍȣ ᘟ ᒐȶʆʆƈʅ ʅȶɖɖʝƈ◦◦ ðƈ ᒐᒍ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ◦ ðƈ ʖᘟϛɖʖ ᒍȣ 𐑕ȶʓƈ◦ ɲȶðᒍƷ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ʋᒍƷ ɲȶʝʝ ᘟʆƈ◦◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ʅȶϛʆ ȶʖ ðƈ ȣᒍƷϛɖᘟ𐑕ȶᒍϛ Ʒɕᒍϛ ɲɮȶᕊ ðƈ ɽƈϛ𐑕ƈʅ ʖ𐑕ᘟϛɖʖ◦◦ ʖƈƈɫ ðƈʓ ᘟϛɖ ʋᒍƷ ᘟʅƈ ʝᒍʖ𐑕◦◦
ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ ðƈ ɲᒍʅɖ “ʝᒍʖ𐑕”◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ʖȶʆϛᘟ𐑕Ʒʅƈ ɲʅȶ𐑕𐑕ƈϛ ȶϛ ᘟ ʖ𐑕ʅȶϛʆ ᒍȣ ʅƷϛƈʖ◦◦ 𐑕ʅᘟϛʖʝᘟ𐑕ƈɖ◦ ȶ𐑕 ʅƈᘟɖ “ʓƈʅȶʆʅᘟɖ”◦◦
ƈʓᒐᘟʅɽᘟʅȶᒍƷʖ ɮƷʖ𐑕ʝƈɖ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ʅᒍᒍʓ ʖᒍᒍϛ ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅʖ ᘟʅʅȶɳƈɖ◦ ȶϛ ɮȶʖ ɮᘟϛɖʖ◦ ɮƈ ɮƈʝɖ ʖƈɳƈʅᘟʝ ɽƷʅȶᒍƷʖ ᒍᒐƪƈɽ𐑕ʖ◦◦ ᘟ ɕᘟð ðʅξ ðƈ ʆʅᒍƷɕ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ ɲᘟʖ ʓᘟɖƈ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ʝȶ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ ʓᘟʆƈ ɮƈʝɖ ðƈ ɳᘟʅȶᒍƷʖ ᒍᒐƪƈɽ𐑕ʖ ᘟʆᘟȶϛʖ𐑕 ðƈ ɮᒍʝʝᒍɲ ȶϛ ðƈ ʓȶɖɖʝƈ 𐑕ᒍ ʖƈƈ ȶȣ ᘟϛʋ ᒍȣ ðƈʓ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ȣȶ𐑕◦◦ ȣȶʅʖ𐑕◦ ɮƈ 𐑕ʅȶƈɖ ᘟ ʓᘟϛᘟ ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈ◦ ðξ ȶ𐑕 ɖȶɖ ȣȶ𐑕 ȶϛʖȶɖƈ ðƈ ɮᒍʝʝᒍɲ◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ʅᘟðƈʅ 𐑕ᒍᒍ ʖʓᘟʝʝ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ɲᘟʖ ʓƈᘟϛ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ʅƈʖ𐑕 ȶϛʖȶɖƈ ȶ𐑕◦◦ ðƈϛ◦ ɳƈʅʋ ɖƈʝȶɽᘟ𐑕ƈʝʋ◦ ɮƈ ɮƈʝɖ ᘟϛ ᒍʅᒐ ɲȶð ðƈ ʝȶɫƈϛƈʖʖ ᒍȣ ᘟ ɖʅᘟʆᒍϛ ɕᘟȶϛ𐑕ƈɖ ᒍϛ ȶ𐑕◦ ðᘟ𐑕 ɖȶɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ȣȶ𐑕 ƈȶðƈʅ◦◦ ɮƈ ðƈϛ 𐑕ʅȶƈɖ ᘟϛ ᒍʅᒐ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ɳƈʅʋ ʖȶʓȶʝᘟʅ◦ ƈɫʖɽƈɕ𐑕 ðᘟ𐑕 ȶϛʖ𐑕ƈᘟɖ ᒍȣ ᘟ ɖʅᘟʆᒍϛ ȶ𐑕 ɖƈɕȶɽ𐑕ƈɖ ᘟ ɕɮᒍƈϛȶɫʖ◦◦ ᘟʖ ɮƈ ɖʅƈɲ ȶ𐑕 ᘟɲᘟʋ 𐑕ᒍ ƈɫʖᕊᘟϛʆƈ ȶ𐑕 ȣᒍʅ ᘟϛᒍðƈʅ ᒍᒐƪƈɽ𐑕◦ ȶ𐑕 ʆᘟɳƈ ᘟ ȣᘟȶϛ𐑕◦ ϛƈᘟʅʝʋ ȶʓɕƈʅɽƈɕ𐑕ȶᒐʝƈ ʅȶϛʆ◦◦
ƈɳƈʅʋᒍϛƈ ɕʅƈʖƈϛ𐑕 𐑕ƈϛʖƈɖ ᘟϛɖ ȣʅᒍɽƈ◦◦ ʖʝᒍɲʝʋ◦ ƈʓᒐᘟʅɽᘟʅȶᒍƷʖ ʖ𐑕ᒍɲƈɖ ȶ𐑕 ᘟɲᘟʋ◦ ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ʖᘟȣƈʝʋ ƈʝʖƈɲɮƈʅƈ◦ ɮƈ ƈɫʖɕʝᘟȶϛƈɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ʝȶɫƈʝʋ ϛᒍɲ ᒐƈ ƈɳƈʅ ʖᒍ ʖʝȶʆɮ𐑕ʝʋ ᕊᘟϛʆƈɖ ᒐƈɽᘟƷʖƈ ðƈ ᒍʅᒐ ɮᘟɖ ʅƷϛʆ◦◦ ðᒍʖƈ ᕊᘟϛʆƈʖ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ᒐƈ ʓȶϛᒍʅ ◦ 𐑕ᒍϛƈʖ ȶϛ ʖɫȶϛ ᒍʅ ɮᘟȶʅ ɽᒍʝᒍʅ◦ ᘟϛɖ ᒍðƈʅ ʖȶʓȶʝᘟʅʝʋ ʖƷɕƈʅȣȶɽȶᘟʝ ðȶϛʆʖ◦◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ɽᒍʝʝƈɽ𐑕ȶɳƈ ʖȶʆɮ ᒍȣ ʅƈʝȶƈȣ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈϛ ƈʓᒐᘟʅɽᘟʅȶᒍƷʖ 𐑕ʅȶƈɖ ᘟϛᒍðƈʅ ᒍᒐƪƈɽ𐑕◦◦
ðȶʖ ɲᘟʖ ᒍϛƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ɽʅʋʖ𐑕ᘟʝ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮƈ ʖᘟȶɖ ɽᘟʓƈ ȣʅᒍʓ ðƈ 𐑕ᒍɕ ᒍȣ ᘟ ʖ𐑕ᘟȣȣ◦◦ ᘟʖ ɮƈ ɽᒍʓɕᘟʅƈɖ ȶ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɮᒍʝƈ◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ɽʝƈᘟʅ ðᘟ𐑕 ðȶʖ ᒍᒐƪƈɽ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ðƈ ᒍϛƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ʓƈᘟϛ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ȣȶ𐑕 ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɮᒍʝʝᒍɲ◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ᒍȣ ɕʅƈɽȶʖƈʝʋ ðƈ ʖᘟʓƈ ɖȶʓƈϛʖȶᒍϛʖ ᘟϛɖ ƫᘟɕƈ◦◦ ƈʓᒐᘟʅɽᘟʅȶᒍƷʖ ɖȶɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɕʝᘟɽƈ ȶ𐑕 ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕◦ ɮᒍɲƈɳƈʅ◦◦ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅʖ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ɲʅᘟɕ ᘟ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ᒍȣ ɕʅᒍ𐑕ƈɽ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ᘟʅᒍƷϛɖ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ◦ ðʅƈƈ ʝᘟʋƈʅʖ ɖƈϛʖƈ ᘟϛɖ ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ 𐑕ɲᒍ ʖɕᘟϛʖ ɲȶɖƈ◦◦ ȶ ʖ𐑕ᘟʋƈɖ ȶϛʖȶɖƈ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ◦ ɖʅƈɲ ᘟ ƫƈƈ𐑕 ᒍȣ ɕᘟʅᕊʓƈϛ𐑕 ᘟϛɖ ᘟ ᕊᘟʅɽᒍᘟʝ ʖ𐑕ȶɽɫ ȣʅᒍʓ ʓʋ ɕᒍƷᕊ ᘟϛɖ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ʖɽʅȶᒐƈ ɖᒍɲϛ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ɲᘟʖ ɲʅȶ𐑕𐑕ƈϛ ᒍϛ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕◦◦
ᘟ ɖᒍᒍʅ ᒍɕƈϛƈɖ ðʅξ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ◦ ƈʓᒐᘟʅɽᘟʅȶᒍƷʖ ɲᘟʝɫƈɖ ðʅξ ᘟϛɖ ɮᘟϛɖƈɖ ðƈ ɽʅʋʖ𐑕ᘟʝ 𐑕ᒍ ᒍϛƈ ᒍȣ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅʖ ᘟʝʖᒍ ȶϛʖȶɖƈ◦◦ ɮƈ ðƈϛ ɳƈʅʋ ɽʝƈᘟʅʝʋ ᘟϛɖ ɖƈʝȶᒐƈʅᘟ𐑕ƈʝʋ ᘟϛϛᒍƷϛɽƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ðᒍʖƈ ʆᘟðƈʅƈɖ ȶϛ ðƈ ʅᒍᒍʓ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮƈ ɮᘟɖ ɖƈɽȶɖƈɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮƈ ɖȶɖϛ’𐑕 ᒐƈʝȶƈɳƈ ðȶʖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ȶʓɕᒍʅ𐑕ᘟϛ𐑕 ◦ ɽƈʅ𐑕ᘟȶϛʝʋ ϛᒍ𐑕 ȶʓɕᒍʅ𐑕ᘟϛ𐑕 ƈϛξ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈʅȶ𐑕 ɮȶʖ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈϛ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦ ᒐƷʖʋ ᘟʖ ɮƈ ϛᒍɲ ȶʖ ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ʝᘟƷʅᘟ ɲɮȶ𐑕ƈ◦ʝᒍɽɫʖ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ʝȶɫƈʝʋ ᘟʆʅƈƈ ɲȶð ʖƷᕊ ᘟ ƪƷɖʆƈʓƈϛ𐑕◦◦ ȶȣ ɲƈ ɲᘟϛ𐑕ƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɽᒍϛ𐑕ȶϛƷƈ 𐑕ᒍ ȶϛɳƈʖ𐑕ȶʆᘟ𐑕ƈ ȶ𐑕 ɖƈʖɕȶ𐑕ƈ ðȶʖ◦ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ Ʒɕ 𐑕ᒍ Ʒʖ ◦ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ɮȶʖ ʖ𐑕Ʒɖƈϛ𐑕ʖ ʖɕƈϛɖ ðƈȶʅ 𐑕ȶʓƈ ᒍϛ ȶʖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɮȶʖ ʅƈʖɕᒍϛʖȶᒐȶʝȶ𐑕ʋ◦◦
ɮƈ ðƈϛ 𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ ᘟϛɖ ʖʝȶɕɕƈɖ ᒍƷ𐑕 ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦ ʝƈᘟɳȶϛʆ Ʒʖ ɲȶð ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕◦◦
ȶ ɖᒍ ϛᒍ𐑕 ᒐƈʝȶƈɳƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮƈ 𐑕ʅƷʝʋ ðξ𐑕 ðȶʖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ᘟ ʓᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʅ ᒍȣ ȶϛʖȶʆϛȶȣȶɽᘟϛɽƈ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ʅᘟðƈʅ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ɳƈʅʋ ʓƷᕊ ðƈ ᒍɕɕᒍʖȶ𐑕ƈ ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðᘟ𐑕◦ ɖƷƈ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ϛᘟ𐑕Ʒʅƈ ᒍȣ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɮƈ ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ ʖƷʖɕƈɽ𐑕ƈɖ ðȶʖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ◦ ɮƈ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ᘟʝʝᒍɲ ɮȶʓʖƈʝȣ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ᘟʖʖᒍɽȶᘟ𐑕ƈɖ ɲȶð ȶ𐑕◦◦ ʝᘟƷʅᘟ ɲɮȶ𐑕ƈ◦ʝᒍɽɫʖ◦ ᘟʖ ɲƈʝʝ◦ ɮƈ ɮᘟɖ ʓƈϛ𐑕ȶᒍϛƈɖ ◦ ƫƈ ᘟʝʖᒍ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ᒐƈ 𐑕ȶƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ðȶʖ ȶϛ ᘟϛʋ ɲᘟʋ◦ ƈȶðƈʅ◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ȶʖ ɳƈʅʋ ȶϛ𐑕ƈʅƈʖ𐑕ȶϛʆ◦ ðȶʖ ʅƈʖɕᒍϛʖƈ◦◦
ȶ ȣȶϛȶƫƈɖ ɽᒍɕʋȶϛʆ ɖᒍɲϛ ðƈ ɲᒍʅɖʖ ᒍϛ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕 ᘟϛɖ ʝᒍᒍɫƈɖ Ʒɕ 𐑕ᒍ ʖƈƈ ᘟϛᒍðƈʅ ʓᘟϛ ɮᒍʝɖȶϛʆ ðƈ ɽʅʋʖ𐑕ᘟʝ ᒍϛ ᘟϛ ᒍɕƈϛ ɕᘟʝʓ◦ ɮƈ ɲᘟʖ ʆʝƷȶϛʆ ȶ𐑕◦◦ ðȶʖ ɖȶɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʓᘟɫƈ ʖƈϛʖƈ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ◦◦ ȶȣ
ȶȣ ɲƈ ɲƈʅƈ 𐑕ᒍ ȣȶϛɖ ᘟϛʋðȶϛʆ ᒍƷ𐑕 ᘟᒐᒍƷ𐑕 ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕◦ ɲƈ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ɮᘟɳƈ 𐑕ᒍ ƈɫʖɕƈʅȶʓƈϛ𐑕 ɲȶð ȶ𐑕◦◦ ȶ ɲᘟϛɖƈʅƈɖ ᒍɳƈʅ 𐑕ᒍ ɮȶʓ ᘟϛɖ ᘟʖɫƈɖ ȶȣ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ȶϛʖɕƈɽ𐑕 ðƈ ɽʅʋʖ𐑕ᘟʝ ◦ ɮƈ ʖᘟȶɖ ʋƈʖ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ϛᒍ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ɕȶɽɫ ȶ𐑕 Ʒɕ◦ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲᒍƷʝɖ ɖȶʖ𐑕Ʒʅᒐ ðƈ ʆʝƷȶϛʆ ɕʅᒍɽƈʖʖ◦◦ ȣᒍʅ ᘟ ȣƈɲ ʓᒍʓƈϛ𐑕ʖ◦ ȶ ɖȶɖ ȶϛʖɕƈɽ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ◦ ʝᒍᒍɫƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʖƈƈ ɲɮȶᕊ ɲᘟʋ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ᒍʅȶƈϛ𐑕ƈɖ ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈϛ ʖɲȶȣ𐑕ʝʋ ɕʝƷɽɫƈɖ ðƈ ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈ ȣʅᒍʓ ɮȶʖ ɮᘟϛɖ ᘟϛɖ ɕʝᘟɽƈɖ ȶ𐑕 ȶϛ ðƈ ɮᒍʝʝᒍɲ◦◦
ϛᒍðȶϛʆ ɮᘟɕɕƈϛƈɖ◦◦
ᒍƷ𐑕ʖȶɖƈ ᒍȣ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ᒍȣ ɕʅᒍ𐑕ƈɽ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦ ȶ ʖᘟɲ ʖƈɳƈʅᘟʝ ɕƈᒍɕʝƈ ɲȶð ðƈȶʅ ɮᘟϛɖʖ ɕʅƈʖʖƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈȶʅ ȣᘟɽƈʖ◦ ʝᒍᒍɫȶϛʆ ᒍϛ ɲȶð ʖᒍʓƈðȶϛʆ ʅƈʖƈʓᒐʝȶϛʆ ɖȶʖʆƷʖ𐑕◦◦ ȶ ɽᘟϛϛᒍ𐑕 ʖᘟʋ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ᒐʝᘟʓƈ ðƈʓ◦ ðξ ȶ ɖᒍ ϛᒍ𐑕 ᘟʆʅƈƈ ɲȶð ðƈʓ◦◦ ȶϛ ðƈ ʓƈᘟϛ 𐑕ȶʓƈ◦ ðƈ ɽʅʋʖ𐑕ᘟʝ ɮᘟɖ ɽᒍϛ𐑕ȶϛƷƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɖᒍ ϛᒍðȶϛʆ◦ ȶ ðƈϛ ɕʝᘟɽƈɖ ʓʋ ɮᘟϛɖ ᒍϛ ðƈ ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈ ᘟϛɖ ʝƈ𐑕 ʓʋ ʖȶϛʆʝƈ ʅƈʓᘟȶϛȶϛʆ ʓᘟϛᘟ 𐑕ʅȶɽɫʝƈ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ȶ𐑕◦◦ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅʖ ɲȶðȶϛ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ʖᘟɲ ᘟϛɖ ɖȶɖ ðƈ ʖᘟʓƈ◦◦ ᘟʖ ðᒍʖƈ ʓᘟϛᘟ ʖɕȶʝʝƈɖ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɽʅʋʖ𐑕ᘟʝ◦ ȶ𐑕 ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ʆʝᒍɲ ɳƈʅʋ ȣᘟȶϛ𐑕ʝʋ◦◦
ƈɳƈϛ ɕᒍᒍʝȶϛʆ ᘟʝʝ ᒍȣ ᒍƷʅ ʓᘟϛᘟ◦ ɲƈ ᒐƷ𐑕 ᘟ ʝȶ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ ᘟɳᘟȶʝᘟᒐʝƈ◦◦ ɲƈ ᒍɕƈϛƈɖ ᘟ ɖᒍᒍʅ ȶϛ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ᒍȣ ɕʅᒍ𐑕ƈɽ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ᘟϛɖ ɽᒍʝʝƈɽ𐑕ƈɖ ʓᘟϛᘟ ȣʅᒍʓ ðᒍʖƈ ᒍƷ𐑕ʖȶɖƈ ᒍȣ ȶ𐑕◦ ðƈϛ ɽʝᒍʖƈɖ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ ᘟϛɖ 𐑕ʅᘟϛʖȣƈʅʅƈɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ʓᘟϛᘟ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɽʅʋʖ𐑕ᘟʝ◦◦ ᒍϛɽƈ ɲƈ ɮᘟɖ ȣȶʝʝƈɖ ȶ𐑕 ɲȶð 𐑕ƈϛ ʓᘟϛᘟ◦ ȶ𐑕 ʆʝᒍɲƈɖ ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ ᘟ ʝȶ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ ᒐʅȶʆɮ𐑕ƈʅ ðᘟϛ ȶ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ɖȶɖ ϛᒍðȶϛʆ ᒐƈʖȶɖƈʖ◦◦ ᒐᒍð ȶ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ʓᘟϛ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈʆƷϛ 𐑕ᒍ ʆʝƷƈ ðƈ ɽʅʋʖ𐑕ᘟʝ ɕʝᘟɽƈ ƈᘟᕊ ɕʝᘟɽƈɖ ᘟ ɮᘟϛɖ ᒍϛ ðƈ ɽʅʋʖ𐑕ᘟʝ◦ ɲƈ ðƈϛ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ʅƈᘟɖ ðƈ 𐑕ƈɫʖ𐑕 ᒍƷ𐑕 ʝᒍƷɖ◦◦
ʓƷᕊ 𐑕ᒍ ʓʋ ɖȶʖʓᘟʋ◦ ɲɮƈϛ ɲƈ ʖɕᒍɫƈ ðƈ ȣȶϛᘟʝ ɲᒍʅɖʖ ᒍȣ ðƈ 𐑕ƈɫʖ𐑕◦ ðƈ ʆʝᒍɲ ɖȶʖᘟɕɕƈᘟʅƈɖ ᘟʖ ʖƷɖɖƈϛʝʋ ᘟʖ ᘟ ɽᘟϛɖʝƈ ȣʝᘟʓƈ ɖȶɕɕƈɖ ȶϛ ɲᘟ𐑕ƈʅ◦◦ ɲƈ ȶϛʖɕƈɽ𐑕ƈɖ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕◦ ȶ𐑕 ʖƈƈʓƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɮᘟɳƈ ʅƈɳƈʅ𐑕ƈɖ ᒐᘟɽɫ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ʖ𐑕ᘟ𐑕ƈ ȶ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈƈϛ ȶϛ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ ɲƈ ɮᘟɖ ɕᒍᒍʝƈɖ ʓᘟϛᘟ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈ ◦ ƈɳƈϛ ᘟϛʋ ʖȶʆϛ ᒍȣ ðᘟ𐑕 ʓᘟϛᘟ ɮᘟɖ ɳᘟϛȶƫƈɖ◦◦
ᘟ ȣƈɲ ᒍðƈʅʖ ᒍɕƈϛƈɖ ᘟ ɖᒍᒍʅ ðʅξ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ᘟϛɖ ʖʝȶɕɕƈɖ ȶϛʖȶɖƈ◦◦ ðƈʋ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ʝᒍᒍɫ ᘟ𐑕 ƈᘟᕊ ᒍȣ ðƈ ȶϛɖȶɳȶɖƷᘟʝ ɕȶƈɽƈʖ ᒍȣ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕◦ 𐑕Ʒʅϛȶϛʆ ðƈʓ ᒍɳƈʅ ᘟϛɖ ȶϛʖɕƈɽ𐑕ȶϛʆ ðƈʓ◦◦ ᒍϛƈ ᒍȣ ðƈ ɕȶƈɽƈʖ◦ ɲƈ ȣᒍƷϛɖ◦ ɮᘟɖ ᕊȶɕɕƈɖ◦ ðʅξ ðƈ ᕊȶɕ◦ ɲƈ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ʖƈƈ ᘟ ʅȶϛʆ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈƈϛ ƈʓᒐƈɖɖƈɖ ȶϛ ðƈ ɕȶƈɽƈ◦◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ʖᒍʓƈ ɖƈᒐᘟ𐑕ƈ ᒍɳƈʅ ɲɮƈðƈʅ ᒍʅ ϛᒍ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ɽᒍƷʝɖ ᒐƈ ɕʅȶƈɖ ᒍƷ𐑕 ɲɮȶʝƈ ʖ𐑕ȶʝʝ ɫƈƈɕȶϛʆ ðᘟ𐑕 ɕȶƈɽƈ ȶϛ𐑕ᘟɽ𐑕◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ɖƈɽȶɖƈɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ɲᒍʅð 𐑕ʅʋȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ʆƈ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ᒍƷ𐑕◦◦ ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ ʖᒍʓƈ ɲᒍʅɫ◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ʖƷɽɽƈʖʖȣƷʝʝʋ ʅƈʓᒍɳƈɖ◦ ϛȶϛᘟ ȶɖƈϛ𐑕ȶȣȶƈɖ ðƈ ʅȶϛʆ◦◦ ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ ᘟ ʓᒍʓƈϛ𐑕◦ ɮƈ ʖᘟȶɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ʅȶϛʆ ɖȶʅƈɽ𐑕ƈɖ ðƈ ȣʝᒍɲ ᒍȣ ʓᘟϛᘟ ᘟϛɖ ᘟʝʝᒍɲƈɖ ȶ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ȣʝᒍɲ ȶϛ ɳᘟʅȶᒍƷʖ ɲᘟʋʖ◦◦
ᘟ ȣƈɲ ʓᒍʓƈϛ𐑕ʖ ʝᘟ𐑕ƈʅ◦ ᒍϛƈ ʓᘟϛ ɖʅᒍɕɕƈɖ ᘟ ɖȶȣȣƈʅƈϛ𐑕 ɕȶƈɽƈ ᒍȣ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕◦◦ ɲƈ ɲᘟ𐑕ᕊƈɖ ȶϛ ɮᒍʅʅᒍʅ ᘟʖ ȶ𐑕 ɽʅᘟɽɫƈɖ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ 𐑕ɲᒍ ɕȶƈɽƈʖ ◦ ᒍϛʝʋ 𐑕ᒍ ȣȶϛɖ ðᘟ𐑕◦ ᘟʓᒍϛʆ ðƈ ʅƷᒐᒐʝƈ ᘟϛɖ ɖƷʖ𐑕 ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ɕȶƈɽƈ ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈɽᒍʓƈ◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ʖʓᘟʝʝ ʖ𐑕ᘟ𐑕Ʒƈ ᒍʅ ȣȶʆƷʅȶϛƈ◦◦ ᘟ ɫɲƷȶɽɫ◦ ᘟϛȶʓᘟ𐑕ƈɖ ɖƈᒐᘟ𐑕ƈ ȣᒍʝʝᒍɲƈɖ◦ ᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ƈϛɖ ᒍȣ ɲɮȶᕊ ɲƈ ɖƈɽȶɖƈɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ʓƈʅƈʝʋ ᘟ ʖƈ𐑕 ᒍȣ ȶϛʖ𐑕ʅƷɽ𐑕ȶᒍϛʖ◦ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ʓᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʅƈɖ ʓᒍʖ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ɽᒍϛɽƈᘟʝƈɖ ɲȶðȶϛ ðƈ ɕȶƈɽƈʖ ᒍȣ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕◦◦
ɲƈ ɫɲƷȶɽɫʝʋ ʖƈ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ᒐʅƈᘟɫȶϛʆ ðƈ ʅƈʓᘟȶϛȶϛʆ ɕȶƈɽƈʖ◦◦ ᘟʖ ᘟϛ𐑕ȶɽȶɕᘟ𐑕ƈɖ ɲƈ ȣᒍƷϛɖ ʖƈɳƈʅᘟʝ ʓᒍʅƈ ȶ𐑕ƈʓʖ◦ ᘟ ᒐᒍ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ ᒍȣ ʖᘟϛɖ◦ ᘟ ʓȶϛȶᘟ𐑕Ʒʅƈ ʖɲᒍʅɖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ʖᒍʓƈ ɫȶϛɖ ᒍȣ ᘟʓƷʝƈ𐑕◦◦ ϛȶϛᘟ ȶɖƈϛ𐑕ȶȣȶƈɖ ðƈ ᒍᒐƪƈɽ𐑕ʖ ᒍϛƈ ᒐʋ ᒍϛƈ◦ 𐑕ƈʝʝȶϛʆ Ʒʖ ᒍȣ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ɮƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟᒐʝƈ 𐑕ᒍ ʆʝƈᘟϛ ᘟᒐᒍƷ𐑕 ðƈʓ◦◦ ðƈ ʖᘟϛɖ ɲᘟʖ ȶϛ ᘟ ʖᒍʅ𐑕 ᒍȣ ɖȶʓƈϛʖȶᒍϛᘟʝ ȣᒍʝɖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ɲᘟʖ ȶϛ ʖᒍʓƈ ɲᘟʋ ᘟ ɕɮʋʖȶɽᘟʝ ȣᒍʅʓ ᒍȣ 𐑕ȶʓƈ◦ ðƈ ʖɲᒍʅɖ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ᒐƈ ɕʅƈʖƈϛ𐑕ƈɖ ɲȶð ᘟ ɽᒍϛɽƈɕ𐑕◦ ᘟϛɖ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ðƈϛ ɕʅᒍ𐑕ƈɽ𐑕 ᒍϛƈ ȣʅᒍʓ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ɲᘟʖ ɕʅƈʖƈϛ𐑕ƈɖ ȶϛ ðƈ ɽᒍϛɽƈɕ𐑕◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ᘟʓƷʝƈ𐑕 ɽᒍϛ𐑕ᘟȶϛƈɖ ᘟ ɖʅᘟʆᒍϛʖ 𐑕ƈᘟʅ◦ ᘟϛɖ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ʆȶɳƈ ðƈ ɕƈʅʖᒍϛ ʝᒍᒍɫȶϛʆ ðʅξ ȶ𐑕 𐑕ʅƷƈ ʖȶʆɮ𐑕◦◦
ƈᘟᕊ ᒍȣ ðƈ ȶ𐑕ƈʓʖ ɽᒍʅʅƈʖɕᒍϛɖƈɖ ɲȶð ᒍϛƈ ʓƈϛ𐑕ȶᒍϛƈɖ ᒍϛ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕◦◦ ðƈ ʖɲᒍʅɖ ɲᘟʖ ðƈ ʖɲᒍʅɖ◦ ðƈ ɲȶϛɖᒍɲ ɲᘟʖ ðƈ ᘟʓƷʝƈ𐑕◦ ðƈ ȣȶʆƷʅȶϛƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ʖ𐑕ᘟ𐑕Ʒƈ◦ ðƈ ʖᘟϛɖ ɲᘟʖ ðƈ ᒐᒍ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ ᒍȣ ʖᘟϛɖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ʅȶϛʆ ɲᘟʖ ðƈ ʅȶϛʆ◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ʖƈƈʓƈɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈʋ ɲƈʅƈ ʖƷɕɕᒍʖƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ȶϛ𐑕ƈʅᘟɽ𐑕 ȶϛ ʖᒍʓƈ ɲᘟʋ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ɲƈ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ðȶϛɫ ᒍȣ ɮᒍɲ 𐑕ᒍ ʓᘟɫƈ ðƈʓ ɖᒍ ʖᒍ◦◦ ʓᒍʅƈ ɕƈᒍɕʝƈ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ 𐑕ᒍ ƈɫʖᘟʓȶϛƈ ðƈ ᒍᒐƪƈɽ𐑕ʖ◦ ᒍϛƈ ᒍȣ ðᒍʖƈ ʓƈϛ ʆʅᘟᒐᒐƈɖ ðƈ ᒐᒍ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ ᒍȣ ʖᘟϛɖ ᘟϛɖ 𐑕ʅȶƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒍɕƈϛ ȶ𐑕◦◦ ʝƷɽɫȶʝʋ◦ ᘟϛᒍðƈʅ ʓᘟϛ ʓᘟϛᘟʆƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɲʅƈʖ𐑕ʝƈ ȶ𐑕 ᒍƷ𐑕 ᒍȣ ɮȶʖ ʆʅᘟʖɕ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ ᘟϛʋ ɖᘟʓᘟʆƈ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ᒐƈ ɖᒍϛƈ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ʖ𐑕ȶʝʝ ᘟ ʝȶ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ 𐑕ƈʅʅȶȣʋȶϛʆ◦◦
ᘟʖ ʓᒍʅƈ ɕƈᒍɕʝƈ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅƈɖ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ᒍȣ ɕʅᒍ𐑕ƈɽ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦ ȶ𐑕 ᒐƈɽᘟʓƈ ɽʅᒍɲɖƈɖ ᘟϛɖ ᕊᘟᒍ𐑕ȶɽ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɕᒍȶϛ𐑕 ᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ȶ𐑕 ȣƈʝ𐑕 ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ɲᘟʝʝʖ ᒍȣ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ɲƈʅƈ ɽʝᒍʖȶϛʆ Ʒɕᒍϛ ᘟϛɖ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʓɕ𐑕ȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ʖƷȣȣᒍɽᘟ𐑕ƈ ʓƈ◦◦ ȶ ᒐᘟɽɫƈɖ ᒍƷ𐑕 ᒍȣ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ᘟϛɖ ʖƈ𐑕 ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ᘟʆᘟȶϛʖ𐑕 ᘟ ɲᘟʝʝ 𐑕ᒍ 𐑕ᘟɫƈ ϛᒍ𐑕ƈʖ◦ ðξ ɕʅƈɕᘟʅƈɖ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ 𐑕ᒍ ʝƈᘟɕ ᒐᘟɽɫ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ƫᒍƷʝɖ ʖᒍʓƈðȶϛʆ ᒍȣ ȶϛ𐑕ƈʅƈʖ𐑕 ɮᘟɕɕƈϛ◦◦ ȶ ᘟʓ ϛᒍ𐑕 Ʒʖƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɲᒍʅɫȶϛʆ ɲȶð ʖᒍ ʓᘟϛʋ ɕƈᒍɕʝƈ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȣȶϛɖ ʖƷᕊ ʖȶ𐑕Ʒᘟ𐑕ȶᒍϛʖ ɖȶȣȣȶɽƷʝ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ɖƈᘟʝ ɲȶð◦◦
ʖᒍᒍϛ ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ◦ ɲƈ ʅƈᘟʝȶɽƈɖ ɮᒍɲ ʓƷᕊ 𐑕ȶʓƈ ɮᘟɖ ɕᘟʖʖƈɖ ᘟϛɖ ɮᒍɲ ɖƈƈɕʝʋ ðƈ ϛȶʆɮ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ɕʅᒍʆʅƈʖʖƈɖ◦◦ ðȶʖ ȶϛ ʓȶϛɖ◦ ɲƈ ᘟʝʝ ɖƈɕᘟʅ𐑕ƈɖ ðƈ ʅᒍᒍʓ◦ ʝᒍɽɫȶϛʆ ȶ𐑕 ᒐƈɮȶϛɖ Ʒʖ ᘟʆᘟȶϛʖ𐑕 ᘟϛʋ ɽƷʅȶᒍƷʖ ȶϛ𐑕ʅƷɖƈʅʖ◦◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ɲƈᘟʅʋ ʓᘟʅᕊ ɖᒍɲϛ ðƈ ʅᒍᘟɖ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ȶϛϛ◦ ᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ɕᒍȶϛ𐑕 ɲƈ ᘟʝʝ ȣȶʝ𐑕ƈʅƈɖ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ᒍƷʅ ɳᘟʅȶᒍƷʖ ʅᒍᒍʓʖ 𐑕ᒍ ȣȶϛɖ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ʖʝƈƈɕ ɲƈ ɽᒍƷʝɖ◦◦ ȶ ʖɕƈϛ𐑕 ᘟ ʝȶ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ ʝᒍϛʆƈʅ ɽᒍʓɕʝƈ𐑕ȶϛʆ ʓʋ ϛᒍ𐑕ƈʖ ᒍϛ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɮᘟɖ ʓᘟϛᘟʆƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɖȶʖɽᒍɳƈʅ ᘟᒐᒍƷ𐑕 ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕◦ ðƈϛ ƪᒍȶϛƈɖ ðƈ ɽᒍʝʝƈɽ𐑕ȶɳƈ ɫɲƷƈʖ𐑕 ȣᒍʅ ʅƈʖ𐑕◦◦
ɲƈ ʅᒍʖƈ ðƈ ϛƈɫʖ𐑕 ʓᒍʅϛȶϛʆ ᘟϛɖ◦ ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ ðƈ ʖƷϛ ɲᘟʖ ᒐʅȶʆɮ𐑕 ᘟϛɖ ȣƷʝʝʋ ɽʝƈᘟʅƈɖ ȣʅᒍʓ ðƈ ɮᒍʅȶɽᒍϛ◦ ɲᘟʝɫƈɖ ᒐᘟɽɫ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ʓᘟʆƈ ʖᕊᒍᒍʝ 𐑕ᒍ 𐑕ᘟʝɫ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ᘟϛɽȶƈϛ𐑕 ᘟʅ𐑕ȶȣᘟɽ𐑕ʖ 𐑕ƈᘟᕊƈʅ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ʖ𐑕ᒍɕɕƈɖ ᒐʋ ðƈ ʖᕊᒍᒍʝ◦◦ ᒍϛɽƈ ɲƈ ʓᘟϛᘟʆƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɮƷϛ𐑕 ɮƈʅ ɖᒍɲϛ◦ ɲƈ 𐑕ᒍʝɖ ɮƈʅ ᒍȣ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟᒐʝƈ𐑕 ᘟϛɖ ᘟʖɫƈɖ ȶȣ ƫƈ ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ ɫϛƈɲ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ʓȶʆɮ𐑕 ᒐƈ◦◦
ƫƈ ðξ𐑕 ȣᒍʅ ᘟ ʓᒍʓƈϛ𐑕◦ ðƈϛ ʖᘟȶɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ʖᒍƷϛɖƈɖ ʝȶɫƈ ᘟϛ ƈʝɖƈʅ ʖᒍʅɽƈʅʋ ᘟʅ𐑕ȶȣᘟɽ𐑕◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ʖƈƈʓƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɮƈʅ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ɕȶƈɽƈʖ ʓȶʆɮ𐑕 ᒐƈ ᘟᒐʝƈ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ᘟʅʅᘟϛʆƈɖ ȶϛ ɖȶȣȣƈʅƈϛ𐑕 ɲᘟʋʖ 𐑕ᒍ ɕʅᒍɖƷɽƈ ɖȶȣȣƈʅƈϛ𐑕 ƈȣȣƈɽ𐑕ʖ◦◦ ðƈ ɕɮʅᘟʖƈ “ʖɕƈʝʝ ɲɮƈƈʝ” ɲᘟʖ ᘟʝʖᒍ ᘟʖʖᒍɽȶᘟ𐑕ƈɖ◦ ðξ ȶ ɽᘟϛϛᒍ𐑕 ɫɲƷȶ𐑕ƈ ʅƈɽᘟʝʝ ȶȣ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ðƈ ᘟʅ𐑕ȶȣᘟɽ𐑕ʖ 𐑕ƈᘟᕊƈʅ ðᘟ𐑕 ʖᘟȶɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ᒍʅ ᘟ ʓƈʓᒍʅʋ ᒍȣ ʖᒍʓƈðȶϛʆ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɮᘟɳƈ ʅƈᘟɖ ɖƷʅȶϛʆ ʓʋ ʅƈʖƈᘟʅᕊ◦◦ ɲɮȶᕊƈɳƈʅ ɲᘟʋ ȶ𐑕 ɮᘟɕɕƈϛʖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ◦ ȶ𐑕 ʆȶɳƈʖ ʓƈ ᘟ ʖᒍʝȶɖ ɕȶƈɽƈ ᒍȣ ȶϛȣᒍʅʓᘟ𐑕ȶᒍϛ 𐑕ᒍ ɲᒍʅɫ ȣʅᒍʓ◦ ȶ ƫᘟʝʝ ᒐƈ ʖɕƈϛɖȶϛʆ ʓƷᕊ 𐑕ȶʓƈ◦ ʓƈðȶϛɫʖ◦ ʖƈᘟʅᕊȶϛʆ ðƈ ɮȶʖ𐑕ᒍʅȶƈʖ 𐑕ᒍ ȣȶϛɖ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɽᘟϛ ᒍȣ ʖɕƈʝʝ ɲɮƈƈʝʖ◦◦
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 17:39:56 GMT -8
August 2010 Campout, Day 1 ----- - Strange undead beings can be raised within a certain proximity of Ebony's shrine - they are transparent, corporeal, retain their memories but not their skills, can deal damage, and must protect and take orders from their creator.
- Shipwreck was investigated
- There was a haunt wandering around carrying the sword "Helionos" (hopefully I got the name right); hasn't been solved.
- There are strange lights off the docks; might be undead madwings sucked dry by the manawave? We're not entirely sure.
----- Enyari StaráflurEvery day, something else seems to come up. A new haunt is discovered, a new sickness spreads through the city, another gang arises... it never ends, and the news is always bad. And that’s when you even get news in the first place; Pinnical tries to be well-informed, but so many of the problems arising nowadays wind up being complete and utter mysteries that you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed when you get up in the morning and look at the task bulletin. Everything that we did today - everything - involved investigation on our parts, and it seems like we aren’t any better-informed than we were when the day began. Why can’t, just once, the world be a simple place? It started with the Nonas Guard, today. Apparently the Nonas Guard had come to Hostor and appeared to be investigating the shrine to Ebony - but it wasn’t certain if that’s what was what was actually going on. Our job was to, effectively, go investigate what the Nonas Guard was investigating. Somehow, this feels very much like politics. In any case, we walked the city’s streets to Ebony’s shrine; that, at least, had a refreshing taste of ordinariness about it - dogs barking, vendors hawking, people talking, all topped off with a dose of everyday sense. It didn’t last long, of course. We arrived at our destination soon enough and the Nonas Guard were indeed congregated around the shrine as a couple of flame mages molded the mound of gold into some shape or other that I couldn’t quite discern. Rather than investigating, the Guard seemed to be waiting - the one that seemed to be in charge was standing in a position that almost resembled repose. We began to talk to him - ask him what they were doing here - but quickly found out that it was futile. He could neither “confirm nor deny” whether or not they were investigating something, or even if they had any intent at all. The same went for why there were on Hostor and on whose orders they were hear. Annoying as it might be for us, you’ve got to admit - these guys know how to follow orders. When it became clear that we would get nothing out of them, I broke off from the group and looked around the area a bit. The shrine to Ebony caught my eye again; it was interesting, what the flame mages were doing with it. Though they seemed to be melting the pile of gold and molding it into shape, each individual coin remained just that - an individual, rather than becoming a melty, liquid part of the other coins. I looked back over at the group surrounding the Nonas Guard to find that something interesting had happened. The Guards were clearing an area around the shrine about ten feet wide. A couple new figures had also appeared and were standing in the now-cleared ring. One was a student from the school. I’m not sure, but I think i recognized him as one of the more advanced students under Ebony. The other one I didn’t recognize, which was definitely not helped by the fact that she was dead. I walked over and joined the ring just in time to hear the necromancer cast animate dead on the body. As it awakened and began to stand up, the body became transparent - transparent, but still solid. The necromancer began to question her as we and the Nonas Guard looked on. It turned out that she could still remember everything - still had all of the memories - from her true life. They seemed to find this fascinating, and started conducting experiments on her. They had her attack one of the Braced Nonas Guards to see if she could deal damage; she could. They tried attacking the necromancer to see if she would be forced to defend him; she was. They tried having the necromancer order to attack a Guard; she did so, unwillingly. They also tried having her use her skills, which she was unable to do. She was able to talk out of town just fine, too, when they had her try that. After they finished experimenting, she was re-killed and taken to go get resurrected. A few more experiments were done on some of the adventurers that had volunteered to be killed for the sake of investigation. It was determined that while you didn’t have to be raised right at the shrine, the raising did have to be within the city if one were to make one of those strange beings. And you could make a different kind of undead if you specified the spell to do so, but if you neglected to include a specification it would always create the strange form. Eventually they all finished. The experimentation over, we walked back across the city over to the inn, where choosing the next mission took place. My companions chose to investigate a shipwreck; I didn’t join them an instead elected to stay behind, given that the whole business didn’t seem particularly important. I spent this time wistfully polishing my wakasashi and hoping that I’d actually get to use it sometime soon; I’ve finally managed to pick up a new skill and look forward to testing my abilities against those of something a little more menacing than a training dummy. Around suppertime, I made my way over to the tavern to devour a meal. Gavin Whitecloud, the historian that I’d spent so much time listening to a few weeks previously, was there and giving a lecture on history from the 3rd age onwards. I didn’t pay much attention, preferring to focus on my stew; in any case, plenty of others - Nyanar, Yuck, Ara, the usual crew - were noting down things of interest. I cannot for the life of me envision a world in which shuffling paper is more interesting than movement, but apparently such a world exists in the eyes of others. Afterwards, the checked the task listings: more investigations. I’m getting sick to my swordpoint of all these dratted investigations. Law enforcement, fine - but haunts and strange lights? Not for me. I clomped back up the inn stairs to the rooms - to my room - to catch an early night of sleep. Maybe something interesting will happen tomorrow. --- NyanarI am curious about these lights. They seem very much similar to the wisps of the fen lights that spiral from belly of swamps - except that these have been sighted over the coast, not the swamps. And it would seem that Yuck and her friends - Elwicket, Raven, and such - have seen similar such lights over the docks nearest to Krodigros, and they did not know what the lights were, either. These mysterious lights are of many different colors and float above the water in strange patterns. I have not heard of such lights before and they catch my interest; thus, I joined the group that ventured to the docks when it came to be time for them to leave. It was very quiet, the walk to the docks. The stars were clear that night, and spilled silently across the ink of the sky as shimmering grains of crystal sand sparkling upon the shore. I have not had a night as peaceful as this for much time, now, and I enjoyed our walk to the coast. The docks were beautiful as well; quiet, now, without all the business and bustle of daytime, and the water was still and reflected the lights of those gorgeous stars - and, as well, the lights that we were seeking. There were many colors of lights: green, blue, gold, orange, and a deep violet. As I watched them float in midair above the still surface of the water, they seemed to emanate a feeling of deep sadness; of melancholy and forlornness. It was almost as if something were missing from them, or as if they had not yet fully formed or grown. The lights danced in a single line back and forth across the water, first bobbing up and down in once direction and then back in the other, with about half going in each direction at any time. They were some number of spans off the docks; those that were able swam or flew out to meet them. The man whom I had accompanied to find the tablet piece produced a kayak, and we settled into it and began to paddle towards them. As soon as we were close enough, I reached out from the kayak to touch one. The lights were not corporeal things, as my hand did pass through the light without meeting any resistance. I tried touching several more when they neared the kayak, but the effect was the same every time. Talking to them, also, did nothing; when I asked them questions, it was as if they could not hear me - certainly a possibility, and more than likely - for they danced on. After some time, their pattern changed. The lights would drift into a multitude of pairs, at which point they began to move in vertically oriented circles or spirals in midair. Those people around me began to talk of having been affected by the lights; one man had been shocked by a blue light, and one had been healed by a golden one. Looking, I realized that each color of light represented a different type of magic - storm, life, and the like - and that they seemed to me to be a form of undead, as they seemed to be becoming aggravated by our presence as haunts in particular are apt to do. Still, though, they are unlike any undead that I have ever seen. I motioned to my companion, asking him to take me back to the docks. As the kayak silently slipped across the water back tot he land, the patterns that the lights danced changed once again. This time, the lights that glowed the same colors gathered in their own groups and began to swish back and forth and up and down very sharply - almost as if they had entered some kind of frenzy. Once I departed the kayak, Oreyn and I mutely watched them for a time. Then, in the same moment, we had the same realization and looked at one another in a panic. It was entirely possible that these lights were the remains of creatures-of-magic that had been sucked dry of mana because of the mana-vacuum that surrounds the core of the manawaves. Were this true, it would likely mean that a manawave was heading towards us at that very time. Frantically, we searched for Yuck and her friends. We found them sitting on one of the jetties tot he side and quietly conversing. We urged them to stand and come with us as quickly as possible; it was possibly dangerous here, and we would explain on the way. This, we did; we walked back to Pinnical at a very brisk pace as most of our companions trickled behind us, and we explained to them what we thought had happened. Whether or not they thought it likely, they certainly at least seemed willing to entertain the hypothesis. Soon, we found ourselves back within the safety of Pinnical’s walls, where we waited for the others to return. It was not long before most of them did - all but Ara, Emyrn, and (Reese). Much more time passed through our hands as we anxiously awaited their return. When finally they arrived, they seemed unharmed, though something else curious had happened. The lights corresponding with the magery that they had learned began to follow them around. After some time, the lights had disappeared - but they still could feel the lights haunting them. Using spirit guide, I looked at them to see the lights - but I found that, even then, I could not see the haunts. Not knowing what to do with the matter, we set it aside for a later time and made our way towards the tavern. Gavin Whitecloud, the historian, was still there. I had procured much useful information from him earlier in the day, and hoped to glean more. This venture was a successful one, for which I am glad. Gavin was able to clarify for me who the person known as the “Dark Lady” was; as I had suspected, that was an alternate naming of the Lady of the Dark Woods. He explained that “Dark Lady” was a title used when those speaking the name wished to be a little more discreet about what they were saying - much like, I imagine, Gristodemdal’s “Grey Lord”. The other piece of information that I found interesting was the supposed extinction of the Nerigoth Elves; Gavin suspected that they were not truly extinct, but rather in hiding, since they had been thought to be extinct twice before but had not in fact been so. He also briefly forayed into the Lagmareth Elves after saying that the Nerigoth Elves had likely learned their lesson from them; the Lagmareth Elves had been the best weaponscrafters in existence until they had been annihilated by the logging of their forests, attacks from centaurs, and eventually Dagdeoth coming to decimate them entirely. After that, I made my way across town to an inn which I had not been to before. Earlier in the day, it had been arranged that Yuck, Elwicket, Raven, Ara, Emyrn, Oreyn, (Zac), and myself would meet to discuss and compare and exchange theories and knowledge. We found ourselves in an empty side room in which we would be less likely to be overheard. We talked of many things, there. The Pathfinder Items, once again, were touched upon, though but briefly; the spell wheel - by now which I feel that it would be a good idea to rid ourselves of by scattering it to the ocean currents - was also talked of, during which it was determined that ours was not likely the true spell wheel, but merely a copy. That put my mind a little more at ease; I would not like to deal with the actual thing. The talk drifted at that point from items - but for one exception - and instead to the various prophecies we have collected of late. I handed to Yuck the prophecy that spoke of dreams, and explained that which we thought we knew about it and that which I had gained from my match with the Riddler. She thought for a moment, and then there was the sound of a bump agains the wall from outside; I ducked outside this room to check for eavesdroppers, but found none - hopefully because there were none to be found. When I entered back into the room and closed the door, she asked about the doors shown in the Riddler’s answer - what did I know of them? I briefly explained to her of the doors that we had gone through when we had merged the Demon Sisters and the Unicorn Sisters into the Nomad Sisters. Yuck considered for a short time, then asked what we knew of Neanorn. I had heard the name many years ago when we were piecing together the story of the unicorns, but we have never quite figured out anything surrounding Neanorn. Neanorn, Yuck told me, was the daughter of Feanorn and Neyana. Neanorn forged three crowns, and was said to have needed to enter a place with such doors as we have dealt with in order to do so. Once she forged the crowns was when the unicorns first appeared. The demons, also, appeared at the time; Hragnor was said to have gone insane from witnessing the birth of the Demon Sisters. There was even more than that, however; Neyana, Neanorn’s mother, was said to have been the Lady of the Dark Woods. It seemed to me that the forging of these crowns was what had so broken the Sisters - that Neanorn had indeed found the same place that we had, and that in order to make the crowns what they were she must have done something to those doors. And that image of a woman in a forge, making crowns, when I had received an answer from the Riddler - that must have been Neanorn. The crowns - would the crowns still be in existence, if the Sisters had become the Nomad Sisters? The last thing that I had heard of the crowns until now was that they were in the hands of the Demon Sisters. Now - who knows? We sifted through my collection of papers, then, comparing pieces of poetry and prophecy and pooling our knowledge and thoughts of what we saw. As we talked, a plan began to emerge; tomorrow, we would try to revisit these doors again. We would use heartstones to bring our heartbeats to the same speed of beating, then would attempt to enter somebody’s mind. Whose mind, we were not sure. Much of the time following was spent discussing fears and tendencies of mind that might interfere with the process. Raven refused outright, saying that as she was afraid of giant leeches, there was no chance that we would be entering her skull. Elwicket, also, refused outright, referencing several “dark corners” that he did not want to deal with; Yuck refused for much the same reason. Mine, also, would not be chosen, for its cunning nature; Ara refused as well, protesting that hers was not the most pure of minds. The others - Oreyn and Emyrn - also seemed reluctant to agree. When at last we realized that the timekeeping candle had burned to one hour past deep night and we departed to find our separate ways to sleep, we still had not yet decided.
August 2010 Campout, Day 2 - Elder Goddess and New God items don't seem to be functioning anymore. Certain familiars also seem to have lost their powers, and the Nomad Sisters don't seem to be responding to oracles or other such requests.
- The Nonas Guard is still in town, and the Guards are now spending their time scanning various areas with magical, colored spheres.
- Embarcarious now has Brim's pipe. Rumor has it that it was delivered by Melissa, who was sighted at the school. Embarcarious cannot "confirm or deny" this rumor, however.
- Potential new teachers at the school went through their testing, but most of them ended up refusing the position in the end due to, shall we say, "diplomatic difficulties".
- Some thieves from Geb escaped prison and started attempting to escape Pinnical. Some of them were captured, but not all of them (I think).
- A band of corporeal undead were spotted outside of Pinnical. With them were several creatures that turned into the triplets that went to take the tests to become teachers at Pinnical - look at the "Pinnical Misisons" thread for more information about that.
--- *cough* So. Due to certain, ah, threats to the well-being of certain characters, the first portion of this chronicle is not going to be posted until after the next time jump. Maybe. Depending on what happens between now and then and on how many people are still trying to lynch me at that point. If you were actually present at and participating in the events (you know who you are), then PM me if you want to read it, but otherwise... --- Enyari StaráflurFinally, a day in which something resembling productivity was to be had. Sure, there was a little investigation, but as a whole we actually moved forward today. This is a very good thing. I’m worried, though. When we poured into the inn’s common room to attend to the day’s first tasks, Lord Embarcarious Petrafloutous was there as usual - but, rather unusually, he was holding a pipe. I’ve seen that pipe before. We all have. The pipe that Lord Petrafloutous held belonged to the traitor Brim. That seemed like a good sign - that, maybe, Melissa had finally hunted him down and thrashed him until he was beyond the call of life. What was worrying was that, when several members of the group asked him about it, he replied that he “could not confirm or deny” sightings of Melissa on campus, or whether or not he had found the pipe in his room, or whether or not it had still been smoking. He has never used that phrase before - not until now, when the Nonas Guard came to town and also used similar phrasing. Usually, he just slips around giving an answer to the question rather than being so direct. That was only the beginning, though. When asked, he wouldn’t put the pipe down. There are plenty of rational reasons for that, of course - not wanting it stolen by the many thieves in the group, at the very least. But there was something strange about the whole thing. Somehow, it seemed like there was something wrong. Eon and I exchanged glances from across the group; we would discuss it later. In the meantime, other events of importance were taking place. Behind Lord Petrafloutous’s seat, there were four other seats; in them sat four unfamiliar hobbits. Lord Petrafloutous introduced them as the four prospective new teachers for the school. All four hailed from different schools in which they had studied. One was from Astengrad, one from another school, one was from Serpenton, and the last was from - very interesting, this - Dagdeoth. They would be going through a series of tests throughout the day, which were included in the task listing; if we were to choose them, then we would come along with them, work alongside them, and form an opinion about their abilities and the manner in which they conducted themselves. After this was explained, we went through the voting process and decided to pursue investigating the madwings. There were two points to this mission. Firstly, to attempt to figure out why there were madwings in the area at all. Secondly, apparently several of the party members had become haunted by madwings in some way, and they thought that these madwings might have some insight as to what to do about this. We set out fairly quickly after deciding; I took my place next to Ara Silverwind, as I had been given the duty of protecting her to the best of my ability. We followed the road down to the area in which the madwings had been sighted. At first, it was crowded with merchant wagons and the like, but as we walked further from Pinnical, the number of people dwindled down to none. Eon and I drew even with each other and began to discuss the series of events surrounding the pipe. It didn’t seem normal, we agreed. It seemed possible that the pipe might have some kind of mind-controlling spell on it, and that if both Lord Embarcarious and the Nonas Guard were speaking in the same way then whoever was controlling Lord Embarcarious might also be controlling the Nonas Guard. I don’t know if Brim has the power to do such a thing, but given that it was his pipe and that he probably could have planted it fairly easily, it makes you wonder if he might have done something along those lines. He even could have polymorphed into Melissa the Scald in order to deliver it in the first place - and that was a good point. What had happened to Melissa, if by some chance Lord Embarcarious was being magically controlled by the pipe? The entire problem seemed to be founded on “what ifs” and “hows”, but it was worth looking into once we got back to Pinnical. The road had been relatively silent for a while - the noise that we were making aside - when a pair of hobbits came crashing out of a ditch. They came out screaming for help; their bellies were swollen, and patches of their skin had become bright red and inflamed. I immediately tried to back Silverwind up so that she wouldn’t come into contact with whatever this new disease was. As I did so, I noticed that for a brief moment she seemed to be completely out of it - now of all times, of course - since she had a blank, distracted expression and was staring at what seemed to be the empty sky. The moment passed, after which our companions had already dealt with the hobbits - then continued. Soon after that, we found the madwings. There was a pair of them flitting back and forth through the area; we approached them and attempted to talk to them. We found out rather quickly that talking to these madwings was about as useful as talking to the Nonas Guards - that is to say, not especially useful at all. They were completely fixated on the idea of an “abomination” that they were searching for. None of us had any idea what the abomination might be, of course, so we asked them - they seemed either disgusted or incredulous or both at the idea that we didn’t know what the abomination was, and wouldn’t answer our question. Silverwind and the rest still tried to talk to them anyway, at which point one of them cast a spell at us. I remember a huge inferno of flames filling my vision and the horrible sensation of my flesh burning, and then simply darkness. When I came to, one of my companions was quickly dressing my wounds. As soon as I was able, I helped him with our remaining wounded companion, and then ran off to track down Silverwind and resume guarding her. When I found her, she was in good condition and talking to the madwings - telling them about the lights that were haunting her. She was interrupted by another man in the group saying something about the abominations. The madwings seemed to find what he said to be a mark of understanding what the abominations were; they took him aside and spoke to him, but broke off after about a minute because it turned out that he didn’t understand after all. Silverwind resumed her explanation of the lights to the madwings. They seemed to be getting agitated - much more agitated than they had been - and I moved so that my wakasashi was between her and the madwings and began to back her up. If things got bad enough, I was going to grab her and run. Things did indeed go badly after that, though not in the way that I had expected. Another man asked the madwings about a mutant mage with a stork-face - Iakona - at which point the madwings nearly exploded. They asked where she was, and he answered that she was at Pinnical. The madwings beat their wings even harder and rose into the air. They oriented themselves towards Pinnical and began to fly towards it at a breakneck speed, crying as they did so, “The abominations!”. And I did indeed run away with Silverwind after that - we all did. We began running back the way that we came. It was futile, but we had to try to make it back to Pinnical before the madwings so that we could warn Iakona. --- Nyanar“You broke my gods. Broke my gods.” The accusation rang through my head for what must have been the hundredth time. Somehow, word of my actions had made it to the ears of the adventurers - I still do not know how this happened, and it worries me. Worse still, they did not have the whole story; all that they knew was that the reason that they could no longer contact the Nomad Sisters was because I had done something to those goddesses. But regardless, it was still my fault. What have I done? They speak the truth. I have broken their gods - theirs, and mine as well. First the Elder Goddess, and now the Nomad Sisters - what have I done? And now, they want to kill me. I do not blame them. Ara’s husband, I think, was the first to express such a desire, since his familiar was lost to him as a result of the loss of the Sisters; many of my other companions followed. Elwicket had decided then that it was not prudent for me to remain in the inn, and had relocated me to the rather more safe and discreet location in which I reside now. Some of my companions, it sounded, even tried to follow through with their planning; the rumors were that, after my disappearance, they were trying to hunt me. They cannot find me here, I think, and I am not afraid - but instead, I feel hollow and anguished. And now, for all that I have this family, so very alone. For the first parcel of time after my arrival here, I searched through my various notes once more to attempt to confirm to myself that I had done arightly. Looking at it again, I was not so certain. I was considering the minstrels’ vision when I felt a stirring at the back of my mind; it was Ara, speaking to me. She told me that they had encountered a new sickness on the road - then presented me an image of hobbits with bloated bellies and skin a raw red that looked extremely painful - and asked me to relay this message on to Yuck. I did so, and Yuck said something about finding the necessary ingredients for the cure before her voice faded. A little more time passed - it could not have been more than half of an hour - when Ara contacted me again. Whereas last time her tone was urgently concerned, this time it was blatantly panicked. She sent a rush of images and words and sensations at me that, for a moment, left me disoriented. A moment more, and I was able to make sense of it: madwings were flying to Pinnical in a high fury, screaming about “the abominations” - of which, it would seem, Yuck was one. Ara ordered me to get Yuck and the others to someplace protected - not that I would have done otherwise - and to do it right away. I then contacted Yuck, Elwicket, and Raven, and warned them of what was coming. Elwicket spoke to me in return and told me to protect Raven at any cost - he was going to walk out to meet the madwings. I did not understand this apparent death wish, and asked him why he would do such a thing; in response, he asked if I could recall that he had refused to let us enter his mind because of several “dark corners”. This, he said, was one of them. And he needed to face it, no matter the consequences. He and Yuck then explained to me this dark corner’s nature. I will not repeat this explanation so that they may be better protected. It does, however, explain many things about them, and I am glad to have gained this further understanding of them. Elwicket departed, then, promising to me that he would contact me as often as possible so that we might know on which wheel the situation was turning. Time passed, as it is apt to do. I am not certain of how much. Though I tried to resume my work, I found my senses rather too frayed and distracted to allow me to have much success with this endeavor. Eventually, Elwicket sent to me an image of the landscape in from of him. The sky was swarming and dark with a vast number of madwings. They had arranged themselves in what appeared to be some sort of formation that was in the process of surrounding him. A very short parcel of time passed, and then he sent to me another image - this one of two madwings approaching him. One was very dark and wore a severe expression that was reminiscent of Melissa as she is about to enter a fury; the other was pale and, though its expression was very grave, it seemed much calmer than its companion. Much more time passed between that contact and the next; for a time, I feared that Elwicket had been overcome. Luckily, this was not so. The final image that he sent me was of the madwings taking off in a massive gathering again, away towards the northeast. He was fine, he then said. They had not been the ones that the madwings were hunting. Now, the madwings were heading for Dagdeoth. With that, he ended the communication as he - I would assume - began to make his way back to Pinnical. --- Enyari StaráflurBy the time we made it to Pinnical, it sounded like the madwing problem was already being resolved. I’m not sure how exactly, as everyone was being rather vague about the whole thing, but as long as nobody was dying or otherwise suffering I suppose that it doesn’t really matter. Yuck seemed perfectly fine, at any rate. My companions followed the road towards the inn; I split off from them and made my way up to the mage school. Once inside, I wound my way through the maze of halls until I found the room in which the medallion and the former tablet pieces were stored. A few minutes were spent rummaging through the artifacts on the shelves, and then in a corner behind a manastone I found what I was looking for: the amulet made from a dragon’s tear. I pocketed the amulet, then stepped back out of the room and locked the door behind me. The idea hadn’t been mine; Eon had suggested it. Lord Embarcarious, if he were being mind controlled, would probably either not know so or be forbidden to reveal this. That said, one way or another, he wouldn’t be able to tell us if Brim’s pipe had done something of that nature. Since the Dragon Tear Amulet gives the user True Sight if you look through it, it might be possible to see if there were any odd spells hanging around the pipe. It took a little bit of searching to find Lord Embarcarious, but eventually one of the students in the school directed me to one of the classrooms; as ever, Lord Embarcarious was teaching. As discreetly as I could manage, I slipped inside the classroom and quietly shut it behind me. A few people shot either curious or irritated looks in my direction, but for the most part everyone ignored me, for which I am thankful. I imagine, though, that other adventurers come clomping in in the middle of classes all the time, and that this is fairly normal for them. I went towards the very back of the room and took a seat. One everyone stopped glancing back at me, I pulled out the amulet and peered through it at the head life mage. What I saw seemed completely normal - or at least normal as compared to what had been described to me when someone else had done this previously - and not especially dangerous in any way. He still had his various protective measures in place: his spells, and the odd mirrored blockade around his mind. He seemed to be acting normally, as well - he seemed to be just as good-hearted as he normally does, with no taint of evilness or other wrongness. There were no spell-strands running from the pipe (which he still had at his side) to his mind, either. I looked at the pipe with the amulet; it seemed to be just a pipe, and nothing more. The one difference and oddity between what had been described to me previously and what I saw now was that the tentacley tendrils that hung around Lord Embarcarious and periodically tried to pass through the walls around his mind were fewer in number than they had been. Previously, it sounded as if there had been many of them; now, I could have counted them on one hand. That meant that either several of the probes had retreated or had been destroyed in some way, or that several of them had been successful in entering his mind. There was no way to tell which it was, of course, due to those mirrored shields around Lord Embarcarious’s mind; I did briefly try to see if there might be any mark of the tendrils behind those walls, but all I found was my reflection staring rather disconcertingly back at me. Having found nothing, I placed the amulet back in my pocket. Rather than leave at that moment and disrupt the class further, I waited until it finished to make my escape and stream out the door with the actual students. After that, it was back to the inn for me - after, of course, a quick stop to the medallion room to put the amulet back in its proper place - where I waited for my companions to return from whichever task they had decided to try to work with. Thankfully, I wasn’t waiting for very long; they came back not long after I had, followed by both one of the potential new teachers and then shortly thereafter by Lord Embarcarious. They had, apparently, been accompanying the potential teacher on her first test. Rather than drop off in the middle of testing, we decided to continue along this theme. Whereas the last test had effectively been a test of battle tactics, this one was a test of teamwork and cooperation - two of the prospective teachers would go out to deal with a band of murderers, and we would accompany them to aid them and observe them. For a moment, Lord Embarcarious silently surveyed the four teachers in front of him; then, a sly half-smile crept upon his face. If anyone were looking at me with that expression - Lord Embarcarious or not - I think I’d probably be worried. Very worried. He said that the two mages that would be going along on this test would be the mage from Astengrad and the mage from Dagdeoth. Apparently, putting together the mages from two rival schools seemed like a good idea - and it is, I suppose, if you’re trying to get them to show their true colors. The two mages looked at each other with a shadow of mutual dislike on their faces, then they rose from their chairs and began to make towards the door; we followed. I stepped into place beside Ara Silverwind once more, and we all made our way towards the location at which the murderers had last been sighted. Once we neared the site, the group stopped; the Dagdeoth mage then stomped over to the Astengrad mage and cast a protective spell on her, forcing out something about being “a team” from behind clenched teeth. She seemed as if she might say something in response, but if she did, I lost it in the noise of him tromping away again towards the head of the group. I suppose that it’s good that they’re at least working together - if it can be called that - out of duty. I rather like that aspect of their dynamic; it means that they do have some kind of responsibility to their names. It would be better, though, if they were working together not merely out of obligation but out of the true spirit of cooperation. If they were both to be accepted as teachers, I’m not sure that an instance in which they had to work together against some other force would end well. After that, we all trod into the area together. I would have liked to have stayed with the group in order to observe the two potential teachers, but Silverwind went off on a side quest and as such I needed to follow her if I was going to attempt to protect her adequately. It figures that we would run into the murderers eventually, of course, given that we didn’t have any other swords to lend besides our own. But what can you do? I stepped forward to engage the murderers and so keep them from attacking Silverwind, and much to my embarrassment was wounded effectively straight off. It turned out that she ended up being the one protecting me - she treeformed me as I hit the ground and then ran. Between settling into the being of a tree and the disorienting, dizzy state that comes with with being wounded, I drifted off mentally into a kind of thoughtless haze. I haven’t any idea what transpired while I was thus; all I know is that, when I awoke, the first thing that I noticed was the awful stench of raw flesh and intestinal fluids. Resisting the urge to retch, I covered my nose and looked around. The ground in the immediate area was sullied with the blood of the now very-dead murderers. Standing around them was a cluster of the Nonas Guard. Their actions were very interesting: they had what appeared to be magical spheres of five different colors - yellow, reddish-orange, green, blue, and purple - and were seemingly scanning the area. Asking them what they were doing would be pointless, as we learned yesterday; instead, I went off to find my companions. When I found them, they seemed to be mostly in order - if a little worse for the wear from what had probably been skirmishes with the murderers. The group was debating about something - I’m not sure what, as coming in in the middle of the conversation was a little confusing - but quickly dropped off when the Nonas Guard came over. They still had those little spheres and were still scanning the area; several of my companions attempted to ask them about what was going on, but as expected, they could “neither confirm nor deny” anything in regards to the situation. As we watched this, a new debate erupted: what to do now? Should we continue to stay here and attempt to figure out why the Nonas Guard was here, or should we return to Pinnical? The debate was eventually solved for us when the Nonas Guard, apparently satisfied with whatever it was they had done, started heading towards Pinnical. Although some people stayed behind to have a look at the area, Silverwind - and thus I - followed the Guard back. At Pinnical’s gates, we found ourselves facing even more Nonas Guards. They seemed to be guarding the gate, almost - there was one Guard on each side, and each Guard had one of the little magical spheres and was scanning each person as they went through the gate. Nearly everyone went through without mishap, but as Silverwind and I began to make our way towards the tavern to take our suppertime meal with our companions, we could hear a commotion back at the gate behind us. I turned around and saw the Dagdeoth mage standing there and two fallen Nonas Guards on the side. As I watched, the two fallen Guards were dragged off to the sidelines and replaced by two new Guards that began to scan the mage with a succession of different colors of spheres. I’m not entirely sure what was going on, other than that nobody seemed to be especially happy about the entire thing. The tavern was pretty quiet that night; Gavin Whitecloud didn’t pay a visit this time, nor were there any brawls or other such excitements, for which I’m really quite glad. It’s amazing how much you learn to value your peace and quiet once it becomes a scarcity. After supper, I went back to the inn to check on Nyanar to make sure that she hadn’t locked herself away in pursuit of some obscure document and forgotten to eat today - I hadn’t seen her all day, and that’s usually why - but when I knocked, she didn’t answer. I waited and knocked again, and still didn’t hear even a little bit of movement inside the room. I tried the knob and found it unlocked, and looked inside. She wasn’t inside - and, actually, nothing was. All of her possessions had been removed, and it was as if she hadn’t been there at all. It looked like she had spontaneously taken off yet again without telling me. Completely irresponsible! I spent a little time checking around the school and the city to see if I could find her, but my search was fruitless - not that I had expected otherwise. I gave it up pretty quickly and returned to the inn, where I might be able to actually be somewhat useful. My companions had already gone out to deal with some escaped Geb thieves, so I found myself waiting for as the sun crept closer to the horizon and darkness began to swallow the sky. By the time they returned with several thieves in hand, it was full night outside. Once the thieves were dealt with, we set out again to take care of - what else? - another investigation. This one had merit, though. A band of corporeal undead had been spotted, and nobody knew what they were up to or why they were here. We were going to attempt to observe them without disturbing them to see if we could figure out their intentions, and only attack if it seemed like something that needed to be dealt with straight off. Eon and I found ourselves walking together as the group departed the city, and in unspoken agreement decided to team up for the night. He makes a good partner; he actually has a healthy dose of sense to him, which seems to be quickly becoming a rare trait. Doesn’t hurt that he’s a samurai, too, and thus actually has some kind of moral grounding. We all stumbled through the darkness for a time, occasionally tripping on small animal burrows or other rough ground, until we came to a line of skeletons. They weren’t hostile; they simply stood in their line, which stretched from a thicket on the right to as far as I could see on the left. Cautiously, we approached them. As we walked closer, the ones nearest to us said, “You may not pass” and raised his sword in preparation to fight - though it didn’t attack. We tried to talk to it, but it wouldn’t respond with anything other than “You may not pass”. We might have been able to bash our way through them, depending on how many people had silver weapons, but that didn’t really seem like the smartest tactic to try. Instead, Eon and another man and I crept into the thicket on the side and attempted to go around. We did our best to sneak through unobtrusively, but it was difficult to avoid snapping branches and shuffling leaf litter as we moved. Thankfully, there weren’t any skeletons actually inside the thicket. We did attract the attention of the endmost skeleton, though - it started walking over to us once it noticed the noise that we were making, repeated its refrain of “You may not pass”. Eon treeformed us as it approached, and we waited until it walked back to its place to revert; we repeated this process several times as we battled against the plant matter between us and the other side. Eventually, we - Eon and I, as the other man had decided to go back - made it through the thicket, unharmed other than a few scratches from some thorny vine or another that we had stumbled into on the way. Behind us, we could see our companions milling around the skeletons, trying to talk with them and find a way through their perimeter. Good - the skeletons wouldn’t be paying any attention to us. We turned and began to walk away from the skeletons when we noticed an orange light in the distance - firelight. Fire and smoke, about the size of a campfire or a small bonfire. As discreetly as we could, we slipped closer and crouched behind a boulder. Once we were settled, we peered out from behind it to watch the fire. Around it stood several figures. All of them were humanoid, and all but one of them also possessed what appeared to be angel wings - we couldn’t determine much else about those figures, though, since their backs were turned to us. The remaining figure seemed to be in command of the others; its skin was very pale, and it was wrapped in a black cloak. They seemed to be talking, though we couldn’t hear what they were saying; then, they transformed into hobbits and began to walk away from the fire. As they walked, they came closer to the boulder behind which Eon and I were hiding - we ducked down, hoping that they wouldn’t see us. We could hear a little of their conversation, though. It sounded like they were going to go to Pinnical and try to get into the school by posing as more prospective teachers. Then, there was silence; they had teleported away. Eon and I walked over to the fire and inspected it. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual about it - no signs of any kind of ritual or other suspicious goings-on. More than anything else, it simply seemed like a fire that you might make to warm yourself on a cold night; in other words, completely normal. Since we couldn’t find anything of particular note, we walked back towards our companions. The group seemed to have given up and was already walking back towards Pinnical. We caught up with them and told them about what we had seen, as did another man that had also apparently been watching the fire and whom we hadn’t seen. People began to postulate about who the figures were; hypotheses began to fly back and forth across the group. Some people were talking about kerekwaiths - could the winged figures be kerekwaiths? Probably not, other said, since the wings were wrong. What about Ebony? The description of the cloaked figure sounded a lot like Ebony. There was a lot of debate about that one - on the one hand, it did seem a lot like Ebony. The description and even the behaviors matched her very well. On the other hand, though, it seemed like she would still be too weak from being exorcised to return. The debate lasted all the way back to Pinnical and through the city streets, until we returned to the inn. Lord Embarcarious was there and waiting for our report on what we had found. We all described the incident to him - the skeletons, and then the figures around the fire and what they had said. Eon and the other man gave Lord Embarcarious as full a description as they could of each individual “hobbit”, even though we had seen little more than silhouettes; he said that he would keep an eye out for teachers applying to the school that matched those descriptions, and then left. Thoughts about what had happened with the skeletons continued to fill the inn’s common room even after he left. After the same half-dozen theories had been chewed on again and again, I tired of the conversation and climbed the stairs up to the rooms. I followed my usual routine - clean my chainmail and weapons - then blew out the candle and took to sleep. What would happen would happen - and it probably wasn’t going to happen until tomorrow, whatever “it” turned out to be.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 17:44:54 GMT -8
(events took place in Spring 2009)
Nyanar's Notes: Love and the Elemental Plane
In light of recent events, it has become clear to me that perhaps I should not be so sure as I have thus far been of what the future may hold. I cannot stay confined in this place forever; and I know that, when I leave, people will try to kill me. I cannot risk that death while knowing that I still have knowledge to transcribe - knowledge that may, for the adventurers and historians of the future, become crucial to understanding the events of this uncertain future. As such, I shall begin to recall and write out some of my more significant experiences, in the hopes that it may help others. This shall be of my experience in the Elemental Plane and of retrieving the wounded unicorn Love. It happened thusly:
---
At the time, the unicorn Love was wounded. We had some moons before this event occurred, my companions and I made a pilgrimage to the temple to the Elder Goddess in Moletown, where resided a priest named Ghostboy. We trusted Ghostboy, and would often turn to him if we wanted to oracle to the Elder Goddess about some event or mystery that confronted us. At the temple, we oracled as to what we could do to heal Love. The response that we were given first showed an image of Pinnical, and a building with doors glowing an intense blue; then, in the clouds above the city, we saw an image of the wounded Love. There was then an image of Sorrowveil, and perched upon her head one of the Crowns of Justice - Ghostboy skipped past most of this section of the oracle - and then an image of Celendil. At Celendil, there was a grove; in this grove, we saw two figures about which we could determine nothing touch hands.
Trusting to the oracle, we now made our way to Hostor through the use of a sending orb. Though it is in Hostor that I have spent much of the last year, I had not at the time been to this part of Roekron before. I remember, the day when we appeared in the city of Pinnical, the sky was clear; it was late afternoon, and only just barely beginning to turn from the brightness of midday to the dusky sheen between day and night. We walked through the streets of the city and up to the citadel where the sword Stormshank would normally have resided. At the time, the sword was in the hands of an adventurer rather than resting in the building. We entered into the place that we had seen in the oracle, and found that the doors were not glowing with the bright blue light that we had seen in the vision.
One of the storm mages at Pinnical explained to us that the doors would only glow as such when the portal in this place opened - and that the portal only opened when lightning struck the building. Tampering with the weather to create such a storm is a rather tricky thing to do, and chancing it was not the best idea; instead, the mage suggested that he could likely make and Elder Sorcery spell that would create lightning - we could then stand on the spot in which the portal would appear, and in the brief second that it opened, those standing in the spot would slide through. We would need to go in several groups, however; those brave enough to chance it first stepped to the spot, and the mage cast the spell.
There was a terrible crash that deafened the ears and shook the building, and a blaze of bright light that for a moment seemed to obliterate the world; then, that first group of my fellow adventurers had gone. The next few stepped up, and the same happened with them and then several more times. As this happened, I deliberated with myself. I wanted to go - I wanted to see this place. I wanted to see the unicorn with my own eyes, if I could find her, and I wanted to bring her back. However, with me I carried my satchel of notes - the same satchel which I still carry today - and in my mind the notes which I had not yet transcribed. Should something happen to me in this place that would prevent my return, I was afraid of what might be lost and what might happen in the matter of the unicorns as a result. As the final few people stepped to the place, I settled my mind into a decision: I would go. I thrust my satchel of notes at one of my companions that I could trust, then joined with that final group. I closed my eyes and held my breath as the mage cast the lightning spell -
There was a moment of dizziness - of no sense of up or down, of solidness, or any other kind of direction - and then I could breathe in again. I opened my eyes to see the world that we were seeking. Beneath my feet, there was nothing but the dense, soft whiteness of clouds. Above my head, there was the darkness of the night sky in all its star-spun glory. My companions were around me; but we were not the only things here. Off in the distance, there were three factions of figures - earth, fire, and water elementals - that were locked in fierce and pitched battle with one another. Among that chaos, there walked another, smaller, humanoid figure. It was almost as if he were not there; he ignored the elementals, and they ignored him. Ara and I, seeing this, ran over to him.
Upon closer inspection, the being was faceless. We were but a moment in its presence when we heard its voice - though not with our ears. Rather, we heard it inside our minds. The being said to us, “I know.”
This, certainly, was more than a little mysterious. We asked it - out loud, for we did not have such powers of mind-speech as did it - “What do you know?”
It answered, “I know... you.”
This left us utterly speechless. This being, which we had never seen before and never known - how could it know us? It was a moment before we could find the words in our mouths to ask it, “What do you know about us?”
It responded, “You know.”
There was, afterwards, a little banter concerning that; we were worried, about what this apparent knowledge of this might mean. The faceless being answered as cryptically as it had the entire time.
After a few minutes, we remembered our purpose here, and asked it, “Do you know of the white unicorn - the one-horned horse?”
“I know.”
“Have you seen it?”
There was much confusion after that, as it was then that our companions finally made their way over to us. They had not been talking with the creature, and thus did not understand its pattern of speech; they spent many precious minutes attempting to make it speak in what we would consider a normal manner. When finally Ara and I managed to take reign of the conversation, it had just said, “I know” once more.
We asked, “Where it it?”
And it answered, “You know.”
And it was then that something inside my head fell into place, and then that I understood. Filled with this discovery, I said to it, “We are. Love is in us.”
And it was then that the unicorn appeared.
She was a ways across this endless field of clouds, and between her and us there was still the battle of the elementals raging on. Up until this point - as we had been talking with the faceless being - they had ignored us as they had ignored it; now, they seemed to be aware of us, and began to attack us rather than each other. We ran, as fast as we could, over to the unicorn.
I then began to talk to it. There had, I must add, been a rumor circulating through our companions that the only way to talk to unicorns - or at least to this unicorn - and to have them understand was through rhymes. As I look back at it now, perhaps I should not have believed them. At the time, however, I did not want to chance otherwise. If I looked like a fool - and perhaps I was - then I would look like a fool; that was not important to me, in the face of Love. I asked to her, “Are you a daughter of the Elder Goddess above, the one who goes by the name of Love?”
She said, “I am.”
Then I - “You are wounded and on the ground you kneel, what can we do to help you heal?”
She answered, “Know me.”
Around us, the battle raged. My companions were attempting to fight off the elementals so that they would not touch Love or Ara or me, but it was a desperate battle; they fell, one after another. Despite her wounded condition, the unicorn Love walked to them and healed them each time they fell, and reverted their tree-forms when the earth elementals changed them. At this time, I was wounded as well, though just as quickly sprung up again as I was healed by Love.
Not yet understanding, I asked the unicorn, “What is it that we might give, in order to help you fully live?”
She responded, “I would not have you give what you are unwilling to give.”
Still, I had not grasped the meaning of what she said; I asked, but once more, something about how to bring her back to the glade that we had seen in the vision so that we could heal her. She said, once more, “You must know me.”
Ara and I, in the same heartbeat, finally understood what Love meant; and, in the same heartbeat, we answered, “I know you.”
In that breath, the form of the unicorn vanished - but the feeling, in a way, remained. I knew in that instant that the unicorn now rested inside that person which I loved; and, in that moment, I understood what we needed to do. In the oracle to the Elder Goddess, we had seen the image of two people touching hands in the grove. These people, I realized, were myself and the one in which Love now resided. In order to heal Love, we had to feel Love - and we had to join in Love, in the manner in which we had seen in the oracle.
And, with this realization, I was filled with a crushing sorrow. For the one that I loved - and the one in which the unicorn now waited - was Celeste. And how could she love me in return? She, not only of human kind to mine of elf - but she, also, another woman? I did not see how we could heal the unicorn now; not when the love that was needed to do so would seemingly forever lay broken and unmatched. I did not think that I could face Celeste, even, when we returned.
Or rather, if we returned. For we did not know the way out. There was no portal, and no door. Only the endless battles of the elementals, and the endless sea of clouds in all directions. And - and, off in the distance, there was still the figure of the faceless being. I walked over to it, closely followed by Ara, and asked it, “How do we get out of here?”
I should have known what the answer would be, having interacted with it only a few minutes before. It said, “You know.”
I asked the same question again, though rephrased it. This time, it questioned back to me, “Will you leave?”
Said I, “We shall.”
Said it, “Where will you go?”
Said I, “Home.”
Said it, “Where is Home?”
And, for the third time, the whirls of my mind stirred with the sudden realization of what was asked. I responded to it, “Home is where the heart is.”
There was, for another moment, that same sense of dizzy endlessness and lack of orientation, and then I found myself back at Pinnical. As I saw the sun once more, I could not hold back the rising tide of anguish within myself; I began to weep as I stumbled from the place of the portal and back amongst those of my companions that had not chosen to try the portal. A few minutes later, Ara also appeared; and she, like me, let fall tears as she joined us. Wrapped in our own private worlds and our own private sorrows, we continued to cry until the sending orb pulled us back to the place from which we had come.
(events took place in Summer 2009)
Published Posthumously from Nyanar's Notes: The Healing of the Unicorn Love (the release date of this chronicle was later than the above and below ones - after Nyanar's death)
This could be thought of as the second and final portion of our quest to heal the unicorn Love. It took place several moons further from retrieving Love from the elemental plane, for we had not had the sureness of what to do at the time of retrieval as we did at the point at which this story occurs. The events, as I can remember them, happened thusly:
---
The first part of our journey was spent traveling down the Celeroth River. Many of my companions had set out upon this quest with us, as had several other adventurers with which I was not familiar. I remember several attacks upon our boat in our travels, and I remember the nature mages among our number calling upon the riparian creatures for aid; I also remember a boat full of followers of the New Gods. But I remember little of the details, as they have grown fuzzy with the years. When at last we disembarked, however, it was not near the city of Celendil to which we eventually indented to go; instead, it was on the other shore of the Celeroth, where the Dartark Forest sprawled its thickly-gathered trees for many leagues beyond. Before we attempted to heal Love, we intended to pay a visit to the Lady of these woods - if we were able to find her.
I remember walking along a path; I remember, as we walked along this path, losing a sense of connection to my deities. Without that reassurance - however subconscious it may perhaps have been - the path seemed almost darker, and the trees almost as if they were creeping ever-closer to the path whenever we glanced away from them. Eventually, we came to a clearing; and in that clearing, we found the Lady of the Dark Woods. She was enveloped in a dark, hooded cloak, and as such we could see little of her face. There were two things that, just barely, we could glimpse: one, hair that seemed as if it might be white were it not in shadow, and two, eyes that seemed... very strange. I cannot remember, now, what form exactly this strangeness took - only the feeling remains.
She stood some ten spans away from us. Though we tried to approach her, it seemed always that she would stay that distance even though she did not move. When we gave up attempting to close the distance between her, we instead seated ourselves on the ground in the places in which we had stood. Conversation began, then; I do not quite remember what it was that was said, now. She did, naturally, talk in the enigmatic form which I have since found to be common among those tied in some way with the Sisters - many a “You know” and other such short phrases featured in her speech. It took some time to talk to her properly, as once more my companions were confused as to the nature of her speech patterns.
We did, eventually, make progress - though, again, I do not quite remember what was said. There was a point during the conversation at which a feast’s worth of food appeared; we were wary of it, and only some of us partook. This led me to remark upon the fact that we likely needed “howls and nightmares” in addition to these feasts, and I believe I remember that the Lady confirmed this. It was a reference to a line in a prophecy that we were attempting to unravel at the time - “They will come with nightmares, with howls, and feasts” was the line. More conversation followed; shortly thereafter, the Lady said to us, “The price is too high”. Ara, then, responded with “We will pay the price together.” Those gathered agreed that we would pay it together, as well.
It as almost as if we had in some way entered an oracle then, though I remember but little of what we saw. One thing stands out: we saw ourselves in one of the images, and more specifically we saw our hands. In one hand, we held a lock; in the other, we held a key.
There may have been more conversation with the Lady then; there may not have been. I remember our companions becoming embroiled in a discussion about what to do, and then the Lady slowly withdrawing further and further away from us - though we paid the withdrawal little attention, distracted as we were. At last, when we could see her no longer, we found ourselves back outside of her particular realm. We had accomplished, in part, what we intended - we had found the Lady and spoken with her, though we obtained little from the experience - but we had assuredly paid the price for the privilege. For there is always, always a price to these things.
All of us had aged a number of years past our natural time. Time had not passed in the wider world, or at least not more than we had perceived passing as we had met with the Lady. Rather, it was almost like the withering that occurs from the overuse of Elder Sorcery, or when one encounters and faces an especially powerful specimen of undead being. Looking at those of us assembled, we had also not aged the same number of years. If that had been so, then the elves among our number would not appear to be nearly as touched as, say, the humans. The equivalent of about twenty human years beyond our natural time, it appeared - the actual number varying in accordance to the lifespan of each of our races - was the extent of our aging.
We found the way back to our boat, after that. From there, we would continue to sail downriver to Celendil, as was the true intention of our quest; the Darktark Forest had merely been a pebble on the wayside to the greater journey. Before embarking upon the last portion of the river, however, we separated into two bands - one that would continue down to Celendil, as planned, and one that would remain behind and begin to walk back upriver. Those continuing made up the smaller portion, for which I was thankful. I was very much afraid at the time that what we were attempting would perhaps be more dangerous than is the norm even for adventurers - and I was also afraid that with an increased number of people, there would as well be an increased chance that events could turn awry. That, I did not want to risk.
Thankfully, the remainder of our passage down the river was a peaceful one; we met no threats, and docked safely by Celendil. The city, as well, seemed peaceable enough, and we found no trouble as we walked through it to the place where grew the great, glowing tree that we had seen in our oracle. It was outside of the city, where the forest Ceribrimnion met the edges of the buildings. And there she was, in all her glory - the tree that we were seeking. I had never seen such a large tree before, and as I looked upon her, I was filled with awe. There, a watcher stood. We stood to his questioning briefly, then were allowed to pass and attempt to speak with the Yanna Tree. She is a sentient being, and she has a name: Einandori.
Together, we circled around the trunk. We grasped each other’s hands so that the lock in one person’s hands would be met with the key in the hand of another. I do not remember, quite, what it is that we did then - if it was a spell, or if we allowed our minds to touch the tree, or some other thing. But I am certain that there was a question, or some acknowledgement of the quest that had brought us here, that we communicated to the tree.
She was slow in responding, Einandori. In that moment of communication, I could almost feel the patient rhythms of this great tree: water trickling in through the roots at my feet, wind tickling the leaves at my crown, and the light of the sun tapping upon my back in the gaps of dappled shade that fell between the reaching leaves of the other trees. And when she did respond, it too was slow; it felt like a great breath slowly whispering out in a contended sigh. First, there was merely a word: She said, “....mother...”. After that single, drawn-out word there was series of images. From Einandori, there was a sense of traveling northwards until we came to the grove that we had seen in our oracle about healing the unicorn Love - the grove that we had been seeking.
And so, from Einandori, we set out northwards through the cover of the forest. I do not remember, now, most of what we faced as we traveled, or if we encountered anything at all - except for one thing. We were nearing the grove, I think, when we saw elves armed with bows in the distance. Some of us hid; some of us did not. When these elves approached those that did not hide, they seemed to have good intentions - and so, those of us that had hidden left our spots and joined our companions.
It was then - as soon as they saw us - that the elves lifted their bows with a terrible kind of focus and each nocked an arrow, pointing their weapons directly at Ara as well as me. Why? Interestingly enough, it was not that we had suddenly appeared and they now doubted the innocence of our own intentions, perhaps suspecting some kind of ambush; rather, they said that we carried a great evil within us and that we could not be allowed to continue.
This was, to say the least, entirely confusing. Ara and I - how could we be carrying a great evil? It was the two of us that had spoken to the unicorn Love, and the two of us that had said that We Knew Her - and, thus, the two that had retrieved her from the Plane of the Elementals. If it was anything we carried within us, it was Love - and the unicorn Love was a great force of good. Yet, there were arrows pointed at our faces - what had happened? The only thing that I can think of even now is that in some twist of understanding of the Sisters that had escaped us, we were carrying the demon Sorrow rather than the unicorn Love. I still do not know, and certainly did not know then.
Then, there was no time to think. I stepped in front of Celeste so that she could not be harmed, and was shot for my troubles. This would not normally have been a problem; I was at the time wearing a helmet of the Elder Goddess that provided me with the magical form of pacifism, and I normally would not have taken harm. The arrow, however, was warded; and, more than that, it was crafted not only to slay that which it struck but to slay females only. That, I remember, was the first time that I died.
What happened after that, I do not know. One of our companions had had the foresight to bring a scroll of rebirth, and once they had found their way out of danger, they used it to revive me. We continued on, and eventually found the grove. When we first saw it it dwelt in the distance, and no matter how much we walked, it always seemed to stay there. Soon, we stopped as a whole to gaze at it from that distance. There was silence for many moments, though you would not have known it for the intensity of focus which coursed through us. Then, a curious thing began to happen.
Two by two, we began to walk off towards the grove. Calo and Bouncy were the first; then, Ara and Patric. (Karen's character) and (Daniel’s mage?) followed, after that. I grasped Celeste’s hand, and together, we walked to the grove. It did not flee, this time, and it was not long until we slipped between the trees at the grove’s edge and were within its circle. And, though the pairs had gone towards it together, we - each pair - found ourselves alone.
I cannot convey, even now, what it was that was rushing through my mind and my heart. There was so much there - so many thoughts, so many feelings and sensations - that threatened to overwhelm me and cause me collapse upon my knees in that very spot. And yet... there was also a stillness, as well. A single, solid purpose in the midst of all the swirling chaos. That purpose, glowing ever-brighter and stronger through everything else inside of me, kept me upon my feet as Celeste and I walked to the center of the grove. Once there, I turned to her, and took her hands in mine.
To tell this story simply, I asked her to marry me; she said yes. Love appeared to us, then, just for a moment. She stood there, between us - but she did not seem the same as she had been in the Elemental Plane. Then, she had been wounded; then, she had crawled closer to the ground, and slashes scored her flanks. Then, she had been broken. Now, she was fully healed, and glorious in this form; bright, and more beautiful than I will ever be able to describe. Love stood there for but a moment, and then disappeared - and in that moment, we knew that we would never set eyes upon her form again.
Thus, Love was healed; we had succeeded in our quest. There was, as well, the journey back; much happened, on that journey. But even now, I do not like to recall it. Perhaps I shall scribe the story of that return another day - but not at this time. The story of this healing does not need to be tainted with those memories.
(Events took place in Fall 2009)
Excerpts from Nyanar's Notes: Doors in the Fog
We stepped across the threshold of Randwin’s temple to the Elder Goddess. It was, I remember, beautiful. The walls soared high above our heads, and the arcs of the roof seemed almost to float on top of the temple’s supports; through the open doors and the openings in the roof and walls, sunlight streamed through in magnificent rays and lit up the stonework until it seemed almost to be glowing. Priests and Priestesses of the Goddess walked serenely among the rows of pillars, sometimes nodding briefly to one another as they crossed ways. As we watched, the temple seemed almost to radiate a feeling of quiet diligence and work as they went about their tasks. I breathed in, and the breath was met with the smell of sweet incense smoke. This place, even in the Goddess’s apparent decline, still felt as a place of great light and goodness.
Annabeth, (Clara) and I continued further into the temple’s depths. Those among our companions who were male lingered near the entrance, as they had been asked by the temple’s attendants to remain there. The three of us headed towards one of the final pillars in the row; for there, curled around the pillar, was the Stone Dragon. Its form was almost snakelike - dragonlike in appearance and size, truly, as it is not called the Stone Dragon for no reason - and the details of its scales and crests and claws seemed nearly to meld with the pillar. We walked to it. As we drew even with it, there was a slight rasp of stone on stone - and then the Dragon stirred.
It unwound itself from the pillar gracefully, slowly slithering down to meet us. Though it was not perched upon the pillar, it still towered far above our heads. We tilted our heads up to gaze at it, and saw its eyes - the rumors were, then, true. Its eyes, as we watched, slowly shifted from color to color; green would turn to blue, and blue to red, gradually as a painter blends her precious pigments. We marveled at it for a moment more, then proceeded to our purpose; we were here to seek aid, and to perhaps attempt to further the prophecy. We asked to the Stone Dragon, “Can you tell us more about the prophecy?”
Its voice resounded through the temple in a single, deep note: “No.”
We asked of it a similar question; its answer was the same. Then, when we asked it why, it answered with the same phrase that I had heard not many moons ago -though, then, spoken from the lips of the Lady of the Dark Woods. It said to us, “The price is too high.”
We had expected this; for, as we have learned, there is always a price. I called back to our companions sitting near the entrance that the price was too high - would they pay it together with us? Their response echoed back to us: “That’s why we came.” I turned, then, back to the Stone Dragon, and said to it, “We will pay the price together.” A sense of foreboding fell upon me, then; any price large enough that it must be born on the shoulders of more than one person is a formidable and solemn thing indeed.
The conversation that followed was of a nature that we had become all too familiar with, of late. We had met many people on our quests that had spoken in the same mysterious spirals as did the Stone Dragon - the Lady of the Dark Woods, the dragon Solaris, the faceless figure in the Elemental Plane, the unicorn Love, and others. Now, we navigated the patterned back-and-forth more quickly and smoothly than ever we had before. At last, we arrived at the heart of the affair; I mentioned the lines of the prophecy that told of the seven paths and the door in the fog, and the Stone Dragon asked to us, “Where are you going?”
Annabeth answered, “Inside ourselves.”
The world, then, fell away. We found ourselves wrapped in swirling tendrils of white mist that brushed upon our faces and limbs as the tendrils of the wind, or as the touches of some spirit. It was thick and voluminous, and we could not see the world around us; we grouped forwards through it, trying to find something that we were unsure of. As we stretched forward, it seemed always to be just out of our reach - and what was it, then, that we were seeking? The door in the fog, of course. “Seek the door in the fog, for she can help you no more.”
And then, amongst the twisting strands of fog, there appeared a door. I laid my hand upon its surface, and the twirling words of a riddle echoed from some unseen place. It was, “I range far and wide, but cannot be contained; I stay in one spot. I brought you here. What am I?” We deliberated; then, expediently, decided that the answer was “belief”. It was indeed thus, and the door opened to us. One by one, we stepped through the gateway that it presented.
On the other side, we found ourselves in a room. In this room, there were more doors - but the exact number seemed to be neither here nor there. In one moment, it felt as if there were only three doors; in the next moment, the feeling would shift and one would perceive six doors. They wafted back and forth between the two quantities in a wash of uncertainty - but this same uncertainty inspired a certainty within myself. I knew, then, the doors to be the Sisters. Six for the Sisters broken, and three for the Sisters whole.
Each door - or pair of doors - emanated a particular feeling or impression. The leftmost one seemed caught in a perpetual chaos; the whirling forces of creation and destruction seemed always to be at work against each other, and battling each other in this door. That, then, would be Truth and Deceit. The center door and doors, as I looked upon them, pulled and tugged upon my emotions - I knew not what to feel as dizzying swirls of color swelled and fell inside my heart and mind. That was Love and Sorrow, within these doors. Then, the rightmost door-and-doors - it felt different from the others. Broken, in a way; broken, and stuck. These doors, then, would be of Prejudice and the still-wounded Justice.
It was the broken door that we walked to first. We touched its knob and attempted to open it, and found that we could not. As we rattled the knob, we heard another riddle. Its exact words, I do not remember; but I know that it spoke of swords and axes not solving things, of people dying upon the roadside in its name, and “this and a little push will get you there”. We tried answering it with Justice, but that was not the right answer - we were trying to open the door before it was healed. We thought, then, and eventually came up with the answer of “Ideas”. As we spoke this word, the door changed and became whole. Then, we pulled upon the knob again, and opened the door - not one or the other of the two doors, but both together.
Two voices, then, mingled upon the air. They asked, “Who am I?”, and “Who am I?”. Justice and Prejudice, we answered.
They asked, then, together: “Who am we?”
And who were they? What was the name of Justice and Prejudice, when they were bound into one being? For they were not, though they seemed that way, opposing shores of the river; rather, they were simply - pardon the expression - different sides to the same door. But what was the name of the door? What were they?
After a minute’s thought, Annabeth answered, “Law.”
The door shifted again. The drifting uncertainty of the two doors merged into a solid, whole, single door; as we watched, it turned grey. Justice and Prejudice - but no; Law, now - had reconciled, and united. But as they melded together, a tension sprung up in the room. It felt, almost, as if the room had unbalanced in some way, and now there was a pressure on the walls and the ceiling. It was clear why this was; as such, we rushed to the center door.
We grasped the knob as we had Law’s door, and opened the two doors together and as one; as this one was made of a whole demon and a whole unicorn, there was no need to repair it first. We were greeted, then, with another pair of two voices spiraling from behind the door. They asked, as had Justice and Prejudice - “Who am I?” and “Who am I?”. Love, we responded, and Sorrow.
And then, the voices together: “Who am we?”
I answered, “Emotion.”
The door became whole, then, and turned the same grey as had its Sister-Door. Two Sisters, now: Law and Emotion. But even as began to celebrate, we were thrown in a panic - for the pressure that had pressed when we merged the first door now increased twofold with the merging of the second door. Time, we could feel, was less a resource to us than ever.
And so, we quickly stepped to the third of the doors. Once more, we opened the doors together as one door, and once more there spoke two voices.
“Who am I?”
“Who am I?”
“Truth and Deceit”.
There was a moment of pause, and then: “Who am we?”
I answered to it almost immediately, “Perspective”. We waited, and we watched - but the door did nothing. Still, it felt a confused split and a dichotomy of creation and destruction forever chasing each other’s tails. Annabeth, then, answered “Morality”; but that elicited no response from the door, either. We turned, and began a frantic discussion - what was the answer? We could not afford, so close to the end, to fail to find the door’s name.
I do not know how much time passed as we debated the matter. We were ever-conscious of the time slipping away between our fingers like sand, and of the constant pressure upon the room and tremors shuddering through it. It occurred to us after some time that perhaps this door and these doors - being of a rather tricky nature - wanted, rather than a single, perfect name, three names of suitable fit. We decided, at last, “Honor”, and spoke so to the door.
The final set of doors merged and turned grey; the final pair of Sisters had been named.
The doors opened, then, and we stepped back. From the doors, there came three forms - one from each door. Though size had no meaning in this place, we could feel in a dim part of ourselves that these beings were very, very large. They were part animal, and part humanoid - much in the manner of a centaur, but seemingly not so. They had demonlike wings folded upon their backs, and a unicorn’s single, spiraled horn thrusting forth from their foreheads. They were not demons; they were not unicorns - they were both, and neither. They were, quite simply, the Sisters.
They spoke, together in one chorus of voices: “We are coming.”
And then, as if we had blinked, we found ourselves back in our own bodies.
We stood, shaking out the numbness that had settled into our limbs while we had been in our trance. Then we looked around, and found that the temple - so peaceful, not long before - was now in a state of dark anxiety. The Stone Dragon lay on the floor in front of us, and was now devoid of life - merely a stony statue sitting upon the ground. The Priests and Priestesses asked us what had happened; not only were the Elder Goddess items not working, but neither were the items of the New Gods. And where was the Goddess? They could no longer feel her, and no longer could see or hear a response or even a gentle touch of acknowledgement when they tried to speak to her.
I said to them that the Elder Goddess, now was likely dead. She had been dying for some time, now; many had had visions of a woman lying in a sickbed with the life draining from her when they had tried to oracle to the Goddess, and it seemed that she had now succumbed to that which had drained her. She had likely expected it; so had the Stone Dragon.
But of course, the Stone Dragon had. “The price is too high,” it had said. And what had we responded? “We will pay the price together.” We would bear that burden, now, and bear that loss - as would every other worshipper to the Elder Goddess. Together. Willingly, at least in part, in our case - but involuntarily, on the parts of others.
We left, then - retracing our steps across the temple, and beckoning our companions that had waited at the door. As we stepped once more across the temple’s threshold, I briefly turned around to look once more at this haven for the worshippers of the Goddess and at the people that walked inside it. And as I looked, I felt a black pain in myself almost as a knife between my ribs; for, though it was still a place of great beauty, it no longer seemed to radiate the goodness and the light that it had once held.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 17:56:49 GMT -8
September 2010 - We have dealt with two local vampires.
- A group of heroes were kidnapped by one of said vampires, but have since been rescued.
- Sen and a group of adventurers went off to attack the Wizard Trade Order; only Sen has returned.
- Breen sacrificed himself to get rid of one of the vampires, and Nelian Echoes got washed out to sea at some point.
- The sicknesses in Pinnacle (Red Rot, hallucinating disease, others) have been cured.
----- NyanarI awoke to the humming of what felt like a bumblebee buzzing about its business inside of my head. It took me a moment to realize what exactly that peculiar sensation was, for I was quite certain that it was unlikely that a bee had crawled into my ears and skull while I had slumbered. The noise was Elwicket attempting to contact me through the mind-link; now that my senses were not fuzzed over and dulled with sleep, the communication came to me clearer. Elwicket showed to me first the image of an ork. Particularly distinct about this ork was that its thin, scraggly hair - rather than falling loose about its shoulders - was bound tightly into a neat topknot upon his crown. This wasn’t an ork, Elwicket explained; it was a vampire. More that this, it was an Elder vampire that had just tried to place a charm upon his mind. It had not succeeded, it seemed - but it was something that we needed to deal with right away, lest it cause untold trouble in Pinnacle. I stirred quietly so as not to wake Celeste prematurely and then began to prepare myself for the day after Elwicket broke contact. And so, the battle begins; the day has come. I left my place of hiding and walked to the inn at which the other adventurers would gather, ever-careful not to draw undue attention to myself. I would not like to be recognized for who I am, and certainly not in these particularly turbulent times. As I walked, I ran through my head some of those lines that the Sisters had spoken to us: “It has come to our presence that we knew things from before Part of us knew things Secrets to be kept in the dark. There was a plan and it has been hidden Now those of us who made the plan Are no longer in agreement with it It is loveless, it is unjust, it lies. There was a plan The sleepers awake in the coming days We destroyed them so they could sleep And awake when the time was wealthy. The plan has been turned And the sleepers no longer obey their masters The game has gone beyond The balance will be broken Unless we bring the light forth. We charge you, those of the now To change that which is waking They have long been building the web Now they will move to the center and feast.”The Three Demon Sisters had long ago created Broden - Broden, an Elder Vampire and the “father” of many of the vampires that followed. For a time, Broden and the Three had been allied; later on, Broden had turned on his creators and allied himself with the Dark City rather than Dagdeoth. Though it was thought that the Dark City was destroyed, it has seemed to several of my companions and I that it was either not destroyed completely or that it is now returning - which would, naturally, mean an epidemic of vampires. We had assumed that the vampires dwelt undetected beneath the various cities scattered across the face of Roekron, and that they were waiting for their time to reveal themselves and begin their feasts. The appearance of this vampire, it seemed to me, was a herald that this time had finally arrived. I arrived at the inn, and began to speak to several of the adventurers that had already gathered. First, to those that I was mind-linked to. Then, to Annabeth; I had heard that she had worked on the problem of the withering tree in Celendil, and was curious what it was that she had done. As we talked, more of the adventurers arrived; several them glanced at me bitterly, and several others asked me questions to which I responded that I could neither confirm nor deny that the answer was that which they assumed. Those whose questions I answered walked away in rather much of a huff, grumbling comments about my mind that were rather unsavory and which do not bear repeating. Though, truth be told, my appearance at the inn was received much more smoothly than I had dared even to wish for. Soon, we all gathered; soon after that, Embarcarious entered the inn and made his way to his usual place by the taskboard. He announced some of the news around both the Roekron mainland and around Hostor, and then proceeded to the listings on the taskboard. The news, which already was distressing enough, then turned even further towards the bellyside: some half dozen of our companions had been kidnapped, likely during this past night. Embarcarious then began to list off the names of those that had been taken, and as he spoke the first one, my heart nearly stopped - Enyari. Enyari had been among those taken. So had Ara’s daughter, Kyrin. So had many others. I searched the faces of those assembled and found Celeste’s; for I knew that, though I myself was reeling with a sense of dizziness and a horrid wrenching of my insides, Celeste would be feeling the loss many times more keenly. She, far more than I, had been a mother to Enyari - and she had not even set eyes upon our adopted daughter since returning from death. Celeste looked almost as if she had been stabbed, though the depths of first cold shock and then naked pain and anguish that tore across her features fell far beyond that meager measure. There followed a little debate, but it was a clear choice - we had to find our companions. The intent was to attempt to find rumor of them in the streets, but before we could make to try this, a figure standing against the wall with the rest of my “family” spoke and suggested a link between the Warrior Tombs and the disappearances, referencing the haunt with the sword named Helionos as evidence.. The suggestion seemed sound, and we sorted ourselves into two groups: one that would search the streets, and one that would search the tombs. Each group then went its separate way; as we left, I asked Ara if I could borrow her cloak so that I might cover my face and thus become a little more anonymous - as we walked the streets, there was a chance that we might encounter the riots started by the followers of the Nomad Sisters and the New Gods, which would naturally be dangerous for me to encounter. As we walked to the barracks - where we might be able to ask questions of men-at-arms that had been patrolling during the night - Elwicket spoke to me through the mind-link again. He said that he was going to go into the tombs, and would periodically contact me so that we would know that all was well with their venture. The barracks came soon after that; we found one of the men-at-arms that had been patrolling the previous night, and he said with some surprise that he had seen some of those people that we named as kidnapped wandering the streets on his patrol. They had acted normally, he said - walked as any other would walk the streets. He knew nothing of their intentions, and could divine nothing about their intentions from the memory of their walks. After all, he had seen many people on his patrol. As my companions attempted to question him further, I received my first communication from Elwicket. The connection through the mind-link seemed fuzzy and blurred, and was difficult to make out - interference, I suspect, from the Tombs. There was an image of long, dark hallways cut into the stone that seemed to stretch forever onwards into nothingness - they had arrived in the Warrior Tombs. I returned my attention to the scene at hand, then, and found that the man-at-arms had been able to remember the name of one of the streets on which he had seen one of our companions. We made our way, then, to the street which he named. There, we began asking questions of the shopkeepers and people wandering the streets. I spoke to a heavily cloaked and hooded figure that loitered in the shadows, and from her response it seemed that she knew something - she said that such things were best not spoken of openly. I suggested that we could move to a less open location, if that would be more fitting, but she refused. Though I had little hope for the conversation, I tried once more and pleaded with her, explaining that my daughter was among those taken. She expressed her sympathies - though her sincerity was more than a little lacking - and she disappeared into a side street. How could I have let someone with knowledge of Enyari slip away from me as this woman did? I turned, crushed, and saw my companions gathered around another woman. The woman wept, and the sound of her sorrows briefly gentled my own. I drifted over in time to hear her explain that her husband - another adventurer in the city - had recently been slain as they had traveled together, and could not be brought back. I wished, then, to comfort her, though I did not know how. My companions, pitiless to the poor widow, began to pepper her with questions about their own recent losses. At this time, another image from Elwicket rose in my mind. It was difficult to make out as well, not only for its blurred nature but also for the nearly uniform darkness of its subject. It took me a moment to divine, but realized that he had sent me an image of some kind of pit in the center of the hallway. I returned to the world before my eyes to find the woman and group displaced somewhat further down the street; the woman was emptying the contents of her waterskin over a man that appeared to be drunk. She asked if he could think a little more clearly now, and he responded that he could, thank you. My companions then began to question him about our missing fellows, and he thought for a moment. He responded, then, that he had seen a few of them - they had each been talking to a haunt of some kind. What did the haunt look like?, my companions then asked, And who had he seen talking to the haunt? He thought a moment more and shook his head with a slightly apologetic grin, saying that he had been rather drunk last night and that the memories were too fuzzy to recall properly. He walked off, then, and from the direction that he had gone a goat came towards us. Ara is a nature mage, and as such was naturally inclined to attempt to communicate with it. It began to bleat at her. At this time, Elwicket sent to me another message through the mind-link. Predominant in the image was something that shone brightly and reflected the room around it; I could not tell if it was perhaps a pool of water or some kind of mirror, such was the blurriness of the contact. More pronounced than the image, however, was the feeling that was transferred through the mind-link as Elwicket stared into this shining thing. It felt almost as if my mind - or was it Elwicket’s? - was boiling as I looked at this thing, and as if the comforting sense of sanity that one normally finds cultivated in one’s head was being uprooted and torn away. A headache began to pound like a dwarf with his hammer upon my temples, and then Elwicket’s message ended. And then there was Ara. She was still talking to the goat, which now appeared to be prepared to follow her around; she beckoned me over, then, and introduced the goat and I to each other. The goat bleated at me. To the side, my companions were discussing another method of trying to find those missing - perhaps we could track their scents? A little time was spent as those with animals with keen senses of smell - thunder panthers, griffins, and the like - retrieved those animals and put them to the task of following the scents. We were lucky, and the scents were still present enough for those animals to find the scents of our kidnapped companions, and to follow them for a ways. Eventually, though, the animal would suddenly lose the scent as if it had simply disappeared. We could divine from this nothing of what had happened, and eventually returned to Pinnacle to meet with the other groups that had gone out to search and compare information. On the trek back, Elwicket sent to me another message through the mind-link. There was an image, first, of a...thing. It appeared at first to be an elf, and a rather handsome one at that; but below its head, I could see the pearly-white form of its bare spine. As I looked at this creature, I felt something creeping into my mind, and for a moment panicked - but then, I thought, all was well. This thing did not mean to hurt me, and perhaps might be a friend. There would be no need to tell anyone about it, either - this, or the rest of what I had seen though Elwicket’s communications. Of course not. I could not help thinking, however, as we stepped over the threshold of the inn’s doorway, that Elwicket had not felt quite right - not felt quite as he normally does - through the mind-link. I put the matter aside, then, for it was time to compare information. First, I noticed, our numbers were further reduced; those in the warrior tomb had not yet returned. It would make sense that they had not, I supposed, given that Elwicket had just sent to me another message. Embarcarious then called for us to say anything that we had learned, and a few people called out what they had heard. Most of it, I had already heard myself; one thing that I had not, however, was that which Celeste said - that the rumor she had heard was that our companions had discovered a new prophecy which involved the Grey Isles, and had promptly rushed off to learn more of it. Though our companions in the Warrior Tombs had not returned yet, it seemed that time spent simply waiting for them would be wasted when it could be better used taking care of other problems in the area. Much of the group chose to take care of some troops from Dagdeoth that had appeared in southern Hostor, where a storm had recently hit and decimated the area. I was about to leave when the figure that I had assumed was part of the “family” took me aside and confirmed this fact, and discussed with me other things as well. After that, Raven contacted me through the mind-link and asked if Elwicket was all right. I briefly considered telling her about the communications that he had sent, but decided against it and instead said simply that I was not certain. She asked me to ask him if he needed help, and if he needed Valerie. I obliged, and he responded yes to both; as I gave Raven his answer, he contacted me again and changed it. There followed some back-and-forth and other such deliberation; I began to become disoriented with all of the voices bouncing in my brain, and found a seat in the inn’s common room as I continued to transfer messages across between Elwicket, Raven, and Yuck. Once they had finished I suspect that I accidentally fell asleep, tired as I was. The next thing that I remember was the thick tromping and shouts that always accompanied the group’s return. I joined them in the ring around the task board; not long after, Melissa came in. As she limped across the room over to the chair sitting by the task board, I searched the room for my friend from the polar north. I found him, eventually - he had wrapped himself completely in a large hooded cloak and was crouched behind the chair that I had taken. Melissa did not seem to have noticed him, for which I am thankful. I looked back at Melissa, then; I had not seen her since she had departed to deal with Brim. She looked older, now, and her right side especially had accumulated more wrinkles than is natural in such a span of time. It would seem that, in whatever it was that she did to find and deal with Brim, she had taxed herself rather hard and had withered a little with overuse of Elder Sorcery. Even now, she seemed weary. Melissa was about to sit down when she spotted one of the mages. She glared at him and growled simply “You,” then walked across the ring with her morganti katana drawn. She considered him for a moment, then deftly sliced off his right ear. That done, she limped back to her seat with a muttered, “Irritating.” There was a little talk, then; apparently she had had to break up a “fight” this morning, and was rather much aggravated at this. As she talked, I noticed, she fiddled with her everflaming whip and tied it into a small noose. After that, she decided that the group of elven bandits outside of town were particularly annoying today and sent us out, saying to “Deal with them”. One of the braver adventurers cautiously asked if we should try diplomacy or if we should simply kill them, to which Melissa replied, “I said, ‘Deal with them’”. That was that; everyone hastily withdrew from her presence, not wanting to risk further eliciting her wrath. We came to them not far from the base of the volcano upon which Pinnacle rested. Between our grouping and theirs there was a small river, and we found ourselves packed together quite tightly as we all tried to squeeze across the bridge at the same time. As the man at the head of the bridge began to attempt to talk with the elves - for the elves had drawn closer, and seemed to be open to at least hurling insults at us before departing. What would have happened, I do not know; for, a few people down the behind me, the mage who had just recently had his ear sliced off cast a detonating Elder Sorcery spell into the elves’ midst. The man subsequently exploded, having fumbled the spell. Those people that had stood in his immediate vicinity found themselves thoroughly soaked with a dark red substance that was likely blood, and many others not quite so near also showed a little spray of blood upon their faces and cloaks. The elves saw this - or at least, they saw that redness - and immediately turned and began to walk in the other direction, shouting both expressions of disgust that the elves among our number would stoop to associate with these idiot hobbits and also accusing us of trying to spread the Red Rot to them. We pursued them across a stretch of field, a small creek, and another and much larger river, but it was all for nothing in the end. They scattered eventually, many of them having been wounded or treeformed or simply too arrogant to deign to stand in our presence any longer. We returned, then, to the inn, where Melissa still waited. She asked if we had dealt with them, and we explained that we had chased them away but were unable to negotiate with them because they thought that we had the Red Rot. It was around this time that we realized that we probably did have the Red Rot, as we had been walking all across the city and even around the edges of the quarantine zone. Melissa looked over one of the adventurers gathered and then said no - not the Red Rot. A different disease. One that caused hallucinatory symptoms, given enough time. Melissa - being Melissa - then began to suppose that she could simply incinerate us all here, thus burning away the disease and keeping us from spreading it around the city and countryside. The disease would not survive the flames, of course, and on this count her thinking made sense - but then, we would also not survive the flames, and it was on this count that I was a little reluctant. I moved from my chair and towards the door, as did several others. I made my way quickly through the streets and back to my place of hiding, taking a different route through the city than I had this morning so as not to establish a trackable routine. Once there, I began to consider the information that we had gleaned this morning about our kidnapped companions. There was no way to establish what was true and what was not, though there were certain things that were unlikely - the Grey Isles, in particular. Celeste had seemed quite convinced when she had spoken it, but I know that Enyari would not leave everything behind to rush off to a place such as the Grey Isles only for the sake of a prophecy or piece of paper. That, I will admit, is rather more my style, and one of the things that she has expressed dislike of repeatedly. It seemed most likely that, if the rumor about the haunt was true - though I am not certain of the stability of a drunk man’s memory - that after talking to the haunt for some period of time, they had simply been teleported away. That would explain the way that the scents simply seemed to disappear so suddenly. But why? This possible story said little of the motivations of the haunt, or of our companions, or any other such thing that might lead us to find them. My thinking was interrupted, then, by a mind-link message from Ara. She said simply that she and her husband and a few other adventurers were about to enter the quarantine zone in search of our missing companions. I instructed her to contact me periodically so that we would know if something had flown to the ill wind, and then we broke the link. I started, then, to sort through my collection of notes for anything referencing haunts, or the Warrior Tombs, or any other such thing that might lead us in the right direction to finding Enyari and Kyrin and the rest. I quickly became buried in my work, and it took me a moment to realize a little later that Ara was attempting to contact me again. I let the contact in, and my mind was filled with her very insistent statement: “Nyanar, you’re an elf.” An elf. Of course I was an elf! That was plain for anyone with eyes to see. What was she - -Wait. I am an elf.It dawned upon me that since I was indeed an elf, I could not be controlled mentally. Which meant in turn that the charm - for it had been a charm, I realized - that the creature in the Warrior Tombs had placed upon me through Elwicket could not work. I fancy, then, that it felt almost as if the lock to some glass barrier in my mind broke off, and the barrier itself shattered into many crystalline pieces. There was then a noise behind me, and I started; I turned and saw a hobbit woman. Her hair was very pale in color, and bound in a braid that almost hung to her feet - Eloise, then. She looked at me and gracefully nodded once, then was simply gone. The whole of the experience, now that I could see it, was a little unsettling, and left me shaken. I relocated back to the inn - it would be safer, now that Melissa was unlikely to be present there - to wait for my companions’ return. It was still a little while before people began to file in, and when they did, not everyone was present. Ara and Patric, for one, had not returned; but as they had contacted me not long ago, I assumed that they were relatively safe and still pursuing the investigation. Among those that did come, there was talk of a flame giant and Nelian Echoes getting washed out to sea, or some such thing - it was a little confusing, with everyone talking about it at once. My “family” entered the inn soon after the adventurers; soon after them, Sen a Demdill- one of the mages applying for the teacher position - entered as well. We had been told that he was not from Roekron but rather a foreigner, and now that we were able to set eyes (and ears) on him, this was clear. His skin was a coppery tone, and his eyes were of one of the most incredibly intense hues of green that I have ever seen. His manner of dress, too, was different - and, if even all of these did not attest to his heritage, the fact that he did not speak the common tongue did. Whatever language it was that he did speak, Yuck seemed able to speak it was well; as such, she translated between us. Sen began energetically talking away - jabbering, it seemed like, much of the time. Since we lacked in a common language, he emphasized his meaning with hand motions - but nevertheless, thank goodness for Yuck. The bandits, which we had “dealt” with earlier by temporarily chasing them off, were evidently not considered truly “dealt” with and were thus still on the task listing. Sen reached this point and began to make exaggerated squishing motions, apparently expressing his disgust with this particular group of elves. Yuck confirmed this as she translated. As Sen made more squishing motions, one of the members of the adventurers called out that perhaps we should try to “deal with” the Wizard Trade Order instead. Yuck translated this back to Sen, and he immediately began to babble even quicker and make even more emphatic squishing motions. Yuck appeared utterly shocked at whatever it was that Sen had said - such that she paused in her translations to stare at him, eyes wide. I think that we did not need the translation at this point, however. Sen, nearly hopping with excitement by now, managed to communicate that he was collecting votes. One by one, hands upon hands upon hands rose in the air until nearly everyone was up and verging on cheering. In one motion, almost everyone - Sen, and those that had voted in favor of this - flooded out the doorway and into the streets. Those still with sense in our brains watched from the doorway as, in the next moment, they all teleported away. Where to? I do not know. It was difficult to divine whether the intent was to attack the bandits or to actually mount an attack on the Wizard Trade Order itself, but I very much fear that it was the latter. Those of us remaining in the inn stared at each other, flummoxed and taken very much by surprise; we spoke not, but it was clear that we were thinking much the same thoughts in any case. Little of interest passed between the incident with Sen and the appearance of the next wave of adventurers. Those that had disappeared to mount an attack against the Order were not among those that gathered, I noticed; they had still not returned, it seemed. When they came, another of the potential teachers - Breen, one of the triplets applying as Head Necromancer - came with them. I watched Breen closely, and not only because I am a necromancer myself; for there was a thought going around. Several people suspected that the three triplets were some form of Ebony returned to this plane to assume her position as the Protector - either Ebony, or her children, or some other such form. Breen was the warrior of the triplets. How it was that he could be a warrior and a mage both, it was not known; but nevertheless, he was. Once everyone had settled, Iakona asked him a question about going down to the Warrior Tombs. The barest traces of a frown showed on Breen’s face, and asked her what she was really asking. She asked another question, and this was a little closer to what it seemed that she meant; Breen leaned forward towards her and said, “But what are you really asking?”. Yuck conceded, then, and asked if he would come to the Warrior Tombs with the other warriors to rescue our companions. Breen leaned back and said, “That’s what I thought you were asking. Yes.” He paused; the pause, I should note, was not in the manner of Ebony, nor was his speech; the question, however - “What are you really asking?” - seemed a little more reminiscent of her. He continued to speak, then. Yes, he would come help rescue our companions - we would need the help. With these words, he stood, and told the warriors to come with him. As ever, the mages and other less martial classes would need to stay behind, for they could not enter the Tombs. They left, then - Breen and the other warriors. They were not many in number; only a little more than half a dozen to face untold hordes and greater dangers. I watched them go, and nearly murmured a prayer to the Sisters for their safe return - theirs, and the return of the others. I remembered, then, that the Sisters could no longer hear such prayers, and did not. Rather, I kept a vigil by the door of the inn, my thoughts for them borne on the wings of the wish for success. For, if not for their sakes, Enyari’s sake. For Celeste’s sake. For Kyrin’s sake, and Ara and her husband’s, and for that of all those who had been taken - may the gods guard their lives. --- Enyari StaráflurThere was a call from the blackness, and I seized it; I followed the pull of life out of this place and found myself - my real self - back inside my body. There was the sound of quiet murmuring from somewhere off to my right, and the smell of candles burning. I sat up; I was inside the resurrection rooms at Pinnacle. Once the life mage finished, I thanked him and slowly got to my feet, careful not the knock over any of those candles. I looked around my room, and saw movement in another ritual space to my left; Kyrin was getting up, too. The memories flooded back into my head, although they had the taint of another presence beside myself - one that didn’t belong. I remember... tunnels. Dark tunnels. I remember a skeletonlike elf-creature giving orders and watching with bright eyes. I remember walking along a city street late at night. I remember the blunt pain of teeth ripping into my neck. To my right, the life mage was resurrecting another lifeless, limp body: Ëon. I watched for the next few minutes until the ritual culminated, and then waited for him to stir. I watched; the mage watched. He never did. Vampires! I hate everything about them - I hate their evil, manipulative ways and their complete disregard for life. I hate the way that they insinuate themselves into places that they should never have been, control that which has never belonged to them, and then sunder that which never should have been broken. For everything that they have done - I hate them! Let it now be known that I, Enyari Staráflur, swear upon Víðarr’s holy name that I will find them. I will find as many vampires as I can before I permanently pass on to the next life, and I will find a way to destroy them. This is my oath; this is what I shall do. How convenient, then - as they dragged Ëon’s body away to be buried, one of my companions found Kyrin and I and told us that they were about to go deal with another vampire. I still had my chainmail on, and I still had my wakasashi belted at my side; now was as good a time as any. I followed the man out of the resurrection room and onto the road outside, where a small horde of my companions waited. Who was there? The familiar faces, of course: Oreyn Fenwë, Ara Silverwind - No. No. There’s no... How can this be? She can’t... But she was. There, amongst all the faces of my companions, was Celeste’s. My mother. My mother, who had been dead for more than a decade now, and who we could not resurrect when we discovered her body. How could she have come back? I looked at her, and she looked back blankly. For a moment, I was afraid that she’d forgotten everything - forgotten me, forgotten her wife, maybe even forgotten herself; then I realized, as I joined the party and watched her, that she hadn’t. Though she hadn’t appeared to have aged at all, I certainly had - I was only about ten years old when she died. She wouldn’t recognize me, now. I wanted to go and talk to her, but I found that much to my surprise I was too shy - me, shy! - to simply start talking to her. Instead, as the group started down the street, I asked those nearest to me about what had happened while I was... unavailable. Everybody seemed to have a different story; I heard a lot about trying to find everyone that had disappeared. There was also something about a fire giant washing one of the potential teachers out to sea, Sen taking a group out to possibly attack the Wizard Trade Order, trying to deal with a group of elven bandits and then some troops from Dagdeoth. What I really wanted to know, though, was how they had found us. Apparently someone - Mercy was the name, I think he said - made some kind of connection between our disappearances and the Warrior Tombs, and a group of warriors promptly went off to find us and ended up stuck down there. Later - much later - another, smaller group had gone down when the others hadn’t returned; this one was aided by Breen. In sum, Breen sacrificed himself and exploded via an exorcism spell that traced its way through the vampire’s path of evil. I don’t remember where we were at that point, exactly; just that, as the man was explaining about Breen, we filtered in and amongst a throng of undead. The necromancers immediately started after what appeared to be empty air and which I assume were ethereal beings of some kind. I found myself next to Celeste, and began to fight with her against that which we could see. Not long into the battle, I felt a puff of air being displaced behind me and then a compulsion to turn to my companions and ward them off. Celeste turned, too; we faced our companions, ready to turn back any attack that they made at the creature behind us. We’d been charmed, of course; rational people don’t just have sudden impulses to change where their allegiances lie, and if they do, they don’t generally follow through. It was Oreyn Fenwë that made the battle, in the end. He had a spell that would remove charms, and once he realized what was going on, he effectively spent the battle running back and forth across the field and somewhat exasperatedly discharming all of our allies, whether they were actually charmed or not. I shudder to think what might’ve become of us without him. I need to do something about that, actually - find some way to place protection on my mind so that I can’t be charmed. Otherwise, trying to go after all of these vampires will be an exercise in both pointlessness and idiocy - and I like to think that I’m not quite that stupid. I’m not sure what happened, exactly; I suspect that the brunt of the action took place in the ethereal realm. There was eventually a group of people gathered around and pointing their various weapons at something that I couldn’t see; they must’ve dealt with it, though, because after a few minutes they all finished what they were doing and began to walk back. Two vampires down; many more still out there. I do believe that I have some work to do - but adequate preparation comes first. Soon, though; soon. --- NyanarJust as a sun will rise, a sun will set; just as a thread may be twined into a rope, so may the strands be unspun. The bond has been broken, and the minds of myself and of my companions have been untangled and returned to themselves. I find myself both relieved and a little sad that this has been done; for, though it may be safer this way, the gift of mind-to-mind speech that came with those dangers was useful. That which we did to untangle ourselves shall remain, I think, known only to ourselves, unless another should choose to tell the tale; as for myself, I am not especially fond of revealing the particulars of the paths of my mind in this particular instance, and with the particular set of circumstances that I am caught in now - perhaps another time. I will say only that, when in doubt, attempting to retrace your own steps may be the best guide to finding your way once more. Suns will rise; suns will set. This evening, as the sun lay cradled in the cusp between day and night, a spell that Embarcarious and Melissa and possibly others had been working on was set off; it blew through all of Pinnacle, all of Hostor, and perhaps beyond, as a seaswept wind. In its wake, many sicknesses - the Red Rot, the hallucinating disease, and most others - dissipated and were cured. Threads are spun, and some undone; yet some, still, remain. I am still in my place of hiding, and still remain a part of my “family” despite the other bonds that have been broken. I do not think that I can say the same of my true family any longer; that thread was unspun long ago, and perhaps it is better this way. I think that I saw Sen as I traveled back to my place of hiding, though I am not sure; I saw a figure that certainly looked similar to him, but I saw none of my companions that had gone with him. I do not know what has happened to them. The sun has set; darkness, now, begins to creep across the world. I have lit my candle against the darkness, and know that in many places across Roekron, so have others. We will pass into deeper night, soon - and, though it may seem that our meager lights will do little to stay the night, does that mean that we should silently put them out? When the nightmares come to crawl through our sleep, should we let them slither into our minds and hearts and steal them away? The question, I do not think, is should; the question is rather of whether or not we can - of whether or not we have the courage to make the choice that we know must be made. And do we? I do not know. But it will not be much longer, now, before we will find the answer.
I did this chronicle a little bit differently than usual; it's less of a "this is what we did today!" thing and more of a "hey, wow, look at everything that happened this season!" thing. The bullet list is of the actual day and has a little more detail to make up for the lack of such things in the main chronicle. --- October 2010 - Season Finale Chronicle - A potential civil war - most of Hostor against Pinnacle - has been sparked. Rioters came to the gates. The attempts to negotiate with them were nonviolent at first but quickly devolved into large numbers of knockout-dispatch. One of the mage teacher applicants - Distrensai, I think - came through and put everybody to sleep.
- Speaking of war, a bunch of elven warships from the mainland were sailing over to Hostor and ended up sunk by not one but four hurricanes (which, by the way, came from Pinnacle. We don't know who created them, but there are a few theories.) (*coughSencough*). The elves died and their spirits were trapped at the bottom of the ocean in circles of protection. We went down to rescue them and got most of them out, despite the undead barnacles.
- We gathered a small army and went to attack the Darkness Zone; we exorcised either a litch or a vampire, don't remember which. We also came up against one of the Luphgaunts: the Shadow Bat. It trapped us in a circle of protection and began to start attacking people with morganti wings. It also has a habit of disappearing completely from time to time - you can't see it or sense it, even on the ethereal plane - and then reappearing and decimating everything. So that ended fairly quickly - morganti wounds and comas were had (don't remember if anyone died, though - did anyone morganti-die?)
- Mr. and Mrs. Dummyhead PD'd after messing around with Elder Sorcery of time. Don't be Mr. and Mrs. Dummyhead, kids - don't mix Elder Sorcery and time. You have been warned. This message is brought to you by the Dead Mage Cremation Foundation.
- We tried to take care of a grey war going on in Pinnacle; in the end, people stabbed other people and I don't think we actually managed to do anything about it.
--- From, The StargazerMuch has changed, this year. The face of Hostor looks much the same as it ever has; the faces of those within, however, have been changed. The faces of those just finding their feet have since been worn a little older and grown new lines. The faces of those who already had walked upon their feet for many years before, too, have added more lines to those already there. Warriors have accumulated new scars, and mages have withered themselves away - but all have acquired a new weight of experience behind their eyes, which now sit a little heavier in their heads. Some faces once present have disappeared entirely; some faces came for a time and left as quickly; some faces not there before have come and settled themselves to stay. Much has happened to all these faces, this past year. Those thrown within its stormy tumult all can say that this was such. It was, I think, not quite so perilous at the beginning; then, it was simpler matters. Though, perhaps not simpler; they simply seemed that way. Cave trolls, wayward bandits, hidden nexuses of caves and tunnels, orks, goblins, arsonists and shattered shrines, dragons, puzzles of stones, rioters, influxes of elves, strange dreams and scores upon scores of undead beings - well. It is known now that some of these things were more than at first they appeared to be, though just as many truly were only what they seemed. What is important is that, at the time, they seemed simpler. The arson, I recall, happened earlier than most things. Quite simply, there was an arsonist causing trouble within a village; the arsonist soon turned out to be a phoenix, and the phoenix soon thereafter turned out to be a polymorphed mage student from Pinnacle. As the crime had been arson, Melissa the Scald was though to be involved - and, for a time, much of the evidence pointed towards her. Yet the student was not one of hers, and she herself seemed bent on catching the one that had forced the student to commit the crime. For a time, the matter was left alone; it emerged later on as, much too late, it was discovered that Brim Tiposius had laid this trap in what seemed to be an attempt to disable Melissa so that he could move with his true intent. This became clear as, one day, Brim led the adventurers to a secret place. He was, he said, going to summon a horrible creature and that these adventurers must destroy it. Despite the warnings of the familiar Hope, too late it was realized that the creature was Ebony - and that Ebony was, rather than simply the hobbit Head of Necromancy at the Pinnacle mage school, a demon from a dimension mirror to our own; a dimension in which demons, it seems, are good beings. She was dispatched back to her realm after repeated exorcism. Brim, then, fled; Melissa spent much time hunting him down. She has since returned - much withered and limping rather hard - and is assumed to have been successful, though she will not speak on what happened to Brim. Not long ago, she left again - now in pursuit of rather larger prey. Brim, of course, no longer teaches at the school, and nor does Ebony; they were not the only faces to disappear, however. Jonas Stormshank, also, has gone. It seemed at first, of course, simple: a shrine to the Nomad Sisters had been destroyed; he left to investigate it, and never returned. It was hoped, at first, that it was not serious - yet it very quickly became apparent when, upon setting eyes upon the shrine and finding that it had not merely been destroyed but rather obliterated, that it was a very serious matter. Soon after that, a nearby temple to the jaguar-god Tezcatlipoca was discovered. The temple itself was surrounding with pulsing darkness and moonlight, and beside it was a golem that seemed perhaps to be an avatar of Tezcatlipoca himself. The golem, clearly, had been the one to destroy the shrine to the Nomad Sisters and also it seemed to have been the destroyer of Jonas himself. He never was found, after that; likely, he has long since been dead. The golem, too, has gone; a circle of protection against the divine was put up around the city of Pinnacle, at which point a joint group of Hunters of the Nomad Sisters and adventurers departed and destroyed the golem in turn. With this, this year has marked the departure of three of the five mage teachers at the school; many applicants for the open positions have since come to try to fill their places, and the decision upon this currently lies in waiting. A little more near to the time of this writing, I think, there emerged mysteries pertaining to two sets of stones: heartstones and pieces of a tablet with runes inscribed into its surface. The heartstones led to the discovery of the dream gates under the Spires; the dream gates led to a mode of transportation between our country of Roekron and another country by the name of Teriock. The dream gates were active only for a short time, though during their use they were very active indeed. The gates lost their activity when Sen a Demdil, one of the applicants for teaching positions at the Pinnacle mage school, brought a number of adventurers to the gates and proceeded to damage them with magic. Eliyanna Starlight appeared; the adventurers were then arrested, though Sen disappeared before he also could be taken. As for the tablet - well. There was much time spent collecting and piecing together the many pieces and the mystery that was tied to them. They were later deemed unimportant, and soon thereafter stolen; they have not since been found again, and remain lost. Also now lost to the world are the Nomad Sisters. It was but a few moons ago that, as quickly and suddenly as if some divine door had been shut in the faces of their followers, their presence left this world. Oracles remained unanswered, items failed, familiars died, and many people were left wondering what had happened to their deities - why had they gone? The source was thought to be Pinnacle and some person within that should be killed to appease the Sisters; riots composed of followers of the Sisters and the New Gods erupted in the streets, and elves from the Roekron mainland began to sail to Hostor in protest. Many still hope that the Sisters will soon return. Yet the cause of their disappearance remains undiscovered, and it seems that just as they appeared to the world some twenty years past they have left it once more. Throughout the rising and falling of all these events, the presence of undead has been a constant chorus ringing in the background. They appear in strange ways; many appeared as inhabitants in isolated haunted houses that acted out and re-acted their demise. There also was not only a single house but a full village of such haunts repeating the moments of their death over and over and over again, as well. A pair of kidnapped students were taken into a horde of skeletons controlled by a seemingly un-catchable dark-cloaked figure. Lava tubes underneath the city of Pinnacle that teemed with undead guardians - and less well-inclined undead - were explored. A line of more undead guards was found, and behind it there was found what appeared to be some remnant of Ebony and also triplet angels, the latter of which polymorphed into hobbits and appeared at the Pinnacle mage school to apply as teachers. There then came a day when a number of the adventurers were discovered to have been kidnapped during the night. The pursuit that followed led to two vampires in - and under - the city of Pinnacle. The vampire that had taken and controlled these adventurers was found in the Warrior Tombs. A very small group of the few remaining warriors went down and hoped to rescue them; with them went the angel-triplet by the name of Breen. I am very glad to say that they were successful in bringing back those adventurers kidnapped - but it came at a price, though the payment was freely given. Breen battled with the vampire and felled it with a spell that traced the path of its evil first through the vampire and all the way down through its ranks of minions, exorcising the evil within them as it burned through them all. As a part of the spell, however, Breen sacrificed his own life. His sibling-triplets - now twins - withdrew their applications as teachers soon after, and have not been seen since. Dreams, too, have been very much a common strand that wove its way through all of these events. Dreams led to the temple of the Nomad Sisters; dreams carried also the words of the Nomad Sisters when they still dwelt within reach, and through dreams much of consequence was realized. Some dreams showed things to come; some dreams came in the form of songs and visions. Always, the dreams have led the dreamers onwards to new thoughts and other places. I speak not only of dreams that come in the night while one sleeps; I speak also of the dreams conceived in the waking mind and executed in the waking world. Many dreamed to do many things; some dreamed to find extraordinary weapons and powers - a Sword of Light and Shadow, a sword of silveel, new spells of Elder Sorcery, and the like. Some dreamed to fight back the darkness that they saw creeping across the world - vampires, the Darkness Zone, Dagdeoth, and more. Some dreamed not of fighting but of peace; they thought to talk to the elves, talk to the rioters, and talk to the many beings set against them in a nonviolent manner. Some dreamed of finding the answers to the riddles set against them. Some of these dreams were brought to fruition, and some were quenched along the way; some of them have fallen to neither yet, and still hope to one day finish them arightly. Some of their dreamers along the way have died for these dreams. The dreamers behind them have been many. They have been young and have been old; they have been mages, and they have been warriors; they have been of many races, many temperaments, and with little to much experience to their names. Some of them have grown weary with their own experiences and will relinquish their workings with the world very soon, and their places will one day be taken up by newer hands with much to learn. It reminds me of what a friend said to me, once: “The next generation is taking our place. We are dying out; a dying breed. The new ones - the younger ones - are replacing us. I think that I feel, well, contented. It is a good thing. The unions that they make, the friends they meet, and the strength they gather will show how well they can take the weight of the world on their shoulders.”I, as well, feel contented at this. I myself have done much in this world - and, most often, I feel that I have done too much. It is more than this, however; it is simply contentedness at knowing that the cycles in the world still play on. The world is a heavy burden indeed, and those who have felt even a fraction of its weight soon age and tire of carrying it. They let go of it, and newer, stronger hands come to take it from them. Someday those hands, too, will age and tire and pass the world onwards. And in the end, I think, our lives are as the stars. As we grow, we become ever-brighter. Some stars are bright and become beacons to look towards when one is lost; some stars are not so bright and instead twinkle in the twilight - always there, but not always seen. And all of us shine against our darknesses: inner darknesses as our private sorrows and despair, and our outer darkness as the ones that would try to suppress our fragile lights. Not all stars survive; some stars fall along their ways and streak across the sky in their last gasp of dying glory. Some simply disappear. And, to the endless tapestry of scattered starlight, we all eventually become a part of a larger piece that we cannot always see for ourselves but which still remains even after we have left. Some fall down by the wayside And some will struggle on; Some of us break through alive And some of us are gone;
Still we travel down our ways Until we end our days Meeting darker nights and Fighting back with Naught but Slender
Hope.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 18:11:39 GMT -8
November 2010 In Sum: *In addition to zombies, we also went after some urukai bandits and ogres. --- Celewin FenweI went adventuring today. Real adventuring, with missions. Went to fight zombies. Zombies are funny. They moan and they groan and they trip when they walk. But their brains don’t work right. They’re funny, but I don’t like them. They move like real people, but their eyes seem dead. I don’t like dead eyes. No dead eyes means nobody is hurt or screaming or dying. We fought them high up in the ruins, where they couldn’t get us. Xey was there. Xey is always jumping around and moving and talking. But she’s nice, and I like her. My brother was there too, but he was down below. I went down too because I wanted to see what the zombies looked like. They smell bad. And they’re covered in blood. I stabbed them to make them go away. The zombies kept coming, though, and one of them stabbed me too. It didn’t hurt too bad. It was almost like sleeping. But Xey and my brother woke me up. I looked at the zombies, and they were all dead-dead. I looked at the other people, too. Most of them are big and grownups, and they always move around and yell. There are lots of them. There are some that are small like me, too. Elfy-kids. Hobbits too, but they’re always small, even when they’re grownups. And there were dwarves. I don’t like dwarves. I stayed away from them. They make me feel bad inside, like a big rock is sitting on my stomach. When all the zombies were dead-dead, we went back home. My brother went with me. When we went back, Daddy told me that I should play with a raspberry-puppy. I said ok. The puppy wasn’t made of raspberries, though. The elfy-kid whose puppy it was was named Raspberry. So he let me play with the puppy and I did and it make me feel a little better. I like the puppy. I like Raspberry, too. He’s nice. Like Xey. A lot of the people are nice. Maybe I will stay with them. But I will watch them. If they are not-nice or if their eyes get red, I will go away because I don’t want bad things to happen. So I will stay with them and adventure with them... but I will always watch them. Always.
Chronicle for Advanced League (Palo Alto) - 12/04/10 (December 2010) --- - A bunch of people from Geb set foot on Hostor with seemingly not-very-nice intentions. That batch was dealt with.
- There is a blue dragon outside of Pinnacle that apparently likes to play games. Games that include mind/body control. Fun.
--- Written by Miss Arimissa Nelis LaFeldnoreYou certainly meet some interesting people in Pinnacle - particularly around the mage school. And you certainly get involved in some pretty crazy stuff along the way, too. But I like it here, and I like training here. It’s so lively! Let’s see. Everybody’s heard of Embarcarious Petrafloutus; I got to see him in person. I’d heard that he was short, but I hadn’t expected him to be quite that short! He was leaning on a staff as he was talking to us - that is, telling us about the various things in the area that needed to be dealt with. There was quite a bit that needed doing, of course. One can only expect that, especially in times such as these! We ended up going after a bunch of bandits from Geb. Hah! Silly Gebians, thinking they can walk wherever they like and call it theirs. Nothing but thieves, the lot of them! I was originally going to tag along with the rest of the adventurers to take care of those annoying bandits, but upon seeing just how many were going, figured that they wouldn’t really be needing me. Besides - I wouldn’t want to be involved in getting Geb’s people angry, or at least not personally. Thought I doubt that that matters at this point; when the adventures came back they also brought quite a few bodies back with them, at which point they started stripping the bandits of everything of worth. The irony in the matter is really quite stunning. Not quite so stunning as the irony in that particular situation was the council member that we met next - Magden Threebeards was his name. You’ll understand the name if you see him, I’m sure. But the man seems to have quite a bit of a problem with mages - he was talking about securing that shrine with the “magic forgetfulness” curse in order to use it against mages, and removed the possibility of going to try Nelian Echos’s illusionary battle training entirely. I mean, I do understand his point. Mages have a great deal of power on Hostor. But they do quite a bit of good with that power! Blocking decent progress because of a spiteful whim is the kind of behavior I’d expect from a child, not from a grown hobbit. Of course, I could be biased about this whole nest too, given that I plan to train as a mage myself. I won’t be giving him any favors, at any rate. The only reason that we were able to look into the matter of those odd carvings in the ground at all was because one of the men mentioned that it was likely magical and that it might be usable against the mages. In any case, that’s what we ended up looking at. I went along, this time - the potential that it could be magical intrigued me. This gave me a chance to scope out my companions. There are some, ah, interesting individuals among their number. One was a foreigner of some kind; he didn’t speak a whit of Common. Our attempts at communication were rather unsuccessful. There was also a man that seemed to be ill with something, as well. I tried to fix him up a little, the poor man... Didn’t seem to make any difference. I wonder if he should be going out into the elements if he’s ill - it’s not good for one’s health! And there was also another man - he’s studying to become a storm mage, by the sounds of it. He was rather nice. It was as I was getting to know him better that we came across some rather unfriendly forces. I’m not entirely sure what they were - I spent most of the battle trying to bandage everyone up - but whatever they were, they were big. I don’t mean human-big or elf-big or even centaur-big - I mean much bigger than the kind of big that you normally run into. I was afraid of getting stepped on! The whole thing didn’t go too badly, though, and we cut through the other group smoothly enough (take that literally, if you like). There was a bit more walking, at which point we stumbled upon those carvings in the ground. The first one was rather square-ish. Actually, more than just the first one - most of them were squarish, and rather large. The one in the center, though - that one looked different. It had the shape of an algiz and was dug several feet into the ground. People ended up stepping into it in order to try to activate it - and activate it they did. As everyone crowded inside the rune, a blue dragon materialized in front of us. Now, being that I’ve spent my life here on Hostor, I’ve seen a dragon before. That was only from a distance, though - a barely discernible shape against the distant horizon. I’d never seen one up close, though. I’d thought that those creatures we’d run into on the way here had been big, but they have absolutely nothing on dragons! A single one of its toes could have killed me! Luckily, it wasn’t the toes that killed me - what a way to go! The dragon asked if we were lunch, or if we had come to play the game. Lunch didn’t sound like an especially appetizing thing to be, so the only natural choice at that point was to play the game. The dragon asked who wanted to play; curious, I and several others indicated our interest. Myself and three others were chosen; the rest of our companions got a little... strange... after that. Their faces went completely blank and they organized themselves into three tidy little lines coming from the ends of the rune - a feat that, sadly, might have been beyond them if they hadn’t been mind-controlled at that particular juncture. I suppose that mind-controlled isn’t quite the term; it wasn’t their minds that were being controlled, but their bodies. Thank goodness, I was one of the lucky ones - I wasn’t being controlled. Rather, I and those other three were the ones controlling the rest. I’d imagine that it was an unpleasant process, and I can’t say that I enjoyed using the lot of them like tools, but I’m sure that it was much better than getting eaten - I would know. The dragon said to us that he was the king, and that he would attempt to exit; he indicated the four runes at the corners of the area. Then he said that we must capture him to win. As he said this, he shrank down from a dragon to a more humanoid (and human-sized!) shape. Now that he wasn’t blocking quite so much space, we could see another line of similarly body-controlled people behind him. The four of us stepped aside for a moment to plan our actions. We each decided to send several people to each of the runes in order to hopefully block them off. I went to one of the lines and ordered half of the lot of them to go to one rune and the other half to go to another, and the whole bunch to defend themselves if they found themselves attacked. It seemed simple enough, though the dragon had been a little vague about the whole matter - I’ve heard that dragons often are. The game started. The others carried out their orders as intended - or at least mine did. I’m not certain about the others. As they made their ways to their respective runes, the dragon also made his way to a rune; he walked surrounded by his own soldiers. It was a fairly quick round; the dragon made it to one of the runes and announced that he had won this round, and quite suddenly we all found ourselves back in our starting places. Once there, he leaned down and ripped one of us controllers to pieces and ate him. It was quite disgusting - entrails everywhere - and it was a bit of a sobering view at the price of the game. Round two began after that. My instructions to the other adventurers became more complicated - heal each other, move quickly, attack the dragon and his soldiers but concentrate on the dragon, don’t kill anything, and so on. The round began, and the game board quickly became a chaotic mess; nevertheless, the dragon was hit by one of our own adventurers, meaning that we’d won that round. Once again, we found ourselves in our starting places. It had seemed to work nicely last time, so I gave the same set of instructions to the adventurers that I was responsible for. No such luck; we lost that round. At which point the dragon ate me. It was a rather unpleasant process that I hope never to repeat, and on the whole would really prefer to forget. I’m not sure what happened after that; I came to back in Pinnacle, where I was being resurrected. Dying is also a rather unpleasant process, I discovered - also something that I’d rather not repeat again. Once the resurrection was finished and I was back on my feet, I left the room and started wandering through the mage school. As I walked through the halls, I bumped into a knot of my companions - all females - following one of the other council members: Shunar Quincel. She requested that I come along, so I did. On the way, she explained that she had uncovered some spidersilk robes that were in storage and that she was giving them away. Not to the group at large, apparently, and not to the city - she thought that such things weren’t needed there. They were needed here. She really did seem to mean well; on top of the spidersilk robes that she offered, she also offered other help. One of the woman asked for ten pieces of gold to pay off a debt that she had incurred, and Shunar Quincel slipped her quite a few more coins than ten. If we needed anything, she said to us, she would be happy to help. The three women that had come with Quincel took the offer of the spidersilk robes; I alone declined. In my position, I’ve had quite a bit of experience with people offering “gifts” that seem not to have any sort of tails attached to them - and those people always seem to have some kind of ulterior motive. And while Quincel seemed nice enough, she had a feel to her that I’m not sure that I trust - and it was more than the morganti dagger at her side. I don’t believe I will be accepting any gifts from her, no matter how well-intended they might seem. After helping one of the other women tie up her robe properly, we departed. They left to go participate in the gladiator matches where the rest of the adventurers evidently were; I decided to pay a visit to the barracks to help sort weaponry. I much prefer to be helpful rather than battling for the entertainment of others - hacking others’ heads off is not especially nice. And anyway, it’s a way to get a better feel for the city in all of its different facets - the places, the people, and the order of things. I can’t be certain just yet, but from what I’ve seen so far, I do believe that I shall enjoy training here.
Club League (Palo Alto) Chronicle for 12/05/10 (December 2010) - Given that we attacked, kidnapped, and stole stuff from those Gebian bandits the day before, Geb ended up unhappy with Pinnacle. They sent a message saying that they were sending some of their law enforcement over to take back their people, which we then went and attacked because a conflict with Geb is inevitable at this point.
- There was a black drake that we went out to deal with that had shark-mole drakespawn. The drake and its spawn were dealt with reasonably well, but as the drake and a couple of its spawn were being dragged back to Pinnacle, everybody was attacked by a bunch of goblins. Which proved to be the end of us.
- We returned to the site of the dragon, played its game, and won this time. There was another level of the game that we ended up not chancing, just in case.
--- Celewin FenweI did more adventuring today. With bigger stuff. A-lot-a-lot bigger stuff. I only did one thing, though. A lot of the bigger people did other big stuff, too, but I didn’t. Like the Geb-people. I didn’t go to hurt the Geb-people, even though they want to hurt Hostor-people. Embarcarious came into the room in the morning and started talking about those Geb-people. There were some yesterday, but other Hostor-people attacked them to make them go away. This made the other Geb-people mad, so they sent more Geb-people over to attack us. I don’t like Geb-people. They’re mean. Embarcarious said things that mean that there will be more of them coming. Like throwing rocks. If a kid-person gets mad and throws a rock at somebody, the other person throws another rock back at them. Then the mad-kid throws another rock because they’re angrier, and then the other mad-kid throws another rock, and they keep throwing rocks until somebody starts crying and runs away. It sounded like that. But anyway, some of the big adventuring-people went to go hurt the new Geb-people, but I didn’t go because I don’t like Geb-people. When the people went away to go attack the new-Geb-people, Embarcarious left too. But he didn’t go attack, he just went somewhere else. I stayed and waited. Then when the other adventure-people came back, a different head-person came. Mommy and Daddy said that mage teacher people are always the head-person, but this person wasn’t a mage person. His name is Magden. I don’t like him. He’s all hairy and yucky, and he makes lots of clinky-clink noises when he moves because he wears chainmail. And he smells funny. I wanted to cover my nose because he stinks but I didn’t because it might make him mad. And I really-really don’t want to make him mad because he has one of those scary black weapons called magontee murgantee margunti I don’t know how to spell it. But he had one. He did a voting-thing this time. I haven’t done the voting-thing before. He told us what the different things to do were and we voted, and the one with the biggest number of votes is the one that we would do. I wanted to go do the dragon because the dragon plays games, but lotsa people wanted to do the big black drake and that one had the biggest number so that’s the one they did. I didn’t go on that one either. Drakes sound mean and big scary. And they probably smell yucky too, just like Magden. And then when the adventure-people came back I think there were dead people. I’m glad I didn’t go. They also said that there were really big moles with shark heads called “drakespawn”. But they lost the one they tried to bring back, so I didn’t see what they really looked like. There was more voting after that, and this time the dragon that plays games was the one with the biggest number. Dragons are supposed to be scary, but they don’t sound as scary as drakes, and I wanted to play games, so I went this time. Xey went too. She poked at my bow and asked if I shoot lots. I said that I only shoot at home with Daddy at targets. I haven’t shot at living-moving things before. But I was going to try it this time because there might be ogres or goblins or other mean things between us and the dragon. And there were. We found a big group of ogres and urukai that didn’t like us, and so they attacked us and we attacked them. Urukai are funny when you shoot them. Targets just sit there, but urukai make big groaning noises and fall down in funny ways and trip the other urukai. Sometimes blood leaks out of them, too. But there’s more blood when you hurt them with swords or axes than arrows. I tried with a dagger that one of them threw at me. It was raining - people were saying that the rain was the dragon’s fault, but I don’t think so - so I slipped and they threw a dagger at me and I got hurt. But Xey and another lady made it better, so I picked up the dagger and threw it back and that urukai had lots of blood. I kept that dagger. I like it. When the ogres and urukai were all on the ground, we kept walking towards the dragon. One of the dwarves was following me for a little while. I kept moving away and he kept moving towards me and I kept moving away until he stopped. He stayed away from me the rest of the time we were walking to the dragon. When we got to the dragon-place, there wasn’t a dragon. But there were this big drawings in the ground - lots of squares, and a sticky-forky-thing - that I think the dragon did. Dragons do things like that. I like drawing things in the ground too, but I think the dragon is better at it. Anyway, people went to stand inside the sticky-forky-drawing, and then the dragon appeared out of nowhere. It was a pretty dragon. It was a pretty dark blue color, like ocean water, and it had lots and lots of scales that were shiny, especially when there was sun shining on them. I like that dragon. It appeared and then it asked who wanted to play the game. I wanted to play the game with the dragon so I raised my hand, but lots of other people did too and so I didn’t get picked. There was one lady-girl-human-person that the dragon looked at. The dragon wouldn’t let her play the game. The dragon said that she plays this game too much. Maybe I will go play with her sometime and she can teach me how to play the game so I can play it too. The dragon chose four people. I don’t like what happened next. After the dragon chose four people, everybody that was not-chosen got all funny. I didn’t want to move, but my body started moving even though I didn’t make it move. I think the dragon did that, because dragons are like that. The dragon made me get in a line coming from one of the stick-forks with lots of other people. The other stick-forks had people too. Then I wanted to move away, but I couldn’t move even though I wanted to. It’s like dolls, I think. I don’t play with dolls because they’re stupid, but other kidses play with dolls. When they play with the dolls, the dolls don’t move around - the people move the dolls around. And sometimes the people do nice things with the dolls, but sometimes they do mean things with the dolls too. And if they do mean things and the dolls don’t like the mean things, the dolls can’t run away because they’re dolls and they can’t move. I didn’t like not being able to move. But the dragon didn’t do too much mean stuff with us. I got bored because I couldn’t move. Well. I did move a little bit, I guess. There were four games. The dragon said that he was the king of something but he wouldn’t tell us what he was the king of, and he said that we had to capture him. So when he started every game, the four people that were playing told everyone else to attack the dragon. They attacked the dragon very fast, so I only took two steps and then the dragon made me go back because the game was over. When we played the game four times and attacked the dragon four times and won four times, the dragon asked if we were going to stop or keep playing. Everybody argued about that lots. I wanted to stay and keep playing, but lots of people didn’t. So the dragon gave one of the people a glowing blueish necklace thing and then we left and went back to Pinnacle. The other big-people went back to go do more stuff with the mage-teacher-people and Magden, but I went home. Playing with the dragon made me tired, so I went to take a nap. But maybe I can do more stuff with the mage-teacher-people a different time, and maybe the girl-lady-person can teach me how to play the game. It was a funny game, and I want to learn how to play.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 18:14:28 GMT -8
All right - the time has come to post this, now that sufficient quantities of in-game time have passed. ...Have fun decoding, I guess?
(In two parts because it won't fit in one)
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Published Posthumously from Nyanar's Notes (events took place during the August 2010 campout)
ȶ◦◦◦◦◦◦ ᘟʓ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɽƈʅ𐑕ᘟȶϛ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ʖᘟʋ◦◦ ðȶʖ ɖᘟʋ◦ ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ ʓᒍʅƈ ʖᒍ ðᘟϛ ᘟʝʓᒍʖ𐑕 ᘟϛʋ ᒍðƈʅ ɖᘟʋ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɮᘟɳƈ ʖᒍ ȣᘟʅ ʝȶɳƈɖ◦ ɮᘟʖ ᒐƈƈϛ◦◦◦◦◦◦ 𐑕ƷʅᒐƷʝƈϛ𐑕◦◦ ᘟϛɖ ɕᘟȶϛȣƷʝ◦◦ ɕᘟȶϛȣƷʝ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ᘟʝʖᒍ ƈɫɲɮȶʝᘟʅᘟ𐑕ȶϛʆ◦◦ ᘟϛɖ ɽƈʅ𐑕ᘟȶϛʝʋ◦ ᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ɳƈʅʋ ʝƈᘟʖ𐑕◦ ƈɫɲ𐑕ʅᘟᒍʅɖȶϛᘟʅʋ◦◦ ȶ ʖƷɕɕᒍʖƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɽᘟϛ ᒍϛʝʋ 𐑕ƈʝʝ ðƈ ʖ𐑕ᒍʅʋ ᒍȣ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ɮᘟʖ ɮᘟɕɕƈϛƈɖ◦ ȶȣ ϛᒍðȶϛʆ ƈʝʖƈ ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶȣ ȣᒍʅ ϛᒍðȶϛʆ ᒐƷ𐑕 ðƈ ʖᘟɫƈ ᒍȣ ʓʋ ᒍɲϛ ʖᘟϛȶ𐑕ʋ◦◦
ɲƈ ◦ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ◦ ᘟʅᘟ◦ ƈʓʋʅϛ◦ 𐑕ƈʅȶʖȶᒍ◦ ƈʝɲȶɽɫƈ𐑕𐑕◦ ʋƷɽɫ◦ ᘟϛɖ ʅᘟɳƈϛ ◦ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅƈɖ ᘟ ʆƷȶʝɖʓᘟʖ𐑕ƈʅ ɮƈᘟɖɫɲƷᘟʅ𐑕ƈʅʖ ƈᘟʅʝʋ ȶϛ ðƈ ɖᘟʋ◦◦ ƈʝɲȶɽɫƈ𐑕𐑕 ᒐʅξ𐑕 ɲȶð ɮȶʓ ʓƈɖȶ𐑕ᘟ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ȶϛɽƈϛʖƈ ᘟϛɖ◦ ᘟʖ ɲƈʝʝ ᘟʖ ðƈ ʖʓᘟʝʝ ɮƈᘟʅ𐑕ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈʖ ȣᒍʅ ƈᘟᕊ ᒍȣ Ʒʖ◦ ᘟ ɳƈʅʋ ʝᘟʅʆƈ ɮƈᘟʅ𐑕ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ ðƈ ʖȶɽƈ ᒍȣ ᘟ ɮᒍᒐᒐȶ𐑕’ʖ ɮƈᘟɖ◦◦ ðƈʋ ɮᘟɖ ᘟʝʖᒍ ʅƈɫɲƷƈʖ𐑕ƈɖ ȣʅᒍʓ ᘟϛɖ ᒐƈƈϛ ʆʅᘟϛ𐑕ƈɖ ᒐʋ ƈʓᒐᘟʅɽᘟʅȶᒍƷʖ ðƈ ʖƈʅɳȶɽƈʖ ᒍȣ ᘟ ʓᘟʆƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ɽᘟʖ𐑕 ᘟ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ᒍȣ ɕʅᒍ𐑕ƈɽ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ᘟʅᒍƷϛɖ Ʒʖ◦ ȶϛ ɽᘟʖƈ ᒍƷʅ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʓɕ𐑕 ƫᒍƷʝɖ ȣʝʋ ȣᘟʅ ᒍϛ ðƈ ȶʝʝ ɲȶϛɖ◦◦ ʅᘟðƈʅ ðᘟϛ 𐑕ᘟɫƈ ᘟ ɮƈᘟʅ𐑕ʖᒍϛƈ◦ ʅᘟɳƈϛ ʖᘟ𐑕 ᒍϛ ðƈ ƈɖʆƈ ᒍȣ ðƈ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ᘟϛɖ ɲᘟ𐑕ᕊƈɖ◦ ƫƈ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʓɕ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ɲᘟɫƈ Ʒʖ ȶȣ ᘟϛʋðȶϛʆ ʖƈƈʓƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ʆᒍȶϛʆ ᘟʓȶʖʖ◦◦ ðƈ ʅƈʖ𐑕 ᒍȣ Ʒʖ ᘟʅʅᘟϛʆƈɖ ᒍƷʅʖƈʝɳƈʖ ȶϛ ᘟ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ᘟʅᒍƷϛɖ ðƈ ʝᘟʅʆƈ ɮƈᘟʅ𐑕ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈ ᘟϛɖ ʖƈ𐑕𐑕ʝƈɖ ᒍƷʅʖƈʝɳƈʖ ᘟʅᒍƷϛɖ ȶ𐑕 ᒍϛ ðƈ ȣʝᒍᒍʅ◦◦ ᘟʖ ɲƈ ƫȶȣ𐑕ƈɖ ᒍƷʅʖƈʝɳƈʖ ʖᒍ ðᘟ𐑕 ƈᘟᕊ ᒍȣ Ʒʖ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ɕʝᘟɽƈ ᒍϛƈ ɮᘟϛɖ ᒍϛ ðƈ ʝᘟʅʆƈ ɮƈᘟʅ𐑕ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈ◦ ƈʝɲȶɽɫƈ𐑕𐑕 ᘟϛϛᒍƷϛɽƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ Ʒʖ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ᘟʝʝ ᒐƈ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʓɕ𐑕ȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅ ʓʋ ɮƈᘟɖ◦◦ ȶȣ ðƈʅƈ ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈƈϛ ȣƷʅðƈʅ ɖȶʖɽƷʖʖȶᒍϛ ᒍϛ ðƈ ʓᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʅ◦ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ᒐƈƈϛ ᘟɲᘟʅƈ ᒍȣ ȶ𐑕◦ ϛƈɳƈʅðƈʝƈʖʖ◦ ðƈ ᕊᒍȶɽƈ ʓᘟɖƈ ʖᒍʓƈ ʖƈϛʖƈ◦ ʖȶϛɽƈ ȶ ᘟʝᒍϛƈ ᒍȣ ᘟʝʝ ᒍȣ Ʒʖ ʆᘟðƈʅƈɖ ɮᘟɖ ȣᒍƷϛɖ ðȶʖ ɕʝᘟɽƈ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ◦◦
ᒍϛɽƈ ɲƈ ʖƈ𐑕𐑕ʝƈɖ◦ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅʖ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ 𐑕ʅʋ 𐑕ᒍ ʓᘟ𐑕ᕊ ðƈȶʅ ɮƈᘟʅ𐑕ᒐƈᘟ𐑕ʖ 𐑕ᒍ ʓȶϛƈ◦◦ 𐑕ᒍ ɮƈʝɕ ðƈʓ◦ ȶ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʓɕ𐑕ƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɽᘟʝʓ ʓʋ ᒍɲϛ ɮƈᘟʅ𐑕ᒐƈᘟ𐑕 ◦ ðξ◦ ᘟ𐑕 ȣȶʅʖ𐑕◦ ȶ ɲᘟʖ ƷϛʖƷɽɽƈʖʖȣƷʝ◦◦ ƈɳƈʅʋ 𐑕ȶʓƈ ȶ ϛƈᘟʅƈɖ ᘟ ʖ𐑕ᘟ𐑕ƈ ᒍȣ ɕƈᘟɽƈȣƷʝϛƈʖʖ◦ ȶ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ðȶϛɫ ᒍȣ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɲƈʅƈ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʓɕ𐑕ȶϛʆ ᒍϛɽƈ ʓᒍʅƈ◦◦ ðƈ ᒍϛʝʋ ᒍðƈʅ 𐑕ȶʓƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɲƈϛ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ðȶʖ ɕʝᘟɽƈ ◦ ʓᒍʅƈ ðᘟϛ 𐑕ɲᒍ ɖƈɽᘟɖƈʖ ᘟʆᒍ◦ ϛᒍɲ ◦ ðƈ ɽᒍϛʖƈɫɲƷƈϛɽƈ ɲᘟʖ ðƈ ƈʝɖƈʅ ʆᒍɖɖƈʖʖ’ʖ ɖƈᘟð◦◦ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ʖƷȣȣƈʅƈɖ ðƈϛ ðƈ ɖƷᘟʝ ᒐʝᒍɲ ᒍȣ ᒐᒍð ƈʝȶʓȶϛᘟ𐑕ȶϛʆ ʓʋ ᒍɲϛ ʆᒍɖɖƈʖʖ ᘟϛɖ ɮᘟɳȶϛʆ ʅƈʖɕᒍϛʖȶᒐȶʝȶ𐑕ʋ ȣᒍʅ ðƈ ʖᘟʓƈ ʝᒍʖʖ ȶϛ ᘟ ʆʅƈᘟ𐑕 ʓᘟϛʋ ᒍðƈʅ ɕƈᒍɕʝƈ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶ ɫϛƈɲ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ʝȶɫƈʝʋ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ɮᘟɳƈ 𐑕ᒍ ȣᘟɽƈ ʖƷᕊ ɽᒍϛʖƈɫɲƷƈϛɽƈʖ ᘟʆᘟȶϛ◦◦ ðƈ ðξ𐑕 ʖƈϛ𐑕 ʓʋ ɮƈᘟʅ𐑕 ᒐƈᘟ𐑕ȶϛʆ ᘟ ɖʅƷʓ ʅᘟɽƈ ȶϛʖȶɖƈ ʓʋ ᕊƈʖ𐑕◦◦ ƈɳƈϛ𐑕Ʒᘟʝʝʋ ȶ ɲᘟʖ ᘟᒐʝƈ 𐑕ᒍ ʖ𐑕ȶʝʝ ᘟϛɖ ɽƈϛ𐑕ƈʅ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ðʅξ ȣᒍɽƷʖȶϛʆ ᒍϛ ðƈ ʖɽƈϛ𐑕 ᒍȣ ðƈ ȶϛɽƈϛʖƈ ʖʓᒍɫƈ ɲᘟȣ𐑕ȶϛʆ ᘟᒐᒍƷ𐑕 ᒍƷʅ ɮƈᘟɖʖ◦◦ ðƈ ʖʓƈʝʝ ɲᘟʖ ᘟʝʓᒍʖ𐑕 ȣᘟʓȶʝȶᘟʅ ◦ ƪᘟʖʓȶϛƈ◦ ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɫɲƷȶ𐑕ƈ ʖᒍ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɕʝᘟɽƈ ȶ𐑕◦◦
ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ ʖᒍʓƈ 𐑕ȶʓƈ◦ ᒍϛɽƈ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ʓᘟϛᘟʆƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɽᘟʝʓ ʓʋ ᒍɲϛ ɮƈᘟʅ𐑕ɕᘟɽƈ◦ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅʖ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ʓᘟ𐑕ᕊ ȶ𐑕◦◦ ðƈȶʅ ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈʖ◦ ᒍϛƈ ᒐʋ ᒍϛƈ◦ ʖ𐑕ᘟʅ𐑕ƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɕƷʝʖᘟ𐑕ƈ ɲȶð ðƈȶʅ ʖᒍȣ𐑕◦ ʅƈɖ ʆʝᒍɲ ʖȶʓƷʝ𐑕ᘟϛƈᒍƷʖʝʋ◦ ᘟϛɖ ᘟʖ ɲƈ ᘟᕊȶƈɳƈɖ ðȶʖ◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ȣƈƈʝ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ɖʅȶȣ𐑕ȶϛʆ ᘟɽʅᒍʖʖ ðƈ ʖ𐑕ᘟʅʖ ᒍȣ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ◦◦ ȶ ɲƈʝɽᒍʓƈɖ ðȶʖ ᘟϛɖ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ȣᒍʝʝᒍɲ ȶ𐑕◦ ȶʓᘟʆȶϛȶϛʆ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ȶϛʖȶɖƈ ʓʋ ᒍɲϛ ʓȶϛɖ◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʝᒍϛʆ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ ȶ ȣᒍƷϛɖ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ðƈʅƈ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ᒍϛɽƈ ȶ ɖȶɖ◦ ȶ ȣᒍƷϛɖ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ᘟʝᒍϛƈ◦◦ ƷϛʖƷʅƈ◦ ȶ 𐑕ʅȶƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ƈϛɳȶʖȶᒍϛ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅʖ ȶϛ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ ɲȶð ʓƈ ᘟʖ ɲƈ ɮᘟɖ ᒍʅȶʆȶϛᘟʝʝʋ ɕʝᘟϛϛƈɖ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ᘟʖ ȶ ɖȶɖ ʖᒍ◦ ðξ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ȣƈƈʝ ðƈʓ ȣᒍʅ ᘟ ʓᒍʓƈϛ𐑕◦ ðƈ ᒐʅȶƈȣ 𐑕ᒍƷᕊ ɲᘟʖ ᘟɽɽᒍʓɕᘟϛȶƈɖ ᒐʋ ᘟ ɕᒍƷϛɖȶϛʆ ɮƈᘟɖᘟᕊƈ◦◦ ȶ ʝƈ𐑕 ʆᒍ ᒍȣ ȶ𐑕◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ɮƈᘟɖᘟᕊƈ ȣᘟɖƈɖ◦ ȶ𐑕 ʖƈƈʓƈɖ◦ ðƈϛ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ɮᘟɳƈ 𐑕ᒍ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʓɕ𐑕 ðȶʖ ᘟʝᒍϛƈ◦◦
ðƈ ȣȶʅʖ𐑕 ðȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ɖᒍ ɲᘟʖ 𐑕ᒍ ȶʓᘟʆȶϛƈ ᘟ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦◦ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ ᘟɕɕƈᘟʅƈɖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶ ᒍɕƈϛƈɖ ȶ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ȣȶϛɖ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ȶϛ ᘟ ɮᘟʝʝɲᘟʋ◦◦ ᒐƈɮȶϛɖ ʓƈ◦ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ ʖƈƈʓƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ᒐƈɽᒍʓȶϛʆ ɫɲƷȶɽɫʝʋ ȣƷʅðƈʅ ᘟɲᘟʋ◦ ƈɳƈϛ ðξ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʋƈ𐑕 ʓᒍɳƈɖ◦◦ ᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ᒍðƈʅ ƈϛɖ ɲᘟʖ ᘟϛᒍðƈʅ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦ ȶ ʓᒍɳƈɖ 𐑕ᒍɲᘟʅɖʖ ȶ𐑕 ᘟϛɖ ᒍɕƈϛƈɖ ȶ𐑕 ᘟʖ ɲƈʝʝ◦◦ ðȶʖ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦ Ʒϛʝȶɫƈ ðƈ ȣȶʅʖ𐑕 ɲȶð ȶ𐑕ʖ ʖȶʓɕʝƈ ɫϛᒍᒐ◦ ɮᘟɖ ᘟ ɫȶϛɖ ᒍȣ ɮᘟϛɖʝƈ◦ʝƈɳƈʅ ᘟʖ ðƈ ᒍɕƈϛƈʅ◦◦ ɲɮʋ ðȶʖ ɲᘟʖ◦ ȶ ɖȶɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɫϛᒍɲ◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɫɲƷȶ𐑕ƈ ʆʅᘟʖɕ ðƈ ʓƈᘟϛȶϛʆ ᒍȣ ðƈ ȶϛɖȶɳȶɖƷᘟʝ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ◦◦ ðƈ ɮᒍɕƈ ɲᘟʖ ðᘟ𐑕◦ ȶȣ ȶ ᒍɕƈϛƈɖ ƈϛξ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ◦ ȶ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ʝƈᘟɖ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɲᘟʖ ʖƈƈɫȶϛʆ◦◦
ȶϛ ᘟϛʋ ɽᘟʖƈ◦ ȶ ɖȶʆʅƈʖʖ◦◦ ȶ ᒍɕƈϛƈɖ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ 𐑕ᒍ ȣȶϛɖ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ȶϛ ᘟ ʅᒍᒍʓ ðᘟ𐑕 ʖƈƈʓƈɖ ᒍϛʝʋ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ɕᘟʅ𐑕ʝʋ ðƈʅƈ◦◦ ðƈ ϛƷʓᒐƈʅ ᒍȣ ɲᘟʝʝʖ ɫƈɕ𐑕 ᕊᘟϛʆȶϛʆ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ɽƈȶʝȶϛʆ ᘟϛɖ ȣʝᒍᒍʅ ɖȶɖϛ’𐑕 ɫɲƷȶ𐑕ƈ ʖƈƈʓ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ɕʅƈʖƈϛ𐑕 ᘟ𐑕 ᘟʝʝ◦◦ ȣȶʅʖ𐑕◦ ȶ ȶʓᘟʆȶϛƈɖ ðƈ ʅᒍᒍʓ ᘟʖ ᒐƈȶϛʆ ʖ𐑕ᘟᒐȶʝȶɽƈɖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ◦ ðƈϛ ȶ ȶʓᘟʆȶϛƈɖ ᘟϛᒍðƈʅ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦◦ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦ ƪƷʖ𐑕 ᘟʖ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅʖ ɮᘟɖ◦ ɽᘟʓƈ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ƈɫɲȶʖ𐑕ƈϛɽƈ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶ ᒍɕƈϛƈɖ ȶ𐑕◦◦ ðȶʖ ᒍϛƈ’ʖ ɮᘟϛɖʝƈ ɮᘟɖ ᘟ ɕʝᘟɽƈ ȶϛ ɲɮȶᕊ ȶ ɮᘟɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɕʅƈʖʖ ʓʋ ðƷʓᒐ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ᒍɕƈϛ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦◦
ᘟʖ ȶ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅƈɖ ðʅξ ȶ𐑕◦ ʓʋ ɳȶʖȶᒍϛ ɲᘟʖ ϛƈᘟʅʝʋ ᒍᒐʖɽƷʅƈɖ ᒐʋ ʖʝȶðƈʅȶϛʆ◦ ʖȶʝɳƈʅʋ 𐑕ƈϛɖʅȶʝʖ ᒍȣ ȣᒍʆ◦◦ ȶ ϛᘟʅʅᒍɲƈɖ ʓʋ ƈʋƈʖ ᘟʆᘟȶϛʖ𐑕 ȶ𐑕◦ ᘟϛɖ ɲᘟʖ ɕʝƈᘟʖƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ȣȶϛɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ðȶʖ ɲᘟʖ ðƈ ʅᒍᒍʓ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈƈϛ ʖƈƈɫȶϛʆ◦◦ ɮƈʅƈ◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲƈʅƈ ðʅƈƈ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ ◦ ðξ◦ ȶϛ ʖᒍʓƈ ɲᘟʋʖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʓƈʅƈʝʋ ðʅƈƈ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ᘟʝʖᒍ ðƈ ʓƈʓᒍʅʋ ᒍȣ ʖȶɫɲ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ◦◦ ȶ ᕊᒍʖƈ ᒍϛƈ ᒍȣ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ ᘟϛɖ ɲᘟʝɫƈɖ ᒍɳƈʅ 𐑕ᒍ ȶ𐑕◦ ðƈϛ 𐑕ʅȶƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒍɕƈϛ ȶ𐑕◦ ᘟʖ ʖᒍᒍϛ ᘟʖ ʓʋ ɮᘟϛɖ 𐑕ᒍƷᕊƈɖ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦ ȶ ɲᘟʖ ʆʅƈƈ𐑕ƈɖ ɲȶð ᘟ ʅȶɖɖʝƈ◦◦ 𐑕ᒍ ðȶʖ ʅȶɖɖʝƈ◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ȣƈƈʝ◦ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ᒍϛʝʋ 𐑕ɲᒍ ʆƷƈʖʖƈʖ◦◦ ðȶʖ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ᒐƈ◦ ʓᒍʖ𐑕 ʝȶɫƈʝʋ◦ ɖƷƈ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ʅȶɖɖʝƈʅ’ʖ ɽƷʅʖƈ◦◦ Ʒɕᒍϛ ʓʋ ȣȶʅʖ𐑕 ɮƈᘟʅȶϛʆ ᒍȣ ðȶʖ ʅȶɖɖʝƈ◦ ȶ ɲᘟʖ ƷϛʖƷʅƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɮᘟɖ ðƈ ɽᒍʅʅƈɽ𐑕 ᘟϛʖɲƈʅ ᒍʅ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɮᘟɖ ɮƈᘟʅɖ ðƈ ʅȶɖɖʝƈ ɕʅᒍɕƈʅʝʋ◦◦ ᘟʖ ʖƷᕊ◦ ȶ ƈʝƈɽ𐑕ƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɮƈᘟʅ ȶ𐑕 ᘟϛɖ ʝȶʓȶ𐑕 ʓʋʖƈʝȣ 𐑕ᒍ ᘟ ʖȶϛʆʝƈ ʆƷƈʖʖ◦◦ ɲɮƈϛ ᘟ𐑕 ʝᘟʖ𐑕 ȶ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅƈɖ◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʖᒍ ȣᘟʅ ᒍȣȣ ðƈ 𐑕ᘟʅʆƈ𐑕◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ɽʝᒍʖƈ ƈϛξ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅ ðƈ ʅᒍᒍʓ◦◦ ȶ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅƈɖ -ᘟ ᒐᘟʝᘟϛɽƈ-◦ ᘟϛɖ ᘟʖ ȶ ᒍɕƈϛƈɖ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦ ȶ𐑕 ʖᘟȶɖ -ᘟ ϛᘟʓƈ- ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈϛ ȶ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅƈɖ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ɲᘟʖ ᒐƈɮȶϛɖ ȶ𐑕◦◦
ȶ ʖ𐑕ȶʝʝ ᘟʓ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɽƈʅ𐑕ᘟȶϛ ƈɫɲᘟɽ𐑕ʝʋ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɫȶϛɖ ᒍȣ ɽᒍϛ𐑕ᘟȶϛƈʅ ʓᘟʋ ɮᘟɳƈ ʝᘟȶɖ ᒐƈɮȶϛɖ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ ◦ ᘟ ʅᒍᒍʓ ᒍʅ ᘟ ɮᘟʝʝ ᒍʅ ϛᒍðȶϛʆ ᘟ𐑕 ᘟʝʝ ◦ ȣᒍʅ ðȶʖ ʓƈʓᒍʅʋ ɲᘟʖ ᒍᒐʖɽƷʅƈɖ ᒐʋ ðƈ ʅᘟðƈʅ ʓᒍʅƈ ȶʓɕᒍʅ𐑕ᘟϛ𐑕 ʓƈʓᒍʅʋ ᒍȣ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ȶϛ ðȶʖ ɕʝᘟɽƈ◦◦ ðƈ ᒐƈȶϛʆ ʖ𐑕ᘟϛɖȶϛʆ ðƈʅƈ ʖƈƈʓƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ɕᘟʅ𐑕 ᘟϛȶʓᘟʝ ᘟϛɖ ɕᘟʅ𐑕 ɮƷʓᘟϛ◦◦ ᒍϛ ðƈ ʖȶɖƈʖ ᒍȣ ȶ𐑕ʖ ɮƈᘟɖ◦ ðƈʅƈ ʖɕȶʅᘟʝƈɖ ȣᒍʅð ᘟ ʓᘟʆϛȶȣȶɽƈϛ𐑕 ɕᘟȶʅ ᒍȣ ʅᘟʓ ɮᒍʅϛʖ◦ ȣʅᒍʓ ȶ𐑕ʖ ȣᒍʅƈɮƈᘟɖ◦ ðƈʅƈ ʖɕȶʅᘟʝƈɖ ᘟ Ʒϛȶɽᒍʅϛ ɮᒍʅϛ◦◦ ᒍϛ ȶ𐑕ʖ ᒐᘟɽɫ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ʝᘟʅʆƈ ɕᘟȶʅ ᒍȣ ɖƈʓᒍϛʝȶɫƈ ɲȶϛʆʖ◦◦ ðƈ ƈʋƈ 𐑕ᒍ ʓʋ ʝƈȣ𐑕 ◦ ȶ𐑕ʖ ʅȶʆɮ𐑕 ƈʋƈ ◦ ɲᘟʖ ᒐʝƷƈ ᘟϛɖ ȣᒍʆʆʋ◦ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅ ɲᘟʖ ʅƈɖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ɲᘟʖ ɕƷʝʝƈɖ ᒐᘟɽɫ ᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ᒍƷ𐑕ƈʅ ɽᒍʅϛƈʅ◦◦ ȶϛ ðƈ ɮᘟϛɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʓʋ ʝƈȣ𐑕 ◦ ᒍϛɽƈ ᘟʆᘟȶϛ◦ ȶ𐑕ʖ ʅȶʆɮ𐑕 ◦ ȶ𐑕 ɮƈʝɖ ᘟ ʓᒍʅʆᘟϛ𐑕ȶ ɽʝƈᘟɳƈʅ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶϛ ȶ𐑕ʖ ɮᘟϛɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʓʋ ʅȶʆɮ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ɮƈʝɖ ᘟ ᒐᘟʝᘟϛɽƈ◦◦ ðȶʖ ᒐƈȶϛʆ◦ ȶϛ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ◦ ʖƈƈʓƈɖ ƈɫɲ𐑕ʅᘟᒍʅɖȶϛᘟʅȶʝʋ ʝᘟʅʆƈ◦◦ ðȶʖ ᒐƈȶϛʆ ɲᘟʖ ðƈ ϛᒍʓᘟɖ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅ ðᘟ𐑕◦ ʖᒍ ʝᒍϛʆ ᘟʆᒍ◦ ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈƈϛ Ʒϛȶ𐑕ƈɖ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɮᘟɖ ϛᘟʓƈɖ -ʝᘟɲ-◦◦
ɲɮƈϛ ȶ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅƈɖ ɮƈʅ ɕʅƈʖƈϛɽƈ◦ ƫƈ ʖƈƈʓƈɖ 𐑕ʅᒍƷᒐʝƈɖ◦◦ ƫƈ ʝᒍᒍɫƈɖ ᘟ𐑕 ʓƈ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈϛ ɕᒍʖƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ ðƈ ɫɲƷƈʖ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦ -ɲɮʋ?-◦◦ ðᘟ𐑕 ʖȶϛʆʝƈ ɲᒍʅɖ ᒐʅȶƈȣʝʋ ʅƈʓȶϛɖƈɖ ʓƈ ᒍȣ ðƈ ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈ ɖʅᘟʆᒍϛ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ʅᘟðƈʅ ðᘟϛ ɖɲƈʝʝ ᒍϛ ðᘟ𐑕 ðξ𐑕 ȶ ɕƷʝʝƈɖ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ 𐑕ᒍ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅȶϛʆ ʝᘟɲ’ʖ ɫɲƷƈʖ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦◦ ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ ʖᒍʓƈ 𐑕ȶʓƈ ᒍȣ ðξ𐑕◦ ȶ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɮƈʅ◦ -𐑕ᒍ ɫϛᒍɲ ʋᒍƷ◦◦ 𐑕ᒍ Ʒϛɖƈʅʖ𐑕ᘟϛɖ ʋᒍƷ◦◦- ɲɮƈϛ ȶ Ʒ𐑕𐑕ƈʅƈɖ ðȶʖ◦ ɮƈʅ ʅᘟʓ ɮᒍʅϛʖ ƫʅᘟϛɫ ʖʝȶʆɮ𐑕ʝʋ ᘟϛɖ ɮƈʅ ᒐƈȶϛʆ ʖƈƈʓƈɖ ʓᒍʅƈ ʖ𐑕ȶʝʝ ðᘟϛ ȶ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈƈϛ◦◦
ʖᒍᒍϛ◦ ƫƈ 𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ ᘟɲᘟʋ ᘟϛɖ ɖȶʅƈɽ𐑕ƈɖ ɮƈʅ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈϛ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ƈʝʖƈɲɮƈʅƈ◦◦ ȶ 𐑕ʅȶƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʓᘟɫƈ ᒍƷ𐑕 ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ðᘟ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ɮƈᘟʅɖ ᘟ ʓƷʝ𐑕ȶ𐑕Ʒɖƈ ᒍȣ ɳᒍȶɽƈʖ ◦ ɕʅᘟʋƈʅʖ ᘟϛɖ ᒍʅᘟɽʝƈʖ◦ ȶ ðȶϛɫ ◦ ʖɲƈʝʝȶϛʆ ᘟϛɖ ƈᕊᒍȶϛʆ ȶϛ ðȶʖ ɕʝᘟɽƈ◦◦ ʖᒍʓƈ ɳᒍȶɽƈʖ ʖᒍƷϛɖƈɖ ȣᘟʓȶʝȶᘟʅ◦ ȶ ʅƈᘟʝȶɽƈɖ◦ ɲȶð ᘟ ƫᒍ𐑕 ᒍȣ ᘟϛʆƷȶƫ ðᘟ𐑕 ʖᒍʓƈ ᒍȣ ðᒍʖƈ ɳᒍȶɽƈʖ ᒐƈʝᒍϛʆƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʓʋ ɽᒍʓɕᘟϛȶᒍϛʖ◦◦ ðᘟ𐑕◦ ƫᒍƷʝɖ ȶ ʖƷɽɽƈƈɖ ȶϛ ʓʋ ᒐƷʖȶϛƈʖʖ ɮƈʅƈ◦ ðȶʖ ʓȶʆɮ𐑕 ᒐƈ ðƈ ʝᘟʖ𐑕 𐑕ȶʓƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ᘟϛʋ ᒍȣ ðƈʓ ◦ ᘟʝʝ ᒍȣ ðƈʓ ◦ ʖɕᒍɫƈ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈȶʅ ɖƈȶ𐑕ȶƈʖ◦◦ ȶ ɮƈᘟʅɖ◦ ðƈϛ ᘟϛᒍðƈʅ ɳᒍȶɽƈ ◦ ðȶʖ ᒍϛƈ ȶϛʖȶɖƈ ʓʋ ɮƈᘟɖ ʅᘟðƈʅ ðᘟϛ ᘟʓᒍϛʆʖ𐑕 ʝᘟɲ’ʖ ƪƷʓᒐʝƈ◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ƈʝɲȶɽɫƈ𐑕𐑕◦ ɮƈ ʖȶʓɕʝʋ ɽᘟʝʝƈɖ ʓʋ ϛᘟʓƈ◦◦ ȶ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅƈɖ ᒐᘟɽɫ 𐑕ᒍ ɮȶʓ ɲȶð -ɽᒍʓƈ-◦ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʓɕ𐑕ȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ʝƈᘟɖ ɮȶʓ 𐑕ᒍ ðȶʖ ɕʝᘟɽƈ◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʝᒍϛʆ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ ɮƈ ȣᒍƷϛɖ ɮȶʖ ɲᘟʋ◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ȣƈƈʝ ɮȶʓ ᘟʖ ᘟ ɕʅƈʖƈϛɽƈ ȶϛ ðƈ ɳƈʅʋ ᒐᘟɽɫ ᒍȣ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ◦◦ ɮᘟɳȶϛʆ ȣᒍƷϛɖ ȶ𐑕◦ ɮƈ ʖᘟȶɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ◦ -ɖᒍϛ’𐑕 ʆȶɳƈ Ʒɕ ɮᒍɕƈ ◦ ʋᒍƷ ɽᘟϛ ɖᒍ ðȶʖ◦◦-
ðᒍʖƈ ɲᒍʅɖʖ ᒍȣ ƈϛɽᒍƷʅᘟʆƈʓƈϛ𐑕 ʓȶʆɮ𐑕 ɮᘟɳƈ ᒐƈƈϛ ʓᒍʅƈ ɽᒍʓȣᒍʅ𐑕ȶϛʆ ȶȣ◦ ᘟ𐑕 ðᘟ𐑕 ʓᒍʓƈϛ𐑕◦ ʝᘟɲ ɮᘟɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ ᘟʅᒍƷϛɖ ᘟ𐑕 ʝᒍᒍɫƈɖ ᘟ𐑕 ʓƈ ɲȶð ɮƈʅ ƈʋƈʖ ᒐƷʅϛȶϛʆ ᒐʅȶʆɮ𐑕 ɲȶð ᘟϛʆƈʅ ᘟϛɖ ɮƈʅ ɽʝƈᘟɳƈʅ ʅᘟȶʖƈɖ◦◦ ƫƈ ʖƈƈʓƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʝᒍᒍɫȶϛʆ ᘟᒐᒍƷ𐑕 ʓƈ◦ ɮᒍɲƈɳƈʅ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ʅᘟðƈʅ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ ◦ ᘟ𐑕 ƈʝɲȶɽɫƈ𐑕𐑕◦◦ ƫƈ ʖᘟȶɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɮȶʓ◦ -ʋᒍƷ ɫϛᒍɲ◦◦- ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ʅƈʓƈʓᒐƈʅ ðᒍʖƈ 𐑕ɲᒍ ɲᒍʅɖʖ◦ ʖɕᒍɫƈϛ ᒐʋ ʖᒍ ʓᘟϛʋ ɖȶȣȣƈʅƈϛ𐑕 ᒐƈȶϛʆʖ ᘟ𐑕 ʖᒍ ʓᘟϛʋ 𐑕ȶʓƈʖ ᘟϛɖ ᘟ ʅƈʖɕᒍϛʖƈ ɽᘟʓƈ 𐑕ᒍ ʓȶϛɖ◦◦ ȶ ɖȶɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɕᘟƷʖƈ 𐑕ᒍ ðȶϛɫ ƈʖɕƈɽȶᘟʝʝʋ ʝᒍϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ɽᒍϛʖȶɖƈʅ ȶ𐑕◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶϛ 𐑕ʅƷð ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ ȶ ƫᒍƷʝɖ ɮᘟɳƈ◦◦ ȶ ʖᘟȶɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʝᘟɲ◦ -ȶ ɫϛᒍɲ ʋᒍƷ◦◦-
ƫƈ 𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ ɮƈʅ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈϛ𐑕ȶᒍϛ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ ◦ 𐑕ʅƷʝʋ ʓƈ◦ ʅᘟðƈʅ ðᘟϛ ƈʝɲȶɽɫƈ𐑕𐑕◦ȶϛ◦ʓʋ◦ʓȶϛɖ ◦ ᘟϛɖ ᘟʖɫƈɖ◦ -ɖᒍ ʋᒍƷ?-◦◦ ðƈ ᒐʅᘟϛɖ ᒍϛ ʓʋ ᕊƈƈɫ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƷʅϛ ᘟʖ ȶ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ɲɮƈϛ ȶ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ȣȶʅʖ𐑕 ᒐƈƈϛ ʆȶɳƈϛ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ◦ ᘟϛɖ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ ɲᘟʖ ȶϛɳᒍʝƷϛ𐑕ᘟʅȶʝʋ ȣʝᒍᒍɖƈɖ ɲȶð ðƈ ʓƈʓᒍʅʋ ᒍȣ ðƈ ɽᒍƷʅ𐑕ʅᒍᒍʓ ȶϛ ɲɮȶᕊ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ʖ𐑕ᒍᒍɖ 𐑕ʅȶᘟʝ ȣᒍʅ Ʒʖȶϛʆ ƈʝɖƈʅ ʖᒍʅɽƈʅʋ ᒍȣ ʓᘟʖʖ ɖƈʖ𐑕ʅƷɽ𐑕ȶᒍϛ 𐑕ᒍ ɮƈᘟʝ ðƈ Ʒϛȶɽᒍʅϛ ʝᒍɳƈ◦◦ ðξ ɲƈ ɮᘟɖ ƈʖɽᘟɕƈɖ ɲȶð ᒍϛʝʋ ᒍƷʅ 𐑕ʅᘟȶ𐑕ᒍʅ ᒐʅᘟϛɖʖ ʅᘟðƈʅ ðᘟϛ ʓᒍʅʆᘟϛ𐑕ȶ ƈɫɲƈɽƷ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ◦ ȣᒍʅ ɲɮȶᕊ◦ ȶϛɽȶɖƈϛ𐑕ᘟʝʝʋ◦ ȶ ᘟʓ ʖ𐑕ȶʝʝ 𐑕ᒍ ðȶʖ ɖᘟʋ ɫɲƷȶ𐑕ƈ ʆʅᘟ𐑕ƈȣƷʝ ȣᒍʅ ◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ȣƈƈʝ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ȣʝᘟʓƈ ɲȶð ʋƈᘟʅʖ ᒍȣ ʖƷɕɕʅƈʖʖƈɖ ᘟϛʆƈʅ ᘟϛɖ ȣʅƷʖ𐑕ʅᘟ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ᘟ𐑕 ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ɮᘟɕɕƈϛƈɖ◦◦ ƈɳƈϛ ᘟʖ ȶ 𐑕ʅȶƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ 𐑕ᘟʓƈ ðᒍʖƈ ȣƈƈʝȶϛʆʖ◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ȣƈƈʝ ƈʝɲȶɽɫƈ𐑕𐑕 ȶϛ ðƈ ᒐᘟɽɫ ᒍȣ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ ᒐƷʅϛȶϛʆ ɲȶð ðƈ ʖᘟʓƈ ƈʓᒍ𐑕ȶᒍϛʖ◦◦ ðȶʖ ᒍϛʝʋ ʓᘟɖƈ ʓʋ ᒍɲϛ ƈʓᒍ𐑕ȶᒍϛʖ ȣʝʋ ȣƷʅðƈʅ ᒍƷ𐑕 ᒍȣ ɽᒍϛ𐑕ʅᒍʝ◦◦ ȶ ᒐᘟ𐑕𐑕ʝƈɖ ɲȶð ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ȣᒍʅ ʖᒍʓƈ 𐑕ȶʓƈ◦ ᘟϛɖ ɲɮƈϛ ƈɳƈϛ𐑕Ʒᘟʝʝʋ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ʖᒍʓƈ ʖƈʓᒐʝᘟϛɽƈ ᒍȣ ɽᒍϛ𐑕ʅᒍʝ ᒍɳƈʅ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ◦ ȶ 𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ ᒍϛ ʓʋ ɮƈƈʝʖ ᘟϛɖ ɲᘟʝɫƈɖ ᒐᘟɽɫ ᒍƷ𐑕 ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ ᘟϛɖ ᒍƷ𐑕 ᒍȣ ðƈ ɕʅƈʖƈϛɽƈ ᒍȣ ʝᘟɲ◦◦
ȶ ʖ𐑕ᒍᒍɖ ᒐᘟɽɫ ȶϛ ðƈ ʅᒍᒍʓ ᒍȣ ȣᒍʆ ᘟϛɖ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅ◦ɖᒍᒍʅʖ◦ ðƈϛ◦◦ ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ ȶ ƈɫɲȶ𐑕ƈɖ ðƈ ȣȶʅʖ𐑕 ɖᒍᒍʅ◦ ȶ ɮƈᘟʅɖ ʓʋ ϛᘟʓƈ ɽᘟʝʝƈɖ ᘟʆᘟȶϛ ◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ʋƷɽɫ◦◦ ȶ ɽᘟʝʝƈɖ ᒐᘟɽɫ 𐑕ᒍ ɮƈʅ ᘟϛɖ ƫƈ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅƈɖ ðƈ ᒐᘟɽɫ ᒍȣ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɕƈʅᕊ ɲȶð ƈʝɲȶɽɫƈ𐑕𐑕◦◦ ᒍϛɽƈ ƫƈ ɲᘟʖ ʖƈ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ◦ ȶ ʓᒍɳƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ϛƈɫɲ𐑕 ɖᒍᒍʅ◦◦ ƪƷʖ𐑕 ᘟʖ ɲȶð ʝᘟɲ’ʖ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦ ᘟʖ ʖᒍᒍϛ ᘟʖ ȶ 𐑕ᒍƷᕊƈɖ ðȶʖ ᒍϛƈ◦ ȶ ɲᘟʖ ʆʅƈƈ𐑕ƈɖ ᒐʋ ᘟ ʅȶɖɖʝƈ◦◦ 𐑕ᒍ ðȶʖ ᒍϛƈ◦ ȶ ɫϛƈɲ ðƈ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶ ɫϛƈɲ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɫϛƈɲ ȶ𐑕◦ ðƈ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅ ɲᘟʖ 𐑕ʅƷð◦◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ȶ ɖȶɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɲᘟϛ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅ ɲȶð ðȶʖ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅ◦ ᘟʖ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ᒍϛʝʋ ɮᘟʝȣ ᒍȣ ðƈ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅ ðᘟ𐑕 ʝᘟʋ ᒐƈɮȶϛɖ ðȶʖ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦◦ 𐑕ᒍ ᘟɽɫϛᒍɲʝƈɖʆƈ ᒍϛƈ ᘟϛɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ðƈ ᒍðƈʅ ʖƈƈʓƈɖ ᘟᒐɮᒍʅʅƈϛ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ◦◦ ᘟʖ ȶ ðξ𐑕 ȣƷʅðƈʅ◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ȣƈƈʝ ʋƷɽɫ’ʖ ɕʅƈʖƈϛɽƈ ȶϛ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ ƫȶȣ𐑕◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈϛ ƫƈ ʖɕᒍɫƈ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ ðʅξ ʓʋ ʓᒍƷð ◦ ƫƈ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅƈɖ ðƈ ʅȶɖɖʝƈ ɲȶð -𐑕ʅƷð-◦◦
ðƈʅƈ ʖƈƈʓƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ϛᒍ ȶʝʝ ƈȣȣƈɽ𐑕ʖ ƈȶðƈʅ ȣʅᒍʓ ɮƈʅ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅȶϛʆ ðƈ ʅȶɖɖʝƈ ȶϛ ðƈ ɲᘟʋ ðᘟ𐑕 ƫƈ ɖȶɖ◦ ᒍʅ ȣʅᒍʓ ðƈ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅ ðᘟ𐑕 ƫƈ ʆᘟɳƈ◦ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ ʖɲƷϛʆ ᒍɕƈϛ ƪƷʖ𐑕 ᘟʖ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅ ɮᘟɖ ᘟϛɖ ȶ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅƈɖ ȶ𐑕◦◦ ᒍϛ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅ ʖȶɖƈ ɲᘟʖ ðƈ ðʅȶɽƈ◦ϛᘟʓƈɖ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅ ◦ ɕƈʅʖɕƈɽ𐑕ȶɳƈ◦ʓᒍʅᘟʝȶ𐑕ʋ◦ɮᒍϛᒍʅ ◦ ᒍȣ ðƈ Ʒϛȶɽᒍʅϛ ᘟϛɖ ɖƈʓᒍϛ ɕᘟȶʅ ᒍȣ 𐑕ʅƷð ᘟϛɖ ɖƈɽƈȶ𐑕◦◦ ƫƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ʖ𐑕ʅᘟϛʆƈ◦ ᘟʓᒍʅɕɮᒍƷʖ ᒐƈȶϛʆ◦ ɮƈʅ ʖȶɽƈ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ϛƷʓᒐƈʅ ᒍȣ ɮƈʅ ʝƈʆʖ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ɽᒍʝᒍʅƫȶϛƈ ᒍȣ ɮƈʅ ƈʋƈʖ ɽᒍϛʖ𐑕ᘟϛ𐑕ʝʋ ᕊᘟϛʆƈɖ ᘟϛɖ ʓᒍʅɕɮƈɖ◦◦ ɮƈʅ ɕᒍʖȶ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦ ᘟʖ ɲƈʝʝ◦ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʖ𐑕ᘟʋ ȣȶɫɲƈɖ ◦ ȶ𐑕 ʖƈƈʓƈɖ ᘟʖ ȶȣ◦ ϛᒍ ʓᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʅ ɲɮȶᕊ ɲᘟʋ ȶ 𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ◦ ƫƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟʝɲᘟʋʖ ᒍϛ ðƈ ƈɖʆƈ ᒍȣ ʓʋ ɳȶʖȶᒍϛ◦◦ ᘟʖ ȶ 𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ 𐑕ʅʋ 𐑕ᒍ ȣȶɫɲ ɮƈʅ ȶϛ ʓʋ ʆᘟɽƈ◦ ȶ ɮƈᘟʅɖ ɮƈʅ ᘟʖ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ◦ -ɲɮʋ?-◦◦
ȶ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅƈɖ ðƈ ʖᘟʓƈ 𐑕ᒍ ɮƈʅ ᘟʖ ȶ ɮᘟɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʝᘟɲ◦ 𐑕ᒍ ɫϛᒍɲ ɮƈʅ◦ ᘟϛɖ 𐑕ᒍ Ʒϛɖƈʅʖ𐑕ᘟϛɖ ɮƈʅ◦◦ ȶ ᒐƈʝȶƈɳƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ƫƈ ʖɕᒍɫƈ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ ðƈϛ◦ ðξ ʓʋ ʓƈʓᒍʅʋ ȶʖ ᒐʝᘟϛɫ ᘟʖ 𐑕ᒍ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɮᘟɕɕƈϛƈɖ ᘟ𐑕 ðȶʖ ɕᒍȶϛ𐑕◦◦ ðƈ ϛƈɫɲ𐑕 ðȶϛʆ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ʅƈʓƈʓᒐƈʅ ɲᘟʖ 𐑕Ʒʅϛȶϛʆ ᘟϛɖ ʝƈᘟɳȶϛʆ ðȶʖ ɕʝᘟɽƈ ᘟʖ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ʝᘟɲ’ʖ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦ ðξ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ᒍϛ ʓƷᕊ ᒐƈ𐑕𐑕ƈʅ 𐑕ƈʅʓʖ ɲȶð ɕƈʅʖɕƈɽ𐑕ȶɳƈ ðᘟϛ ɲȶð ʝᘟɲ◦◦
ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅȶϛʆ ᒍϛɽƈ ᘟʆᘟȶϛ ðƈ ʅᒍᒍʓ ᒍȣ ȣᒍʆ ᘟϛɖ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ◦ ȶ 𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ȣȶϛᘟʝ ɖᒍᒍʅ ɲɮȶᕊ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʋƈ𐑕 ᘟɕɕʅᒍᘟᕊƈɖ◦ ðᘟ𐑕 ᒍȣ ðƈ ɕᘟȶʅȶϛʆ ᒍȣ ʝᒍɳƈ ᘟϛɖ ʖᒍʅʅᒍɲ◦ ɲɮȶᕊ ɲƈ ɮᘟɖ ϛᘟʓƈɖ -ƈʓᒍ𐑕ȶᒍϛ-◦◦ ᘟʖ ȶ ɕʝᘟɽƈɖ ʓʋ ɮᘟϛɖ ᒍϛ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦ ȶ ɲᘟʖ ᘟʖɫƈɖ ᘟϛᒍðƈʅ ʅȶɖɖʝƈ◦◦ ðƈ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅ 𐑕ᒍ ðȶʖ ᒍϛƈ ɲᘟʖ ɽʝƈᘟʅʝʋ -ʝᒍɳƈ-◦ ᘟϛɖ ᘟʖ ϛᘟʓȶϛʆ ᘟ ʖȶϛʆʝƈ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅ◦ɮᘟʝȣ ɮᘟɖ ʖƈƈʓȶϛʆʝʋ ɖᒍϛƈ ϛᒍ ɮᘟʅʓ 𐑕ᒍ ɕƈʅʖɕƈɽ𐑕ȶɳƈ◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ -ʝᒍɳƈ- ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅƈɖ◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ɽᒍʅʅƈɽ𐑕 ᘟϛʖɲƈʅ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶ ƈϛ𐑕ƈʅƈɖ ðʅξ ðƈ ᒍɕƈϛ ɖᒍᒍʅ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɕʝᘟɽƈ ɲɮƈʅƈ ƈʓᒍ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ɖɲƈʝ𐑕◦◦
ɲɮƈʅƈᘟʖ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ʝᘟɲ’ʖ ɕɮʋʖȶɽᘟʝ ȣᒍʅʓ ᘟϛɖ ɕƈʅʖɕƈɽ𐑕ȶɳƈ’ʖ ƈɳƈʅƫȶȣ𐑕ȶϛʆ ϛᘟ𐑕Ʒʅƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ʖ𐑕ᒍᒍɖ ᒍƷ𐑕◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ðƈ ȣƈƈʝȶϛʆ ᒍȣ ðȶʖ ɕʝᘟɽƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ʓᒍʖ𐑕 ʖ𐑕ʅȶɫȶϛʆ ᘟᒐᒍƷ𐑕 ƈʓᒍ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦◦ ƫƈ ʖƈƈʓƈɖ ϛƈȶðƈʅ 𐑕ʅᒍƷᒐʝƈɖ ϛᒍʅ ƈʝƷʖȶɳƈ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ȶϛʖ𐑕ƈᘟɖ ɲƈʝɽᒍʓȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ʓʋ ɕʅƈʖƈϛɽƈ◦◦ ƫƈ◦ 𐑕ᒍᒍ◦ ʆƈϛ𐑕ʝʋ ᘟʖɫƈɖ ʓƈ ðƈ ɫɲƷƈʖ𐑕ȶᒍϛ -ɲɮʋ?-◦ ᘟϛɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɮƈʅ◦ ᘟʖ ɲƈʝʝ◦ ȶ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅƈɖ◦ -𐑕ᒍ ɫϛᒍɲ ʋᒍƷ ᘟϛɖ 𐑕ᒍ Ʒϛɖƈʅʖ𐑕ᘟϛɖ ʋᒍƷ◦◦- ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɕᒍʖʖƈʖʖƈɖ ʓƈ 𐑕ᒍ ʖᘟʋ ϛƈɫɲ𐑕 ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɖȶɖ◦ ȶ ɖᒍ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɫϛᒍɲ◦ ȣᒍʅ ðξ ȶ ʓᘟʋ ᒐƈ ᒍϛƈ 𐑕ᒍ ɫɲƷƈʖ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ðƈ ʆᒍɖʖ◦ ȶ ɮᘟɳƈ ðƷʖ ȣᘟʅ ϛᒍ𐑕 ᒐƈƈϛ ᒍϛƈ 𐑕ᒍ ɖᒍ ʖᒍ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈȶʅ ȣᘟɽƈʖ◦◦ ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ᒐƈɽᘟƷʖƈ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ɲȶð ƈʓᒍ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɲᘟʖ ʓᒍʖ𐑕 ȣᘟʓȶʝȶᘟʅ ᒍʅ ʖȶʓɕʝʋ ᒐƈɽᘟƷʖƈ ᒍȣ ɮƈʅ ϛᘟ𐑕Ʒʅƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ʖᘟȶɖ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɖȶɖ◦◦ ȶ ʝᒍᒍɫƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ƈʓᒍ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦ ðƈϛ ᘟʖɫƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɮƈʅ◦ -ɲɮʋ?-◦◦
ᘟϛɖ ƫƈ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅƈɖ◦◦ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɮƈʅ ɕʅƈɽȶʖƈ ɲᒍʅɖʖ ɲƈʅƈ◦ ȶ ɖᒍ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʅƈʓƈʓᒐƈʅ◦◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ȶ ɖᒍ ʅƈʓƈʓᒐƈʅ ʖᒍʓƈ ᒍȣ ðƈ ʓƈᘟϛȶϛʆ ȶϛ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ƫƈ ʖᘟȶɖ◦ ȶȣ ϛᒍ𐑕 ðƈ ɲᒍʅɖʖ◦◦ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ƫƈ ʖᘟȶɖ ɲᘟʖ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈʋ ◦ ðƈ ϛᒍʓᘟɖ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅʖ ◦ ɲƈʅƈ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʓƈᘟϛ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ðȶʖ ɲᘟʋ◦◦ ðᘟ𐑕◦ ȶϛ ðȶʖ ɽƷʅʅƈϛ𐑕 ʖ𐑕ᘟ𐑕ƈ ᒍȣ ᒐƈȶϛʆ◦ ðƈʋ ɮƷʅ𐑕 ᒍʅ ʖᒍʓƈɮᒍɲ ɲƈʅƈ ɮƷʅ𐑕◦◦
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 18:17:40 GMT -8
(continued from above)
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ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ 𐑕ȶʓƈ ɲɮƈϛ ɲƈ ɲƈʅƈ ᒍðƈʅ ðᘟϛ ðȶʖ ɲƈ ɲƈʅƈ ʝƈʖʖ ᘟϛɖ ʓᒍʅƈ ʖ𐑕ʅᒍϛʆƈʅ ᘟϛɖ ʓᒍʅƈ ȣʅᘟʆȶʝƈ ɲƈ ɮᘟɳƈ ᒐƈɽᒍʓƈ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɲƈʅƈ ɲƈʅƈ ᘟϛɖ ɲƈ ɮᘟɳƈ ƪᒍȶϛƈɖ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɮᘟɖ Ʒϛɖᒍϛƈ◦◦
ȶ 𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ◦ ðƈϛ◦ ȣʅᒍʓ ðȶʖ ɕʝᘟɽƈ◦ ᘟϛɖ ʝƈȣ𐑕 ðʅξ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ 𐑕ᒍ ɽᒍʓƈ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ʅᒍᒍʓ ᒍȣ ȣᒍʆ ᘟϛɖ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ ᒍϛɽƈ ʓᒍʅƈ◦◦ ȶ ʝᒍᒍɫƈɖ ᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ɽᒍϛʖȶɖƈʅƈɖ ðƈʓ◦◦ ʝᘟɲ◦ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈϛɖȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɕʅᘟʋƈʅʖ ᘟϛɖ ᒍʅᘟɽʝƈʖ ᒍȣ ɮƈʅ ȣᒍʝʝᒍɲƈʅʖ◦◦ ɕƈʅʖɕƈɽ𐑕ȶɳƈ◦ ᘟϛɖ ɮƈʅ ƈɳƈʅƫȶȣ𐑕ȶϛʆ ϛᘟ𐑕Ʒʅƈ ᘟϛɖ ɲȶʖƈ ɲᒍʅɖʖ◦◦ ᘟϛɖ ƈʓᒍ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ◦ ƈʓᒍ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦ 𐑕ᒍ ɲɮᒍʓ ȶ ȣƈʝ𐑕 ðƈ ɽʝᒍʖƈʖ𐑕◦◦ ƈʓᒍ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦ ᒐƈɽᘟƷʖƈ ᒍȣ ɲɮᒍʓ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈɽᒍʓƈ 𐑕ᘟϛʆʝƈɖ ȶϛ ðȶʖ ɲƈᒐ ᒍȣ ɕʅᒍɕɮƈɽȶƈʖ ᘟ𐑕 ᘟʝʝ◦ ᒐƈɽᘟƷʖƈ ᒍȣ ɲɮᒍʓ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈɽᒍʓƈ ʓᘟʅʅȶƈɖ ᘟϛɖ ᒐƈɽᘟƷʖƈ ᒍȣ ɲɮᒍʓ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ʝᒍʖ𐑕 ðƈ ᒍϛƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ʝᒍɳƈɖ◦◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈʋ ◦ ϛᒍϛƈ ᒍȣ ðƈʖƈ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅʖ ◦ ɲƈʅƈ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʓƈᘟϛ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ᘟʖ ðƈʋ ɲƈʅƈ ϛᒍɲ◦◦ ðƈ ʅƈᘟʖᒍϛ ðᘟ𐑕 ʓʋ ɽᒍʓɕᘟϛȶᒍϛʖ ᘟϛɖ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ɽᒍʓƈ 𐑕ᒍ ðȶʖ ɕʝᘟɽƈ ɲᘟʖ 𐑕ᒍ 𐑕ʅᘟϛʖȣᒍʅʓ ðƈ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅʖ◦◦ 𐑕ᒍ ʓᘟɫƈ ðƈʓ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ʖƈƈʓƈɖ ðᘟ𐑕◦ ᘟɽɽᒍʅɖȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɕʅᒍɕɮƈɽȶƈʖ ᘟϛɖ ɳȶʖȶᒍϛʖ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈʋ ɮᘟɖ ʆȶɳƈϛ Ʒʖ◦ ðƈʋ ɲƈʅƈ ʖƷɕɕᒍʖƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ◦◦
ᘟϛɖ ᘟʖ ȶ ɽᒍϛ𐑕ƈʓɕʝᘟ𐑕ƈɖ ðƈʓ◦ ȶ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ȶʓᘟʆȶϛƈ ðƈ ðʅƈƈ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ ᒐƈɽᒍʓȶϛʆ ᒍϛʝʋ ᒍϛƈ◦ ʖȶϛʆʝƈ ɖᒍᒍʅ◦◦ ðƈʋ ʖ𐑕ʅƷʆʆʝƈɖ ᘟʆᘟȶϛʖ𐑕 ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶϛ 𐑕ʅƷð ȶ ɽᘟϛϛᒍ𐑕 ᒐʝᘟʓƈ ðƈʓ◦ ʖƷᕊ ɲᘟʖ ðƈȶʅ ʖ𐑕ʅƷʆʆʝƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ȣƈʝ𐑕 ᒍɳƈʅɲɮƈʝʓƈɖ ᘟʖ ȶ ȣξ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ʓᘟɫƈ ðƈʓ ᒍϛƈ◦◦ ȶ ɖᒍ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɫϛᒍɲ ɮᒍɲ ʓƷᕊ 𐑕ȶʓƈ ɕᘟʖʖƈɖ ᘟʖ ʖʝᒍɲʝʋ ◦ ʖᒍ ʖʝᒍɲʝʋ ◦ ðƈʋ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈʅʆƈ◦◦ ᘟʖ ȶ ȣᒍʅɽƈɖ ðƈʓ 𐑕ᒍʆƈðƈʅ◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ȣƈƈʝ ðƈ ɲᒍʅʝɖ ɲᘟʅɕȶϛʆ◦ ʅƈᘟʝȶ𐑕ʋ ʖɲȶʅʝȶϛʆ ᘟϛɖ 𐑕ɲȶʅʝȶϛʆ◦ ʖɕȶʅᘟʝȶϛʆ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ᕊᘟᒍʖ ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈϛ◦ ƪƷʖ𐑕 ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ ȶ𐑕 ʖƈƈʓƈɖ ᘟʖ ȶȣ ðƈʋ ʓȶʆɮ𐑕 ɽʝȶɽɫ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ƈᘟᕊ ᒍðƈʅ◦ ᘟϛᒍðƈʅ ʅȶɖɖʝƈ ʖɕᒍɫƈ ȶ𐑕ʖƈʝȣ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ƈɫɲȶʖ𐑕ƈϛɽƈ◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ᘟϛ ȶϛ𐑕ƈʅƈʖ𐑕ȶϛʆ ᒍϛƈ◦ ʖɕƈᘟɫȶϛʆ ᒍȣ ᘟ ʓᘟϛ ðᘟ𐑕 ɖȶɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʅƈᘟʝȶɽƈ ɮᒍɲ ɕʅƈɽȶᒍƷʖ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ɮƈ ɮᘟɖ 𐑕ʅƷʝʋ ɲᘟʖ Ʒϛ𐑕ȶʝ ɮƈ ϛƈᘟʅʝʋ ʝᒍʖ𐑕 ȶȣ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈϛ ɮᘟɳȶϛʆ ɮᘟɖ Ʒϛɖƈʅʖ𐑕ᒍᒍɖ ðȶʖ◦ ɲᘟϛ𐑕ȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ʓᘟɫƈ ᘟϛᒍðƈʅ ᒍϛƈ◦◦ ȶ ðξ𐑕 ȣᒍʅ ᘟ 𐑕ȶʓƈ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈϛ ðƈ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅ ɽᘟʓƈ ɽʝƈᘟʅʝʋ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ◦ ʝȶȣƈ◦◦ ʝȶȣƈ ɲᘟʖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ᒍϛʝʋ ðƈ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ʅȶɖɖʝƈ◦ ɮᒍɲƈɳƈʅ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ᘟʝʖᒍ 𐑕ᒍ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅʖ ʓȶʆɮ𐑕 ᒐƈɽᒍʓƈ ᒍϛɽƈ ʓƈʅʆƈɖ◦◦ ȣᒍʅ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ȶʖ ʝᒍɳƈ? ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ȶʖ ɮᒍϛᒍʅ? ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ȶʖ ɕƈʅʖɕƈɽ𐑕ȶɳƈ? ʝᘟɲ◦ 𐑕ʅƷð◦ ɕʅƈƪƷɖȶɽƈ◦ ʖᒍʅʅᒍɲ◦ ʓᒍʅᘟʝȶ𐑕ʋ◦ ƪƷʖ𐑕ȶɽƈ◦ ɖƈɽƈȶ𐑕 ◦ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ᘟʅƈ ðƈʖƈ ᘟʝʝ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ʝȶȣƈ?
ᘟϛɖ ʖᒍ ȶ ʖɕᒍɫƈ◦ ʝȶȣƈ◦◦
ᘟϛɖ ʖᒍ◦ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ ʓƈʅʆƈɖ 𐑕ᒍʆƈðƈʅ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈɽᒍʓƈ ᒍϛƈ◦◦
ȶ ȣƈʝ𐑕 ʓʋʖƈʝȣ◦ ðƈϛ◦ ᒐƈȶϛʆ ɕƷʝʝƈɖ ȣʅᒍʓ ðȶʖ ʅᒍᒍʓ ◦ ðʅξ ᘟʝʝ ᒍȣ ðƈ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ ᘟϛɖ ʅᒍᒍʓʖ ᘟϛɖ ɮᘟʝʝɲᘟʋʖ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɮᘟɳƈ ʓᒍɳƈɖ ðʅξ 𐑕ᒍ ɽᒍʓƈ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ʅᒍᒍʓ ᒍȣ ɖᒍᒍʅʖ ᘟϛɖ ȣᒍʆ ◦ ɳƈʅʋ ɫɲƷȶɽɫʝʋ◦ ᘟʖ ȶȣ ȶ ɲᘟʖ ᒐᒍʅϛƈ ᒍϛ ðƈ ɲȶϛɖʖ ᒍȣ ðƈ ʖƈᘟ◦ʖ𐑕ᒍʅʓʖ◦◦ 𐑕ȶʓƈ ȣƈʝ𐑕 ᘟʖ ȶȣ ȶ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈɽᒍʓƈ ɲʅᘟɕɕƈɖ ʖ𐑕ʅᘟϛʆƈʝʋ ᘟʅᒍƷϛɖ ʓƈ◦ ȣᒍʅ ʓʋ ʖƈϛʖƈ ᒍȣ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ Ʒɕʖƈ𐑕◦◦ ᘟ ʖƈϛʖƈ ᒍȣ ᘟ𐑕 ᒍϛɽƈ ᒍɳƈʅɲɮƈʝʓȶϛʆ ƪᒍʋ ᘟϛɖ ɖƈɳᘟʖ𐑕ᘟ𐑕ȶϛʆ ʖᒍʅʅᒍɲ ȣʝᒍᒍɖƈɖ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ᘟʖ ðƈ ᒐʅȶʆɮ𐑕 ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ◦ȶʓɕʅƈʖʖȶᒍϛ ᒍȣ ðᒍʖƈ ȣƈƈʝȶϛʆʖ ȣᘟɖƈɖ◦ ðƈ ȣƈƈʝȶϛʆʖ ᒍȣ ᘟ ȣᘟʅƈɲƈʝʝ ᒐƷ𐑕 ᘟ ɲȶƫ 𐑕ᒍ ʖ𐑕ᘟʋ ʅᒍʖƈ ȶϛ ðƈȶʅ ɕʝᘟɽƈ◦◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ʖƈϛʖƈ ᒍȣ ɲᒍʅʅʋ◦ 𐑕ᒍᒍ ◦ ɲᒍʅʅʋ◦ ȶ ðȶϛɫ◦ ȣᒍʅ Ʒʖ ᘟʝʝ ʝȶɳȶϛʆ ȶϛ ðȶʖ ɲᒍʅʝɖ◦◦ ɲᒍʅɖʖ◦ ðƈϛ◦ ᘟʅᒍʖƈ ȣʅᒍʓ ðȶʖ 𐑕ƷʅᒐƷʝƈϛɽƈ ᒍȣ ʖƈϛʖᘟ𐑕ȶᒍϛʖ◦
ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ 𐑕ȶʓƈ ɲɮƈϛ ɲƈ ᒍðƈʅ ðᘟϛ ðȶʖ◦ ɲƈ ɲƈʅƈ ʓᒍʅƈ ᘟϛɖ ʝƈʖʖ◦ ʖ𐑕ʅᒍϛʆƈʅ ᘟϛɖ ʓᒍʅƈ ȣʅᘟʆȶʝƈ◦ ɲƈ ɮᘟɳƈ ᒐƈɽᒍʓƈ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɲƈʅƈ◦ ɲƈ ɮᘟɳƈ ƪᒍȶϛƈɖ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɮᘟɖ Ʒϛɖᒍϛƈ◦ ȶ𐑕 ɮᘟʖ ɽᒍʓƈ 𐑕ᒍ ᒍƷʅ ɕʅƈʖƈϛɽƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɫϛƈɲ ðȶϛʆʖ ȣᒍʅʓ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ◦ ɕᘟʅ𐑕 ᒍȣ Ʒʖ ɫϛƈɲ ðȶϛʆʖ◦ ʖƈɽʅƈ𐑕ʖ 𐑕ᒍ ɫƈɕ𐑕 ȶϛ ðƈ ɖᘟʅɫ◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ɕʝᘟϛ ᘟϛɖ ȶ𐑕 ɮᘟʖ ᒐƈƈϛ ɮȶɖɖƈϛ◦ ϛᒍɲ ðᒍʖƈ ᒍȣ Ʒʖ ɲɮᒍ ʓᘟɖƈ ðƈ ɕʝᘟϛ ᘟʅƈ ϛᒍ ʝᒍϛʆƈʅ ȶϛ ᘟʆʅƈƈʓƈϛ𐑕 ɲȶð ȶ𐑕◦ ȶ𐑕 ȶʖ ʝᒍɳƈʝƈʖʖ◦ ȶ𐑕 ȶʖ ƷϛƪƷʖ𐑕◦ ȶ𐑕 ʝȶƈʖ◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ɕʝᘟϛ◦ ðƈ ʖʝƈƈɕƈʅʖ ᘟɲᘟɫƈ ȶϛ ðƈ ɽᒍʓȶϛʆ ɖᘟʋʖ◦ ɲƈ ɖƈʖ𐑕ʅᒍʋƈɖ ðƈʓ ʖᒍ ðƈʋ ɽᘟϛ ʖʝƈƈɕ ᘟϛɖ ᘟɲᘟɫƈ ɲɮƈϛ ðƈ 𐑕ȶʓƈ ɲᘟʖ ɲƈᘟʝðʋ◦ ðƈ ɕʝᘟϛ ɮᘟʖ ᒐƈƈϛ 𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ʖʝƈƈɕƈʅʖ ϛᒍ ʝᒍϛʆƈʅ ᒍᒐƈʋ ðƈȶʅ ʓᘟʖ𐑕ƈʅʖ◦ ðƈ ʆᘟʓƈ ɮᘟʖ ʆᒍϛƈ ᒐƈʋᒍϛɖ◦ ðƈ ᒐᘟʝᘟϛɽƈ ɲȶʝʝ ᒐƈ ᒐʅᒍɫƈϛ◦ Ʒϛʝƈʖʖ ɲƈ ᒐʅȶϛʆ ðƈ ʝȶʆɮ𐑕 ȣᒍʅð◦ ɲƈ ᕊᘟʅʆƈ ʋᒍƷ ðᒍʖƈ ᒍȣ ðƈ ϛᒍɲ 𐑕ᒍ ᕊᘟϛʆƈ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ȶʖ ɲᘟɫȶϛʆ◦ ȣʅᒍʓ ᒍɳƈʅ ƫᘟɖᒍɲȶϛʆ ᘟϛɖ ɖᘟʅɫƈϛȶϛʆ ðƈ ϛȶʆɮ𐑕◦ ðƈʋ ᘟʅƈ ʖʝƈƈɕȶϛʆ ᒐƈϛƈᘟð ƈɳƈʅʋ ɽȶ𐑕ʋ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈʋ ᘟʅƈ ɲᘟɫȶϛʆ◦ ðƈʋ ɮᘟɳƈ ʝᒍϛʆ ᒐƈƈϛ ᒐƷȶʝɖȶϛʆ ðƈ ɲƈᒐ◦ ϛᒍɲ ðƈʋ ɲȶʝʝ ʓᒍɳƈ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɽƈϛ𐑕ƈʅ ᘟϛɖ ȣƈᘟʖ𐑕◦ ɫϛᒍɲ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɲᘟʝɫ ɲȶð ʋᒍƷ ȶϛ ðȶʖ ᘟϛɖ ȣƈᘟʅ ϛᒍðȶϛʆ ᒐƷ𐑕 ʋᒍƷʅʖƈʝɳƈʖ◦ ʋᒍƷ ᘟʅƈ ðƈ ᒐƈ𐑕ʅᘟʋᘟʝ◦ ʋᒍƷ ᘟʅƈ ðƈ 𐑕ʅƈᘟᕊƈʅʋ◦ ʋᒍƷ ᘟʅƈ ðƈ ϛȶʆɮ𐑕ʓᘟʅƈ◦ ȶ𐑕 ɽᒍʓƈʖ◦◦
ɲƈ ᘟʅƈ ðƈ ϛᒍɲ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ɕᘟʖ𐑕 ɽʅȶƈʖ ᒍƷ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ Ʒʖ◦ ᘟʖ ɲƈ ɮᘟɳƈ ᒐƈɽᒍʓƈ ʖᒍ ƫƈ ʓƷʖ𐑕 ᒐƈ ϛᒍɲ◦ ȶ𐑕 ȶʖ ðƈ ȣȶϛᘟʝ ᒐƈʆʆȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ᘟ ʖ𐑕ᘟʅ𐑕 ᒍȣ ðƈ ɽᒍʓɕʝƈ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦ ƫƈ ȶʖ ɖƈᘟɖ ᘟϛɖ ʖᒍ ɲƈ ʓƷʖ𐑕 ʅƈʖɽƷƈ ɮƈʅ◦ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ ƫƈ ȶʖ ᒐᒍʅϛ 𐑕ᒍ ᒍðƈʅʖ ðᘟϛ ᒍƷʅ ɖᘟƷʆɮ𐑕ƈʅʖ◦ ȶϛ ðȶʖ ɲƈ ɲȶʝʝ ɲᘟ𐑕ᕊ ᘟϛɖ ȶϛ ðȶʖ ɲƈ ɲȶʝʝ ɲᘟȶ𐑕◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ðƈ ƫᘟɖᒍɲ ʓᒍɳƈʖ ᘟʖ ɲƈʝʝ ᘟϛɖ ɲƈ ɽᘟϛ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɮᘟʅᒐᒍʅ ȶ𐑕◦ ʋᒍƷ ʓƷʖ𐑕 ɮᒍʝɖ ðƈ ɕᘟʖ𐑕 ɽʝᒍʖƈ ɫƈƈɕ ȶ𐑕 ȣʅᒍʓ ðƈ ȣƷ𐑕Ʒʅƈ◦ ðƈ ʓȶϛɖ ɲȶʝʝ ᒐƈ𐑕ʅᘟʋ ʋᒍƷ◦ ðƈ ɖʅƈᘟʓ ȶʖ ʋᒍƷʅʖ◦◦
ðƈϛ◦ ȣᒍʅ ᘟ ʓᒍʓƈϛ𐑕◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ϛᒍðȶϛʆ ◦ ðƈ ϛᒍðȶϛʆ ᒐƈ𐑕ɲƈƈϛ ʅƈɽƈɖȶϛʆ ȣʅᒍʓ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ ᘟϛɖ ʖƈ𐑕𐑕ʝȶϛʆ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ᒐᘟɽɫ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ʓʋ ᒐᒍɖʋ◦◦
ȶ ᒍɕƈϛƈɖ ʓʋ ƈʋƈʖ 𐑕ᒍ ȣȶϛɖ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ʖȶ𐑕𐑕ȶϛʆ ɲȶð ᒍϛƈ ɮᘟϛɖ ᒍϛ ðƈ ʝᘟʅʆƈ ɮƈᘟʅ𐑕ʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈ ᘟϛɖ ʓʋ ȣȶϛʆƈʅʖ 𐑕ȶʆɮ𐑕ʝʋ ɲʅᘟɕɕƈɖ ᘟʅᒍƷϛɖ ðƈ ʖʓᘟʝʝƈʅ ᒍϛƈ◦◦ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅʖ◦ ʖ𐑕ȶʝʝ◦ ɲƈʅƈ ɲȶðȶϛ ðƈ ɽʝƷ𐑕ᕊƈʖ ᒍȣ ʓƈɖȶ𐑕ᘟ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦◦ ȶ ʖ𐑕ᒍᒍɖ Ʒɕ◦ ɲᒍʅɫȶϛʆ ᒍƷ𐑕 ðƈ ʖ𐑕ȶȣȣϛƈʖʖ ȶϛ ʓʋ ʝȶʓᒐʖ◦◦ ᘟʖ ȶ ɖȶɖ ʖᒍ◦ ȶ ȣƈʝ𐑕 ᘟ ʆᘟɕȶϛʆ ɮᒍʝʝᒍɲϛƈʖʖ ȶϛʖȶɖƈ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ ◦ ðƈ ƈʓɕ𐑕ȶϛƈʖʖ ᒍȣ ɮᘟɳȶϛʆ ʝᒍʖ𐑕 ʖᒍʓƈðȶϛʆ ȶʓɕᒍʅ𐑕ᘟϛ𐑕◦◦ ʖᒍʓƈðȶϛʆ ðᘟ𐑕◦ ȶ ðȶϛɫ◦ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 𐑕ʅƷʝʋ ᒐƈƈϛ ᘟɲᘟʅƈ ᒍȣ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ◦◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶϛʖȶɖƈ ʓʋ ɮƈᘟɖ◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ʖ𐑕ȶʝʝ ȣƈƈʝ ðƈ ɕʅƈʖƈϛɽƈ ᒍȣ ðƈ ᒍðƈʅʖ◦ ðξ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ɲᒍɫƈϛ◦ ðƈʋ ʖ𐑕ȶʝʝ ɲƈʅƈ ɕƈʅᕊƈɖ ȶϛ ðƈ ᒐᘟɽɫ ᒍȣ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ʝȶ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ ɖȶʖɽᒍϛɽƈʅ𐑕ȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ɮᘟɳƈ ʖƷᕊ ᘟ ȣƈƈʝȶϛʆ ɮƈʅƈ◦ ȶϛ ðƈ ʖᒍʝȶɖϛƈʖʖ ᒍȣ ʅƈᘟʝȶ𐑕ʋ◦ ȶϛ ᘟ ɲᘟʋ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ᒐƈƈϛ ɲɮƈϛ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ɲᘟʝɫƈɖ ðʅξ ðƈ ʖɲȶʅʝʖ ᒍȣ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ◦◦
ɲɮƈϛ ȶ ʝᒍᒍɫƈɖ Ʒɕ ȣʅᒍʓ ʓʋʖƈʝȣ◦ ʓʋ ƈʋƈʖ ȣƈʝʝ Ʒɕᒍϛ ʅᘟɳƈϛ◦ ɲɮᒍ ɮᘟɖ ðƷʖ ȣᘟʅ ᒐƈƈϛ ɲᘟ𐑕ᕊȶϛʆ◦◦ ᘟʖ ȶ ʝᒍᒍɫƈɖ ᘟ𐑕 ɮƈʅ◦ ȶ𐑕 ʖƈƈʓƈɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ƈʓɕ𐑕ȶϛƈʖʖ ȶϛʖȶɖƈ ʓƈ ɲᘟʖ ᒐʅȶƈȣʝʋ ȣȶʝʝƈɖ ɲȶð ᘟ ʅƷƫ ᒍȣ ɲᘟʅʓð ᘟϛɖ ʖƷϛƫȶϛƈ ȶϛ ʓʋ ᒐʝᒍᒍɖ◦◦ ƫƈ ᘟʖɫƈɖ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ɮᘟɕɕƈϛƈɖ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ȶ ȣᒍƷϛɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈʅƈ ɲƈʅƈ ϛᒍ ɲᒍʅɖʖ ȶϛ ʓʋ ʓᒍƷð ɲȶð ɲɮȶᕊ 𐑕ᒍ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅ ɮƈʅ◦◦ ȶϛʖ𐑕ƈᘟɖ◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ɖᒍ ϛᒍðȶϛʆ ᒐƷ𐑕 ʆᘟɽƈ ᘟ𐑕 ɮƈʅ ʖɕƈƈᕊʝƈʖʖʝʋ ᘟʖ ᘟ ɖƷʓᒐ ȣʅᒍʆ◦◦ ȶ𐑕 ɖȶɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʓᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʅ ðᘟ𐑕 ƫƈ ɲᘟʖ ᒐƈʆȶϛϛȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ʝᒍᒍɫ ᘟ𐑕 ʓƈ ʅᘟðƈʅ ɫɲƷȶɽɽȶɽᘟʝʝʋ◦ ȶ ɲᘟʖ ʖȶʝʝ ʓᘟʅɳƈʝȶϛʆ ᘟ𐑕 ðȶʖ ɽƷʅȶᒍƷʖ Ʒʅʆƈ 𐑕ᒍ ʆᒍ 𐑕ᒍ ʅᘟɳƈϛ ᘟϛɖ 𐑕ᒍ ɮᒍʝɖ ɮƈʅ ᘟϛɖ ɕʅᒍ𐑕ƈɽ𐑕 ɮƈʅ◦◦ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ȣƈʝ𐑕 ðȶʖ ʖȶϛɽƈ ɽƈʝƈʖ𐑕ƈ◦ ᘟϛɖ 𐑕ᒍ ȣƈƈʝ ȶ𐑕 ϛᒍɲ ◦ ᘟϛɖ ʖᒍ ʖƷɖɖƈϛʝʋ◦◦◦◦◦◦
ðȶʖ ʖ𐑕ʅᘟϛʆƈ ʓᒍʓƈϛ𐑕 ɖȶɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʝᘟʖ𐑕 ȣᒍʅ ɳƈʅʋ ʝᒍϛʆ◦ ȣᒍʅ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ðƈϛ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ᒍðƈʅʖ 𐑕ᒍƷᕊȶϛʆ ðƈ ɮƈᘟʅʖ𐑕ᒍϛƈʖ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ᘟɲᘟɫƈϛ◦◦ ᘟϛɖ◦ ᘟʖ ðƈʋ ʖ𐑕ᒍᒍɖ ȣʅᒍʓ ðƈ ȣʝᒍᒍʅ◦ ðᘟ𐑕 ȣƈƈʝȶϛʆ ᒍȣ ðƈȶʅ ʓȶϛɖʖ ᒐƈȶϛʆ ɕʅƈʖƈϛ𐑕 ȶϛʖȶɖƈ ʓȶϛƈ ɖɲȶϛɖʝƈɖ ᘟɲᘟʋ ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ϛᒍ𐑕 ƈϛ𐑕ȶʅƈʝʋ◦◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ʖ𐑕ȶʝʝ ȣƈƈʝ ðƈʓ ðƈʅƈ◦◦ ᘟϛɖ ᘟʖ ȶ ɲᘟ𐑕ᕊƈɖ◦ ʖᒍʓƈ ᒍȣ ðƈʓ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ 𐑕ᒍƷᕊ ðƈȶʅ ᕊƈƈɫʖ ᒍʅ ƫᘟɫƈ ᘟɲᘟʋ 𐑕ȶϛʆʝƈʖ ȣʅᒍʓ ðƈȶʅ ʅȶʆɮ𐑕 ɮᘟϛɖ ◦ ðᒍʖƈ ʖᘟʓƈ ɕʝᘟɽƈʖ ȶϛ ɲɮȶᕊ ȶ ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈƈϛ ʓᘟʅɫƈɖ ɲȶð ʓᒍʅʆᘟϛ𐑕ȶ◦◦ ʅᘟɳƈϛ◦ ᒐʝƈʖʖ ɮƈʅ◦ ʖᘟɲ ðȶʖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ʅᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ʆƈ𐑕 ƈʓᒐᘟʅɽᘟʅȶᒍƷʖ◦◦ ðƈʋ ʅƈ𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ ᘟ ʝȶ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ 𐑕ȶʓƈ ʝᘟ𐑕ƈʅ◦ ᒐᒍð ᘟ ʝȶ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ ᒍƷ𐑕 ᒍȣ ᒐʅƈᘟð ȣʅᒍʓ ɮᘟɳȶϛʆ ʖƈƈʓȶϛʆʝʋ ʅƷϛ ᒍɳƈʅ 𐑕ᒍ ðȶʖ ɕʝᘟɽƈ◦◦ ɮƈ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ʓᘟʆȶɽᘟʝʝʋ ȶϛʖɕƈɽ𐑕 ʓƈ◦ ᒍɽɽᘟʖȶᒍϛᘟʝʝʋ ʓᘟɫȶϛʆ ʖʓᘟʝʝ -ɮʓʓʖ- ᒍʅ ᘟ ɫɲƷȶƈ𐑕 -ȶϛ𐑕ƈʅƈʖ𐑕ȶϛʆ-◦◦ ɲɮƈϛ ɮƈ ȣȶϛȶƫƈɖ◦ ɮƈ ƈɫɲɕʝᘟȶϛƈɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ᘟ ɕȶƈɽƈ ᒍȣ ƈᘟᕊ ᒍȣ ðƈȶʅ ʖƈϛ𐑕ȶƈϛɽƈ ɲᘟʖ ʝᒍɽᘟ𐑕ƈɖ ȶϛʖȶɖƈ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ◦◦ ðȶʖ ɮᘟɖ ʖƈɳƈʅᘟʝ ʖȶɖƈ ƈȣȣƈɽ𐑕◦◦ ᒍϛƈ◦ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲɮȶᕊ ɮᘟɕɕƈϛƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ɮᘟɕɕƈϛ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈʓ ◦ ȶȣ ȶ ɖȶƈɖ◦ ʖᒍ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ðƈʋ◦◦ ȶȣ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ᒐƈ ᒐʅξ𐑕 ᒐᘟɽɫ ȣʅᒍʓ ɖƈᘟð◦ ϛƈȶðƈʅ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ðƈʋ◦◦ ȶȣ ȶ ɲƈʅƈ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ɫϛᒍɽɫƈɖ ƷϛɽᒍϛʖɽȶᒍƷʖ◦ ðƈʋ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ȣᘟʝʝ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ƷϛɽᒍϛʖɽȶᒍƷʖϛƈʖʖ ᘟʖ ɲƈʝʝ◦◦ 𐑕ɲᒍ◦ ðƈʋ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 𐑕ʅᘟɳƈʝ ȣᘟʅ ȣʅᒍʓ ʓƈ ᒐƈȣᒍʅƈ ʖȶϛɫȶϛʆ ȶϛ𐑕ᒍ ƷϛɽᒍϛʖɽȶᒍƷʖϛƈʖʖ ◦ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ƈɖʆƈʖ ᒍȣ ɮᒍʖ𐑕ᒍʅ◦ ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ϛᒍ ȣƷʅðƈʅ◦◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ðʅƈƈ ◦ ðʅƈƈ ɲᘟʖ ɳƈʅʋ ȶϛ𐑕ƈʅƈʖ𐑕ȶϛʆ◦◦ ðȶʖ ɽᒍϛϛƈɽ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ʓƈᘟϛ𐑕 ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ 𐑕ᘟʝɫ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈʓ ðʅξ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈʋ ɽᒍƷʝɖ 𐑕ᘟʝɫ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ ȶϛ ðƈ ʖᘟʓƈ ɲᘟʋ ◦ ðξ ðƈʋ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 𐑕ᘟʝɫ 𐑕ᒍ ƈᘟᕊ ᒍðƈʅ ȶϛ ðȶʖ ɲᘟʋ◦◦
ƈʓᒐᘟʅɽᘟʅȶᒍƷʖ ʝᒍᒍɫƈɖ ᘟ𐑕 Ʒʖ ʅƈʖȶʆϛƈɖʝʋ ᘟϛɖ ʖᘟȶɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮƈ ɮᘟɖ ɫϛᒍɲϛ ᘟʖ ʖᒍᒍϛ ᘟʖ ɲƈ ɮᘟɖ ʅƈɫɲƷƈʖ𐑕ƈɖ ᘟ ɽȶʅɽʝƈ ᒍȣ ɕʅᒍ𐑕ƈɽ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ᒐƈ ɽᘟƷʖȶϛʆ 𐑕ʅᒍƷᒐʝƈ◦◦ ᘟ ʝȶ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ ʓᒍʅƈ ɳᘟʆƷƈ ɽᒍϛɳƈʅʖᘟ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ȣᒍʝʝᒍɲƈɖ◦ ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅ ɲɮȶᕊ ðƈ ɮƈᘟɖ ʓᘟʆƈ ʅᘟϛ ᒍȣȣ 𐑕ᒍ 𐑕ᘟɫƈ ɽᘟʅƈ ᒍȣ ᒍðƈʅ ɖƷ𐑕ȶƈʖ ᘟϛɖ 𐑕ᘟʖɫʖ◦◦ ᘟʖ ʖᒍᒍϛ ᘟʖ ɮƈ ʝƈȣ𐑕◦ ʅᘟɳƈϛ◦ ʋƷɽɫ◦ ᘟϛɖ ƈʝɲȶɽɫƈ𐑕𐑕 𐑕Ʒʅϛƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ ᘟϛɖ ᘟʖɫƈɖ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 ȶ ðξ𐑕 ᒍȣ ɖᒍʆʖ◦◦ ʖƷᕊ ɲᘟʖ ðƈ Ʒʅʆƈϛɽʋ ᒍȣ ðƈȶʅ 𐑕ᒍϛƈʖ ᘟʖ ᘟɕɕʝȶƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʖƷᕊ ᘟ ʖƈƈʓȶϛʆʝʋ ɮᘟʅʓʝƈʖʖ ɫɲƷƈʖ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ʝȶ𐑕𐑕ʝƈ 𐑕ᘟɫƈϛ ᘟᒐᘟɽɫ◦◦ ᘟϛɖ◦ ɲɮȶʝƈ ȶ ʓƷᕊ ɕʅƈȣƈʅ ðƈ ɽƷϛϛȶϛʆ ɲᘟ𐑕ᕊȣƷʝϛƈʖʖ ᒍȣ ɽᘟ𐑕ʖ ᘟϛɖ ðƈ ȣʅᘟʆȶʝƈ ᒐƈᘟƷ𐑕ʋ ᒍȣ ᒐȶʅɖʖ◦ ɖᒍʆʖ ᘟʝʖᒍ ɮᘟɳƈ ᘟ ɽƈʅ𐑕ᘟȶϛ ȣʅȶƈϛɖʝʋ ᕊᘟʅʓ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈʓ◦◦ ȶ ᘟϛʖɲƈʅƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ᘟʖɫƈʅʖ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ʝȶɫƈ ɖᒍʆʖ◦ ʅᘟɳƈϛ◦ ðƈϛ ɕƷ𐑕 ȣᒍʅð ɮƈʅ ɕᘟʝʓ 𐑕ᒍ ƫᘟɫƈ ᘟϛɖ ʖᘟȶɖ◦ -ɲƈʝɽᒍʓƈ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ȣᘟʓȶʝʋ!-◦◦
ðξ ȶ ɲᘟʖ ɽᒍϛȣƷʖƈɖ ᘟ𐑕 ðȶʖ◦ ȶ ɖȶɖ ƫᘟɫƈ ɮƈʅ ɮᘟϛɖ◦◦ ƈʝɲȶɽɫƈ𐑕𐑕 ðƈϛ ᒐƈʆᘟϛ 𐑕ᒍ ƈɫɲɕʝᘟȶϛ◦◦ ȶ ɲȶʝʝ ϛᒍ𐑕 ʅƈɕƈᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ƈɫɲɕʝᘟϛᘟ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ɮƈʅƈ◦ ȣᒍʅ ȶ𐑕 ȶʖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ȣᒍʅ ᘟʝʝ ƈᘟʅʖ 𐑕ᒍ ɮᘟɳƈ ɫϛᒍɲʝƈɖʆƈ ᒍȣ◦ ȶ ɲȶʝʝ ʖᘟʋ ᒍϛʝʋ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ʓᘟɖƈ ʓᘟϛʋ ðȶϛʆʖ ɽʝƈᘟʅ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ◦ ðξ ȶ𐑕 ʅᘟȶʖƈɖ ᘟʖ ʓᘟϛʋ ɫɲƷƈʖ𐑕ȶᒍϛʖ ᘟʖ ȶ𐑕 ᘟϛʖɲƈʅƈɖ◦◦ ᘟϛɖ ðξ ðƈ ðȶϛʆʖ ɲɮȶᕊ ɮƈ 𐑕ᒍʝɖ 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ ɲƈʅƈ ɽƈʅ𐑕ᘟȶϛʝʋ ȶϛ𐑕ƈʅƈʖ𐑕ȶϛʆ ᘟϛɖ ȶʓɕʅƈʖʖȶɳƈ◦ ᘟʖ ɮƈ ƈɫɲɕʝᘟȶϛƈɖ◦ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ ɫƈɕ𐑕 ɽᒍʓȶϛʆ ᒐᘟɽɫ 𐑕ᒍ ᒍϛƈ ðȶϛʆ◦ ȣᘟʓȶʝʋ◦◦ ðȶʖ ɲᘟʖ ɽƈʅ𐑕ᘟȶϛʝʋ ϛᒍ𐑕 ᒐʋ ᘟϛʋ ʖ𐑕ʅƈ𐑕ᕊ ᒍȣ ᒍϛƈ’ʖ ȶʓᘟʆȶϛᘟ𐑕ȶᒍϛ◦ ðƈ ʓᒍʖ𐑕 ϛᒍʅʓᘟʝ ɫȶϛɖ ᒍȣ ȣᘟʓȶʝʋ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ᘟ ȣᘟʓȶʝʋ ϛᒍϛƈðƈʝƈʖʖ◦ ɲɮȶᕊ ȶ ɮᘟɳƈ ʝᘟɽɫƈɖ ȣᒍʅ ʓᒍʖ𐑕 ᒍȣ ʓʋ ʝȶȣƈ◦◦ ƈɳƈϛ ɲɮƈϛ ɽƈʝƈʖ𐑕ƈ ᘟϛɖ ȶ ʅᘟȶʖƈɖ ƈϛʋᘟʅȶ◦ ɲƈ ɖȶɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 𐑕ʅƷʝʋ ɮᘟɳƈ ᘟ ȣᘟʓȶʝʋ ◦ ȣᒍʅ ɲɮȶᕊ◦ ȶ ɲȶʝʝ ᘟɖʓȶ𐑕◦ ðƈ ȣᘟƷʝ𐑕 ʝᘟʋʖ ɲȶð ʓƈ◦◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ◦ ðȶʖ ᒐƈȶϛʆ ᘟ ʅᘟðƈʅ ɖȶȣȣƈʅƈϛ𐑕 ʖᒍʅ𐑕 ᒍȣ ȣᘟʓȶʝʋ◦ ȶ𐑕 ȶʖ ʖᒍʓƈðȶϛʆ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ ʓȶʆɮ𐑕 ᒐƈ ᘟᒐʝƈ 𐑕ᒍ ƪᒍȶϛ ɲȶð ɕʅᒍɕƈʅʝʋ◦◦ ȣᘟʓȶʝʋ◦◦ ȶ 𐑕ƈʖ𐑕ƈɖ ðȶʖ ɲᒍʅɖ ȶϛ ʓʋ ʓȶϛɖ◦ ᘟϛɖ ȶ𐑕 ȣƈʝ𐑕 ʅȶʆɮ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ʓƈ◦◦
ᒍɮ ◦ ƈʝɲȶɽɫƈ𐑕𐑕 ʖᘟȶɖ ◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ᒍϛƈ ᒍðƈʅ ðȶϛʆ◦◦ ʆȶɳƈϛ ðƈ ɽᒍϛϛƈɽ𐑕ȶᒍϛ ðᘟ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈƈϛ 𐑕ȶƈɖ ȶϛ ᒍƷʅ ʓȶϛɖʖ◦ ȶ ɲᘟʖϛ’𐑕 ʆᒍȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ᒐƈ ᘟʝʝᒍɲƈɖ ᒍƷ𐑕 ᒍȣ ðȶʖ ʅᒍᒍʓ◦◦ ȣᒍʅ ʓʋ ʖᘟȣƈ𐑕ʋ ◦ ᘟϛɖ ðƈȶʅʖ◦ ᒍȣ ɽᒍƷʅʖƈ◦◦ ðƈʋ ʖɕƈϛ𐑕 ʖƈɳƈʅᘟʝ ʓȶϛƷ𐑕ƈʖ ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅɲᘟʅɖʖ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʓɕ𐑕ȶϛʆ 𐑕ᒍ ȣȶʆƷʅƈ ᒍƷ𐑕 ʖᒍʓƈ ɲᘟʋ 𐑕ᒍ ɕʅƈɳƈϛ𐑕 ʓƈ ȣʅᒍʓ ʝƈᘟɳȶϛʆ◦ ȶ ȣᒍƷϛɖ ȶ𐑕 ᘟʓƷʖȶϛʆ◦◦ ᘟ𐑕 ȣȶʅʖ𐑕◦ ðƈʋ ðξ𐑕 ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈʋ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ʖȶʓɕʝʋ ɫϛᒍɽɫ ʓƈ ƷϛɽᒍϛʖɽȶᒍƷʖ ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ϛᒍ◦◦ ðƈϛ ðƈʋ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ᒐƈ ᘟʖ ʖƷᕊ ᘟʖ ɲƈʝʝ◦◦ ðƈʋ ɽᒍƷʝɖ 𐑕ʅƈƈȣᒍʅʓ ʓƈ ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ϛᒍ◦◦ ȶ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ʖȶʓɕʝʋ ʅƈɳƈʅ𐑕◦◦ ᒍʅ ðƈʋ ɽᒍƷʝɖ ɫϛᒍɽɫ ʓƈ ƷϛɽᒍϛʖɽȶᒍƷʖ ᘟϛɖ ðƈϛ 𐑕ʅƈƈȣᒍʅʓ ʓƈ ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕◦ ᒍϛɽƈ ᘟʆᘟȶϛ◦ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲᒍƷʝɖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ɲᒍʅɫ ƈȶðƈʅ◦◦
ðƈ ɖȶʖɽƷʖʖȶᒍϛ ɲᘟʖ ɕᒍʖ𐑕ɕᒍϛƈɖ ᒐʅȶƈȣʝʋ ȣᒍʅ ðƈ ʖᘟɫƈ ᒍȣ ᒍðƈʅ ƈɫɲɕƈʅȶʓƈϛ𐑕ʖ ◦ ϛᘟʓƈʝʋ◦ ᒍʅᘟɽʝƈʖ◦◦ ɲƈ ᘟ𐑕𐑕ƈʓɕ𐑕ƈɖ ᘟϛ ᒍʅᘟɽʝƈ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ϛᒍʓᘟɖ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅʖ◦ ȣȶʅʖ𐑕◦ ȶ𐑕 ɲᘟʖ ƷϛʖƷɽɽƈʖʖȣƷʝ◦ ȣᒍʅ ȶ𐑕 ʖƈƈʓƈɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ɲƈ ɲƈʅƈ ɽᘟʖ𐑕ȶϛʆ ᘟ ȣȶƫȶϛʆ ϛƈ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ɲȶϛɖ◦ ɲɮƈʅƈ ȶ𐑕 ɲᒍƷʝɖ ɽᘟ𐑕ᕊ ᒍϛ ϛᒍðȶϛʆ◦◦ ɲƈ 𐑕ʅȶƈɖ ᘟϛ ᒍʅᘟɽʝƈ 𐑕ᒍ ƈᒐᒍϛʋ ϛƈɫɲ𐑕◦ ᘟϛɖ ðȶʖ ɲᘟʖ ʓȶʝɖʝʋ ʓᒍʅƈ ʖƷɽɽƈʖʖȣƷʝ◦◦ ɮƈʅƈ◦ ɲƈ ɽᒍƷʝɖ 𐑕ƈʝʝ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ᒍʅᘟɽʝƈ ɮᘟɖ ɽᒍʓƈ ðʅξ◦ ᒐƷ𐑕 ᘟʝʖᒍ ðᘟ𐑕 ȶ𐑕 ɮᘟɖ ᒐƈƈϛ ƫƷ𐑕 ᒍȣȣ ᘟʖ ᘟ ɖᒍᒍʅ ɽʝᒍʖƈɖ ƫᘟʅɕʝʋ ȶϛ ᒍϛƈ’ʖ ȣᘟɽƈ◦◦ ȣȶϛᘟʝʝʋ◦ ɲƈ 𐑕ʅȶƈɖ ᘟϛ ᒍʅᘟɽʝƈ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ƈʝɖƈʅ ʆᒍɖɖƈʖʖ ◦ ᘟϛɖ◦ ᘟʖ ɲȶð ðƈ ʖȶʖ𐑕ƈʅʖ◦ ðƈʅƈ ɲᘟʖ ʖȶʓɕʝʋ ϛᒍðȶϛʆ ðƈʅƈ◦◦
ᘟȣ𐑕ƈʅɲᘟʅɖʖ◦ ɲƈ ɖƈɽȶɖƈɖ ðᘟ𐑕 ðƈ ʆƷȶʝɖʓᘟʖ𐑕ƈʅ ɮƈᘟɖɫɲƷᘟʅ𐑕ƈʅʖ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ɕƈʅɮᘟɕʖ ϛᒍ𐑕 ᒐƈ ðƈ ᒐƈʖ𐑕 ɕʝᘟɽƈ ȣᒍʅ ʓƈ 𐑕ᒍ ʖ𐑕ᘟʋ ȶϛ ᘟϛʋ ɽᘟʖƈ◦ ɲƈ ʝƈȣ𐑕◦ ðƈϛ◦ ᘟϛɖ ɖƈɕᘟʅ𐑕ƈɖ 𐑕ᒍ ðƈ ȶϛϛ◦◦ ðƈʅƈ◦ ɲƈ ɲᒍƷʝɖ ɖƈɽȶɖƈ ɲɮᘟ𐑕 𐑕ᒍ ɖᒍ ϛƈɫɲ𐑕◦◦
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 18:27:24 GMT -8
Chronicle for Advance League 01/08/11 (January 2011) --- *In a nutshell, be careful about haunted houses. Picking up three diseases from haunts' gold is generally not something you want to do. And even though the people ended up cured, I'd be a little wary of the gold in circulation right now... --- Written by Miss Arimissa Nelis LaFeldnoreI apologize in advance for my lack of coherency; I’ve been very sick, and I’m much less sharp than I usually am. I mean, I had been rather excited to go to that haunted house - having read so much about them and all - but it turns out that I rather wish I hadn’t gone at all. This aforementioned haunted house was a place near the coast that had quite suddenly become active and that, as such, no person had been especially keen to explore; an investigation was called for, though there was plenty more besides to do. The usual rabble of orcs and ogres and the like, that dragon with his - or her? though I do believe that the dragon is a “his” - games, gladiator matches, and other such things. It wasn’t until a little later on in the day that we were able to actually venture to the haunted house. Actually, I started out the day attempting to explain to a small group of children why they shouldn’t accept Shunar Quincel’s gifts of spidersilk robes. She had offered them to us again, you see, and though I had declined the offer again due to suspicions about her motives, others seemed content to accept until I tried to warn them off. Children, in an adventuring party - really! I suppose that I’m not their parents, but I do still wonder if they should be here when still so young. A great many of the situations encountered on the field are not suitable even for adult minds and bodies, much less younger ones. Since I have no jurisdiction on their presence among the throng, I shall merely have to keep an extra eye out for them to make sure they don’t get themselves into too much trouble. This is why I was attempting to explain the robes to them. After having seen more of Shunar Quincel, I have come to the conclusion that she a person to be rather wary of - her colorful array of daggers and blatant sexism are only a few of the many reasons. Some other said reasons are not for young minds such as their to hear at this point in time, and I found the explanation rather difficult to go about. One young elf asked if they items were cursed, and it was as good a metaphor as any; they ended up taking it in circles and asking about those women that had taken the items and if they should return them, to which I responded that since they had them there would be no point in giving them back and that the damage had already been done. The elf ran away with this idea; I gave up attempting to explain when she began to talk about stealing the robes off the women in order to procure them without going through Quincel. There’s only so much that you can do, I suppose. This conversation took place as we went forth from the city to battle with a band of ogres. I’m still not fond of them, “them” being rather large fellows with an unfortunate appetite for flesh. I shall say only that I am still not fond of being devoured and that I very much doubt that I will ever get used to that horrid sensation. Unfortunately, in this line of work such things are often unavoidable, even when one makes one’s role that of a combat medic more than a front-line fighter. I reawoke post-resurrection back at Pinnacle with the other humans and hobbits that had accompanied the group; it was humans and hobbits only. Ogres, it would seem, are picky eaters. In any case, it was later in the day at this point - and by “later” I mean that we next ventured to that haunted house to investigate its recent activity. On the way we ran into some followers of the Elder Goddess that had some rather interesting notions of that religion - not the least of which that the Goddess, now dead for some forty years, was still alive and waiting - that involved threatening to kill us if we did not or had not converted. I’m pleased that this encounter did not, however, end in violence and we were able to solve it peacefully (if somewhat deceitfully) and travel onwards to our intended destination after picking up another fellow that reeked of mercenary and who accompanied us. The haunted house was rather musty. It’s not something that one thinks of when one reads about haunted houses - you think of the puzzles and the mysteries, and the trapped imprints of suffering sentient beings. Not must and dust and mold, which there was plenty of inside. Cobwebs, as well - a plethora of cobwebs that ended up coating you from head to toe no matter how you tried to avoid it. Disgusting! But this isn’t what this is about. It was, after all, the haunts that we were after - not the cobwebs! The haunts themselves were swaying through the middle of the house. As they stumbled about the scene of their demise, they went through motions that were quite clearly those of typing ropes and hauling sails and other such sailorly activities. Since the ruffled blue line of the ocean could be seen just out a thickly-paned window caked in dust, I suppose it wasn’t too far a stretch of the imagination that sailorly haunts would be found inside of a house locked solidly onto land. They wove about their business aboard their invisible ship until one began to tug upon a rope and was expediently joined by the other haunts. It appeared that they were hauling something heavy out of the water - the anchor it seemed, until it was fully on board. It appeared to be a chest of some kind, which the sailors proceeded to open and divest of its contents. The wide grins on their faces brought me to think that they had found gold coins or some other multitude of valuable objects, though of course it was impossible to tell since said objects were invisible to us. Haunts, I’ve read, stay past their living welcome because their deaths were so gruesome or horrific that they serve as a warning to others, or that some twist in the field of time has removed something from its proper place and turned it into a riddle to be solved by the living so that the haunts may pass on. I watched, and wondered - what trapped them here? That became clear in time as well as, one by one, the haunts grew ill. They began to shiver, and as the sickness progressed, stumble about again and empty the contents of their stomach upon the deck. One by one, they all died. Meanwhile, there was a horrendous creaking noise coming from the corner of the house that caused an equally horrible tingle in one’s teeth. A few of the other members of our allies had begun to tear up the floorboards - floorboards which, upon contrasting them with the rest of the grimy floor, appeared to be rather new. Curiously enough, beneath the floorboards was a ladder leading down below. We clambered down and found ourselves in a rather narrow passageway. One of the things that I find rather nice about being a hobbit - as opposed to, say, a rather larger human, or even centaur - is that small spaces aren’t quite as small for folks like us. Though everyone else seemed a little squished in, I found that I had plenty of elbow room. Not that I could really see to tell how much; despite that we did have torches, there were only two torches to our parade of some thirty-odd people restricted to a small hall of some kind. The light allowed us to follow the centaur-mercenary forwards, but little else. Not especially far along, the passageway opened up into a large room. With the torches better able to cast their light, we could see the wreckage of a ship scattered every which way - ribs, masts, the remains of what looked like it was a sail in its previous life, and other sea-scoured wood - all covered in what else but even more dust and grit and grime. If I had had the foresight to bring a handkerchief I would have been holding it over my nose. We inspected the ship’s carcass and hadn’t been at it for long when somebody cried out that there was gold on the floor. And indeed there was. Golden coins were strewn all in and amongst the wreckage, as were several swords of various makes. Celia the centaur, one of the elf children, and I immediately arranged ourselves around the swords in order to keep others from touching them and perhaps contracting the disease that had killed the haunts - for that was, I’m sure, what happened. The gold and whatnot that the haunts pulled up was diseased and once they touched it, they contracted the disease as well and died soon thereafter. Our attempt was futile. The swords were eventually made away with, as was the gold. It was about that time that the haunts burst from the ceiling and, possessed with the kind of madness that occurs when they become unduly disturbed. I remember seeing one pale face rise from the chaos and into my field of vision, and then it struck me. I’ve no idea what happened after that. As soon as I was resurrected, I was put into quarantine with the other adventurers that had gone into the haunted house. We had contracted not one, but three diseases. Though two were not especially much to be concerned about, the third was fatal within a few days. That is where I am writing this - from a quarantine sickbed. The herbalists are working to find a cure, and I have faith in their abilities to do so; but the sickness is uncomfortable beyond belief, and I hope that they find a way to heal it - and quickly.
And the Palo Alto Club League chronicle for 01/09/11. (January 2011) --- - Fricking. Vampires. Fricking. Vampires. Fricking. Vampires. I cannot. Repeat this. Enough. Carakwaiths too, for that matter. Not that that's related at all.
- Geb is continuing to be unhappy with Hostor, and the feelings are mutual.
- There are also some Gruumshian orks and/or urukai that are having fun causing general havoc.
---
Celewin Fenwë
I’m scared, and I don’t want to go to sleep. But every time I try to stay awake I can’t, and then I see bad things and I don’t want to see them again. Today was a not-good day.
There was lots of bad stuff. There were sicknesses that come and do bad things to you and kill you, and there were more Geb-people throwing rocks, and there were bad urukai that wanted to hurt lots and lots of people because a person named Gruumsh told them so. Gruumsh is a god, I think. I don’t think I like him very much.
We went to make the orks go away. I ran around and shot them and they fell down. But one hit me in the back and it hurt a lot until Xey came and helped me fix it. Then I went to shoot more, and I tried to help people get better except then another ork hurt me. But after that the orks went bye-bye, so we went back. I want them to stay away.
And when we got back, I saw the human-girl-lady! The one that the dragon said was playing that game. I went and asked her if she remembered the dragon and if she could teach me the game. And she said, “Well, it’s a game I’ve been playing since the day I was born.” So I asked, “And you can’t learn it later?” And she said “No. But there are other games that you can play that I will never be able to.”
She sounded a little bit sad, maybe.
I wonder what games she’s talking about? She can play all the games that I can play... She runs around and she makes the urukai and the meanies go away too, and she listens to the mage-teacher-people, and she walks and talks and I do too. But she said that I can’t play the game or learn the game, so I guess I won’t.
We went to see the mage-teacher-people after that. We got there and Magden was there. I still don’t like him, and he still smells yucky. There were new people there too, and he gave them all armor and weapons and stuff. But after they decided to go hurt the death ogres and the ogres, I saw people talking about him. They were asking him about being in a class. You have to do stuff to be in a class. But I don’t want to be a warrior-person, which makes me happy because then I don’t have to talk to Magden. I want to be a ranger. So I had to talk to the semi-martial person named Shunar.
She’s really pretty. My brother looked at me funny when I said that she was pretty. Hmmph. I’ll bet he thinks she’s pretty too, but he just won’t say it. And she has lots of daggers that she carries around and plays with - a really pretty dagger and a shiny one and one of those black murgantee ones. I like the Shunar-lady lots.
When she was asking what to do, I said that I wanted to go find the missing human-people. They keep disappearing. And I remember the fairytales that Gramma Makani tells me about disappearing-people and that it’s bad, and I don’t want to disappear too. So I told Shunar that we should do that, and she repeated it in a strange voice. But the people ended up deciding to do the goblins riding on the tortoises, so we didn’t do it then.
But afterwards I went and found the Shunar lady and talked to her and said I wanted to be a ranger. She thought I wasn’t old enough. But I can do it! I can do it too, just like the big people can! So I asked please, because please is nice and please always helps, and she said ok. She said that she would train me before I went out if I wanted it, but that in return she wanted information. She wanted to hear stuff that she didn’t know about yet.
I hear lots of stuff. I listen. Mommy and Daddy talk about stuff, and so do Gramma Makani and Grampa Oreyn and Xey’s mommy and lots of people. They talk about stuff. Secret stuff. I listen sometimes, through the door. I don’t know what all of it means, but Shunar might not know about it because it’s supposed to be all secret. Maybe I can tell her some of what they say so that she will let me be a ranger. I think that will work.
After I talked to Shunar all the people had gone away to fight the goblins and tortoises, so I waited until they came back. Then Xey wanted to fight the big shadowy drake. I thought that was stupid, but I didn’t tell Xey that because I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. The drake is too big for me and for Xey. But lots of people wanted to go fight with the drake, so they did. But I stayed behind, because I’m not stupid. The other-people are, though. When the people came back there were not very many of them because the drake and the sharkmolespawn killed a lot of them.
Lots of people wanted to do lots of different things then, so some of the people went to learn how to be mages and some of the people went to go find the disappearing humans. I went with the human-finding people, and so did Xey and my brother. My brother is a life mage now. And Xey is a paladin. There were other people that were mages or warrior or other things, too. And we all went to the place in Pinnacle where all the humans are going away and we started to look for them.
There were lots of people there. I asked some kidses playing catch if they knew about the disappearing people, and they said that everybody disappears near the well, so they told us how to get to the well and we went to the well. But it was a long walk. And it was longer because my stupid brother stopped to talk to a merchant and he was talking and talking and talking so I had to grab at his arm to make him stop talking and go to the well. And then after that we met a funny person with a cloak and a hood. I pulled back his hood and he was a human, and he said he was “investigating the disappearing humans” and we told him about the well. Then we went there.
But I don’t remember what happened when we got to the well. I was suddenly outside of town, and I looked down, and my body was on the ground and I was standing up. I tried to pick up my bow and I couldn’t because my fingers went through it. So I started going back to town and I went to Gramma Makani’s house because I thought I was dead, and she knows what to do with dead people.
I don’t like being dead. And I don’t like not-remembering. I was really really scared when Gramma Makani got back my body and put me inside it, and I was still scared after she finished. She looked really tired. She asked me what happened and I said I don’t know and then she said to run back home to go to Mommy and Daddy so I did. Caydis was there and he was talking to Mommy and Daddy and they both looked angry. Mommy was getting her swords and Daddy was getting his katana and his bow, and they both looked for a silver coin like they sometimes do.
Caydis told me that there was a vampire at the well. The vampire charmed everybody except me because elves can’t be charmed, and then she told all the charmed people to kill me. But they only hurt me lots. So then one of the other people dragged me away, and that’s how I died. I don’t want to remember it.
But I was really mad too then. And I didn’t have my bow, so I went to my room and got the daggers that I found. I wanted to make the vampire hurt. Then we went to the guild place where everybody was meeting, and there were lots of big mages there and everybody went to the well. Except we had to walk a long time again because the well was far away from the guild place. I walked with Xey, and she gave me a mask to wear so that nobody could see that I was an elf and try to kill me. She was wearing one too, and so were lots of other people, but not all of them were elves.
I didn’t like walking through town. I was scared that everybody was charmed and was going to hurt us because my brother said that’s what happened last time. Then there was this big crowd of people. The mage-people started talking to them, and this one lady-person went to my brother. She was flirting with him. There are always girlses hovering around my brother like stupid, floppy butterflies because he’s pretty, but it’s really really annoying. So I pointed one of my daggers at her and told her to go away, and she said all right and went away.
But then all the people in the big crowd started attacking us because they were charmed. I threw one dagger at them and it hurt the person, but I couldn’t find the dagger afterwards so I only had one. I didn’t throw that one because that’s stupid. I looked around and there were lots of friend-people on the streets, so I went and tried to get them up. But my brother was dead, and Celia was dead, and lots of other people were dead so I couldn’t do anything. I got to Xey and she was still breathing so I tried to help her, but one of the charmed-people saw me and hurt me so that I couldn’t help her anymore.
I woke up in an alley on the side of the street. Another life-mage-girl-lady was healing me, and Xey was there. Caydis was there too, but he was still dead.
I was really angry at the people. They keep hurting me and killing me and killing and hurting other people. They make the humans disappear. It felt like I was inside my bow when I draw it and the string gets all tight; it felt like I was a bow string. But I couldn’t let go of the arrow and it was still sitting there and I couldn’t not be tight and it felt bad. I wanted to hurt the vampire and the charmed-people lots. I wanted to make them fall down and bleed just like the people in my dreams. I wanted to make them hurt.
But they weren’t there. So I whispered sorry to my brother, because sometimes sorry makes bad things better, and I started cutting off his ear with my dagger. Then I cut a triangle on his arm, and the blood came out, and it was bright red. Xey was scared and asked me what I was doing, but I was angry, so I stared at her and told her to go away. But she asked if I was all right and didn’t go away, so I got angrier and I told her to go away again. And my hand started hurting, and I looked down, and I saw that I was grabbing on the sharp part of the dagger. Blood started coming out of my hand, and then Xey started backing up.
I saw people moving outside the alley, and remembered the well.
I wanted to hurt them.
So I grabbed Xey and told her to come on and went out of the alley. She was scared, but she came with me. We went with everyone else to the well. When we were walking I kept looking at the blood on my hand, and then I would use my dagger to make more come, and my hand got really red and shiny. Xey got out a piece of paper and told me to cut that instead, so I did. I ripped the paper and stabbed it with the dagger and then it was lots of little pieces, and I stabbed the pieces into the ground until I couldn’t see them. But it didn’t help, and I was still angry.
Then we got to the well. People were looking down the well; then some of them jumped into it or went down in ropes. I don’t remember. Caydis was there again too; I think somebody helped him. A lot of the dead-people were there. I tried to look at the well, but there were lots of people there and they were around the well like a fence and I couldn’t get through. So I looked at the other people.
And things started happening; people started getting hurt. And some of the adventurer-people needed somebody that could tell who is lying so that they could figure out what happened, and I went with them because I know about lies and helped. Except that the first person was turned into a tree, so we had to wait for him to be not-a-tree so that I could ask him if he hurt the other person. But when I asked and I watched him when he answered, it didn’t look like he was lying. There was another person that was cutting wood, and lots of people said that he had hurt somebody with an axe, but when I asked he said that he was cutting wood and the person must have gotten in the way. It didn’t look like he was lying, either. But later I saw him, and it looked like he was trying to hurt the person. I don’t know what happened.
I didn’t know what to do then. I walked around. I was still angry, and I needed to hurt something but there were no vampires or charmed-people so I kept hurting my hand with the dagger instead. There was lots of blood. Drops fell on the street and made little dots in the ground. Lots and lots of them, and they were red. I was watching them. Then another man came and told me that the peasants near the well were trying to cover it up. There were lots of people down there, though, and what the peasants were doing was not good. So I ran over to them and waved my dagger at their faces and yelled at them really loud to go away. They went away really fast, and they didn’t cover up the well. I tried to look inside the well, but it was dark; all I could hear was lots of screaming and splashing. I wanted to know what was down there, but Xey said no and Caydis said no, so I walked away from the well.
Xey found me, and she looked at my hand. I looked too; it didn’t look like a hand anymore. She gave me another piece of paper, but it wasn’t the same. So she drew a hand on it. I looked at it, but it was just a piece of paper. Paper doesn’t make blood, and paper doesn’t feel anything. Paper isn’t a person. So I said that she should keep the paper. So Xey told me that because she is my friend it was her duty to heal me. Then she did a paladin-thing and touched my hand, and I watched and the blood stopped coming and the dagger-hurts went away and my hand looked like a hand again. It felt funny, and it looked funny.
Then the human-girl-lady came too. We started talking, and I think we started arguing; I don’t remember anymore. She told me not to do something, I think. But we were mad, and I was making my hand bloody again, and we stared at each other’s eyes to try and make the other person go away. We stared for a long time. But I stopped first, because I don’t think the human-girl-lady was going to stop.
Another man walked by; he was the one that threw the necromancy spells at the blue dragon when we were playing the game. He looked at me, and he said, “Cutting yourself doesn’t help anything, you know.” I said, “I know.” But I didn’t stop. Xey kept healing my hand, again and again and again.
I looked at the well, and my brother was standing there. There were lots of people there with him. I walked over and watched, and he lifted one of his life mage spells over the well and then dropped it down. There was a big scream then. Then he threw the other one down, and there was a little bit of light, and I we could see that there were lots of limbs and the water was red like my hand.
Then the air started feeling funny, and I was very scared. It felt like everything was shivery, or there were bugs crawling all over me, except there weren’t any. Then five people came out of nowhere, all around the well. One of them was Embarcarious. I also saw Oditan and Melissa, and another mage and a pretty-lady-mage that I didn’t know. Embarcarious said something to the pretty-lady-mage about teleporting, and she did a mage thing, and then everything inside the well was on the street.
It smelled really, really bad. It was like zombies smell, but it was like if there were a million zombies. There were arms and legs that weren’t attached to bodies everywhere, and there were heads, and there were the inside-your-body parts, and everything was covered in lots and lots of blood. Lots of the mage-people that came with us were there, and I think there were zombies there, and maybe something else.
We went back to the guild place after that. Melissa and Oditan and the mage that I didn’t know looked like they were hiding something in their cloaks, but I couldn’t see. When we were inside, Embarcarious talked to us. He said that they all came because there was maybe a noble vampire there. But he said that it was all in control now and that the mage-teacher-people would be looking and seeing which ones were vampires.
Xey walked up next to me then. She touched my hand again, and it healed. I looked at her. She is a little different, now that she is a paladin. She is quieter, and calmer. More ‘sponsible.
I whispered to her, “Thank you.”
She whispered back, “Thank you for being my friend.”
The man with the necromancy spell came over too, then. He was quiet, but when he talked, he was nice. He looked at me and shook his head and said, “Take it from me; the pain doesn’t help.”
I still want to hurt the vampires. They do mean things. But I’m not angry anymore; I’m scared now. I don’t want want to see them in my dreams. I don’t want to fall asleep. But I know that when I wake up Xey will still be my friend, and the human-girl-lady will still be around, and so will the man-with-the-necromancy-spell, and so will Celia. So even though the dreams are scary, they will still be there, and that makes me a little less afraid to sleep. I will remember that.
---
(And a special appearance from...)
Enyari Fenwë
How could this have happened? How could this have happened? That they have dared - those motherless, blood-chewing, gods-warped thrice-damned sons of sickly mules. Will they leave nothing untouched? Is there nothing that they will not do? They took Ëon - took him, broke him, used him. Used him to get to my companions, and used him to get to me. They forced us to forsake everything good about this world and everyone that makes a life worth living; they perverted us and used us all to fight our own allies and attack our own friends. And now - and now, this.
It’s been nearly ten years. Ten years since we adopted them, and nothing happened. I had dared - dared! - to hope that maybe nothing ever would, and that they at least would be safe. And now - now, out of nowhere - they dare to touch my children.
There will be a reckoning. Our prey are moving again, and the time is coming quickly to act upon our own plan. Terisio and I have agreed - we will begin by enlightening our children as to the forces that are at work. Now that they have been touched by it in this way, continuing to keep them ignorant will do more harm than good. Gods willing, I hope that they’re not too shaken by what happened to them today. I know that I am, and that Terisio is.
I must leave now; Terisio and I are about to depart to take a look at the well for ourselves, and perhaps to find a contact or two. And if, by chance, we should encounter another one - Vidarr help me, I’ll rip its entrails out through its throat and make sure that it dies a second time. There will be a reckoning.
Outline for 02/05/11 - Palo Alto Advanced: (February 2011)
- Geb has been coming along and kidnapping hobbits, taking them away to Geb, and quite probably torturing them. They were dealt with, I think?
- There was a troll division heading to join up with Gruumsh fighters. We tried to move them off track and kind of sort of put them off course but they managed to join up anyway.
- The green dragon that's attacking ships is attacking Pinnacle's ships (don't remember if she's attacking other ships as well, or just Pinnacle's).
- There was a death knight roaming around Pinnacle with a piece of a message in hand. Said message was found, in code, and given for translation. The note has not been returned.
-----
And now...
Chronicle for 02/06/11 - Palo Alto Club League (February 2011)
Celewin Fenwë
I miss Mommy and Daddy. Me and Caydis were at Xey’s house last night because Mommy and Daddy had to go somewhere, so they left us there. But then they didn’t come back. And I know that sometimes they go away because they have to do stuff but they always leave us with Elwickett and Raven and they always say when they’ll be back and they didn’t say this time. And they’re not back, and I miss them. I want them to be back. I hope they’re not dead-dead or disappeared like the people by the well. I really really want them to not be.
So I spent the night at Xey’s house with her and Caydis and then in the morning Mommy and Daddy still weren’t back. So when we went adventuring today it was from Xey’s house, not from mine and Caydis’s. That was different. But it wasn’t bad or anything. And then we saw the different thing happening in Pinnacle, and there was still lots of bad stuff. There are even more Geb people now and they’re even angrier, and there are more Gruumsh people and they’re still angry. And a big green dragon is attacking lots of ships in Pinnacle and nobody knows why, and that’s bad too. But I think the big green dragon is supposed to be a protector-person, so maybe there’s something bad about the ships.
And then Embarcarious came out and said stuff. The first thing he said is that Melissa was sick. In a coma. And she’s not going to be here today. And he isn’t going to be either because he’s going to be with Melissa. Melissa is scary sometimes - she sometimes seems like she has dead insides. It’s not-good. But it’s also not-good that she’s sick. Then the other thing he said was that there was a death knight with a message yesterday, except it was only part of a message. So he thinks there are more death knights with more message parts, so he told us to go do that before they go away.
Even though we left to go find death knights, we found Geb-people first. There were lots of them. They says that “we’re claiming this land for Geb!” but I think that’s stupid because this is Pinnacle, not Geb. They can’t have it! It’s our place. They can stay in their place. But they kept saying it was theirs, and there was lots of arguing between our big bunch of people and their big bunch of people. I wanted to stick them with my daggers to make them be quiet and go away, but Xey said no because we’re supposed to be finding death knights. So then I asked the human-girl-lady if she could do something and she said she might.
But then the Geb-people and us started fighting-fighting instead of talk-fighting, so I did stick them with daggers and other peoples stuck them with swords and then the Geb-people were all bloody and on the ground. And there was a big bird on the ground too, so I poked at it and made it better. But then it woke up and it picked me up and started flying away. It had really really big claws and I was scared and screaming, and it flew me across the river and put me down. The man that the big bird belongs to said that the big bird liked me, but then he said that I was just a little kid and shouldn’t be there. I hate it when people say that! I can fight just like they can! So why do they tell me I can’t when I can? They’re stupid.
Then after that there were more stupid-Geb-people, and we fought them and fought them. I was very careful fighting because I still don’t have a bow; just two daggers. And even though I didn’t want to throw them, I did when the death knight came.
The death knight was very strange. It looked like it was a person wearing armor, except there was nothing inside the armor. Kinda like it was floating, I guess. But it came in the middle of the Geb-people, and I saw it and threw a dagger at it. Except I missed, and then I wanted to go get it, but the death knight was next to it and I didn’t want to fight-fight the death knight. But then it started running, so I picked up the dagger and chased it and I was hoping that the people fighting the Geb-people would see and chase it too. It took a little bit but they did, which is good because even though I can fight the Geb-people I don’t want to try to fight the death knight yet. They’re big and my daggers don’t do anything to it. But the other peoples’ weapons hurt it and it fell down. People found a part of a message that the death knight had, and then they treeformed it.
Some people could fly so they went back to tell the mage teachers. That way, the mage teachers could talk to the death knight. But we had to make it a tree so that it wouldn’t wake up while we waited. And while we were waiting, another death knight came. That one had lots of undead-things with it. Crawly, sneaky bones with spells. Most people went to fight them, but me and Xey and a few other people stayed with the death-knight-tree and guarded it. But then Xey pointed at a bow in the middle of the field with nobody with it. I still needed a bow, and there was nobody there, so I ran and took it and ran back to the death-knight-tree. I used it a little bit, but then the undead were dead-dead or not by the death knight. And a man came back and said he wanted his bow back, but I said no because I found it and I need a bow. And we argued a little bit like the Geb-people and Pinnacle-people, and when we stopped he let me keep it. I’m glad, because bows are fun.
There were some other people with a death knight, and then the human-girl-lady found another piece of paper from nowhere in the air, and then we went back. Then we had two pieces of paper that we found. There was the one that the people yesterday found too, but the man that wanted it translated didn’t have it back yet so I don’t know where that one was. But we had the two pieces, and that was good. I stopped a little bit after that because I was tired, but the other people went out and they found Geb-people and Gruumsh-people and fighted them. Then they came back, and when they came back we went to go look at the well again.
I wanted to go to the well, but I also not-wanted to go to it. Because the well makes me remember bad things. But I wanted to know and make sure that there weren’t bad things happening, too, and make sure Mommy and Daddy weren’t there. So I went anyway.
Walking through town made me and Xey mad. All of the big people on the streets are mean and stupid because they kept telling me and Xey not to be here and to go home because we’re kids and that we don’t know anything. Well I think they don’t know anything. We heard it lots when we were walking to the well, and we were walking for a long time. But we finally found it, and the person that had rope dangled it into the well. Celia held it because she’s a centaur and she’s big, and Xey was about to go down but I touched her shoulder and told her that we were going to go down together. She nodded, and we did. Because I didn’t want bad things to happen and Xey to be there all alone, so I wanted to maybe help her if something did happen.
We climbed down a little and started spiraling around the inside of the well and pulling out the stair-bricks. There were lots and lots and lots of them, and it took a long time. There were more of them down at the bottom, too, but they were underwater and we couldn’t get them. Xey tried with diving underwater, but they were slippery and she’s not an amazon so it didn’t work. Once we had the stairs out people started coming down - Aelfwine brought light down because he’s a flame mage and he makes candles, and the human-girl-lady came down to look at things, and so did a necromancer-centaur. It got crowded very very fast, and people were making lots of noise. The well was stone and it made lots of echoes when people talked and it hurt my ears, so when things still weren’t happening I climbed back up and stayed out of the well where things didn’t make echoes.
All the climbing made me tired again, though, so I rested while people kept looking at the well. I didn’t sleep much because I was at Xey’s house and it was different and a little bit scary at night so it was hard to sleep. So I kept being tired again and again. But I was still listening and I heard when somebody pushed a button on the top of the well. There was scraping and splashes and people screaming, and I was scared for a little bit because Xey was still down there but it was just because the button made the steps go back inside the well. So it wasn’t bad-bad. And they kept looking and looking after that but they didn’t find things. So we went back.
When we went back I didn’t go back to the place where we meet everybody; I went to find Shunar instead. I was thinking and thinking and trying to find something that Shunar wouldn’t know so that I could be a ranger, and I thought I found something. But I had to find Shunar first, and that took a while. But I found her and I was careful when I told her because it’s supposed to be a secret, and I told her not to tell anybody. I’m not gonna say what it was because it is a secret, but when I told her she let me be a ranger and she trained me. I like being a ranger! And I can fight better now.
While I was training lots of people did different things. Xey and Caydis and some other people went to learn about Elder Sorcery and then dreams and mind-stuff with Oditan, and lots of other people went to fight more Geb-people. Except when they came back not many of them came back, and lots of them were covered in red. But we still had to make them go away, and not many people were going, so I had to go and help a little bit too. It’s okay now that I have my bow and I’m a ranger, anyway.
But then while we were waiting, Magden came out. That was bad, because Magden is bad. But he had murgantee, and that was really really really bad. He always has murgantee, but I always stay far away from him. He was close now, and the murgantee was close, and I couldn’t go far away. Murgantee is bad. It’s black and nighttime and hungry-hungry, always wanting to kill and wanting to eat. It’s cold and evil and it’s screams and people running and screaming and dying and -
- Xey poked my shoulder and asked if I’d felt morganti before. I said yes because Magden and Shunar have it. But she said but what about when it’s not with the council-people; she thinks its scary. It’s very scary, and I hate murgantee. I answered Xey with yes, and she asked when, but I didn’t want to tell her, so I said no. She didn’t ask more. I’m glad.
We went out with Magden and his murgantee and his guards and we went to fight the big Geb-people with their lots of spells and classes and things. We were very close - we could see them - when Xey turned and told me not to die. I told her not to die too. Then Caydis turned too and grabbed me and told me not to die too because Mommy and Daddy won’t like it. I made an angry face at him and told him that Mommy and Daddy aren’t here.
I want them back. I want Mommy and Daddy! They’re still not here, and I want them to be.
But then we went onto the battlefield and started fighting the Geb-people. They threw lots of things at me - fire-spells and death-spells and other things - and I was dancing around them, dancing when they got near my feet so they wouldn’t hurt me. And I was dancing with my hands too - I was shooting lots of arrows and I threw knives again and again and again very fast, because they were close and I didn’t want to die. But I did get hurt, and Xey or Celia did a paladin-thing and I was better and kept fighting.
But then Xey ran away across the field. I wanted to run with her and make sure she wouldn’t die, but more Geb-people blocked the way and I couldn’t follow her. They hurt me, and I think they hurt me more, and I died. I hurt lots when I woke up alive again with the people that make you alive again in the mage school. I’m glad because Xey was all right and Celia was all right and most people weren’t hurt too much, even though one of the Geb-people had murgantee just like Magden. I hope that person is gone and won’t come back.
But Xey and Celia did come back, and we had those papers from the death knights. They were in a funny writing with lots of lines and dashes and bends and things. I know how to find out what they say because Gramma Makani and Mommy and Daddy taught me how, and Xey and Celia know how too, so we spent a long time trying to read it and write it down so other people could read it. There were still two pieces missing - the top piece that they found yesterday and a bottom piece that they didn’t find yet but that doesn’t look like it has any writing anyway so it doesn’t matter. We made the writing make sense, and we’re going to see when the other piece comes back, and then we’ll know what it says. The man that found it thinks somebody stole it, so I hope people know how to find sneaky-thief-people and get it back. Because I think the paper is very, very important, and it says important things. And they’re not good things. Not at all.
Mommy and Daddy still aren’t back, and I still miss them. I went back with Xey, and Xey’s mommy went to check our house and Gramma’s house and other places but nobody was still there so I’m staying with Xey again. Xey is nice and her sisters are nice and her mommy and daddy are nice, but... the house is still scary. The house makes me not want to sleep. At home I know that shadows aren’t real, but the shadows are different here. I hope they come home soon. I really, really miss them, and I’m scared.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 18:41:57 GMT -8
...Hi. So, in addition to this, I have a couple other chronicles that I’m not going to post to the forums. But basically, if you (meaning your characters) have any idea what all was going on during February and you want to read the chronicles and use what they say as in-game information, tell me and I’ll email them to you. (...Also because I’m sad that I have 40ish pages of awesome chronicle about awesome things and nobody to share them with. ) ----- Chronicle for Palo Alto Club League - 03/06/11 (March 2011) --- - The High Queen visited Pinnacle and had talks focusing around the idea of unification. The talks.... did not go well.
- The wraith (and some kind of fricked up demon/cave troll hybrid) were dealt with; we found the body of an exorcised sired-by-vampire in the cave that they were lurking around.
- A phoenix and a bunch of magic items were found in that ancient temple recently discovered on Mt. Hoss.
- The Gruumsh paladins and the Geb troops were both dealt with.
- The goblin “spies” have been (for the moment) turned over to “spy” for us.
- Oh, and people went ogre-hunting thanks to Ogreslayer.
- And Melissa’s “back”. Given that she walked into the inn holding a head that was oozing some kind of black... well... ooze. I say “back” because we know she’s alive and well but she “has to go be in a coma”.
--- Enyari FenwëI’ve never been especially fond of parties, excepting those smaller celebrations with family and close friends. Nor am I fond of the delicate, nitpicky dance of diplomatic niceties and canny banter that oozes through every pore of the political game. Yet still, I pay homage to duty; and it was for duty that I found myself present at the gala given to welcome the visiting foreign dignitary to Pinnacle. It was a simpler sort of affair at first, and with a very hobbitish spin; the food and drink both flowed heavily and were enjoyed greatly by those that partook. But it wasn’t too far through the festivities before we were ushered into one of the mage school’s great halls to await the appearance of the honored guest. Scores upon scores filed into the room and, slowly, began to fill it to its very brim. Up until this moment, we had been allowed to keep our weapons by our sides; now, we were instructed to set those weapons and any other magical objects in a ring of open space outside the circle of protection that was set to raise once all present had divested themselves of those goods. It was with reluctance that I placed my wakasahis outside the circle, and my wedding ring with them; I understood why it was necessary, and agreed with the safety measures that this represented - but that didn’t mean that I was going to have to like them. Even after all these years, I still hate not having a means of protecting myself. I’ve been jumped one too many times, I think. I looked at the assembled council. They were all there, excepting Melissa the Scald; and, given her particular situation, that wasn’t especially surprising. The rest of them were present, though, albeit without their weapons or spells either - excepting Lord Embarcarious, who had only his usual staff. Magden Threebeards, I must say, looked particularly uncomfortable at this arrangement; if in regards to little else, I can sympathize with his discomfort at lacking a weapon at his side. What can I say? Even if you know you’re not going to use it, the weight is still reassuring all the same. Once the last person put his equipment outside the bounds, the circle’s edge began to raise; it was difficult to tell through the murmurings echoing around the room’s walls, but it sounded as if a subtle hum slipped into the air as the circle went up around us. I could feel, with some unknown sense, that the circle was very thick; as if it had been wrapped around the room many, many times. The exception was a small, door-shaped space backing an actual door behind the council, which was left protectionless - I presumed - to let the dignitary enter. A moment passed, and then the door - the physical door set in the wall - opened. Briefly, the room turned dark and a black-cloaked figure stood in the room; then, just as quickly, the figure disappeared and the room returned to normality. It was so fast that I wasn’t entirely sure that I hadn’t imagined it; I supposed that the figure had been some covert member of the dignitary’s guard and put it from my mind as I watched the figures enter. There were four of them. The first was a woman - a warrior and guard, by the looks of her - with a morganti sword. The second was a woman wearing a grand, richly embroidered robe; that would be the dignitary. The third and fourth people through the door were none other than Hamil Lighthand and Laura Whitelocks - primary members of the Wizard Trade Order. All of them, excepting the dignitary, were carrying morganti swords; it didn’t matter how difficult it was to see - you could feel its aura work its way all the way down to your bones. And I don’t know what it was about the sword, but Lighthand’s weapon was even more terrifying than any other morganti I can remember ever feeling - and definitely more than the other morganti present. I inwardly shuddered, then looked at the dignitary again. It was difficult to see against her hair from this distance, but adorning her crown was a thin, silver circlet. I thought for a moment, and then it struck me - ...was that the Queen? Víðarr! She was, indeed, the High Queen of Roekron. Her Highness Kunai Kendrai stepped up to a podium; as she did so, the room dimmed. I hope that the historians of future times will forgive me, as I can’t recall the exact wording of the speech that she gave; only the meaning of the words and what I took to be the meaning of those meanings. Skies above, diplomatic framing is irritating. First, as any person properly schooled in etiquette would do, she thanked those assembled for welcoming her to Pinnacle. She then continued on to explain the reason for her visit to Hostor: she needed to discuss several issues with the archmages of Pinnicle. This would mean, she said, that they would be very busy until the talks were concluded - which, she said pointedly, would hopefully be by the end of the day, or perhaps by the beginning of the afternoon. I’m sure you’d like that, wouldn’t you, your Highness? An easy agreement? It’s not that simple, I’m afraid... ah, youth. Even though I imagine she’s been groomed for a courtly position all her life - perhaps not queen, but part of the court - I must say that she seems to have a lot to learn. And if she thought that her implicit threat was subtle, well, I can’t say that I agree. She continued on to apologize for keeping our mage teachers away from us; she was aware that there was some sort of process involving the inn? Well, she would try to make sure there was somebody there when we needed them; nevertheless, these talks were very important, and though unfortunate it was a necessity that our mage teachers spend a day away from us. She paused, and looked at Embarcarious. Then she glanced at Laura Whitelocks and slowly said that she had heard that our teacher of flame magic - that is, Melissa the Scald - was indisposed at the moment, and she offered her condolences for the tragedy that had befallen her. She glanced at Laura Whitelocks again. “Perhaps,” she suggested, “you require your old teacher here?” She glanced at Laura Whitelocks once again. Embarcarious, bless his soul, turned and thanked the Queen for her suggestion but that as he recalled she had no jurisdiction here; having Laura Whitelocks return to her old position would not be necessary. With that, we were dismissed; the Queen’s speech was over, and we were free to retrieve our weapons (once the Queen left the room with her guards, which she did shortly thereafter) and make our ways to the inn to take care of important matters. Such as, for example, that wraith. I remember, near twenty years ago now, the last time that we let undead go mostly unheeded. That time, it was all those skeletons and the two kidnapped students. And that time, a vampire eventually turned up. I remember the havoc that that caused... and I wasn’t about to let it happen again. As I’ve said before, there will be a reckoning. And now that we’ve had time to prepare, the time has come for us to resume our Hunt. And even if it turned out that the wraith was its own happenstance, in light of recent events I still desperately needed to rip something apart. Some things are better expressed on hostile creatures than at one’s family. We went out not long afterwards; the decision had been relatively swift and concise, for which I’m thankful. It was mostly a quiet trek to the area where the wraith was said to be located; the only thing that we ran into was a group of zombies, which I let the younger adventurers deal with. They need the experience. Once those had been dealt with, we walked on; Terisio fell into step beside me. He had evidently decided to turn into a troll using that rather useful axe - not a bad idea, or so I thought at the time. Once we happened upon the wraith’s rumored roaming area, we discovered that it had been busy; a multitude of smaller, more harmless undead - like the zombies that we had encountered earlier - roamed the field, as did what appeared to be some sort of undead cave troll. Looking closer, it also appeared that the troll was carrying spell stones. That was a bit of a twist; luckily, I was equipped to deal with it. I headed straight for it and, once close enough, dueled it. It was very slow, I discovered; it shouldn’t have been a surprise, I suppose, given that it was both undead and a cave troll - but then, if it has spells, you never know. Magic is a tricky little tool. And it tried to use magic; a death ray, at least, and a few others. Some of the spells missed, and some of them simply reflected back at the cave troll - either way, they didn’t affect me. I marveled, as I scored wounds across its hide, how easily my blade cut through its thick skin and armor; Joy is an impressive weapon. As I said, magic is a tricky little tool - I just prefer it in the form of weaponry rather than spells. It wasn’t too terribly long before the cave troll fell - for the moment. It appeared to be respawning; I supposed that I shouldn’t be surprised. It would probably be back up a few more times. As I looked at the troll thought occurred to me - when I had only just started adventuring, there had been another cave troll in Pinnicle. Melissa sent us out to fight it repeatedly, and despite our best efforts we kept coming back mostly dead every time. It hadn’t even been out of the ordinary, like this one; just, as far as I remembered, a normal cave troll. Taking on this one would have, at the time, been unthinkable - and certainly not single-handedly. But it didn’t seem so bad anymore; time, and experience, changes a lot of things. I stood there, intending to wait until it stood back up so that I could duel it again, when there was a puff of air behind me and an powerful impact upon my back. Everything turned dark. Well, I’d found the wraith. Or rather, it had found me. Either way, it was definitely active. Not too long after that, I don’t think, somebody that apparently had the ability to rebirth me was brought to my body and put me back in fighting order. By the end of the battle, I was very glad that he was around; the number of times that I died was rather impressive. One of the reasons that I dislike wraiths is their ability to pop out of nowhere and kill you with a single blow. Nevertheless, I managed to catch a wraith while it was still in the material plane, and dueled it before it could slip into the ethereal plane again. And so the battle went. I went back and forth between the wraith when I could find it, and the cave troll when I couldn’t; both seemed to be respawning, and the wraith had a nasty habit of slaying me. I briefly took a few breaks to scan the battlefield for anyone that needed healing, too; that is, as a paladin, one of my duties - not only to fight, but to heal. It was during one of these breaks that, as I was tangled in a small knot of fellow adventurers, Terisio wandered over in his troll form and started to hew away at our own companions. Hells-damned wraiths... I dueled him to keep him from hurting anyone else, and went to parrying his attacks. While that was going on, I tried to calm him down and persuade him not to attack; that failing, I yelled for somebody with remove charm. Once said somebody arrived, a few others flanked Terisio; I bowed out, and they knocked him out. The paladin removed the charm, and once he was back on his feet, he was also returned to his normal self. It’s one of the problems with shape-changing; even though he’s an elf and generally immune to charms and the like, as a troll he’s not. I’m just glad that we learned that lesson now, rather than sometime in the future when it could have made a very great difference. The battle went on. It was largely the same as what I have described before, so I won’t fill up more space than is due. Eventually, the cave troll was permanently brought down; the wraith, I believe, retreated at that point, and we dragged the troll back to Pinnicle. Now that we could see it a little more easily, some of the necromancers were saying that there was something “off” about it - something not quite like an undead should be. That in mind, we got the troll identified once we were safely back inside the city’s walls. As it turned out, the cave troll wasn’t just that - it was some kind of hybrid between a troll and, of all things, a demon. I can’t say that I particularly savor the combination. The question arose, then - had the wraith, as had been previously assumed, been controlling the cave troll? Or had it been the other way around? It did make some amount of difference; if it was the former, the wraith was still at large and wandering around. If it was the latter, it might have departed by now and would no longer be a problem. Or, the third option that nobody mentioned: something else had been controlling them both. I clenched Joy’s hilt and wished, for a numberlessly numerously numbered time, that I possessed a whiteclaw dagger. These questions in mind, we - or at least, some of us - decided to return to the site of the battle to investigate the area a little more. There had been a cave in the area that might contain something interesting, and that might shed a little more light on those mysteries. Plus, Marcus’s silveel sword had been taken by the wraith and we had decided that it would be useful to go and get it back. I’m glad he’s lost some of his stubborn argumentativeness over the last many years; he’s actually not entirely unpleasant to fight alongside anymore. And that gone, he makes a good ally. Those that didn’t go to the cave went down to the Warrior Tombs in order to retrieve a helmet for a man that would pass on to his gods at the end of the day if he didn’t have it. I suppose that, as a warrior myself, I should be expected to journey down there someday and attempt to pass the trials that they present; but I don’t like to think about the one time that I found myself down there before. Some things, though not best forgotten, are best not remembered. I’ll say that they returned successfully, with not only the helmet but also several other items; maybe someone will tell the full story. I won’t dwell on it any more than I must. As for our own side of things - the journey to the cave was very quiet. I suppose that we had likely scared off anything in the area before; or maybe we were just lucky. There didn’t seem to be anything around the mouth of the cave, either, so we proceeded inside. It was dark, but what we could see of the interior reminded me of the lava tubes; come to think of it, these were probably an extension of them, or another piece of them. I kept a grip on the hilts at my side. Call me paranoid, but as I’ve said before, I think I’ve been jumped one too many times. A bright, piercing cry sounded from the ceiling; startled, I looked up and saw a hawk perched on an outcropping. It was Terisio; I smiled, and he glided down to land on my shoulder. As we ventured in further, I tickled him under his beak, and he nestled into my head. That, as much as the blades at my side, soothed my nerves. And there didn’t seem to be a terrible much to be nervous of, anyway; the cave seemed as deserted as the area outside. It wasn’t long before we stumbled upon a pile of weapons - the silveel sword, and others - which appeared to be and was completely unguarded by the wraith or other such beings. We pressed on further into the cave after those had been collected, looking around for any sign of the wraith or anything else similarly nasty. It always seems like the worst ones are underground. Then, on the edge of the light cast by the torch, we saw a candle. Then another, and another, and another. As we neared the area, it became clear that they were a part of some kind of ritual space - which was, quite charmingly, inhabited by a dead body that appeared to have committed suicide. We clustered around, examining it; one man accidentally bumped the figure’s wrist with the tip of his boot, and the wrist crumbled into dust. Others began to gently poke at it, and every place that they touched - shoulder, arm, eye, foot, anywhere - turned to dust with a soft sigh. Terisio - now reverted from his hawk form - crouched down and inspected it; and, upon looking inside its mouth, realized that the figure was a Sired-by Vampire. It seemed that the alternative third option of “something else” controlling both the demon and the wraith hadn’t been too far off after all. And while this sired-by wouldn’t be capable of it, where you have sired-by vampires, you also have a true vampire. I crept up behind Linder and whispered, “Not one of yours, is it?” She shook her head. I backed off, and sighed. One of these days, Terisio and I are going to have to do something about her; I still have my oath, after all. But she’s still a child, though soon to grow out of it. The day that it comes will set bloodily. But I wish it were not so. One of the guildmaster necromancers, having inspected the ritual by this time, announced that it was some kind of Elder Sorcery of necromancy ritual. From my own observations - judging by the dusty state of the vampire, which was getting worse by the second - it had been exorcised. I wondered - by whom? Of course, there was the obvious answer. It would make sense that she would be hunting, while she still had the freedom to. After the rest of the party decided that there was nothing more to be gleaned from staying, they began to trek back out of the cave. Terisio and I followed them for a while, then doubled back - it would be easier to give the area a good looking-over now that it was not filled with people. There was a scuttling noise ahead of us, and a man ran off after the party; when we got back to the vampire, it was nothing but a pile of scattered dust. I shook my head. Kids. It’s one of the drawbacks of working with the younger adventurers. But they’ll learn, eventually. We took a look around the ritual and further down the cave, both on the material plane and in the ethereal realm. In both cases, we didn’t find much of note; maybe some smaller creatures back in the other cave passageways, but nothing worth dealing with. They would mind their own business. There didn’t seem to be anything else notable in the caves - just the ritual, and the pile of dust that had once been a vampire. Terisio and I eventually walked back out the cave ourselves, and quickly caught up with the party as its members clomped back to town. Having filed into the inn, we waited for an apprentice mage - as had been coming to direct us in place of the teachers - and arranged ourselves around the room. I leaned against a quieter wall on the edge of the room. A steady babble began to fill the room as we let the time slip through our fingers; it grew louder and louder, until one had to shout to be heard over the rumble. It kept building, until - A sudden ruckus at the inn’s door broke through the chatter; the forms of dark silhouettes, framed in the light streaming through the door, were unidentifiable at first. A voice - female - was saying with a slightly impatient edge, “I don’t see how this is a problem!”. And then, quick as you please, Hamil Lighthand and the other of the High Queen’s guards were swinging morganti to clear a path for Her Highness. The Lighthand’s blade whizzed inches away from one man’s head, and missed striking him by a hair’s breadth; then, on the backswing, it collided full-on into another man. He collapsed. The Queen, not appearing to notice, stepped to the front of the inn and looked us over. She seemed a little flustered; it seemed that the talks weren’t going as well as she had hoped. Or it could simply be a usual state; busy as she must generally be, she would have good reason to be flustered. She said something that was incoherent through the room’s rather loud mutterings and the murmurs of those crouched around the wounded man, and then she raised her voice and asked what we though of the idea of unification - of uniting the provinces of Roekron, Pinnacle included. People hesitated; then, a few brave souls volunteered that it sounded good. And, given the state of Roekron right now - limited travel between provinces, suspicion oozing around any outsiders, and only the tatters of traditional alliances left - it did sound good. But it’s more complicated than that. Kyrin first, and then others, paused; then asked, “United under who?”. The Queen said that, as the High Queen, it would make sense for the provinces to be united under her - it was, after all, her right. Questions and comments bubbled back and forth; the Queen listened for a few more moments, then announced that she thought it sounded like we were supportive of unification. With that, she and her guards swept out the door again. I had been trying to attain her attention in a rather less rude manner than the majority of the party had been utilizing - after all, there is a certain level of etiquette that must be heeded. But, between the babble and my isolated corner of the room, I hadn’t been able to get a word in edgewise. My own thoughts on the unification were thus: Pinnacle has a long history of independence - from the mainland, from the Wizard Trade Order, and from the general affairs that go on therein; it makes sense, of course, even from a geographic standpoint - given that Pinnacle is an island nation and has a physical independence from the mainland. History that runs long and that deep is hard to throw away at a moment’s notice; it becomes ingrained into the culture, eventually. I’m sure that cooperation would go over well - and would be desirable, given the current state of Roekron’s provinces - but complete unification? Not a chance. Not here in Pinnacle. It would take time. More time than the Queen’s life will last, even if she lives to the ripe old age that her grandfather managed. But that’s neither here nor there, right now; I’m sure that the mage teachers of Pinnacle know that better than I, and have the situation in hand. At the moment, there was a different situation at hand - that of the man struck with morganti. An apprentice had rushed over and begun to iceball him in order to keep him from dying so quickly; and, after some time, it became clear that he would live - just barely. He had to keep his helmet on and stay in the presence of his horse, otherwise he would die. Just as this fact was being deduced, the room flashed dark; it was as if all the light in it was being suppressed, or was simultaneously put out. A small, anonymous figured wrapped in a black cloak - the same that had been seen briefly before the Queen walked in to address us at the gala - appeared where the queen had been standing only moments ago; then, very quickly, she - for from her voice, she was a she - began to speak. She told us, in more words than this, to search for the inverse. I listened intently to her voice; it sounded familiar. People began to whisper excited echoes of “Ebony!”, for Ebony, the former Head of Necromancy, had been known for wearing a black cloak - but no. Her voice wasn’t quiet, nor dreamy enough. I listened a little more, and - ah. Of course. She was taking a risk, appearing like this - and a big one, at that - but I assumed that she knew what she was doing. Though I also wondered how great a defiance of Embarcarious’s wishes this would constitute. She finished speaking. Quickly as she had come, she vanished again; light returned to the room once she departed. After all the events, I was itching to go out again and work out some of my pent-up stress on the battlefield; gods know, I’ve had my share of it recently. We ended up choosing to investigate an ancient, recently-uncovered temple high up on Mt. Hoss, and departed quickly. I don’t think that I was the only one that was a little shaken by the turbulence just inside the latest meeting in the inn. We began to wind up one of the trails cut into the mountainside, searching for the spot where the temple was purportedly located. After passing around one bend, we were greeted by a group of kobolds that rushed out weapons-first towards us. Once more, I stayed back to let the younger crowd deal with them, mostly scanning the area for anyone that needed healing. I caught Kyrin out of the corner of my eye midway through the battle; she was standing over an already-wounded kobold and fiercely hacking at its flesh. I started towards her, but by the time I reached the scene, the kobold was dead. I sighed, and told her that no matter how much you think it might help, killing things is the wrong way to deal with one’s emotions. There’s a difference between disabling a creature that was already hostile and actively committing murder on a helpless figure - and murder isn’t a good way to go about it. She scowled at me a little and responded that she wouldn’t do it again, and walked off. Poor child. She’s gone through a lot, lately - more than anyone that age should have to. Her mother died recently, leaving behind three siblings all younger than Kyrin - putting a heavy load not only from trying to cope with her mother’s death, but also caring for her younger siblings as well as herself while waiting for her godmother to arrive. I... I want to blame my own mother for what happened, but I find in my own heart that I still can’t bring myself to do so. And, I suppose, there’s no use in blaming the dead in any case. The kobolds now dead, we trekked on up the mountain. It wasn’t long after that that we saw the temple itself - perched on top of a ledge like a great eagle surveying the world. As we neared it, we began to see runes carved everywhere: on the rocks, on the temple walls, on the giant doors that marked its opening. Some better at identifying such things than I examined them, then said that they were all fire runes - everything that fire is. Concepts of all sorts - things like warmth, volcanoes, candles, flames, chaos, sparks, coals, and on and on and on. We spent a little more time looking at the runes and the walls, and then one of the men decided to pull against the doors and attempt to open them. Surprisingly, they swung right open; and, more surprisingly, framed in the doorway was the form of a bright, flaming phoenix. It was a glorious creature. Little tongues of flame - from cool yellow to reds, oranges, and a deep, hot purple - tickled up and down its body and wings, and its eyes seemed to burn bright as coals set into its skull. Evidently, several of my companions took this as a threat, though it hadn’t made any hostile motions towards us; one, then another, threw themselves at the phoenix with weapons drawn; to each man, it send a ball of fire swirling down to thump into their chests and set them toppling to the ground. I sighed again. Kids. They’ll learn, eventually. The phoenix flapped its wings and landed, perched at the door. I felt its gaze upon me, and turned away; it had felt, as it looked me in the eyes, as if I had been burned a little. Terisio, on the other hand, was looking at the phoenix with a slight smile on his lips, as were about half of our companions. The others appeared to be wincing. Those that had the smiles began to edge towards the door; I would have followed, but it felt to me as if a blast of heat was radiating from the doorway and would quickly burn me up if I tried to enter the temple. Terisio was hanging back a bit; he didn’t want to go in without me. After a few moments, I convinced him to go in anyway. As he plunged into the temple’s space with those others, he turned his head to look back once or twice. Then, he was gone; out of my sight and blocked by the temple’s walls. He sent me images as he walked along its halls; in truth, I don’t remember them anymore. When he and the others emerged, many of them were carrying large boxes; gifts from the phoenix, they said - magic items. I was impressed with the quantity of the items, though slightly suspicious of their seemingly freely-given nature. After that, it was back down the mountain to Pinnacle and the inn. Thankfully, the decision-making session in the inn was nowhere nearly as eventful as last time’s; the choice was quick and simple. The priest of Gruumsh that had been causing so much trouble of late - the one with a divine gift of chain lightning - had to be stopped, lest he and his underlings cause even further damage to Hostor and its citizens. It was that that was chosen, as well as Kyrin and a small group splitting off to go find her mother’s former familiar, Cat. It wasn’t long until we found them. As soon as we saw the first group of orcs - paladins among them - we fanned out, careful to keep more than ten feet from each other so as to minimize the damage that the chain lightning could do. It turned out that the head of the group himself wasn’t among them; only some of his disciples, whose divine gifts were rather less frightening: lightning rays. We took them out fairly quickly, then moved on to a group further off. The same sort of theme repeated. When at least we found the most powerful group, I immediately sought out the head paladin and dueled him. It was a short battle; it ended almost as soon as it began, when he attempted to take me down with a lightning ray and found that it was bounced right back to him. Terisio and I immediately escorted him off the battlefield; the other Gruumsh paladins and followers were dealt with in short order by the other adventurers. We carried the head paladin back to town once the battle was over so that he could be dealt with properly by the law, then returned to the inn. Kyrin was waiting there with her brows in knots; she took me aside and told me was they had found. I’ll say only that what she told me wasn’t good; the familiar, for one, hadn’t returned with her, and likely wouldn’t be any time soon. I hope that the cat will be all right; if not for its own sake or the sake of the memory of Ara, then because it’s a companion to the children and one of the last remaining pieces of their mother. Mothers in mind, I left the inn to go home and check on my own children. They hadn’t been as enthusiastic about coming along today, and in truth, I can’t blame them; while combat may be my way to deal with my family’s mourning, it isn’t theirs. I’m worried about them - especially Celewin. She and my mother were two sticks in a basket, and now that Nyanar is... gone... Well. The pictures that my daughter is drawing are worrying me. Caydis’s reaction, as such, is worrying in a different way. But both of them have been a little different since their grandmother died. I suppose we all have. I slipped into the house; it was quiet, as it has been for a while. Celewin was scribbling away in a corner; Caydis was in his room, studying magical theory. Neither of them seemed to be bothering each other, thankfully; and neither, when I asked, seemed to need anything. Still, I stayed for a little while just in case and brewed a pot of tea; Caydis eventually partook, but otherwise everyone kept to themselves. For the far-too-muchth time that day, I sighed to myself. I hope that everything will go back to normal soon, as much as there ever is a “normal”. It became clear that my children were not needing me at that particular moment, and maybe even seemed to wish that I wasn’t there. With another sigh, I slipped back out and returned to the inn to check on things there. Kyrin came up to me and explained - with a slightly victorious grin - that the goblin spies had been turned to “spy” for Pinnacle, or at least in the way that a goblin can - which is to say, not very much. They weren’t able to get much information out of the goblins; “What are you doing” was answered with “Spying”, “What are you spying on” was answered with “Hobbits”, and “Who told you to spy” was answered with “I don’t remember”. That’s a goblin for you, I suppose. I sat in the inn for a little while, thinking to myself, while others went out to drive back Geb from our island. That was the end of my missions for the day; given what we had found earlier - with signs of a full vampire lurking around Pinnacle - it was time to prepare to take up the Hunt again. It reminded me - post-mission activities - of one of the fairytales that my mother wrote for her grandchildren. I think that Celewin has the book, now; I think that later, I’ll ask if she’ll let me see it and I’ll try to find that story. It would be interesting to look at it again, now that things have changed so much. The Hunt is beginning. Our prey is awakening, and with them, so are we.
Palo Alto Club League Chronicle - 04/03/11 (April 2011) (Or, an alternate, slightly paraphrased title: “Celewin F*cks Everyone in the Head”) (btw, That Celewin was involved is not in-game information unless you can put it together in other ways. >.>) --- NOTICE: If you have a character in Pinnacle, at some point between the 3rd and the 10th of April, that character has a nightmare at least once. It (I think?) goes thusly: You are walking down a dark hallway. You walk down it, and then you come to a room; inside the room are a couple people. You take out a knife, and the knife fits into your hand as if it belongs there. You start to cut little pieces off the people, bit by bit by bit. They scream, but you don’t care; that’s just what people do when they’re being cut. So you keep cutting pieces off of them, and they’re laying on the floor; they’re starting to die. So you first aid them, and they get back up. Then you take the knife again and you slowly start to stab them in the chest, and in the stomach, and in the torso, again and again and again until they die. It’s only after they’re dead that you realize that they look like other adventurers that you’ve met in Pinnical. If you are an elf, I guess you just wake up in bed. If you’re NOT an elf, you wake up standing outside with a knife in your hand. --- - See the nightmare above.
- Tororks, Ogre-khai, Brittlemen, Spiremen, Bone Warriors, Death Guards, and all sorts of other nastiness can be added to the list of “things you’re going to be seeing a lot of”.
- There is a Shrine to the Swamp God, and a Sired-by-Vampire that was lurking around it. The S-b-V was taken care of, and the shrine has probably been desecrated at this point.
- A group of dark heroes showed up in the area. We took a bunch of them down.
- We also trained a bunch of men at arms, and created the Rabid Rangers division.
- We can now share territory with the flying, cat-like Windrunners. Even though this was our territory to begin with. Nice to know, I guess? (Seriously, though - they’re pretty awesome.)
- The Nonas Guard are sticking around Pinnacle in order to protect it from, *cough* ah, “certain threats” that are remaining unnamed for the time.
---
Celewin Fenwë
I am running through the woods. It is pretty woods. The trees are very big and dark green and they smell good and sharp and sweet, and the ground is soft. It is night, and it is dark, but I can see very good in the dark. Up in the sky, the moon is big. The moon is protecting me. The moon makes me feel good, and the forest makes me feel like there is a bird in my chest. I am happy. Then there is a river, and it is running through the forest just like I run through the woods. I look in the river, and I see me. But the water is bumpy and wavy and the me inside the water is also bumpy and wavy and bent and not-me.
That’s what Artemis told me, anyway. I gave her a mana and then she gave me pictures back, and that’s what the pictures said. Caydis’s god gives him dreams too, so I asked him what my dreams were. He wanted me to say what I thought of it, and I said that I wanted to go to the woods, and he told me the woods aren’t real. He’s mean! But he said that maybe the woods were inside my head, so I think when I go and find people in my head I will try to find the woods too. I like the woods. I want to go there.
But first I wanted to run and go adventuring with Xey and the pretty-human-girl-lady, so I didn’t go there then. I went to the big hall where the mage teachers talk to us, but Magden was there. He was only letting us do some things because he said that more people that are from not-Hostor-Roekron might attack us, and a lot of the things he wasn’t letting us do were the fun things. But there was a shrine to a person called the Swamp God, and that didn’t sound good, so I did that. Xey came, too, and so did Daddy.
And so did the pretty-human-girl-lady! I found out her name today. Her name is Linder. And she thinks I’m creepy, but I don’t care. I still like her. So everybody went to the shrine, and I was practicing hiding, because I have an amulet that helps me hide like a lot of the hobbits do. I like it! Hiding is fun! But Daddy can still see me, and sometimes other people. I want to make it so they can’t see me. That would be fun.
So I was hiding and then we saw a bunch of big things come walking towards us. And Daddy and all the necromancer-people started talking about ethereal things. I kept hiding because I can’t see the ethereal things yet and I don’t like them. I was going to stay like that, but one of them became see-able right next to me and screamed and it was really scary so I stopped hiding and ran away from it. But then there were the ogres and other stuff, so I shot at them and made them fall down bloody. After that, more things that were ethereal but not ethereal then came and screamed, and they were all scary and hurt my ears and my mind and I had to run away from them. When I was running, something hit me in the back, and the world went away.
I was in a different world after that. It was very dark. I was walking, and I thought I was walking to a place, but a person came and stood in front of me so I couldn’t go there. The person was dark, too, but in a different way than the place that was dark. The person was dark like the shadows in my room when I try to sleep are dark, and like dark trolls are dark, and dark like the people walking my mind at night. All twisty and wavy, kind of like the not-me in the river. But the person stopped me from walking, and told me to turn around and walk back, so I did.
Then I woke up. I wasn’t outside in the shadows anymore. I was in my house, and I was in my bed, and Mommy and Daddy and Caydis were in the room too and looking at me. They looked very sad, but then they saw me, and then they were very happy. When I went outside my room, I saw a big mage-spell-circle with lots of candles. I think Caydis made it, because Mommy and Daddy can’t do magic.
It made me cry. I don’t like dying. And last time, Gramma woke me up again. This time it was just Caydis trying. I wanted to see my grandma again, but then I didn’t, and I miss her.
---
Enyari Fenwë
Some gods-curst, flea-ridden pack mule killed my daughter. If that girl Linder and the rest of the group hadn’t already paid them one back, I’d do it myself. I’d love to get my blade in their guts and twist it around a bit, but fortunately for them, they’re already lying dead on the mountainside somewhere.
That said, there were other things that, even if maybe they didn’t inspire the same, satisfying taste of revenge that those around the by-now desecrated shrine would, could substitute. When we went to the meeting hall, Embarcarious was there and explaining what was going on. Evidently Magden Threebeards had been spouting some sort of drivel about having to only take care of things that were directly related to the safety of Pinnical, in light of recent events. He has a point; the security of Pinnical is important. But I think I agree with Lord Embarcarious on this one - namely, in that “I think he has very little faith and less intelligence.”
It was the Dark Heroes that we went to take care of. Dark Heroes are, if I may be permitted to say so, extraordinarily nasty. That said, a lot of our more experienced companions were the ones to take out arms and set out; many of the younger members stayed behind, and I can’t say that I blame them.
The Dark Heroes were not especially difficult to find; they were tromping across the countryside and leaving all sorts of tracks behind them. I’m not a tracker, as my husband is, but even I could see them. When they were within our sights, I picked out the mages, intending to go after them - given that Joy gives me certain advantages in that kind of situation. I must say, I love that weapon.
I am not, however, especially fond of my helmet. Yes, it protects me from unnecessary knocks about the head, and it keeps undead from sucking out my life force through my scalp, but it limits my vision severely. And not only does it also dull my hearing, it makes the sound of my own voice grate upon my ears. In any case, that’s what ended up doing me in - I couldn’t hear when one of the Dark Heroes slipped up behind me and took me out. You’d think that, after all these years, I’d be a bit better at guarding my back - but, apparently, not with that dratted helmet on.
I was then dragged back to town, and one of our companion life mages resurrected me. I stood, and felt no ill-effects from the resurrection; my memories seemed to be intact, as did everything else.
Why couldn’t that have happened to Celewin? An easy resurrection. A simple one. Not the failed ritual; not the panic ensuing when she didn’t come back; not thinking, if only for a few moments, that she had slipped away forever.
If there were a word for a sigh that was more than a sigh - deeper, and blacker - I’d use it right now.
It was some time later after that when Kyrin, Anonymous, (Clara’s character) and I went to go find Cat, Ara’s former familiar and Silverwind family companion. It wasn’t hard; they knew where she was, this time. With the help of Anonymous’s ability to speak with animals, we talked to Cat; part of that time was attempting to convince Cat to come home. In the end, that was successful; we left without Cat, but it wasn’t long before the little creature came bounding down the stairs after Kyrin, purring and twining around her legs, and ended up following the girl back. That, if little else, brought a small smile to my face. Even when it seems like everything is going wrong, there are always the littlest patches of light that still remain.
---
Celewin Fenwë
Caydis said that Magden wasn’t doing the talking to us. I wanted to do things that Magden said no about, so I went to try to do them. There was lots of stuff, but me and lots of people wanted to go look at cats. They are special cats. They are from a different contanant-place in the West, and they are really really fast, and they fly but they fly by running instead of wings like birds and bugs and dragons and things. They were called Windrunners.
When we were walking to find them, I walked with Xey. She had the axe that Daddy had, and she turned into a hawk-bird, and she sat on my shoulder. I asked her to please not poop on me, because birds make lots of poopies everywhere, and poopies are yucky and messy and they smell bad. So then she turned into Xey again, and we walked, and she didn’t make poopies on me. I was hoping that because the Windrunners don’t have wings, they’re not like birds and don’t make lots of poopies too.
We found them. There were lots of them, and they really were really really fast! First there was nothing there, and then if you looked away they were there and you didn’t see them fly there! And you can’t hear them until you can see them, too. They don’t make noise when they run and fly. When they came, they started to fight us. We weren’t fighting them, because we wanted to talk to them, but they started fighting us. They’re not-nice, just like Geb.
When they were fighting us, they said that we are weak and not-good, because we won’t fight. Then they kept fighting again, even when people said that it wasn’t our job to fight, and we were only fighting because they wanted us to fight. The cat-people were very fast when they were fighting, too, and they can fight with their hands and they have claws on their feet that they fight with too. They are very good at fighting. But one of the storm mages made one freeze up, even though it’s fast, and it stayed still. I petted one. It was like a cat, except it wasn’t too soft. It felt like hair, not cat-fur. Cat fur, like Xey’s cat, is soft.
Then Daddy challenged one to a big duel-fight-thing, and I watched, and I was worried. Then he fought it, but he talked to it too, and he was okay. And after that, Xey challenged one to a big-fight-duel thing too. It wasn’t like when Mommy duels things and they start flickering like a candle, but it was like in the barbarian-fighting matches when it’s just one person and one person. And Xey fought it, and I was worried about her too, because it started kicking with its claws. She lost. Then I wanted to fight one, too, but they all disappeared.
They came back, and they came back very fast. They said that we were not weak actually, and we are actually strong. And that we hunt pride, or something like that. And they said that we could share their space, but we couldn’t be friends, or allies, because friends and allies are weak. I don’t think they’re weak! The cats are silly cats. Friends are good. Like Xey. Xey is good.
---
Enyari Fenwë
I don’t think I was the only one that thought that it was strange that the Nonas Guard was still hanging around Pinnacle in massive numbers even though Her Highness Kunai Kendrai had long departed. That in mind, while those of us wanting to investigate their activities went out to look into them, while those not as interested went to go train the men at arms.
You know, I - or my younger self, at any rate - never thought I would see the day when the word “investigation” seemed like a halfway appealing idea. It’s... very interesting, I suppose, how one changes as they age. And how the world changes around you.
Tangents aside, our handful of people - a dozen, maybe - went out to find the Nonas Guard. It wasn’t the most difficult of tasks; the hardest part of the whole thing was probably scrambling around a particularly slippery patch of grass. Once there - despite at least my better judgement, because this hadn’t worked the last time we’d been in this situation - we tried the direct route and simply asked the Nonas Guard why they were there. As expected, the Guard that seemed to be the head of that section simply replied that they had orders to be here, but he was not allowed to elaborate on what those orders were and who it was that gave them. I still say that these guys really know how to follow orders.
That’s when they flipped the grave around on us and began to investigate us, rather than our intended session of us investigating them. They identified quite a few of us, taking care to make sure that every elf and life mage was definitely identified - except for select members that, I imagine, they were already aware were fairly safe. When several voices from the group began to pepper the Guard with questions about “why the elves” and “why the life mages”, the Nonas Guard replied that people tend to trust both; elves because they can’t be charmed, and life mages because they’re life mages and people just tend to trust them.
Eventually, once everyone that was going to be identified had been so, the Nonas Guard revealed that they were ordered into the area to protect Pinnacle against certain threats. That’s when it clicked for me; it was pretty obvious why they were here. Realizing that, Terisio and I decided that we would come back later to discuss the protection of Pinnacle with the Nonas Guard and hopefully get a few questions answered in the meantime - where other ears couldn’t hear. Not everyone needs to know yet, though I imagine they will soon.
We did indeed return later; in the end, we were simply chastised and wound up paying a visit to someone that was a little more able, or at any rate more willing, to answer our questions. It amazes me that, years ago, I hated her. I can’t say that she’s among my favorite people even now, but my outright hatred of her so much earlier in my life seems silly, now.
Times change, I suppose; and, given where times seem to be going, I hope they don’t change too roughly, or too much. It’s going to be a bumpy ride for a little while, methinks.
I have at last found the book of fairytales that my mother wrote for her children; and, as promised previously, I have made one of its tales more accessible to the curious reader. I find, in lieu of the High Queen’s visit to Pinnacle, that what this fairytale describes lingers on the edge of my mind much of late. This is not to say that the High Queen Kunai Kendrai is anything like the King in the fairytale, and would say that I certainly don’t believe she is; the thoughts come from a rather different place.
And in light of the growth of my children since this was written, I have seen fit to change the original fairytale so that it will be more relevant to them now than it would have been in its previous state. The original version of this fairytale may be found in (some-library-or-other) (a.k.a., here.).
-Enyari Fenwë
---
Adapted From Grandmother Makani's Book of Fairytales:
The King and His Children
It is said that far away, across mountains and forests and endless oceans from the these shores, there is a land unlike anything we have ever known. In this distant land the rains come as heavy as those of the Wet Mountains; the plants, in following with this rain, grow densely and many are larger even than an urukai. The animals are large, too, and fierce; very strange ones, it is said, that the people must always be on guard for.
In this distant, far-away land, there lived a king. He was a mighty king, with vast power at his fingertips. Whatever he wanted, he took; none could defy him, and few thought it wise to try. For the three wise-women that had raised him had spoiled him terribly, and the greed that had taken seed in his youth grew further into a great, insatiable hunger as he turned into a man. Among the many things that he took were a number of wives; with these wives, he had fifteen children.
Years passed by - as they are apt to do - and the King, little by little, grew old. Under his reign, his kingdom had grown large, and he did not desire to rule its full reaches. His solution, then, was to divide his vast kingdom amongst his fifteen children, and to let them rule it in the ways that they saw fit. Quickly, then, his children dispersed from the grounds of the King’s castle and settled themselves in the pieces of the land that had been given to them.
The children took well to power; and, so said the whispers, too well. Just as their father before them, they had been spoiled as well; they proved, upon rulership, to be cruel masters. Yet they, like their father before them, possessed the ways of cunning slyness, and they did not reveal this all at one time. At first, it was little things: village curfews would be issued, or strangers would appear, or people would begin to act a little strangely. The headmen of these villages, in particular, began to act the strangest of all; once friendly, they became angry and secretive, and were seen often conspiring with the children of the king. That, of the littlest things, was the scariest.
But one day, little by little, people started to disappear. It was always the dissidents that went first; those people who had spoken against the littler things. It soon became apparent that the children of the King had adopted informants - people that would let loose those names of those who spoke against their rulers. The people of the villages grew frightened, and the talk turned to whispers - and, eventually, the whispers stopped. The people of the land no longer trusted themselves to whisper, for anyone could be an informant - even a child, or a neighbor, or a friend.
When the whispers were silenced, the children of the King began to exercise their true power. Anyone could be brutally executed, whole families could be enslaved, entire villages could be burned down on naught but a whim; and the hold of their shadows began to darken, and deepen, and speed further through this faraway land.
And so it continued until, one day, one of the King’s children went missing. He was soon found floating in the river, with a great rent running through the flesh of his throat.
After that day, every once in a while, another of the King’s children - or perhaps a village headsman - would turn up dead. Some were found in their beds, strangled with bloody bedsheets; some were found hung outside their homes, as if with the wash; still others were found with a dagger in their backs that had been stuck there as the back’s owner was strolling through the woods. From the chaos that ensued, there arose the thought that some secret group of persons had gathered to remove the King’s children from their places of power and keep them from arising ever again.
Slowly, the whispers began again.
The King’s children grew frightened. Many began to withdraw away from their rule to hide in secret, protected places where they could not be touched. As they crept away to safer places to let themselves sleep safely, so did the power of their rule; little by little, the executions, the enslavement, and the eviction walked down the path of disappearing altogether. People began not only to whisper, but to talk; for they were no longer afraid of their neighbors and their friends, for the informants and the strangeness of the village headmen both too had ceased with the hiding of their masters.
It was not long before, in the coming days, the old King himself sitting away in his castle heard of what was happening to his children. He was much craftier even than his children; and, in the following days, he could often be seen speaking to his spymasters and his guards, and even to a few of his children that had withdrawn to his castle.
A few days later, discovered by one of the villagers in a clearing in the woods, there was found a circle of bodies. All those present carried the same daggers that had been found in the backs of the King’s children - save one. One man carried another, newer dagger alongside his first; and that dagger bore the symbol of the King and his children. All the bodies present were scored with bloody, fatal wounds, but his most of all.
The children of the King came out of hiding, then, and took again the power they had held before - the control, the oppression, and most of all the fear. Still, whispers lingered; whispers that soon their rulers would start, once more, to die. Yet the whisperers waited, and one by one began to disappear. Still, those left waited; but they waited, it seemed, in vain. Eventually, the whispers nearly stopped altogether once more.
More of the children of the King did die after that; but it was not nearly so often, and always, it seemed, by accident. One fell from misstepping on the crumbling edge of a cliff; another broke his neck upon slipping on a wet riverbank. Yet sometimes, still, you will find a whisperer, and they will whisper tales that the hunters of the King’s children live still; some survived, and those survivors continue to fulfill their duties to this very day - but, in kind with the cleverness of the King and his children, they have had to become more clever as well.
And to this day, many of the King’s children still hold power; still, they are spread across this land far away over the sea. And, though he is often forgotten about in light of his children, still the old King himself sits upon his throne in his castle, ready to turn the tables again when the tables require turning.
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Post by Celebfealor on Oct 1, 2012 18:55:39 GMT -8
Chronicle for the Palo Alto Advanced Set - 05/07/11 (May 2011) --- *Basically, paper decoding and ancient ruins are fun. See the following day’s chronicle for more details. --- Enyari FenwëFor a few days, now, there had been talk flying around amongst my fellow historians about a few pieces of writing that somehow kept managing to find their ways back to the librarians from the hands of several different people. Both were written in another language; one of them had not yet been translated, while the other had. Evidently, even more so than most historical papers are, this one was particularly cryptic; it referenced a place regarding the divine, and ancient ruins. As the rumors had been floating around for several days now, I decided to bring my own notes with me and see what I could do to help. I had, after all, been trained by one of the best in regards to cryptic historical documents. I met the owners of the papers in the library. There were two of them, each with one paper: a man and a woman. The woman gave me the untranslated paper, and I instantly recognized it as a copy of another paper that Hazel, an adventurer in Amir Ford, had given me some moons previously. I quickly extracted it from my notes and copied the translation for her. After that, I gave the papers a once-over; they appeared to be referring to the same thing - namely, some kind of weapons that could help in the battle agains the Darkness Zone and other such forces. I explained to the two adventurers as much, and suggested that they look into it. I couldn’t accompany them myself, given my copious other duties; but I was able to give them the names of some people that could help. One was Sir Aelfwine Firespark - as an archeologist, I thought it likely that he would be useful and appreciated on such a venture. The other was a hobbit that, despite not being a historian, I had seen in the library quite often and I knew had a fairly decent head for puzzles. In the meantime, I had research to do. Other hypotheses, as I left the younger adventurers, began to brew in my mind. I would have to see if they lead anywhere. --- Written by Miss Arimissa Nelis LaFeldnoreI do say that today was a rather interesting affair. I find that, by and large, I have little taste for the matters of adventuring; too much gore for me! The possibilities of seeing one’s fellows hacked to bloody chunks and pieces, or becoming so one’s self, quite simply do not appeal to me. Nevertheless, I do rather like a good turn of the head; and, when offered the chance, decided that perhaps it might be worth an attempt at pursuing it. Certainly, the mission began on a pleasant note. I was privileged enough to make the acquaintance of one Sir Aelfwine Firespark, who happens to be of the gentry of Amir Ford. I found him quite pleasant; we had our mid-afternoon tea as we waited for the rest of our companions to gather in the meeting place before setting out to our intended destination. Also there was a talking ocelot of some sort, as well as the foreign man. He had now learned how to read and write a little of the common tongue, it seems, which made him infinitely more easy to communicate with. I only wish his manners could have improved as much! Several times during the course of the meal I had to reign him in for rudeness that I can only imagine must have been accidental. His customs are quite strange. Once we were finally up and about and traveling along our merry ways to the westward ruins, we did of course inevitably end up encountering a smattering of battle. I stayed out of the thick of the fighting, instead searching for people that appeared to be wounded or otherwise in need of aid and healing them as appropriate to their various situations. I would like to say that it was a successful venture, but I fear that it was not so; mere minutes into the scrap, I found myself lying rather indignantly on the ground next to the foreign man, having lost my mobility due to several broken and otherwise useless limbs. Luckily, however, I was very much conscious; and, not desiring to lose that, attempted to roll my way towards a grove of the other nature mages so that they might treeform me and I would not risk the unfortunate possibility of further damage to myself. Minus a few small obstacles between myself and the grove, it was successful, and we survived the fight. There was much healing to do, of course, before we could proceed; while that was being seen to by the various healers amongst us, Sir Aelfwine and myself - eventually joined once more by the foreign man and a large conglomeration of others - had another spot of tea while we waited. I must say, it was quite pleasant to have a civil conversation for once! I am still quite surprised at how much a scarcity such a thing is among the common people, or at least among those that I have met. Or at least, it remained as such until we were joined by others; then, there was no hope. Between them and the foreign man dumping his tea all over the ground in some sort of strange ritual, I felt as if I were trapped in some sort of menagerie. Such is this life! Teatime didn’t last a great deal longer in any case, as we took foot again towards the shrine once everyone had been suitably repaired. Eventually, and perhaps by mere chance, we stumbled upon the ruins that we sought. In fact, I do believe that we would have missed them entirely were Sir Aelfwine not there to spot it for us - one could barely tell it was there, otherwise! To me, and to most of our other companions, the ruins appeared to simply be scattered rocks upon a hilltop. Sir Aelfwine took out some rather fascinating, delicate little tools and began to brush and pick away at the ground. He let me examine them - such curious things! - though I had to cease my examinations to deal with the foreign man’s rude prodding at them. He means well, I’m certain, but he can be such a handful to deal with! As I was exchanging life stories with the foreign man to keep him occupied, Sir Aelfwine uncovered a rune amongst the ruins. No sooner did I lay eyes upon it than I recognized it: it was disconcertingly similar to the rune that was carved into the ground at the site of that blue dragon that had appeared in the area several moons before. I do wonder what happened to that dragon; the gossip about it ceased quite a few moons ago. Nevertheless, here was - apparently coincidentally, though I don’t believe in coincidence - the rune again. I must say, I marvel at the idiocy that seems rampant in some of those present. One of the men felt the need to not only touch the rune - a rather stupid thing to do, since I very much doubt that he had grasped the potential consequences - but also to send a little energy sparking into it. Mere seconds after he had done so, we found ourselves surrounded by a ring of rather unhappy-looking haunts of some kind - urukai, orks, and the like. They began to close in upon us. I do not have especially fond memories of haunts, and thus instantly treeformed myself when I saw their approach. From there, it was a battle of speed. Most of my companions, lacking the ability to turn into trees and thereby guarantee their safety, were cut down; it was largely up to me and a few others to heal a person and quickly turn back to our treeform before we could be beset by the haunts that still lurked about the area. At last, the haunts did eventually disappear. Given, however, that we had not been prepared to deal with them - and certainly not what it was that lay ahead - we elected to return to Pinnacle and let other adventurers deal with the problem another time. I shall look forward to hearing about further discoveries in the area, I think - perhaps not made by the buffoons that stumbled through it today, but by others that aren’t quite so, shall we say, lacking. What it is that they lack I shall leave up to the reader to decide. --- Enyari FenwëAt the end of the day and a little more research, it turned out that some of my hypotheses had turned out - and some hadn’t. I was glad that the group that had set out earlier had discovered what they did; otherwise, I might not have reached the right conclusion, and anything we tried the next day would have been useless. As it was, one of the possible locations for what the papers described had already been ruled out. There was a map piece that I had also copied over from Hazel’s collection, and I thought that it might be that - but, upon further investigation, it turned out to mark the location of the sea caves. That has other implications that will probably be good to look into in the future; but it wasn’t relevant to what we were searching for right now. My research yielded two locations: one that was at the ruins directly westward, which had been visited today, and one that was more northwards, near Hoss Bay. Once that conclusion had been reached, Terisio and I went to seek out several people that we trusted and let them know what was happening. The one that I think I was most nervous about was Aelfwine; any conversation with him always is, and may always be, a tense and nerve-wracking affair. I wish that the wounds between our family and his could be healed - and it’s not for a lack of trying - though after what we put him through, I can understand why amends can’t be made at this time. We did manage to come through that one - and the others - unscathed, so I suppose that it’s not as bad as it might have been. Still, though, it needs work. We made the necessary arrangements regarding our own equipment and other such things afterwards; and, that done, all else left was to wait for the morning to come.
Palo Alto Club League Chronicle for 05/08/11 (May 2011) ----- - Two expeditions were had to retrieve two different stashes of awesome weapons. These would be the expeditions mentioned on Saturday's stuff.
- Also, we killed a vampire.
- Distrensai Sor Goku is taking a leave of absence due to split loyalties in the impending war.
- 60ish earthquake victims were rescued. Yay!
- We fought off some dark heroes that were aided by undead.
- Another excursion was made to the Phoenix Temple.
- We explored a dungeon and found an awful sacrificing-area with a huge animated undead pile of dismembered animal parts. It was kinda gross.
- <lots of swearing noises censored with continuous beeping>
-----
Enyari Fenwë
By all rights, today should have been a day for celebration. Every day, of late, it seems that the world grows a shade darker; and, briefly, it seemed today as if there might be a little light left after all. And, perhaps, there was. But that light was not meant for all, nor given to all to keep.
So it always is, I suppose. And so it always shall be.
---
The plans that we had made, fortunately, went through; first thing as everyone arrived at the guild hall, the situation was explained and the group divided up between the two locations: one to go northwards, and the other to go west. It didn’t take long before we set off - I went, again as planned, with the group that was bound for the northern location. Anonymous, and Kyrin, and Tortoise, and even Aelfwine, came as well; as did Terisio, though he took a different path off to the side.
He planned to simply be within reach if we needed him, and otherwise would guard; just as well that he decided to do so. I don’t remember what happened first, having died during the battle, but evidently we came across a small group of hyenalike spawnmen fairly quickly in our travels. They must have been formidable, I imagine, to have been such a small group and yet manage to kill the nearly the full twenty or so adventurers - of our caliber, no less - that they faced. I remember waking up to see the carnage; and, after we had all been resurrected or rebirthed, we continued onwards.
Our destination - Hoss Bay - was far out of our reach. I can’t remember the last time that I stepped fully off of Mt. Hoss; we traveled that far, and more. So much space to cover reminded me again what so much travel is like - especially in heavy armor. There’s a difference, I think, between the tiredness that one encounters in short spurts of battle and the one that one encounters after doing nothing but walking. The latter wears its way into your bones, and I don’t think that out of the two I prefer it.
Most of the distance that we covered was full of empty land. We were fairly close to Hoss Bay, actually, when we finally bumped into something else - Nonas Guards. More than that, Nonas Guards facing down an army of undead; and they weren’t particularly savory undead, either. Amongst the throng of more normal creations, there were also a fair number of ghouls, a death guard, and a few other nonstandard undead. I was careful to avoid the ghouls; the prospect of losing Joy, especially to something that insignificant, was one that I was not fond of. As I wove amongst the rest of the undead, I looked for people that needed healing; I found none, for it seemed that everyone was either still alive and on their feet or had already been expediently devoured by the ghouls.
And, as I looked, I kept my eyes open for a vampire. With the Nonas Guard here, and with this unusual brew of undead, you could all but smell its presence. But I saw none; just more and more ghouls.
The battle went on, and people became more scattered across the field. I was glad that we had with us the people that we did; most of them were competent fighters, and even though they were spread out, were doing well enough on their own. I remember quite clearly that, at this time, I was standing near the banks of a stream and facing a tree; why I was as I was, I don’t remember. I assume that I was attempting to heal someone, or to ambush one of the creatures, though I was alone - but I don’t know.
I also do not remember why it was that I decided to turn around when I did. Maybe it was merely chance; maybe it was that I heard something, or felt something, or was alerted by some other secret sense; maybe it was that finally, when it really counted, I remembered to guard my back. But regardless of the reason, I’m glad I did; a moment later, or maybe even a moment earlier, and I would likely no longer be here to write this. When I turned, there - only a span’s length behind me - was the vampire that I had been looking for.
I remember that moment quite clearly; an image, frozen in time, played in my mind again and again even after the battle was over. The vampire had once been human; moonlight-pale, as a vampire always is, and with the barest tips of fangs showing underneath a slight smirk. A black cloak snapped out from its back as it ran. In my memory, the vampire was suspended in the air mid-step, banking slightly to the left to avoid the stream. Its blades were outstretched towards me; in its right hand, along with the hilt of a weapon, it gripped several spellstones.
I’ve heard that, in situations such as this, some say that time feels as if it slows down; others say that it speeds up. I felt them both. I leaned away and swept both of my blades up to block the vampire’s strike; it was only then, as steel met steel, that I realized that one of its swords was made of morganti. A series of cold tingles crept over my skin as it dawned on me how close I had just come to losing my soul.
The vampire, I suspect, was not expecting me to turn around; its momentum, then, was miscalculated, and it hurtled past me as I met its attack. There was now a tree between us; but, as fate would have it, it was now behind my husband - who was oblivious to its presence.
I remembered what had nearly happened last time we faced a vampire like this.
Never again.
As I sprinted out from behind the tree, I screamed at Terisio. I don’t remember what happened next - if he turned in time - but the Nonas Guard converged at that point, and the vampire didn’t have a chance to attack anyone else again. A short battle between the vampire and the Nonas Guard ensued; it ended when my husband shot an arrow enchanted with the ability to slay evil creatures into the vampire.
Quickly, we gathered around it and began to guard it; I continued to periodically slash a weapon into its back to keep it from regenerating or respawning. It was summarily turned into a tree, though still guarded. I wanted to stay, but with so many people already taking that role, thought it unnecessary; I went to search again for people to heal, and again found none.
Once the battle was over, Tortoise began a ritual to exorcise the vampire. It took time; but once it was completed, the vampire crumbled into dust and was no more. One of the Nonas Guards took the morganti sword from the remains, and then they departed - as did we. Even in the aftermath of slaying a vampire, there was still work to do.
Soon afterwards, we arrived in the general area of southern Hoss Bay; at that point, we began to comb the landscape until we found an abandoned village. The huts within had once belonged to the centaurs that, in ages past, protected Pinnical. They were deserted now; the centaurs had some fifty years ago left to a great gathering of centaurs on the mainland. What had happened to them was evidently not widely known; if there are those that know, I am not among them. However, the papers - or ours, at least - had mentioned centaurs and protectors, so it seemed likely that this was the right place. It seemed appropriate, though, that this was the place we needed: a place once inhabited by protectors as the site of something that - we hoped - would help us become more able to protect ourselves.
We began to look around inside the huts for something that would indicate which way we should head next. Fairly quickly, a couple of the dwarves in the party found a hidden door in the floor of one of the huts; after a quick examination, it was opened. Behind it, we found a tunnel - large enough, of course, for a centaur - that lead underground. That fit with what we were looking for like a sword in a scabbard; and so, with little else fuss, we descended into the tunnel’s shadowed pathway.
Not far down the tunnel, we found ourselves walking into a room. It was neither a large room nor a small one; it fit the lot of us comfortably. Carvings were etched into the walls at intervals; many of them depicted warriorlike elves. What seemed strange was that the elves were not holding bows - a weapon that, as I understand it, they tend to favor. Instead, they held swords and other similar instruments of battle. That could mean, I thought, that either they were high elves depicted, as they are more inclined to use those weapons; or, as in this case, they were Nergoth elves.
As we inspected them, it seemed almost as if one shifted on the wall. There was a feeling - almost like feeling watched though no-one is there, or being stared dead in the eyes by an invisible creature - that I could feel sniffing my mind in the same way that the Phoenix of the Temple had. Then, a moment later, the carving in front of us peeled itself off the wall and landed, standing, on the floor in front of us. He was about a hand span’s thick; flat, and stone all the way through, but seemingly intelligent and perfectly capable of movement. It looked all of us over, but in particular its - his? - eyes lingered on Cat, Kyrin’s animal companion; the Kitsune; and another third member of the party. He began to walk around, and people backed away - if he kept walking, he would have herded us into a corner. But before that was allowed to happen, Kyrin asked the statue, “Is this the place where we’re supposed to ask a question?”.
With that, the stone man paused. He then turned back to his place on the wall, leapt upwards, and fitted himself back into his place with a dull thump and was still. There was a moment of silence; then we began to inspect the walls again. On the wall adjacent to the figure, as we were combing over it, we discovered a pale blue stone in the wall. I recognized it for what it was; I had encountered these before. Immediately, I ordered my companions not to touch it - for it was a riddle stone, and the one that touched it would have to answer the riddle asked. Kyrin - with her Riddler-mark - covered her ears and closed her eyes; and then, when everyone had had time to arrange themselves, I touched the stone.
One word echoed in my mind: Shadow. Nothing else. Immediately afterwards, there was the sense of time trickling away.
The paper that had led us here led me to believe at that moment that I should ask a question that corresponded to this answer. I tried to define it - asking, “What is the absence of light?”. But I felt, then, one guess trickle away between my fingers; and then, I wasn’t so sure anymore. Rather than a question, next, I pulled a coin from my pocket and said that “we are hunters” - but that didn’t take, either. That left me one guess and little time left to answer. As I could feel the last seconds approach, I blurted the only thing I could think of - Order - and was left thrice wrong and very tired. At that, three of the stone figures peeled themselves from the wall and began to fight us. I pulled three mana from Joy to revitalize myself, then participated in the battle; meanwhile, Terisio tried to get the riddle-stone to accept his touch, but it would not - not until the battle was over, which it was in short order. Then, just as I had, he reached out to touch it - and, once more, a single word greeted us. But this time, it was a different word - “River” was the word that echoed in my - in our - minds this time.
It occurred to me at this point that the question the stone looked for was not a definition, but a riddle. Others had thought of this as well, including Terisio; he gave the riddle, “What has a mouth but never eats, winds up like a snake, and has a bed but never sleeps?”. That did the trick; a door opened in the wall and we all filed through.
There was another room after that. In this room, there were more carvings; but here, the elven figures were fighting undead of some kind. Some of their enemies were clearly zombies; one seemed as if it was supposed to be transparent. In the wall opposite the door, we found another riddle-stone; this time, one of the other men touched it. The world that bloomed in our minds this time was “Sunlight” - and, lacking a riddle, I supplied him with “Warm as the heart in the light of day; cold in the night when the sun goes away.” That seemed to suit, for that door opened to us as well and led us into a hallway.
Down this hallway aways, in the middle of the floor, we found a sizable pile of treasure - gold, gems, and other such things. But the hallway proceeded onwards beyond it; and in any case, this was not the treasure that we suspected lay here. We opted to continue on past it - careful not to touch it, in case it were trapped - and, at the end, found ourselves in yet another room.
It was curious; this room seemed to have been visited by another only moments before. The dust in the room was all stirred up, and there almost seemed to be footprints in the floor. At the end of those, in the center of the room, there lay two blades - and, more specifically, two Nergoth Blades. We picked them up, and then wended our way back through the tunnels and back across the Hostor landscape until we were back at Pinnical.
There, we met the other party that had gone out; as it turned out, their venture had gone as well as ours had. Their items were absolutely fantastic; one was a sword that, among other things, granted all members of the user’s companions the ability to exorcise. Another was a pair of gloves that, as the owner was unable to use, ended up on the hands of my husband. There was also a shield, though the owner was very secretive as to what it did and would not tell anyone else. Those, too, were some truly fantastic items - and, while maybe not items that would vanquish it completely, would unquestionably help against the Darkness Zone - and more.
I asked them what had happened in their expedition. Evidently, underneath the ground where they had gone, there was a temple to Yondalla - still active, even. Once getting past the memories of urukai and other such creatures - the “haunts” that the adventurers yesterday had encountered - and they entered the temple, they encountered several more battle-centric tests than we had, including one in which they had to fight mirrors of themselves. At the end, they, too, found a room that had recently been disturbed - and the items that they brought back.
I didn’t find out much more before our groups clustered into the meeting hall to speak with the Council Member on staff - this time, Distrensai Sor Goku. He asked what had happened; and, following the question, there was a long process of voting and edging-around-the-answer that essentially boiled down to wanting to discuss the matter in a more private place and that we weren’t going to discuss it now. There are reasons aplenty for this, but I see no need to list them; it’s simply precaution. In any case, actual voting on which task to pursue next followed. It ended up that several people - Ogerslayer and Terisio included - went to test their skills in the Tournament of the Blades; others went to help provide aid in the aftermath of an earthquake.
I should have gone to help with the earthquake. Morally, I am obligated to help those in need of aid, especially those that cannot help themselves. But somehow, today, I didn’t have it in me; the first expedition had already exhausted me, and that scared me. Always before, I have had plenty of energy left - but not today. I haven’t had as much energy for a while, I suppose; but in the more strenuous situations such as these, it becomes more apparent. In the end, I opted to stay behind.
Still, I was a mite more cheerful than I have been of late. Knowing that we had done something, and done something right - and been rewarded for our troubles by something that could help us do more right - was a nice thing to know. The more prepared one can be ahead of time, the more ready one will likely be when faced with the time for action. That time, I fear, is descending upon us soon.
When they returned - having rescued some sixty-odd villagers - we were met by Lord Embarcarious. He appeared grave; then, once everyone had assembled, he announced that Distrensai Sor Goku would, for the time being, be taking a leave of absence. Given his dual loyalties between conflicting nations - to Hostor, in his position as a teacher, as well as to Dsesnor, by his birth and his honor - there was a possibility that he would have to, in the coming days, betray either one or the other; a disaster for someone honor-bound. Therefore, it had seemed most fitting to remove the possibility that he would have to compromise his honor and avoid betraying anyone.
I can see the reasoning. But it also sparks in my memory two things: One, the image of Brim Tiposius, smiling around a pipe - planning, though we didn’t realize it at the time, to betray Pinnical. Two, remembering years ago, how we had - one by one - begun to lose our mage teachers. Then, it had started with Jonas, who had fallen to a mithril golem; then it was Brim and Ebony, as instruments in a betrayal. The same thing seemed to be happening now. This time, first it was very nearly Melissa. I don’t think that many people realize how close we came to losing her, and just how slight a chance it was that we didn’t; even I was not aware of it until afterwards. Now, it was Distrensai. And I cannot help but wonder, in a small, dark corner of my mind: who will be next?
Morbid thoughts were pushed aside for the time being; we continued with the decision-making, which ended up being pursuit of the dark heroes - which had now had their ranks bolstered with quite a few undead. I saw Terisio leave with those that had decided to go; as he left the room, he briefly looked back at me. I stopped, and there ensued a small internal battle. Obligation, once more, called me to go; so too did knowing that Joy and Bliss - and, accordingly, Terisio and I - work our best as a team. But, as before, I couldn’t summon the energy that I knew I’d need. I thought also that I would, likely as not, be more a hinderance than an asset on the field; such things happen when one doesn’t practice in the dummy-yards as often as one perhaps should. So, thought still I loathed the choice, I decided to stay behind.
The same choice for, once they returned, when they decided to go back out again and chase down the dark heroes that hadn’t been beaten down. They had survived this time; they could survive without me again.
I went back to the house. I don’t quite remember what it was that I did, so I assume that it must not be particularly noteworthy. After a little time, I returned to the meeting hall to wait for their eventual return - which was, quite luckily, not too long after. This time, as far as I could tell, they were victorious. Shunar Quincel entered soon after them, carrying as usual her three favorite daggers - and flipping the morganti member of the trio. Gods help us that she doesn’t accidentally drop it one of these days.
This time, it was a quick decision; Kyrin and some others would return to the site of the Phoenix Temple, while a small party elected to go explore the underground dungeon that had recently been discovered. Terisio, Tortoise, and several other came along - as did I. After several ventures in a row that I didn’t participate in, guilt got the better of me and I thought it more helpful to make myself useful to my companions. The trek over to the entrance was fairly quite; no vampires, this time. We met - and outmatched - a group of wolf-spawnmen, and encountered some sort of small glowing creature that didn’t appear to mean us harm. Once near to the dungeon, we found a farmer who showed us to the entrance. He told us that the had been digging out rocks and found the entrance, and that there might be goblins inside - could we deal with goblins? Were we sure? Which we were, of course. But I wish it was goblins - and only goblins - that we’d had to deal with.
From the entrance, the tunnel was a drop down. We ended in the middle of a hallway, with the choice either to go left or to go right; we chose left. We were careful as we went along the way, staying wary of traps and tracks that we might encounter - and good thing, too. Some ways along, the hallway opened up into a room, which contained several orks. And, upon the threshold, there was indeed a trap; it shot arrows at us. Most of us, thankfully, were able to avoid it, and the orks were dealt with in short order. Beyond them - a little further in - we encountered a huge mass of goblins, all of which were evidently under the influence of a hobgoblin hidden somewhere in the back. We spent quite some time cutting through them - setting off a boulder trap in the process, which we also managed to avoid - until we took care of the hobgoglin and found a goblin den in the back. That seemed to mark a dead end; that being the case, we turned around to see what was at the other end of the hall.
As we got closer to the entrance, we were met with the sound of many voices - our companions, dropping down the entrance after having finished at the Phoenix Temple. Evidently, they had decided that coming to help us was desirable. Once everyone was in, we proceeded down the hall - until we were stopped short by a rather solid stone door sitting in the pathway. Terisio sent an image to me through his ring; he had turned ethereal and was scouting ahead. A few moments later, he sent back a frantic image of a crypt and an assembly of undead, and the sense of the door breaking behind him. I yelled for everyone to break down the door, and within several seconds, we were on its other side.
The first thing that I noticed was the stink and the noise. Normally, those don’t bother me; but imagine the din of thousands of animals, stuffed into crowded cages, clucking and cawing and yowling and barking and howling - and imagine the stifling stank of all their scat and dander and other bodily fluids. The two, together, were nearly overpowering.
Sight kicked in next. There was an altar in front of us; it was stained dark with layers upon layers of blood. Behind it sat an ever-growing pile of dismembered animals - heads, and wings, and feet, disentached from their bodies, all jumbled together. The pile itself was the size of a cave troll, and still waiting for the remaining animals to add to its volume. Surrounding it were a number of undead - and not particularly simple kinds, either.
Then, to my horror, the dismembered animals behind the alter began to stir. I watched, openmouthed, as the pile itself - not the animals - drew itself up into a form that nearly reached the ceiling. It, and the other undead around it, began to attack us. Chaos ensued; those that weren’t occupied with the other undead began to frantically hack away at the pile, hoping to break its evident animation.
I realized at that point that I still couldn’t see Terisio, and panicked. I searched the battlefield for a necromancer, and found Emyrn; she led me to where he was, but as I did not at that time have access to spirit guide or other means of seeing the ethereal realm, still could see nothing. He returned quickly after that; and, by that time, the battle was nearly over. The pile of animals slumped - if such a thing can slump - down onto the ground, and was still.
We gazed at the pile. Kyrin came up beside me, and in a low voice, uttered one word: “Bones.”
I couldn’t agree more.
And, maybe, it wasn’t anything to do with bones beyond the skeletons poking out the ends of wings or necks or tails. But even so...
The paladins present began to exorcise the pile - because regardless of what it was, it wasn’t anything that we particularly wanted reappearing to haunt us again. As we finished, us paladins - and the necromancers that had stayed behind to study the pile - had a vision. Each of us received different animals; mine was of a mouse.
From a hole in the ground in a wooded area, there crept a mouse. It looked around, cautiously, as a mouse will do; then, quite suddenly, an arrow struck it, and it lay wounded and quickly dying on the leaf-littered forest floor. Moments passed; then, a hand picked it up by a tail - the hand belonged to an urukai. He began to handle the mouse roughly, and for a moment I though that we was trying to cause the animal pain - but no. He was bandaging its wounds and doing everything he could to keep it alive, and had no time to be gentle or keep regards for avoiding pain.
Then, there was a tree. A leaf fell from the tree and went spinning, spinning, spinning downwards; but it never hit the ground.
I didn’t want to contemplate what the vision meant. Not now. Please, gods, not now. If it means what I thought it meant - and still believe it to mean - then the times ahead are descending even much more quickly than I had dared to hope they would hold off for.
I should have learned by now not to hope. Hope is a fool’s gamble.
I had hoped, after all, that Embarcarious would be able to help Celewin. I had hoped that he would be able to heal the dysfunctional part of her mind - the part ever-plagued by nightmares; the part that, more than any child’s mind ever should, was afraid - and yet, so unafraid - of the world she was thrown into; the part that had, more than a fortnight ago, tried to kill her when we attempted to do the simple action of getting her identified. I had hoped that, when Embarcarious came strolling down the garden path with Celewin by the hand, she wouldn’t have to suffer nightmares any more.
(((The writing begins to get scrawly and harder to read at this point; it’s speckled with tearspots and occasional bloodstains.)))
At the end of the day - having returned home with Terisio - we saw through the window, finally, Lord Embarcarious walking down the pathway, leading Celewin behind him. I thought it odd - him leading her, rather than the other way around, for she knows this place much better than he. But now, it makes sense.
When he stepped inside, and Celewin with him, I looked at him. At first, he seemed calm; but, underneath the facade, there was also anger. I have never, in my life, seen Embarcarious angry before; even with Melissa staring starfire into his skull, I have never once seen him angry - and now, he was. But Celewin, standing beside him, was not angry. She wasn’t anything at all. Her face was utterly blank, and as we stepped to greet her, she didn’t respond - or show any signs of recognizing us.
She had been tortured, Embarcarious said. She had been tortured, again and again, until she broke; until the girl that used to exist in that small body became the girl that we knew as Celewin. She had been tortured, and she had been tested; and in that test, she had done exactly as she had been bid. Then, she was left with us - waiting, once more, to do to us as she had been bid to do to her own blood parents. Embarcarious, in order to heal her, had needed to wipe everything away - everything that made the child that we had raised for more than a decade all that she was. There was nothing left of what was once there; she was back to the beginning of her life. And, Embarcarious said, she may never heal.
I never got to say goodbye.
They strike low, those heartless bastards. They strike lower than any enemy I have encountered before, and just as precisely in the wounds they cause. I understand now why they are so difficult to fight. Not because of steel, or spells, or undead charms; not because of subtle minds, or airs of death, or deadly bites. They are so difficult to fight because they will strike into your very heart, and they will do it in a second.
And I never even got to say goodbye.
June 2011 Campout, Day 1
*facepalm* Charlotte is an idiot and a hypocrite and somebody needs to slap some sense into her. It'll happen soon enough, though, I guess. </characterfail>
---
- Teriock and Hostor are allying themselves with Sen’s help, and as such there is a foreign exchange program for adventurers going on between the two.
- There are Dagdemar Knights on Hostor. Not good!
- Three shrines to Artemis were discovered, and they dispense moonlight that turns into cool weapons. Basically. Except that one of them got destroyed.
- Is it a vampire? Is it a tomb weight? Evidently probably some weird crossbreed between the two! Or some sort of other undead! This is a Bad Thing!
---
Charlotte
It prolly wasn’t the best of ideas to try adventuring for the first time by joining up with the group during a nighttime expedition. ‘Course, it’s not exactly like bad ideas have ever really stopped me before, unless they’re really bad ideas. So I followed Caydis up through the city to the meeting halls, and that’s how I wormed my way into this whole business of protecting Hostor.
There was a pretty interesting bunch of people there. I’ve seen plenty of hobbits and elves at this point, and since I’m a human myself I’m familiar with them, but dwarves? Centaurs? And I also found out that there were a handful of travelers from Teriock mixed in, which made the mix just that more unusual. I considered pulling something on everyone just for kicks, but decided against it pretty quickly; I wasn’t sure if that would end up getting me thrown out, and didn’t want to risk it. I mean, sure, I could prolly work my way back in somehow, but first impressions are important - they stick. A lot. So instead I sat there quietly and listened to what was going on.
Lord Embarcarious Petrafloutus started off by explaining the presence of the Teriock travelers. It seems that, what with the war with the Wizard’s Trade Order impending, Hostor decided to ally itself with Teriock (since Teriock has a similar dislike for the Order and they make for good allies); the process was aided by one Sen A Demdil, who as I understand it applied to be a mage teacher at Pinnacle a bunch of years ago. A bit of a curious choice for a diplomat, I think, seeing as how he doesn’t speak any Roekron and barely any Teriock, but evidently the choice made sense to someone. Politics are just like that sometimes. Anyway, as part of the alliance, some Hostorians went to visit Teriock and some Teriockians visited Hostor in order to breach the cultural gap among us commoners. Assuming that whoever sent Sen A Demdil to negotiate was the same one that came up with this whole foreign exchange program, I think I’ll be trusting their judgement, oddities or not.
I’m going to move on to what was actually going on in terms of what we were sent out to do. Lord Embarcarious Petrafloutus explained that three shrines to Artemis had recently been found and that their locations made a tidy little triangle around one of her temples. An impressive weapon had been found when another adventurer had found a piece of moonlight at one of the shrines and carried it - don’t ask how, because I don’t know - to the temple and put it on the altar. It sounds like the moonlight itself transformed into the weapon, and well, it’s the gods, so I guess they can make that happen if they want. Even I’ll respect that. Lord Embarcarious Petrafloutus wanted to try that for the other shrines, but in order to do that, there needed to be shrines left. Normally that’s not too much of a problem, ‘cept tonight there were a bunch of Knights of Dagdemar preparing to attack the shrines.
I know from my studies of history that Dagdemar is a god who came to godhood by sacrificing his world to his own god. He founded Dagdeoth, and the reason that they’re all such pains in the neck is that their goal is to carry out his will and destroy more worlds. You need to obtain control of a world, see, before you can sacrifice it or destroy it or whatever, so that’s what their motivation for the attack is. Or ‘leastways, the leading motivation. Whether they were going to approach this by taking the shrine for their own use, or destroying it so that we couldn’t use it to protect ourselves, or something like that - well, we didn’t know yet. But the point was to keep them from doing it, whatever “it” turned out to be.
‘Twas a bit of a trek to the shrine, so I set myself to acquainting myself with other members of the group besides Caydis. I found myself making conversation with two of the visitors from Teriock: one Admiral Zero Skyhawk, and her companion Sara (whose title I am unsure of). Mostly, I guess we just compared skills (or lack thereof); turns out that the classes in Teriock are pretty much the same as ours, which I found interesting. Sara didn’t talk much, but Admiral Skyhawk did, and we got along well enough.
Time was passed quickly, and once at the shrine we listened to the plan from a Paladin of Artemis who seemed to be in charge. Mostly, our part was just to stick by the shrine and defend it against whatever forces the Dagdemar Knights had to throw at us. Said forces hadn’t gotten to the shrine yet, though, so Caydis went out to scout them out. I went with him, of course; sure, he has his spells, but it’s stupid to go out with only one kind of attack or defense. I had a staff, he didn’t, and that was the end of that. He argued, of course, and as we set out Admiral Skyhawk and Sara saw and followed me; Caydis disappeared for a moment, but Admiral Skyhawk pointed him out and he stopped hiding with a huff. This went on for a little while - I was makin’ sure to keep an eye on him, so he couldn’t go off on his own like some big hero or somethin’ - and mid-argument, we heard rustling in the surrounding scrub. From the sounds of it, t hey were spread out in a line, and there was a whole horde of them.
I raced back to the shrine and yelled that the Knights of Dagdemar were coming; we could hear them. After a glance as the masses congregated in the immediate area of the shrine, I ran back out to Caydis and Zero and Sara at the front lines. There was a narrow space that the forces could easily get through, and I thought that maybe if we could hold ‘em off there, the people at the shrine wouldn’t have as much to worry about.
They came with the dusk. Whether it was from the darkness or the fight, everything seemed to blur together. Friend and foe began to look the same, and it was difficult to tell who to hack and who to heal. A few more of the group from the shrine trickled out to help us; two of them - Taureena and Jonathan - stuck by me at first. We did all right, the bunch of us together, and even fought our way through the gap a little. I’m not even sure what we were fighting - it was too dark to tell. I do know that they took Caydis out at one point; I was gonna take care of the wound, but when I got there it looked like they were healing themselves. He seemed like he’d be all right, so I left him alone to protect myself.
Not long after, I heard a dim call over the din - from the shrine, “Fall back!”. I wasn’t sure - to obey or not? Prolly should’ve, but I didn’t want to leave everyone still out at the front. Didn’t have much of a choice in the end; something came up behind me, and the next thing that I remember was nothing. I’d been wounded before, an’ Caydis had healed me up with a medicine ball, but what brought me back to life felt different. It tingled, like pins and needles all over the place. Would’ve thanked him if he hadn’t run off, but such is life. Or death. Or... y’know what? Forget it.
I kept fighting after that. At one point, I discovered a side path, through the thick of the brush, and thought that I’d go around to see what they had in reserve - after all, you never play all your cards at the same time. I wouldn’t’ve gone alone but I couldn’t convince Taureena and Jonathan to come with me, so it was off and alone that I went. It wasn’t hard - being quiet in the brush - especially under the yelling and thumping around the fight. Just step carefully, go slow, keep low to the ground, and you’re probably fine. I was about halfway there when there was a pause; quiet. I stopped moving rather than be discovered. Moments, passed, and the silence was broken as the air was filled with a chorous of ringing howls. Wolves - big wolves, wargs - started crashing not only through the gap, but through the brush too. I scrambled back before any could stray towards me. To be wounded and left alone without any others around to see is rarely, if ever, a desirable predicament.
Not too long after I tore my way back to the main battle, I heard another yell from the shrine: this one, “The shrine is under attack!”. I was beset by indecision for a moment - again, to go or to stay those out here? - but I decided that it might be better to go back and protect the shrine, since that’s what we were s’posed to be doing. I ran to the shrine, but when I got there, there didn’t seem to be any problems; I guess they’d dealt with ‘em already. I slipped back to the battle and began to fight again, as best I could; the wargs were a little unnerving, though. Luckily, a lot of them were already lying on the ground and bleeding out, so there were fewer of ‘em to deal with. As their number thinned, I saw a figure hanging towards the back: it was cloaked all in black, so I didn’t see what it was, but it looked human-sized. I approached it, thinking that it might be best to get rid of it, but as it turned to attack me Caydis leapt out of nowhere and rebirthed it. It fell to the ground and stayed there. I guess I prolly have him to thank for saving me again, given that whatever it was was probably really nasty if a rebirth killed it. Undead are like that.
An’ speakin’ of undead, as I walked amongst the various corpses on the ground, I noticed that faces - familiar faces, allies - looked transparent in the darkness. They were going towards the shrine. They were... what do you call them? Spirit guardians, I think? I wasn’t sure what this meant - if they had been turned that way by the black-cloaked figure, or if maybe a necromancer on our side had animated them that was so they’d be harder to take down, or what. I didn’t have much time to wonder on it, though, because something hit me and knocked me down. I wasn’t quite unconscious, but I hurt a lot. I remember great, smelly jaws clamping down upon my head, and then nothing.
When I woke, memory was dim. Maybe it was just my perception, or maybe I re-forgot, but all the memories are like the edge of torchlight - only on the fringe of existing at all. I remember the black-cloaked figure standing over me. It wasn’t scary, I don’t think. It just was. It told me to do something, so I stood and went to do it. I was... calm. Floating. Smoothly walking - no, floating - floating?
And then, I was back. Between the time of being back and being not-quite-there, the battle had ended; Caydis and other life mages were going ‘round and rounding up everyone from around the battlefield. I woke up in the area of the shrine, which had unfortunately been torn absolutely to pieces. I guess that part of the mission didn’t go so well. But after that, there wasn’t much point to stayin’; so we left and went back to Pinnacle.
Going out adventuring at night is weird. I haven’t done much battle, so maybe it’s just that and I’m not used to it, but everything kind of blurs together. I suppose I’ll find out tomorrow if that’s the case - they’re going out again, and now that I’ve met a bunch of the people there, I think I’d like to stay and see what I can do to help Hostor. Not that I can do much in the meantime; I have a lot to learn, I think, not least in the way of actually useful skills. Right now, I can’t do much besides poking stuff with my staff; it was more the mages that were having big impacts on the battle. Once I’ve been around a little while and gotten more used to the rhythm of things, I think I’ll go up to the mage school and see if they’ll take me as a student. And in the meantime - well, I still have a lot to learn. So I suppose I’d better get to if I want to be surviving for very much longer.
---
Enyari Fenwë
Caydis came home from protecting the shrines tonight and mentioned that there had been some fairly serious undead out on the battlefield. One in particular had been especially troublesome; it had taken a while, when looking at how it acted, to determine what exactly it was. Some people thought it was a vampire, and others thought it was a tomb weight; in the end, it sounds like they decided that it was a tomb weight after all, just a fairly strange one.
If this means what I think it means, it sounds like Terisio and I are going to have some work to do tomorrow. Gods help us that it’s just some cobwebs and not the whole spider that we have to deal with. Even with our extensive preparation, I’m not sure we’re ready to take on the full brunt of the problem yet.
We’ll see.
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