Maigin turned to Scatha . His eyes showed worry as he gazed over the swamp shortly before turning to face his fellows on the hunt. "Nothing that should concern you lady Scatha. They are but spirits of my past which come to haunt me as we walk the marshes. The events which you are so interested in bring back some bad memories."
He checked his gear and looked over Barrett and Scatha to see if theirs was still in order. It was the instinct of the tracker and the yahren of training which seemed to keep him doing that, keep him watching over his fellows. He seemed to be able to keep to his task, even though Barrett could clearly tell that these "ghosts of the past" weighed heavily on the mind of their guide.
Maigin however didn't seem inclined to indulge them in any more details as he set out along the same direction as they had come from. "Let us go, if we start out along this route we will cross the site you wish to explore before heading back. We should mind the time. The tide should be rolling in in a few marks so we should make haste not to be near to any of the major water flows when that happens."
His resolve seemed to strengthen as he set out to walk, checking to see if Scatha and Barrett were still at his back. This was what he was born to do, wander the wild and live. As they turned a flock of Thufu set out from the reeds, squaking loudly, flapping their huge but elegant wings they soared upwards and shot overhead before turning east and going out of sight a few burns later as they landed somewhere further into the marshlands.
Walkabout (Scatha & Barrett) - Samheen 25th MT
Moderator: Mods
The guide might have any number of reasons to reminisce given their location and the nature of the events they were investigating. Barrett decided not to press the issue, particularly since continued action seemed to draw Maigin out of his somber mood. Perhaps a quiet word later, if there was an opportune time in a cozier spot. than the marsh...
The sight of the flock taking off chased all such worries from the scholar's mind. Many people might have simply been impressed with the beauty and uplifting imagery of that scene. Indeed, Barrett was one of these, but there were other aspects to his fascination: numerical, statistical, theoretical aspects. The seemingly random grace of the birds was the result of precise patterns of data: the spatial relationships of individual birds and family units, the wind patterns and temperature and density of the air, proximity of nests and desired resources, interference of plant mass and possible predator signs...
By the time the Querist drew himself away from these explorations, he had quite missed some of the details of their last few burns of travel. Sure, he had caught and heeded Maigin's warnings, and kept enough mind not to stumble or take an impromptu dip in the swamp water, but there was a definite turning inward of his thoughts and focus. A necessity if he was to take advantage of his conjectures about the Aether in order to explore the events that took place here.
It was a complex pattern: a series of problems and projections regarding magic in general and Amun Rah magick in particular, but that also touched on a general theory of magick that might be developed with much much more experimentation and research... possibly several lifetimes worth.
He had been developing a web of interconnected theories since his first attempt to reach out to the Aether in the palace treasure vault. Basically, it all hinged upon the difficulties, or differences, Barrett was experiencing with his use of magick while on the desert isle. First, the energy granted him by the Thinker had seemed faint, not gone - as it had been when he was in close proximity to the Rosestone - but lessened. As if Aurelius were either distant or reluctant to interfere overmuch in Uphuron's domain. This made sense, given the Thinker's general non-interference. But it did not explain the strangeness the foreign feel of Aether overall. Nor did it account for the awkwardness of the scholar's attempts to utilize pure sorcery for manipulation. No, the very energy on this ancient isle was different. It had become apparent when he had glimpsed the essence of the guardian spirit and her connection to the Aetherial energy of the palace and to the elements. There were possible hints, in folklore and histories, in the way that sorcery was described as an invocation of spirits.
Barrett knew that the climate of a place often shaped the culture and worldview of humans who lived in different environments... Could the people and their beliefs have a similar effect on the Aether energies of a land? It was similar to one of the complex theological puzzles that Barrett was working on. Basically, he suspected that the behavior and beliefs of the people here had, over the course of many generations, changed the way that magick worked. (Changed the way that it perceived itself was how Barrett had initially phrased the problem.) Whether the ancestral spirits had joined with the Aether or whether the Aether had been shaped by the natives of Amun Rah was irrelevant (but interesting...). What mattered was: would his attempt to treat with the energy as spirits work any better than his brute attempts to manipulate the energies?
For that was the Querist’s intent. To attempt a manipulation not by willing things but by persuading the “spirits†(and perhaps Uphuron?) of this place to grant him the knowledge he sought. It was similar, in theory, to the way most priests manipulated the energies embodied by their deity. (Curiously, Barrett did not consider his own use of the Thinker’s energy as a manipulation in that sense.) He knew that it was wildly improbable for his attempt to work. After all, the spirits likely had specific ways that they were invoked. Specific formulae. And Barrett, much like a codebreaker, was attempting to hack out his own method of accessing the energies. But he hoped that his motives and methodology would sway the odds and, with the inspiration of Aurelius and the will of Uphuron to avenge the disturbance of his beasts’ peace, provide at least a slim chance at confirming what had happened to the elder and the wolf-eyed man.
So Barrett traveled, deep in thought, occasionally muttering phrases like “a shift in the paradigm†and “replacing these variables with native iconographyâ€.
The sight of the flock taking off chased all such worries from the scholar's mind. Many people might have simply been impressed with the beauty and uplifting imagery of that scene. Indeed, Barrett was one of these, but there were other aspects to his fascination: numerical, statistical, theoretical aspects. The seemingly random grace of the birds was the result of precise patterns of data: the spatial relationships of individual birds and family units, the wind patterns and temperature and density of the air, proximity of nests and desired resources, interference of plant mass and possible predator signs...
By the time the Querist drew himself away from these explorations, he had quite missed some of the details of their last few burns of travel. Sure, he had caught and heeded Maigin's warnings, and kept enough mind not to stumble or take an impromptu dip in the swamp water, but there was a definite turning inward of his thoughts and focus. A necessity if he was to take advantage of his conjectures about the Aether in order to explore the events that took place here.
It was a complex pattern: a series of problems and projections regarding magic in general and Amun Rah magick in particular, but that also touched on a general theory of magick that might be developed with much much more experimentation and research... possibly several lifetimes worth.
He had been developing a web of interconnected theories since his first attempt to reach out to the Aether in the palace treasure vault. Basically, it all hinged upon the difficulties, or differences, Barrett was experiencing with his use of magick while on the desert isle. First, the energy granted him by the Thinker had seemed faint, not gone - as it had been when he was in close proximity to the Rosestone - but lessened. As if Aurelius were either distant or reluctant to interfere overmuch in Uphuron's domain. This made sense, given the Thinker's general non-interference. But it did not explain the strangeness the foreign feel of Aether overall. Nor did it account for the awkwardness of the scholar's attempts to utilize pure sorcery for manipulation. No, the very energy on this ancient isle was different. It had become apparent when he had glimpsed the essence of the guardian spirit and her connection to the Aetherial energy of the palace and to the elements. There were possible hints, in folklore and histories, in the way that sorcery was described as an invocation of spirits.
Barrett knew that the climate of a place often shaped the culture and worldview of humans who lived in different environments... Could the people and their beliefs have a similar effect on the Aether energies of a land? It was similar to one of the complex theological puzzles that Barrett was working on. Basically, he suspected that the behavior and beliefs of the people here had, over the course of many generations, changed the way that magick worked. (Changed the way that it perceived itself was how Barrett had initially phrased the problem.) Whether the ancestral spirits had joined with the Aether or whether the Aether had been shaped by the natives of Amun Rah was irrelevant (but interesting...). What mattered was: would his attempt to treat with the energy as spirits work any better than his brute attempts to manipulate the energies?
For that was the Querist’s intent. To attempt a manipulation not by willing things but by persuading the “spirits†(and perhaps Uphuron?) of this place to grant him the knowledge he sought. It was similar, in theory, to the way most priests manipulated the energies embodied by their deity. (Curiously, Barrett did not consider his own use of the Thinker’s energy as a manipulation in that sense.) He knew that it was wildly improbable for his attempt to work. After all, the spirits likely had specific ways that they were invoked. Specific formulae. And Barrett, much like a codebreaker, was attempting to hack out his own method of accessing the energies. But he hoped that his motives and methodology would sway the odds and, with the inspiration of Aurelius and the will of Uphuron to avenge the disturbance of his beasts’ peace, provide at least a slim chance at confirming what had happened to the elder and the wolf-eyed man.
So Barrett traveled, deep in thought, occasionally muttering phrases like “a shift in the paradigm†and “replacing these variables with native iconographyâ€.
-
Brytan
- Moderator & Coordinator Triangle Islands
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After a trek of a good two marks they were approaching the edge of the marshlands, slightly to the south of where they had first entered it would seem. The last mark of travel had been particularly hard as the tide had set in and waterlevels all across the marshes were rising, probably explaining the relocation of the flock of Thufu earlier.
Now they were closer to the sands of the desert, in the distance the village was visible to a keen eye, standing out on the flat surface of the sands, small homes and low buildings almost blending in with their colours, but standing out due to their height. The ground was dry here, reeds growing in less abundance. Maigin halted at several points during the last few burns of their walk, checking his surroundings, looking for landmarks.
Eventually they stopped at a patch of dry land, not very much different than all the land around it. Seemingly undisturbed by human intervention, sand covering the ground with a couple of rocks laying about. Barrett detected a pattern in one stack of rocks, similar to a funeral pile used in some cultures around Tazlure. It was a small pile, almost insignificant. Standing out only to the Querists keen senses because of his experience with the detection of patterns.
"This is where he was found." Maigin pointed at the pile now. "W...his family erected a small marker here to mark the site and to ask Uphuron for quick passing into the Underworld after the removal of the body." The guide kneeled down before the pile, arranging some of the scattered rocks to complete the disturbed pile and praying shortly before getting up again.
"Do what you must here, but let us not linger. We must be sure to get back to the village before dark, and the walk through the desert isn't particularly more pleasant at gravetide."
Now they were closer to the sands of the desert, in the distance the village was visible to a keen eye, standing out on the flat surface of the sands, small homes and low buildings almost blending in with their colours, but standing out due to their height. The ground was dry here, reeds growing in less abundance. Maigin halted at several points during the last few burns of their walk, checking his surroundings, looking for landmarks.
Eventually they stopped at a patch of dry land, not very much different than all the land around it. Seemingly undisturbed by human intervention, sand covering the ground with a couple of rocks laying about. Barrett detected a pattern in one stack of rocks, similar to a funeral pile used in some cultures around Tazlure. It was a small pile, almost insignificant. Standing out only to the Querists keen senses because of his experience with the detection of patterns.
"This is where he was found." Maigin pointed at the pile now. "W...his family erected a small marker here to mark the site and to ask Uphuron for quick passing into the Underworld after the removal of the body." The guide kneeled down before the pile, arranging some of the scattered rocks to complete the disturbed pile and praying shortly before getting up again.
"Do what you must here, but let us not linger. We must be sure to get back to the village before dark, and the walk through the desert isn't particularly more pleasant at gravetide."
[size=84][i]I'm sorry, but I don't know who you're talking about. You must be confusing me with that other guy...[/i][/size]
[size=67]Avatar drawn and edited by me, Darkness concept (c) Topcow comics
Age=28 - SCZ=E - Attendance=daily[/size]
[size=67]Avatar drawn and edited by me, Darkness concept (c) Topcow comics
Age=28 - SCZ=E - Attendance=daily[/size]
(OOC: My apologies to Scatha for assuming her participation. I figured it might be in everyone's interest to "cut to the chase".)
Barrett saw the significance of the stones almost immediately. The recognition inspired a mental "footnote" to be followed up later regarding the possible common origins of certain cultures throughout Tazlure. He spent a burn in silence, head bowed, out of respect for the passing of an elder and of the knowledge that might be lost with such a passing. Hopefully, Telugin had been able to pass along most of his wisdom so that others could expand upon it. So knowledge grew from generation to generation.
And now I seek knowledge of the one last experience that he might have been robbed of the chance to pass along...
There was no more planning to be done. The querist had theorized and run various projections of how the energies might be accessed or influenced. Of how he might seek the favor of the gods and spirits. Of the patterns that must be woven and interpreted and rewoven to adapt to new discoveries even as he would be creating them.
"Scatha, I will need to borrow your small knife, and the crystal."
He sat upon the dry earth, seeking a physical proximity to some of the energies he hoped to evoke. His hand traced a pattern in the sandy dirt, then wiped it away and began again... a series of patterns - the skeleton of the true scribing he was about to perform. Some of the symbols were simple writing, some gleaned from books and scrolls, some were... new, guesses or half guesses based upon the Amunic symbols that had been so prevalent at the palace and archives.
Barrett took the borrowed knife and cut into the palm of his left hand. Not deep, but enough to draw blood. This he mixed with a cup or two of water as well as his own spittle into the earth, to create a sort of muddy or clay-like area. He returned the knife to Scatha and set the crystal in his lap.
He crossed his perceptions into the Aether, ever so gently, coming as a supplicant rather than a thief. Observing rather than manipulating at first, he sat still and took in the traces, the signatures of the various energies in the area. The elements of earth and dry air, the reeds, the small creatures sleeping in burrows, the patterns of human traffic from the nearby village. The marsh tides further off.
Uphuron, protector of the desert and its living things, I come as a stranger. Not to take something to which I have no right, but to right a wrong that was brought into your domain from outside. Spirits of Desert and Man, Earth and Wind, Marsh and Bird: Help me to seek justice for the disturbance that has visited this place. Justice for the creatures of the river and for the honored elder, Telugin, whose knowledge and guidance was taken from his people. Show me what you know, what the desert saw, that I might recognize and seek this Talen out and see that justice is served.
The priest's mouth moved, but the words were not spoken aloud. Rather, Barrett let the patterns of local Aether guide him in forming the symbols, both the woven formulae of magickal symbols and the physical pattern of runes his hands described in the moist earth.
Symbols for Uphuron and the serpents and birds, symbols for the sun and moon and the passage of time. A great eye for the knowledge of past events that he wished to see. Prayer and formula combined. Sorcery, but tinged with the elements of supplication associated with the magicks of faith. Perhaps it was neither - something altogether different. Barrett had no mental space to classify such things, for his entire being was caught up with the effort of creating the pattern and melding it with the Aether and interpreting the results and re-forming his formulae for more favorable results. The entirety of his considerable mental abilities were focused, for the moment, on one and only one thing: being shown the true events connected with the death of the elder and the appearance of the man with "Gartha's Eyes".
Barrett saw the significance of the stones almost immediately. The recognition inspired a mental "footnote" to be followed up later regarding the possible common origins of certain cultures throughout Tazlure. He spent a burn in silence, head bowed, out of respect for the passing of an elder and of the knowledge that might be lost with such a passing. Hopefully, Telugin had been able to pass along most of his wisdom so that others could expand upon it. So knowledge grew from generation to generation.
And now I seek knowledge of the one last experience that he might have been robbed of the chance to pass along...
There was no more planning to be done. The querist had theorized and run various projections of how the energies might be accessed or influenced. Of how he might seek the favor of the gods and spirits. Of the patterns that must be woven and interpreted and rewoven to adapt to new discoveries even as he would be creating them.
"Scatha, I will need to borrow your small knife, and the crystal."
He sat upon the dry earth, seeking a physical proximity to some of the energies he hoped to evoke. His hand traced a pattern in the sandy dirt, then wiped it away and began again... a series of patterns - the skeleton of the true scribing he was about to perform. Some of the symbols were simple writing, some gleaned from books and scrolls, some were... new, guesses or half guesses based upon the Amunic symbols that had been so prevalent at the palace and archives.
Barrett took the borrowed knife and cut into the palm of his left hand. Not deep, but enough to draw blood. This he mixed with a cup or two of water as well as his own spittle into the earth, to create a sort of muddy or clay-like area. He returned the knife to Scatha and set the crystal in his lap.
He crossed his perceptions into the Aether, ever so gently, coming as a supplicant rather than a thief. Observing rather than manipulating at first, he sat still and took in the traces, the signatures of the various energies in the area. The elements of earth and dry air, the reeds, the small creatures sleeping in burrows, the patterns of human traffic from the nearby village. The marsh tides further off.
Uphuron, protector of the desert and its living things, I come as a stranger. Not to take something to which I have no right, but to right a wrong that was brought into your domain from outside. Spirits of Desert and Man, Earth and Wind, Marsh and Bird: Help me to seek justice for the disturbance that has visited this place. Justice for the creatures of the river and for the honored elder, Telugin, whose knowledge and guidance was taken from his people. Show me what you know, what the desert saw, that I might recognize and seek this Talen out and see that justice is served.
The priest's mouth moved, but the words were not spoken aloud. Rather, Barrett let the patterns of local Aether guide him in forming the symbols, both the woven formulae of magickal symbols and the physical pattern of runes his hands described in the moist earth.
Symbols for Uphuron and the serpents and birds, symbols for the sun and moon and the passage of time. A great eye for the knowledge of past events that he wished to see. Prayer and formula combined. Sorcery, but tinged with the elements of supplication associated with the magicks of faith. Perhaps it was neither - something altogether different. Barrett had no mental space to classify such things, for his entire being was caught up with the effort of creating the pattern and melding it with the Aether and interpreting the results and re-forming his formulae for more favorable results. The entirety of his considerable mental abilities were focused, for the moment, on one and only one thing: being shown the true events connected with the death of the elder and the appearance of the man with "Gartha's Eyes".
-
wyrdgirluk
- Tazlure Supporter
- Posts: 923
- Joined: Fri Oct 25, 2002 10:25 am
- Location: Aveas
OOC : oops! Sorry for not replying... 
Scatha was somewhat nonplussed by Maigin's reply; whatever was upsetting him was presumably too painful to talk about. When her father had died, she hadn't wanted to talk to anyone, and she'd hid in the hills and woods around Kittywich for five days before her brothers hunted her down. Besides, it was obviously bad manners to intude on something so sensitive.
Scatha followed Maigin and Barrett to the edge of the marshlands, until they stood next to the marker stones for Telugin's grave. Scatha knew that the old people in Dort used to bury their dead on the hills, and pile stones on top of the grave to mark them, and to stop scavengers digging up the bones; cairns they were called, back home. She looked about; in the far distance she could pick out the village they'd stayed at, near enough so that Telguin would be able to see his people. Scatha stooped down, and took a handful of the earth; dry and crumbling, yet still capable of growth, and within sight of his people. It was a good place to lie. Crumbling the dull earth beneath her fingers, Scatha closed her eyes and murmured a small prayer to the Mother, asking her to watch over the man who lay in the soil beside her.
She was somewhat startled by Barrett's request, but willingly handed the crystal and small knife over to him. She watched in interest as the Dortman made his preperations, half expecting another brilliant orange light show - then called out in alarm as Barrett cut his palm; "Now that's stupid - you'll get dirt and all sorts in there. You'd best wash it clean."
If Barrett heard her, he did not acknowledge her, and Scatha realised that he was using the crystal for something, something she neither knew nor understood. Wide eyed, she sat and waited and watched...
Scatha was somewhat nonplussed by Maigin's reply; whatever was upsetting him was presumably too painful to talk about. When her father had died, she hadn't wanted to talk to anyone, and she'd hid in the hills and woods around Kittywich for five days before her brothers hunted her down. Besides, it was obviously bad manners to intude on something so sensitive.
Scatha followed Maigin and Barrett to the edge of the marshlands, until they stood next to the marker stones for Telugin's grave. Scatha knew that the old people in Dort used to bury their dead on the hills, and pile stones on top of the grave to mark them, and to stop scavengers digging up the bones; cairns they were called, back home. She looked about; in the far distance she could pick out the village they'd stayed at, near enough so that Telguin would be able to see his people. Scatha stooped down, and took a handful of the earth; dry and crumbling, yet still capable of growth, and within sight of his people. It was a good place to lie. Crumbling the dull earth beneath her fingers, Scatha closed her eyes and murmured a small prayer to the Mother, asking her to watch over the man who lay in the soil beside her.
She was somewhat startled by Barrett's request, but willingly handed the crystal and small knife over to him. She watched in interest as the Dortman made his preperations, half expecting another brilliant orange light show - then called out in alarm as Barrett cut his palm; "Now that's stupid - you'll get dirt and all sorts in there. You'd best wash it clean."
If Barrett heard her, he did not acknowledge her, and Scatha realised that he was using the crystal for something, something she neither knew nor understood. Wide eyed, she sat and waited and watched...
Image by kind permission of Peter Town - check out his great work at Elfwood!
"Cleavage & attitude can carry a girl a *long* way"
"Cleavage & attitude can carry a girl a *long* way"
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Brytan
- Moderator & Coordinator Triangle Islands
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- Contact:
Barrett's preparations were viewed by Maigin with some interest, as he had yet to see the Querist at work and did not know of the man's abilities. He watched as Barrett drew the patterns in the sand, as he started his chant to the spirits of Amun Rah.
At first nothing much seemed to happen. Scatha nor Maigin viewed any change. The wind picked up.
The wind rustled through the sparse reeds surrounding the site. It picked up in strength, rushing in from the eastern desert, sand was carried along with it. Maigin covered his mouth and eyes as the strength of the wind increased. "A sandstorm, we should find cover."
To Barrett however, the guide's words were lost. The wind swept around him, seemingly encroaching on the drawn patterns in the sand. He could hear voices on the wind, speaking in strange tongues.
Then, flickers later, two men stepped forward through the whirlwind of sand, one dressed in desert garb, very similar to Maigin's own dress, one dressed in easy fitting leathers, covered by a grey mantle, tied at the waste by an ornately embroidered leather belt. His eyes dark and canine. The men seemed to be conversing, although Barrett heard no sound. The vision disappeared as the men walked off into the storm.
Darkness engulfed the storm, one man sitting alone by a fire, the man in the desert garb. Alongside him by a fire, a bag containing something indiscriminate. Suddenly, an attack, a large wolf like creature tears into the man sitting by the fire. The scream is silent but visible as life seeps out of the man's eyes. The eyes of the beast are strikingly familiar.
The wind dies down, the sand goes as the vision dissapates. The energies flowing through the Aether are almost tangible in the Tether as Barrett wakes from the visions, the might and power of their clarity thundering in the air as the aftermath after a violent storm.
At first nothing much seemed to happen. Scatha nor Maigin viewed any change. The wind picked up.
The wind rustled through the sparse reeds surrounding the site. It picked up in strength, rushing in from the eastern desert, sand was carried along with it. Maigin covered his mouth and eyes as the strength of the wind increased. "A sandstorm, we should find cover."
To Barrett however, the guide's words were lost. The wind swept around him, seemingly encroaching on the drawn patterns in the sand. He could hear voices on the wind, speaking in strange tongues.
Then, flickers later, two men stepped forward through the whirlwind of sand, one dressed in desert garb, very similar to Maigin's own dress, one dressed in easy fitting leathers, covered by a grey mantle, tied at the waste by an ornately embroidered leather belt. His eyes dark and canine. The men seemed to be conversing, although Barrett heard no sound. The vision disappeared as the men walked off into the storm.
Darkness engulfed the storm, one man sitting alone by a fire, the man in the desert garb. Alongside him by a fire, a bag containing something indiscriminate. Suddenly, an attack, a large wolf like creature tears into the man sitting by the fire. The scream is silent but visible as life seeps out of the man's eyes. The eyes of the beast are strikingly familiar.
The wind dies down, the sand goes as the vision dissapates. The energies flowing through the Aether are almost tangible in the Tether as Barrett wakes from the visions, the might and power of their clarity thundering in the air as the aftermath after a violent storm.
[size=84][i]I'm sorry, but I don't know who you're talking about. You must be confusing me with that other guy...[/i][/size]
[size=67]Avatar drawn and edited by me, Darkness concept (c) Topcow comics
Age=28 - SCZ=E - Attendance=daily[/size]
[size=67]Avatar drawn and edited by me, Darkness concept (c) Topcow comics
Age=28 - SCZ=E - Attendance=daily[/size]
A storm of symbols. The Magick swirled around him, impossible to tell from the wind and dust of the physical world. Improvising, the querist had opened himself up to forces he barely understood. Even with the significant aid of the Crystal, it took all of his concentration not to get lost in the whirlwind.
But Barrett was nothing if not persistent: he clung to the tiny thread of self and demanded sense of the patterns forming around him. And sense came. The vision was rather literally what he had requested. the scene played out before him not as Barrett would have observed it, but as the desert had experienced the events. Symbolic meaning clung to each piece of the picture that was revealed. He knew the elder, Telugin, a respected dweller of this area. And the stranger, the wolf-eyed predator.
As the vision ended, Barrett found himself clawing at the air and earth around him, trying to find his way back to the here and now. The Tether. His eyes were filled with horror and his body shook with deep tremors. He fought violently to keep the contents of his stomach on the inside. When he lost that battle and expelled what remained of his last meal onto the sand, he began to calm somewhat.
It was several burns before he could speak, or even organize his thoughts. The sheer brutality of the elder guide's death, and that of the Thufus, had been too much for him. Oh, sure, he had faced the burning grasp of a demon. He had witnessed the paladins disembowel and behead their enemies with great swords. But this was different. Perhaps because he could not mentally distance himself from what he had been shown. It had been necessary to open himself up to the full sensation. And compared to the wolf's attack... swords, even great swords that tore open a foe's stomach, still seemed more civilized.
Shaking hands reached for his waterskin as the last few strands of spittle and sand fell from his mouth.
"Your kinsman... I am sorry. No man deserves such an end."
But Barrett was nothing if not persistent: he clung to the tiny thread of self and demanded sense of the patterns forming around him. And sense came. The vision was rather literally what he had requested. the scene played out before him not as Barrett would have observed it, but as the desert had experienced the events. Symbolic meaning clung to each piece of the picture that was revealed. He knew the elder, Telugin, a respected dweller of this area. And the stranger, the wolf-eyed predator.
As the vision ended, Barrett found himself clawing at the air and earth around him, trying to find his way back to the here and now. The Tether. His eyes were filled with horror and his body shook with deep tremors. He fought violently to keep the contents of his stomach on the inside. When he lost that battle and expelled what remained of his last meal onto the sand, he began to calm somewhat.
It was several burns before he could speak, or even organize his thoughts. The sheer brutality of the elder guide's death, and that of the Thufus, had been too much for him. Oh, sure, he had faced the burning grasp of a demon. He had witnessed the paladins disembowel and behead their enemies with great swords. But this was different. Perhaps because he could not mentally distance himself from what he had been shown. It had been necessary to open himself up to the full sensation. And compared to the wolf's attack... swords, even great swords that tore open a foe's stomach, still seemed more civilized.
Shaking hands reached for his waterskin as the last few strands of spittle and sand fell from his mouth.
"Your kinsman... I am sorry. No man deserves such an end."
-
wyrdgirluk
- Tazlure Supporter
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- Joined: Fri Oct 25, 2002 10:25 am
- Location: Aveas
Scatha leant forward and took the Dortman by the shoulder, shaking him gently; "Are you alright? What did you see?" She glanced up at the sky, feeling the wind start to brush against her skin. "Whatever it is, you can tell me on the way. We have to go - Maigin says a sand storm is coming, and I believe him. There is enough of the stuff lying around for one."
Image by kind permission of Peter Town - check out his great work at Elfwood!
"Cleavage & attitude can carry a girl a *long* way"
"Cleavage & attitude can carry a girl a *long* way"
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Brytan
- Moderator & Coordinator Triangle Islands
- Posts: 1156
- Joined: Fri Oct 14, 2005 6:53 pm
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- Contact:
The guide merely nodded in reply to Barrett's comment. Maigin looked around as the last of the sand falls from the sky around them and the air clears.
"It was a sign of Uphuron. You must wield some powerful magic to conjure such a storm for mere burns. It would seem the sky is clear now. However, we should start making our way back to the village before nighttide falls."
OOC: I think we can safely start wrapping up our little slice of history here. Feel free to post some closing arguments before moving on in your citadel threads and wherever the road may lead. Should you need any additional information which may be discussed on the way back just ask.
"It was a sign of Uphuron. You must wield some powerful magic to conjure such a storm for mere burns. It would seem the sky is clear now. However, we should start making our way back to the village before nighttide falls."
OOC: I think we can safely start wrapping up our little slice of history here. Feel free to post some closing arguments before moving on in your citadel threads and wherever the road may lead. Should you need any additional information which may be discussed on the way back just ask.
[size=84][i]I'm sorry, but I don't know who you're talking about. You must be confusing me with that other guy...[/i][/size]
[size=67]Avatar drawn and edited by me, Darkness concept (c) Topcow comics
Age=28 - SCZ=E - Attendance=daily[/size]
[size=67]Avatar drawn and edited by me, Darkness concept (c) Topcow comics
Age=28 - SCZ=E - Attendance=daily[/size]
Barrett was not certain of the accuracy of Maigin’s assumption. It had felt, at times, as if the magic were wielding him. But the priest did not have the energy, or the heart, to correct the guide.
In fact, he spent the remainder of the trip in silence. And for most of it, he required considerable help from Scatha and Maigin to remain conscious and moving. Hopefully it would be a long time before he need gamble with such forces again.
(Well, he could hope... )
(OOC: I think I’m done here. Thanks for bearing with me in my magcial angsty experimentation.
)
In fact, he spent the remainder of the trip in silence. And for most of it, he required considerable help from Scatha and Maigin to remain conscious and moving. Hopefully it would be a long time before he need gamble with such forces again.
(Well, he could hope... )
(OOC: I think I’m done here. Thanks for bearing with me in my magcial angsty experimentation.
)-
wyrdgirluk
- Tazlure Supporter
- Posts: 923
- Joined: Fri Oct 25, 2002 10:25 am
- Location: Aveas
Whatever it was Barrett had done, it had certainly spooked him; he wouldn't talk to her, or Maigin. It was a peculiar silence that, in anyone else, Scatha would have described as a sulk. When people went like that, they were best left on their own, and so Scatha allowed the Dortman the rare luxury of a peaceful (and question free) walk back to the village...
OOC : I'm out! Thank you for a wonderfully well written thread
OOC : I'm out! Thank you for a wonderfully well written thread
Image by kind permission of Peter Town - check out his great work at Elfwood!
"Cleavage & attitude can carry a girl a *long* way"
"Cleavage & attitude can carry a girl a *long* way"