***
Oios
***
I should ask you that Telowo. Oios sighs as he gratefully accepts the break. Damballah only knows how I have found myself in charge of the caravan, but now I shut myself up going over old books instead. Is all well? This place might have been a fine addition to the edge of the Three People's holdings but... well Oios shrugs It seems obvious in hindsight how insular the capital had become. How are the people settling? There is so much to do and I hope industriousness is keeping their despair at bay. Certainly we are going to be richer as we move into the unknown. Hah. The knowledge and materials we now possess as refugees are treasures that even the God King would not have access to. It is a funny thought is it not?
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====================
Istiel, Desnus 19-25
====================
Journeying with Scree was an experience wrought with conflict, though it was all internal in nature.
Something inside Istiel kept warning her to not trust Scree. It was telling her that the other monk was going to lead her to her death, just as she had done to the others at the battle of Shadeholme. It was a voice that she recognized as her own, but intrusive and forceful. It was anomolous, and like her angner, she knew she should not give into it...
But after watching Scree gleefully kill a jackrabbit with a masterful blow, she was starting to believe the voice. There was an air of death and violence around the monk, a hunter that kills for pleasure instead of purpose.
Feeling troubled, Istiel seeks respite in meditation and ritual bathing, the latter which had been denied to her for over a month.
Now intimately familiar with the area surrounding the tower, she knew of a perfect spot to take advantage of the local geography. As Ayida-wedu's dying light turns the cloudly sky into a firey orange glow, Istiel sets off for the western pools dammed by the sleeping Nargun.
The sky has taken on muted dark grey as she reaches her destination, the moon barely visible amongst the obscuring mist and clouds. The spring night brings with it a subtle chill, but it also brought a fond darkness.
Strewn about the dammed pool are the lumpy shapes of Nargun in all forms, retarding the flow of water before it spills between their more closely packed brethren at the edge of the cliff. She wades into the pool and effortlessly swims to a relatively flat-topped Nargun (or is it just a rock?), its crown only a few inches above water.
She pulls herself onto its surface and stands tall, inhaling the cool, saturated air into her lungs. She places her jute carrying sack on the other end of the island, producing four items from its contents: a wooden ladel, a palm-sized obsidan flake, a lump of brown soap, and a pumice stone. Each are placed in that order at the other end of the rock island, spaced evenly apart.
Facing the array of items Istiel begins to close her eyes- the last thing she sees is her dripping hands reaching to the sides of her head. She begins to unbuckle the clasps situated at the back of her neck and top of her head, and for the first time in over a month, removes her mask. Without opening her eyes, it is carefully set at the end of the row of items.
Her black silk robe, undergarments, and moccasins follow suit, folded and placed in line with her mask. She sits on the rock (Nargun?) cross-legged and nude. The cold assaults her skin, causing large goosbumps to form. It prickles her face, every inch complaining at the unfamiliarity of air moving over it.
Istiel allows herself one involuntary shiver before she inhales deeply, then exhales slowly. She focuses on the feelings of cold, the outside forces, and slips into the void of meditation. There are no more shivers. Her core body temperature rises as she wills it so, and within a matter of minutes she is sitting comfortably on the rock, surrounded by nothing but darkness and running water.
The motions begin, completely blind and nearly autonomous. All the while, she thinks.
The ladel pours cold water over her head, rivlets forming in her stubby hair before coursing down the back of her neck. Is Scree a danger? To me? To the Flight?
The obsdian flake presses against her scalp, deftly cutting hair from her cold, puckered skin. She is strength without purpose. A killer with no motive. If the Flight runs out of enemies, where will she turn next? Says the other voice, calm and seductive. Images of all the faces of her brothers and sisters that died under Scree's command start to bore into her conciousness.
The caustic soap lathers her skin, removing a month of grime, sweat, and dried blood. There are no masters to report her to. It is me, Suuha, Scree. We are the remains. Suuha no longer follows the traditions. Without Scree... I will be the last. Unsustainable.
The pumice grinds into her skin, removing stubble that the obsidan flake could not cut, powdering scabs and agitating her many new scars. Yes. How glorious! By defeating Scree you protect the Flight... uphold your duty... best an equal in combat... avenge your brothers and sisters... and become the last warrior-monk. You would be the uncontested Master. The songs they would sing. Kill Scree, and prevent another catastrophe. Her own voice purrs.
Shocked by her thoughts, her concentration and meditation is broken. The pumice stone drops from her hand, clattering to groundrock and bouncing into the pool. A few seconds pass, and her shock turns to anger.
Anger at the voice for tempting her to turn against her comrads. Anger at Scree for killing her brothers and sisters. At herself for not being strong enough to force these thoughts away, and while she's at it, nearly getting killed by a Nargun. At Suuha for abandoning their traditions. At Domhnall for dying, leaving her here without any guidance!
She growls, balls her fist, and brings it down to punch the rock below her. A small crack is heard from the stone as she strikes it, and Istiel freezes, her rage draining away as she listens intently.
No rumbling, weird groaning or foul stentch... She relaxes. No Nargun. She was just sitting on a rock after all.
Lifting her hands to her head, she holds it there for a moment, squeezing her smoothly shaved scalp. I should feel clean. My mind a still pond. Instead, I feel there is oil on its surface. How am I any different than Scree? I follow glory. Perhaps she follows her own.
With a sigh, she drops her hands. Her focus broken, the wet cold was starting to get to her once again. She blindly grabs her robe and mask, putting them on without incident.
Standing up straight, Istiel tightens the straps on her mask and opens her eyes. A few feet of blurry darkness greet her, the clouded moon's light barely illuminating anything.
It didn't matter. To her nothing was illuminated this night, figuratively or literally. She retrieves her items and puts them back in her sack, diving into the running waters to swim instinctively eastward. After pulling herself from the pool she lights a candlerod, following the ridge back to the tower. I need more sleep. I will cut strength training short tonight.
-------------------------------
Istiel looks at the silhouette of the tower in the mist, considering the implications of their findings.
She climbs back down the tree, jumping the last ten feet to land gracefully next to Scree. "They were looking at the tower. This person" Istiel gestures to the tracks "knows."
She kneels down and starts looking for signs of the direction they went. "We will find them. Bring them to Oios. If that fails we kill them. The Flight needs more time to prepare."
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====================
Nat, Desnus 19-25
Remembrance
====================
Church isn't a building/place. It's not a state of mind. It's not a congregation. It's a location AND a state of mind AND a congregation. It's all of that, and more. It's hard to define, so Nat doesn't try.
You know it when you see it.
And she doesn't see it, yet. But she's getting there. A week of finding the right place, facing the dawn, open to the elements but with shelter enough from the wind (even the most devout don't generally consider chilblains to be a blessing). A week of borrowing what she can, scrounging a few possessions, a few chairs, a table here, a cloth there. A week of prayer and fasting. A week of sheer undiluted slog.
She can't remember when she was last this fulfilled (which is not the same as happy. In some ways, it's better).
Finally, satisfied, she rises from her knees and looks around at her helpers; acknowledging with a nod and a smile the work they've put in. Couldn't have done it without you.
As Ayida-Wedu rises, her first beams piercing the gloom of night, Nat raises her hands to begin the service.
And stops. She's not a silver-tongued bishop, or smooth-talking prelate - what does she have to say that's worth the listening? Nat isn't given to much in the way of hesitation: when in doubt, do what is right is the motto she has lived by. But as she looks at the (small) crowd of people gathered there, what is the right thing to say at this time? What is there to be truly thankful for?
How do we worship our gods, in a land that is not our own?
Well, there's only one way to find out.
"You moyt be wondering whoy you're here. Whoy, after all that's happened, all the ill we've suffered, losing our home, should we care about the gods? Do they care about us? And Oy could say summat loyk 'give thanks we've still got our loyves' but that's priest-talk. It doesn't help any."
She pauses, and looks around. Hopefully this is registering. "But let me tell you whoy Oy'm here. Oy'm here to remember. Oy had friends in Cornucopia, friends in moy Tooyah homeland; and they're gone. Oy didn't get to say goodboy, nor bury them even. Oy know we all lost those we care about, and Oy suggest we take some toyme to remember them, and ask the gods to see their souls home safely."
Silence is a powerful tool for reflection. Nat thinks of those she knew and will never see again: Astix the High Priest, though he didn't have a high opinion of me. He defended Cornucopia bravely at the last. Shariss, who helped me with my studies when I got stuck amid all the book-learning. Utzos, the head-man of my village who recognised my calling... On and on, all the friends and neighbours whose names she can recall; and the faces of the ones she can't.
She allows time for people to indicate that they're done; ready to move on. Eventually, she nods, and lifts her hands once more. "May the Father of Waters goyde them to his Source, where all waters run together and the Sun ever shoynes."
=============
Imix, Desnus 19-25
===============
The week previous, you, Chukix, and the students had reached the opinion that the room was intended to create, to bind, the Nargun. With more study, you realize that it isn't exactly right.The writing, runic carvings in the same author's unsteady hand as that in the entrance tower above you, reveals more secrets the longer you all work at it. The ritual, when completed, will pull the spirit of a Nargun, taking it from the more pure state of the earth, and along the ley lines, into a rock "body" powered by an adamantine "heart." These pulled Nargun are powerful creatures, you gather from reading the writers' notes, but they are still weaker than a true Nargun.
This adamantine, you gather, is the metal being mined by the living dead within the mines of this very Darohm city.
"Spirits made flesh - or at least, stone." Imix mused to Chukix. "I wonder if this is how the Flame makes its creatures. Pulling the spirit of something evil into a prepared body. I wonder" he continues, with blithe blasphemy "If we could do the same. Pull a spirit such as Nat compels into the body of a worshiper. Create our own demigod heroes. Half-divine protectors."
One morning, you awake to find the children gone, all of them. Stepping over Chukix's still sleeping form (in the hallway - your keeper took you up on your offer), you make haste to the city below. No one has seen the children.Then, an uncomfortable feeling rising in your chest, you make your way upwards, towards the tower. Once there, you find Sarre standing watch, her bow momentarily forgotten. Seeing you, she nods towards the lake.
There, are the children, thankfully unharmed. And next to them, a life-sized canoe, with life-sized paddles, an exact replica it seems, of the model canoe that should be in your bag. Which of course, it is not.
The children are jubilant, as children are when making a discovery, until Selma notices you, and tugs on Tepix's shirt. Turning to see you, the children pale. Mossy stammers, pointing to Tepix. "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, his idea!"
The cold chill that had haunted him since he found the children missing breaks into a hot flash of emotion. In a spark of insight Imix finds himself wavering between anger and relief, and pushes himself to relief.
Smiling a broad, if disquieting smile, he laughs aloud and strides into the frigid water. "Well done, Tepix! Your first discovery! You have turned the model into a true canoe, correct? Well done! How did you do it?"Noting the surprise on his apprentices he explains "Suriname exist outside the law. This you knew. A discovery like this, taken because you realised the one who should command you is wrong, is enough to earn you the title - at least in my opinion. You risked much because your training showed you I was wrong, and you were right. A - what do you call it? Pocket canoe? A pocket canoe could make all the difference while scouting the way for the Flight. I dare say Istiel herself might thank you for your discovery. Now come, satisfy my curiosity. How did you realise the purpose, and how did you deduce the mechanism?"
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=============
Drazan, Desnus 19-25
=============
Lijart runs his hand through his graying hair, and you notice just how much the man has aged recently. He was always reedy in stature, but the last few weeks have seen much of that wiry frame replaced by absence; absence of food, absence of routine.
The hunter was never much for eloquent speeches, but his earnestness has always made its way through in his speech. He clears his throat.
"I, uh, am not so worried, about today at least. Truth be told. My daughter's still here, and that's more than some can say."
"But I may not be here for much longer, Drazan. Age is catching up, and recent events haven't helped keep it away, I'm afraid."
Lijart clears his throat, and twists his hat.
"It would ruin me, were I to go, and know that my daughter soon followed me, from disease, or war, or misfortune. She'll be of age next week, if I have my countings of Ayida Wedu's deaths and births figured correct. And I'd like you to do the honor of making her your wife, once we have a place settled again."
"I know that is some time off, but... it would make me proud to have you in our family, and I know there's no better man walking this world to protect Helaya..."
Lijart trails off, and twists his hat again, looking at you before glancing to his feet.
-----------
Desnus 25 sees Fulton arriving to the forge with the one that came with Nat. Ippaxa is his name, you recall; a teenager, short yet spindly, having not yet grown into his frame.
"I found a guy that can open that box," Fulton says, and sits on a nearby stool to watch. "Or so he says."
Ippaxa smiles and takes the box from you, and setting it on a nearby table, removes from his belt two finely carved mahogany picks, each with a small turned end. Inserting them into the box's lock, the boy teases the picks back and forth for a few moments, before an audible click can be heard. Ippaxa runs his hand over his forehead smiling and exhaling a sigh of relief all at once.
"Rakk yeah! Now, we of course have to be worried that this is somehow trapped - from what I heard of your recent fight, that Darohm magic is nothing to be trifled with."
Then just a quickly, the boy shrugs and flips the box lid open. The lid flips backwards and the sides of the box fall onto the table top, revealing a small set piece, as if it were a set at one of Cornucopia's playhouses. Small, metal figures stand, lie, and sit throughout a finely appointed room. The "room" has a large shaggy rug across its floor, and is furnished with chairs and couches, made of stone, and topped with red silken upholstery. There is a large bed that is the centerpiece of the display, also topped with a deep red mattress and pillows.
The minature darohm depicted are all in various states of undress, and, um, anatomically correct.
Ippaxa whistles, and turns the crank. The darhom bump and grind against each other, while an uptempo musical bit, heavy on the drums, emanates from the box.
"Godsdamn!" Ippaxa snorts. "You found some darhom porn!"
====================
Oios, Desnus 19-25
====================
Telowo chuckles, sharing your dark mirth. "Indeed, the King would be... flabbergasted at what we've found, no doubt. But then, he'd likely have taken it all for himself, so perhaps it is for the best that he's not here."
The old man raises an eyebrow. "Blasphemous? Perhaps. But these are blasphemous times."
"Anyways, the people seem to be doing alright, all things considered. There's joy in having a momentary respite, even if everyone understands it is momentary..."
"Texikuk, can you give us ten minutes, please?"
Taking a bit of fish, the priest watches the Excise-Head as she takes leave.
"I've been thinking of my role here, and as we move forward. The priestess of Ayida-Wedu is doing a fine job - in fact, she will be consecrating a church later this week. She is in many ways our last priest. Given how things have gone, I think she will be a much better spiritual guide for our people as I... I hear the whispers, that I have 'lost my faith.'"
Telowo waves his hand, dismissing any concerns you have. "It doesn't matter. People will see me as they always have eventually. It will just take time."
"Anyways, 'the Last' is quite the superlative lately. We have here in this city the Last Suriname, the Last warrior-monks, the Last Excise-Head, the Last noble. And so on."
"Oh, and we have the Last Shadow, as well..."
"It is time you start thinking of training some more. And I can be your first pupil. I'll continue as a lay priest, and have the ear of the people. The people trust you, but they won't confide in you - it is the nature of your work for all to be suspicious of, after all."
"They will confide in me, however. Teach me how to be a Shadow, and I'll pass what I learn onto you. Together, we'll keep our people safe."
====================
Istiel, Desnus 19-25
====================
This person, the watcher from the tree, is in fact one person, and not many - that you are sure of as you circle the tracks atop the forested hill. The tracks go back over many days, some as recent as today, you're pretty sure.
None, however, seem to lead from the hill.
*** Oios and Telowo ***
Blasphemy? Oios says with a shrug Perhaps. But that would mean reality is blasphemous. Oios sighs The God King was Damballah's earthly son and the stories say Damballah has withdrawn his favour from his sons before. So why would the Father of Waters not turn away from one who failed so utterly to protect the birthright he was given? Legba take me but the Valley fell to the Flame in, what was it, less than a week? It felt like it happened within the span of a single terrible day.
Oios ruminates a bit But these are matters to resolve when we have time and safety and we only have those for a moment here as we tarry here among these ruins.
Oios raises his eyebrows amused at Telowo's suggestion Shadows for a town's worth of folk? Our work was more suited for the empire that spanned the valley. But... there is merit in what you say, and what skills we had should be preserved. Very well then, what I say to you now would probably have been disputed by the others of the order, but they are not here and I am. The basic core of what drives the Shadows, the fundamental truth we are built on, is that all mortals are fallible, with no exception. Thus measures must be taken to check the mistakes we make and the first necessary step for that is to know what the mistakes are....
====================
Istiel, Desnus 19-25
====================
Istiel finds herself circling the campsite multiple times, looking for some lead off of the hill. But there is nothing. Can they fly? No, then why would they climb a tree?
She turns to Scree, arms folded. "Some tracks are fresh. They were here today. I will stay. Ambush them. Knock them out. Then carry them back to Oios for questioning."
Istiel begins looking at the various trees for a good hiding spot, as well as any loose brush in which to camouflage herself. "You may accompany me if you wish. I am confident I can best any mortal person. But no foe, even supernatural, could withstand us both. Otherwise, return. Tell Oios we are being watched."
A whisper on the wind tickles Istiel's left ear, seeming to come from just behind her shoulder. Yes, it's better to keep her nearby. To watch her. She stoicly ignores the voice, briefly wondering where Domhnall's comforting, familiar voice had gone before pushing the thoughts out of her mind and concentrating instead on the task at hand.
====================
Nat, Desnus 19-25
Remembrance
====================
If Nat expects a small crowd at her fist service, the surprise must come like a shock of cold water. Ever more Shadeholmers arrive as the day draws near, silently arriving in the darkness before dawn to this beautiful lakeside glade, a perfect place for consecration.
There's those Nat has personally affected, of course - Paola and Nando, the chasquis holding each other tight; Cogsward, chewing a tall blade of grass; the Lady Bellet, standing rigid as ever, and flanked by her guards; Ippaxa, looking slightly bored but there for your support, he's made clear.
And of course, there's present those that helped set up the church: the girl Issy and the herbalist Helgya, as well as, perhaps surprisingly, the bear of a man Utzi, who has wordlessly lent a gruff hand moving furniture and clearing the clearing this past week.
That is not the only surprise - many of the Flight show that you've yet to have any real interaction with: hunters and farmers, and perhaps, most interesting of all, Shadeholme's own High Priest Telowo, who takes a place to the side of the makeshift pulpit and grins, encouraging, his hands clasped behind his back, as you wait for dawn to break.
Still more arrive. When it is time to start, by Issy's count a full third of the flight has arrived to hear your service.
The morning is clear, cool, and dry - a perfect day for the founding of a new church. Ayida-Wedu's light first graces the sky in soft purples and yellows, and then, her brilliance peaking over the trees edging the clearing, it is time to begin.
The crowd listens, hardly a cool breath being expelled into the air, as you speak of remembrance. And then, when you finish, the Shadeholmers stand silent, reflecting.
Nervously, Issy makes her way to your side, her eyes showing both fear and determination as she approaches.
=============
Imix, Desnus 19-25
==============
Chukix eyes you with his head cocked slightly to the side, a smile spreading slowly across his face.
"Remember the first time we found the Frozen, all those days - it seems years - ago, on the hunt for the Tooyah fleeing south? There was a bird-thing in that fire."
"And then again, Thom became one of their champions. And again, there was a fire pit at his home in the silkwood grove. Egg shards, if I remember your description correctly, lay within the coals."
"I think you're onto something, Suriname, something important. The Darohm pull their Nargun from the ley lines into made bodies. The Flame pull their champions from... somewhere... into prepared bodies, as you say. I wonder what prepares them for habitation?"
The Keeper's face is a full-fledged manic, excited grin, as he claps you - hard - on your back. "I was right not to kill you!"
Oios attends Nat's consecration. He stands near the back and nods at Nat's words. They weren't the words that used to be. But nothing was.
====================
Oios, Desnus 19-25
====================
Telowo smiles, pleased that his idea has been accepted. "Well, with luck, we'll have more than a town to watch over before too long. It seems, as I understand it from gossip, that these Darohm once had a large kingdom, with underground tunnels that spanned it, acting as roads? I've been thinking of roads as metaphors. Perhaps, what we need - metaphorically of course - is an underground road, for them to follow to safety?"
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====================
Istiel, Desnus 19-25
====================
"No," Scree says, her voice monotone. "I will stay and ambush the spy. You can accompany me if you wish - or go tell Oios of our discovery."
Her bit said, Scree finds a thick mulberry bush facing north, and pushing aside the thorns, settles into it for the night. Unblinking eyes stare back at you, until dusk comes and goes, and you and Scree sit across from each other, shapes hidden in the brush and darkness. The night is cold atop the hill; your breath comes in little puffs, your back cricks as the night lets on, and still you sit, waiting.
Morning comes, and with it Ayida-Wedu's rebirth. Her light first graces the sky in soft purples and yellows, and then, her brilliance peaking through the leaves, a gasp comes from inside the mulberry bush.
Springing from her hiding place, Scree strides towards you, her finger pointed right at your head - or, you realize - right above it. Looking up, you see carved in the tree above you, five words, written in your language. The writing is in that same shaky hand as graces the tower and spiral room in the Darholme below you.
Kill. Every. Last. Three Peoples.
====================
Oios, Desnus 19-25
====================
Perhaps, what we need - metaphorically of course - is an underground road, for our people to follow to safety?"
====================
Istiel, Desnus 19-25
====================
Istiel does not respond to Scree's reply, acting nonplussed. In reality the other monk has turned this into a competition, one that Istiel intended to win by sighting and capturing the vagrant first.
As dusk falls Istiel passes the time with meditation. She closes her eyes, protecting them from the cold wind of the night. The monk had no intention of relying on them anyway- her other senses were highly attuned to the dark. The cold did not bother her, instead becoming the focal point of her meditations. The outside world had always been her gateway to the inner realm.
The first rays of light break Istiel from her trance, hazel irises meeting Ayida-Wedu's rebirth. She takes a moment to soak in the beautiful purples and yellows, almost relaxed.
Then Scree jumps up from her hiding place and catapults her into an adrenaline-fueled rush.
Brush flies everywhere as Istiel jumps up, fists clenched, spinning and looking above her... and finding nothing. Swinging her head from left and right, she does a full turn before noticing Scree is still pointing at the spot she was sitting.
The monk's shoulders stay taut as she reads the script on the tree. Not because she was on edge, but because she was stunned. "I have seen this writing before. The same as the tower. The ancient Darohm that escaped after we slew Yd. But how? How did he do this?"
A growl escapes from Istiel's mask, and she jerkingly grabs the flint knife from her belt. Stabbing the black ash tree just below the words, she carves straight lines into the wood:
[color=#62372E]_ . _
| |` \/ | |
/[/color]
Stepping back from the ash tree, Istiel looks at the letters one last time before sheathing her knife and turning to Scree. "I am returning to the tower. This prey will require a trap."
------------------------
Just as Oios gets settled in with a book in the library, he would look up to see that Istiel has suddenly appeared- arms crossed and with bits of dead leaf litter sticking to her robes.
She skips the pleasantries and gets straight to the point. "The Darohm that escaped stalks our borders. He has been observing the tower from a distance. Myself and Scree sought to ambush him at his campsite. He did not appear. But he left me a message. "Kill Every Last Three Peoples." The writing was the same as the writing in the tower above. He somehow carved this message into a tree above me. While I was awake. Watching the campsite. I do not know how. It knew we were there. Perhaps it is not he. But an it. Another undead like Yd."
The monk continues in her usual stilted voice, taking on a tone of conviction. "It is a threat to the Flight. We must lay a trap for it. Destroy it before it attacks our own."
=============
Imix, Desnus 19-25
==============
Imix's grin matches Chukix "The risk paid off!" he agrees "This could change everything! We could make our own 'champions'." he pauses, struck "Or perhaps there is a vulnerability? A way to send them back! How do they send the Nargun here to sleep?"
"They burned people in those fires, did they not? Was that to summon spirits, or to prepare bodies? The chrysalises that were corrupted at Thom's? Side effect? Or were the spirits somehow drawn into the bodies of the insects? My channeling hurt them... I wonder if the source of my channeling has spirits we could use?" quickly Imix sketches notes on the walls. "Those spirits seem inimical to the Flame, and the Abominations. They could be powerful allies." he pauses, then writes 'Telowo?' on the wall "Is this related to how they cut Telowo off from his divine powers?" the Suriname shakes his head "We are children at these magicks, but I feel as if we may have just found a master's treatise, if we can unravel enough of the basics to read it."
***Oios and Isitel***
Oios grunts at Isitel's news Was it a threat? Or a command? Neither is good. If we are being stalked by undead then... Oios grasps Telowo's staff This is the only reliable method we have of detecting such horror. And its range is short. Did you find any other creatures about the area? Either we find some way to hunt it down or vigilance will be our only defense.
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====================
Nat, Desnus 19-25
Remembrance
====================
Issy stammers, closes her eyes, opens them, and starts speaking.
"I-I, would like to, uhm, remember about my friend, Rigel. She was... more than my friend. She was my sister in most every way. When I was bullied, she'd be there to stand up for me."
Pausing briefly, the girl looks down to her maimed leg, and then back up to the crowd. "Rigel never saw me as someone needing charity. I was always just... me with her, if that m-makes sense? She taught me to be comfortable being me. Or to try to be comfortable at any rate."
"And she always helped me find a warm place to sleep, and get a hot meal in my hungry belly."
"Rigel may have been an outsider in some ways. She could be a fiery foe if you crossed her. She was... not always the most law abiding Shadeholmer. But all those things, they were strengths, not flaws. They made her a hero."
"Rigel was my friend. She was my sister. She was my protector. She will always... always be terribly missed. But not forgotten."
Those assembled murmer, and then Cogsward steps forward, taking a cue from your speech and then, as one, the crowd again repeats the phrase, seventy or eighty voices in unison, strong, raised up and echoing across the lake.
Next, the Lady Bellet steps forward. "I'd like to remember Antuk, my guard-captain and paramour..."
And so it goes, the morning wiling away to memories, cherished ones, shared among survivors.
Remembrance.
====================
Istiel, Desnus 19-25
====================
Scree shrugs. "You go tell Oios. I will stay here and kill the Darohm if it shows."
-----------------
Drazan
-----------------
The Fyorge
Protecting Heleya, there should be no doubt that I'll do whatever I can. You should not fear ruin from doubt of what might happen, too many things to worry about that are happening now.
Is this it? Is this all that worries you? Or is there something else to have you this way?
Drazan folds his arms and considers the box as the little drum beats bump and grind the miniatures. He exhales a laugh as he says, This will make a perfect give to that wolf, Hunger.
====================
Istiel and Oios, Desnus 19-25
====================
Istiel continues to stand, rock-steady and unmoving. "It was a threat. A message. Somehow it knew we lie in wait. Scree is still at its camp. I do not expect it to return there. We must lay a trap. Make it show itself. I am prepared to wait. But I do not know what to use as bait."
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The Fyorge
Drazan steps up to Lijart as he continues to wipe his hands, Do not fear tomorrow, after seeing yesterday. Live, love, laugh today.
Desnus 25
Drazan looks up to Ippaxa asking, Will closing this seal it shut again? There is only a short pause before Drazan picks back up without a moment to allow a reply, No, never mind. It does not matter. It will be better if he has to earn it anyway. Then Drazan carefully closes the box, and stows in securely among his belongings. Now, I have to get back to work.
=============
Imix, Desnus 19-25
=============
Chukix shrugs. "Yes, if the Darohm do it, and the Flame does it, it follows we could too."
"As for sending the champions back... it is an intriguing idea, I'll admit, and one I don't think I'd ever have considered. I couldn't guess how, though."
-------------------
In an instant, the childrens' worry is gone. Tepix straightens, his slight chest puffing out. "Well, it was your and Master Chukix's lessons on linguistics, Suriname! Like sometimes one Darohm rune can have similar, linked meanings. Like what we thought was 'create' or 'bind' actually, in the ritual, means 'pull.' But it also means 'create' or 'bind,' right, depending on context and rotation of the rune? So... I went looking through the translations we'd made for runes that could mean things close to big or grow. I found this one..."
Tepix draws a quick rune in the mud, four wavy lines emanating from a straight line, perpendicular to the wavy ones. "Turned this way," Tepix says standing with the wavy lines parallel to his body, "the rune means creep and this is how it is used in the spiral room."
"But, that guy Fulton, he'd seen the same rune in the tower when he was doing his rubbings! Or almost the same rune. He showed me that rune, and it is like this..."
Tepix stands now so that the wavy lines seem to emanate from his body. "In the tower, the rune turned this way means grow. So I-"
"We!" Selma says, interrupting him. "We stole, er borrowed the canoe and made the rune for grow in the water, and then placed the canoe over where we made the rune."
"But... the girl says, finishing her thought with some hesitation, "We don't know how to make it shrink yet."
~ |
~ |
~ |
S S S
_ _ _
=============
Desnus 19-25, Everything Else
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The pier begins to take shape as the week goes on, with the pilings added to and a basic frame extending from the pilings to below the ledge. "We'll put the decking up next," Korya says, beaming, "And then build the stairs down from the ledge to the decking, since they don't line up perfect with the stairs is already there. Should be done next week!"
-----------------------
Soon, the church clearing takes on more and more the theme of Nat's service. Members of the Flight visit it, even when service isn't in session, and leave little mementos of loved ones; clothing, small possessions, wooden carvings, and the like. Nothing too valuable is left, as everyone understands this home is temporary, but none-the-less, within a few days hundreds of items dot the lakeside clearing, tied to nearby trees or left by the lakeshore.
=============
Imix, Desnus 19-25
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Imix cocks his head as he processes the information. "I am impressed." He pauses "You remembered and processed information from a number of disparate sources. You deduced a feature of a language. You formulated a hypothesis. You had the courage to test your hypothesis despite the risk of significant punishment. Most importantly, you were correct. I believe you have shown your talent Tepix... Selma..."
Imix paused for a second, struck by a thought. 'This was a joint effort? Suriname don't work together - at least as far as I know, I suppose I will have to check with Chukix to see if that was a lie as well - so what does this mean? Did they truly work together? How far does this go?'
"Tepix, Selma. There is enough merit here to see an apprentice made journeyman. AN apprentice. Tell me exactly what each of you did, so that I may understand how to apportion merit and..." he pauses and continues regretfully "Also, I suppose, how to apportion the punishment."
"Regardless, we all now have a new task. To create a dictionary of runes and how they are used. I wonder, looking at this rune, if it represents a direction relative to a stationary point? Creep and Pull both move something. Grow could be something moving up. Shrink, then, would perhaps be simply Grow inverted?"
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Imix, Desnus 19-25
=============
Indeed, all the children were involved to some extent, and cooperatively at that. The realization that the canoe's purpose was likely to grow/shrink was Alglin's. Tepix came up with the idea to use the runes as activators for the canoe's magic. Selma had the idea to steal the canoe, and convinced Mossy, the most dextrous and stealthy of the children, to do it. Selma and Tepix approached Fulton and secured his help. Algin found the actual rune, once Fulton pointed them to the tower.
"Well, we've already got shrink," Algin says, holding up a sheet of vellum inscribed with various runes. "But it doesn't work. Would you like us to work on this dictionary, Suriname?"
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=============
Imix, Desnus 19-25
=============
Imix is silent, for the question is harder than it sounds.
'Suriname exist outside of an organised hierarchy. This is because humans in an organised hierarchy are unable to act and think outside hierarchical constraints. Here they have worked together to solve a problem none could have solved individually, while also being, as a whole, able to act outside the constraints of society.'
One of the children starts to talk and Imix holds his hand up for silence.
'It would be unjust to simply reward one, and might damage the cooperation that made them so effective' Imix is loath to admit that cooperation is alien to his instincts 'Yet to make all four Suriname for this one feat would cheapen the meaning of the title.'
The silence stretches on.
'There is no guarantee that the divine connection that powers my own magic can be successfully imbued into human beings. That indicates that a traditional Suriname power source may be beyond them. On the other hand I also know that most of the real breakthroughs made by Suriname were due to their knowledge, insight and the reverence with which they were held. In many cases the magic was of little real relevance beyond ensuring that they could command obedience.'
The children looked at each other.
'Yet here the Darohm seem to have mastered alchemical techniques that can surpass almost anything a Suriname can do. That canoe could have been a life's work of a Suriname, and while it was obviously valuable there is no guarantee that it was not simply one of many projects one of the Darohm here undertook.'
'Mastery of Darohm magic could prove as useful as Suriname magic, provided those who mastered such magic were able to act in the same way as Suriname were. One day, I will die. At that point it will be necessary to have a Suriname-analogue to take my place. This is obviously a chance to manufacture such a Suriname analogue. Whether the Gods have placed this here for that reason or not... I do not know. In many ways it is irrelevant compared to the belief...'
Imix stopped, stunned. 'This then is perhaps how my own order was formed. Taking advantage of a magical opportunity to bend it towards being of utility to Society as a whole.'
"I have pondered this" he announced. "I believe this may well be a sign for the Gods. Working together you have been the first to use Darohm magic, and that this indicates that you have the potential to master such magics in time. I appoint all of you, then, as a Suriname. Together you will hold position equal to my own. Individually you are still apprentices."
"My apprentices have disobeyed me, and should be punished. While pain is the normal punishment in such cases I believe that in this case it was the copious free time I have allowed you that caused the issue." Tepix starts to speak in protest and is promptly elbowed in the ribs by Selma. "And that therefore that free time should be curtailed. You can eat while you work from now on. You may consider yourself seconded to my new colleague."
"Speaking of which, to my new colleague and" Imix hesitates "brother, your unnamed collective. I acknowledge your superiority and therefore authority over the critical issue of the acquisition of Darohm magic. I will support your authority to do what is necessary to acquire this before we leave. I will happily brief you in full on what I have learned so far, and commend Chukix to you as an excellent researcher and advisor in your new position. I respectfully suggest that a dictionary might be a useful idea, but the decision is now out of my purview."
Imix's voice drops from dictation to pity.
"The survival of the entire Flight, of everyone you know, know quite probably rests on your shoulders as well as my own. It is a burden I have been loath to carry, and am glad to share."
"Speaking as a mentor and - in some cases - a father, let me say that I am proud of you. To have done what you have done, young as you are. Untrained as you are. To step forward to take authority... It is a brave thing. It is a good thing."
Emotion enters the Suriname's so often impartial voice.
"I had thought with all my discoveries that I may one day be known as the greatest of all Suriname. They were your discoveries too, though. It is every parent's fondest wish, that their children surpass them. Every teacher's goal that their students know more than they did. I see before me four who, perhaps, one day, shall be known as the greatest of Suriname. Hewn in The Fall. Shaped in The Flight. Fired in What Is To Come."
Heedless of the cold Imix kneels in the water, throws open his arms, and calls his children to him.
=============
Desnus 27
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Soldier-captain Aktuk finds Oios mid-morning in the library. Giving the Shadow a quick bow, Aktuk grasps the hilt of his sword, as his other hand worries absently at his chin.
"The woman warrior-monk, the unpleasant one. No, not Istiel, the other one, from the capital. No one has seen her in a couple of days."
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Desnus 27
=============
Oios grimaces. Send someone to ask Isitel and Drazan to come to me please. Those two are the only ones I would trust to undertake a search for the warrior.
If the two come Oios will tell them what Aktuk has said Losing a capable warrior would not be well for morale. We have avoided such things so far. The two of you are by far the most capable in finding out where she has gone. Can you search for her? And watch each other's backs while you are. But be careful, the Flight can ill afford to lose two more guardians; if she cannot be found then so be it.
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=============
Desnus 27
=============
Drazan and Istiel make their way to the hilltop, the buzzing of flies reaching their ears before they reach Scree.
The woman lays on her side, propped on one elbow, her hand holding her head up, as if she is enjoying a relaxing picnic with friends. Her dead eyes, cloudy and naked-looking with the warrior-monk's mask gone, stare at the ground in front of her. There, her intestines, removed from her stomach, have been cut into pieces and arranged on the ground in the shapes of various Darohm runes.
A crow sits, idly pecking at the last rune, before lifting a bit of intestine and flying into the trees.
Of the carving that Scree and Istiel found on the tree above where Istiel kept watch, there is no sign. The tree trunk's bark is unmarred, as if there was never any writing there to begin with.
The day is hot; the smell of Scree's death hangs heavy in the air.
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Desnus 27
=============
Istiel was in the middle of her morning training routine when she was summoned by Oios. She is in the old barracks, hanging upside down bunk fixture and doing crunches when Aktuk informs her of Scree's disappearance.
The monk does not even pause, pulling her upper body up and holding herself horizontal to the floor for several seconds. Was Scree killed? Or is she still waiting in that bush?
Releasing the tension in her core, she slowly becomes perpidicular to the floor. She simply nods to Aktuk to confirm his message, placing her hands on the ground and starting to disengage herself from the overhead beam.
--------------
Istiel notices that Drazen smells like sweat and burning coal when he enters. She assumes he was also training, maybe something to do with his fire elemental form?
Turning to Oios, Istiel shrugs. "I last saw Scree at the undead Darohm ambush spot. She stayed to "kill it". She is very stubborn. Could still be waiting there. We will find her."
-------------
It wasn't very hard to find Scree.
Istiel stares for a few moments at the eviscerated body of Scree, avoiding her face. She glances at the strange posture, the guts on the ground, and the macabre runic language.
Istiel closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. The stench of rotting guts rolls over her as conflicted feelings of relief and despair bubble up into her consciousness with incredible rapidity, all accompanied by voices.
you killed her no she killed herself Too confident she was weak. why didn't you stay too stubborn you're the last one now too weak. Were you supposed to protect her she brought this on herself traitor yes! The flight is weaker now she killed your family it's only fitting traitors are hanged But not disembowled no one weeps when the eagle kills the sparrow. last one Do not be sad do not bother caring. Don't worry because
A chorus rings out;
Scree deserved it.
Istiel's fists clench so hard her knuckles turn white as she wills her mind still and steady, only falling open after several moments of internal silence. She feels nothing. This is not a matter of feelings.
Exhaling quickly Istiel turns and opens her eyes, walking away from Scree's body towards the tree with the message. She traces her fingers over the wood, feeling over the rough bark. "The carved message is gone. An illusion?"
Her hand falls to the side, and she stares at the intricate bark of the tree without looking over. "Drazen. The carving was not real. But the message was. ..... Does it watch us now? From afar? To see us suffer?" She says in a hushed voice meant only for the two of them.
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Desnus 27
=============
Drazan stares, with a blended look of anger and confusion at the site of dead Scree. Mostly wordless the entire trip from the Fyorge to Oios to here, Drazan does not immediately join Istiel in her speculation. He kneels low and begins to examine the ground, lifting a pinch of it to his nose to breath it in and feel the texture roll between his index finder and thumb. How I've almost forgotten the smell. Drazan finally states, though it is unclear if he means the corpse or the earth. Come, we should report this to the others and the Flight's Guard. Keep alert, though I am sure you're more unfamiliar with the opposite.
Drazan stands and approaches the corpse to more closely examine the dead monk. What did you know of this person, Scree? How is it she is alone and maybe more importantly, who saw her last? Drazan checks her wounds trying to learn anything about the method of murder or the reason beyond simple madness.
Perception to search take 20 = 29
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Desnus 27
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Desnus 27
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Istiel seems content to continue staring at the black ash tree in front of her, wheere the message was once carved. "Scree was a monk from Cornucopia. A fierce warrior. I saw her last. We found this area. Someone had made tracks here. They were watching the tower from that tiger elm." The monk finally turns around, pointing at the tree in question.
"We laid in ambush. The spy did not return. Instead a message appeared in the tree above my hiding spot. It said "Kill every last three peoples". The writing was the same as in the tower. The undead Darohm that escaped still stalked the area. I left to tell Oios. Scree stayed behind to "kill it". That was two days ago." Istiel falls silent once more, avoiding looking at Scree, not wanting to catch sight of her face.
Her mask. I must retrieve it. Give it the Death Rites.
=============
Desnus 27
=============
Nat had come along in case Scree was injured and needed healing, but it's immediately clear that the warrior-monk is beyond any help she can provide. Instead she kneels down and looks at the wounds, trying to determine what caused them - natural weapons, like claws? Or something sharper, like a knife?
Any information on their enemy is worth having.
=============
Desnus 27
=============
There is but one obvious wound on Scree's body - the one that runs from sternum to pelvis. It is quickly apparent to Nat that this wound was done postmortem.
While kneeling next to Nat and conferring on the type of wounds, Why is she sitting here like this? How could she just let her guts be pulled out?
Then Drazan pauses as the slightest indentation in the earth catches his eye. He quickly retraces Istiel's and Nat's steps to confirm what he has found and then moves to look more closely.
The killer left a trace. He or she wore boots. Drazan shares, From the looks of things it looks to be a couple of days old. I'm going to walk some of this to see if we can make a guess as to where this person went afterward. Hopefully this isn't one of one of Hunger's kin.
Drazan moves off slowly but purposefully until either he nears the edge of losing sight of Istiel and Nat, or when the trail hints at where it might be headed.
=============
Desnus 27
=============
Istiel has no answers for Drazen, and does not bother speculating. Instead, she watches him comb the ground for tracks.
"Boots?" Her voice has a hint of skepticism. "It was the undead Darohm. I am sure. No mortal could have done this to Scree. She was strong. If the trail is clear we should follow it. Destroy it."
The monk stays with Nat on top of the hill while Drazen follows the tracks until he returns to report his findings.
=============
Desnus 27
=============
Soon, the rest of the Flight's leadership has assembled on the hilltop. The Lady Bellet stares at the corpse for some while, before looking Nat, Drazan, and Istiel. "Well? What do the runes say?"
Her face becomes pinched as it becomes apparent that no one has translated them. "If you're going to follow the Darohm, follow it. I'll send for the weaponsmith and my guards. We'll figure out what it was trying to communicate."
-----------------------------------------------------
You travel all day northwards, and then north and eastward. The tracks are occasionally interrupted by a stream, or lost for a few minutes in the brush, but you're able to pick them up easily enough again - the Darohm has made no attempt to hide his or her path. By the end of the day, as Ayida-Wedu sinks below the treeline, it is apparent where the Darohm is headed. There is only one place of note in the direction the tracks lead: Shadeholme.
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Desnus 27
=============
There is only one place our killer could be headed. Shadeholme. Drazan declares as he kneels over the most recent Darohm tracks. Then he growls, anger visceral and hot, I'm going to rip their throats from their necks. In the long moment of silence following, it is clear Drazan is considering continuing his tracking, continuing the hunt. The immediate gratification for only a few of their lives before their numbers overcame him would sate his hate.
We must return to the flight. Tomorrow we should begin moving from the ruins. The Flame will be here soon to make a show of their power. There will be blood.
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Desnus 27
=============
Istiel returns Lady Bellet's strained look with a blank one. the monk had no interest or knowledge in the runic langauge, and wasn't about to develop either.
-----------
As the tracks wind onward, Istiel finds herself wishing they had been this easy to follow in the first place. Then none of this would have happened and the undead would be destroyed.
Drazan's realization of the Darohm's plans do not surprise her, and in the silence that follows the warrior's outburst she contemplates continuing to track down their foe as well. But the reality of the situation slowly settles over her in a sobering fog. "It does not rest. Eat. Sleep. We can not catch it. It will be in Shadeholme in days."
While she shares the basic sentiment of Drazan's plan, the speed is not relevant. "I have been to the marsh. Foot travel of the Flight is not possible. The docks and boats must be finished." She argues, having been the only one to see the lands beyond the falls.
The monk turns around, starting back to the tower. "They may come. But we will be gone. They may come sooner. But scores will die in the tunnels. Their numbers count for nothing in that space."
There is nothing more that can be done. Other than try and translate its final message Oios says Kill all three peoples? Did the undead abomination not say that it feared the flame? Perhaps it goes towards Shadeholme to fight rather than collude. Whatever it may be we can only deal with the consequence when it arrives. For now. We continue our Flight.
=============
Desnus 19-25
=============
The Lady Bellet returns to the hilltop and transcribes the runes onto a sheet of vellum. She is able, after a few hours, to translate the message: What is your saying? Enemy of Enemy is Friend? Kill All Three Peoples!
--------------------
The students join Oios in the library, and they are loud. Handing her inventory over to Oios, Tex pinches the bridge of her nose and grimaces as Algin titters, calling Selma "Suriname."
"I just - can't." Tex says, frowning. "Headache coming on."
The children, er Suriname, are distracting, but still Oios wraps up the inventory of the library by the end of the week. The library is expansive, and as the Shadow suspects, quite valuable.
The Suriname strike silk as well: the rune to shrink the boat is fold, which when turned takes on a meaning that doesn't have a specific translation in the tongues of the Three Peoples, but means, in essence, to withdraw into oneself.
------------------------
In the Spiral Room, Imix and Chukix finish their translations of the ritual inscription, and, by reading the last scrawling paragraph again, at a right angle, the keys to the Nargun-binding become clear.
2. The heart is placed in the adamantine basket over the geothermal pool (the basket was removed by Istiel, iirc).
3. At the creation of the full moon, light reflects from the mirrors placed in the chimneys down into the spiral room, creating a moonbow. At the moment the moonbow appears, the adamantine heart is plunged into the geothermal pool, activating the ley line.
4. The ritual is intoned for 8 hours, a precise reading of runes that, roughly translated, means, Oggun, bind the essence of your champion to this heart, that our people may be made powerful again. The intonation must be precise, monotonous, and without pause, for the entire 8 hours (Concentration OR Constitution check DC 20).
5. Upon the breaking of dawn, the moonbow will fade, and a Nargun will rise.
-----------------------
Scree's body is moved back to the Darholme, where it is placed upon one of the surgery tables. Over the remainder of the week, Nat performs an autopsy on the monk, which confirms much of the priestess' worst fears. The woman's insides are atrophied, as if embalmed; it seems as if internal wounds, brought on by a punishing and mortal exposure to the energy of undeath killed Scree long before she was gutted.
There is, as far as Nat knows, only a few creatures that could do such a thing. That Scree's assailant lacks flight, suggesting corporeality, leads Nat to only one, terrifying conclusion: a lich.
=============
Desnus 27
=============
"Then a dilemma awaits us. Perhaps this foe of ours can awaken the Nargun to hunt us. If that is the case we should murder them while they sleep and steal their hearts. I had hoped for peace between our peoples, but the Nargun are a horror from the old tales. The Nargun at Darholme could be enough to kill our people, if they catch us on the run. They are certainly enough to damage our defences." Imix was grim.
The Nargun are... constructed creatures? Oios asks Imix. Then yes, we should salvage what we can from there and cripple them otherwise before we set out. We cannot have them falling to the undead or to the Flame.
=============
Desnus 19-25
=============
The Lady Bellet returns to the hilltop and transcribes the runes onto a sheet of vellum. She is able, after a few hours, to translate the message: What is your saying? Enemy of Enemy is Friend? Kill All Three Peoples!
The translated runes do not surprise Istiel. "It did not attack when Scree and I were together. It fears what we did to Yd. It fears destruction. If the Flame does not consume it I will destroy it when we return."
-------------------------
Istiel is present for the autopsy of Scree's vessel. She wanted to be sure that the undead had killed the monk, because she was unwilling to accept any mortal had bested her tepid associate. Her only request to Nat was that Scree's face remained covered throughout the procedure.
The monk is quick to react when Nat reaches her conclusions on the cause of death and the culprit. "A lich? The undead of legend? Subverter of life?" If only I had destroyed it then. The glory in defeating such a foe...
"Scree's vessel must be cremated." Is stated without any room for argument. There was also a ceremony, not for the body but for the spirit that went on to perform the second Journey, but... I have witnessed none since my Birth. It was never my duty. Even so, without her mask it is impossible.
She wonders, already knowing the answer, if she even cares if Scree succeeded in fulfilling her Tenant. If her spirit became a god are we all lesser for it? The voices, which are usually quick to answer such questions, are silent today. Istiel is left to wonder for herself, finding it strange that she actually misses their counsel.
---------------------
Imix's discovery of the artifical nature of the Nargun, and his proposal for their systematic murder, appeals to Istiel. "Suriname, if they are unnatural they deserve the same fate as undead. I can destroy them with the...admantin... rock-stabbers, yes? Show me how to collect their hearts."
=============
Desnus 27
=============
Imix pauses. "Yes and no. The Nargun are naturally forming. Some sort of rock-spirit that occasionally takes stone as flesh. The Darholme spiral room is a way to pull those spirits into a prepared vessel. Force them into manifesting, and possibly give some control. We theorise that it is similar to how the Flame creates their Champions. Make no mistake, the Nargun we see are innocents forced into those bodies. It is an Injustice to kill them, and thus murder, but it is prudent. If the undead can force them to hurt us then we must either free them from control or kill them." Imix sighs "We have not had time to find how to free them. I would give much to speak with Hunger right now - if Hunger had a way to free the Nargun we could take it."
"Additionally" adds the Suriname "We must deconstruct the spiral room before we go. Take the chain and the basket, at a minimum. Otherwise I have no doubt the Flame or the Darohm will use them to create more Nargun."
"We hypothesise that there might be a way to create a Champion of our own. To take one of the spirits from the realm of the Gods and force it to enflesh in our world." Imix shrugs "Blasphemy, perhaps. Useful, definitely."
=============
Desnus 27
=============
Further explanation on the nature of the Nargun seems to douse Istiel's fervor for t heir systematic destruction. She takes on a more contemplative tone. "I see. This is different than undead. Is there a way to tell... a created Nargun.... from a natural one? The created ones should be released from their bindings."
The creation of their own "champions" gives her great pause. "Suriname Imix, I have devoted my soul to achieving the opposite you suggest. I hone my vessel to enter the realm of the gods. To suggest the opposite is not blasphemy. It is unknown. There are no guidelines. No rules. But spirits do not return on their own. It is the way it has always been. Until the Miracle Birth at Three Corners. Oios said she died. Returned as a goddess? I do not believe she was Ayidu-Wedu. She was something else. One of these champions?"
Yet, she can only think of the abomination Thom's body became. "The thing that consumed Thom's body was unholy. Otherwordly. It was not Thom. The Crone told me so. The Nargun spirits are forced into their rocks. This processs has only been for the unnatural. Yet the Mircale Birth... She was kind, yes? Beautiful? Healed the sick? Her own spirit. Reborn in a new body. I too have experienced this through the Journey. Died and returned as something greater. What if you made champions like the Miracle Birth, Suriname? Willing souls looking to be reborn into something greater?"
Istiel is, perhaps, projecting- she is now the last of the true monks, the only one holding on to their ways. It is unknown if she can rebuild their traditions, but this process seemed similar enough to intrigue her.