Cleansing Waters – Orianna Èirigh – 10.03.2022
Mar 13, 2022 16:05:52 GMT
Jaezred Vandree, Velania Kalugina, and 2 more like this
Post by Orianna Èirigh on Mar 13, 2022 16:05:52 GMT
OBSERVATIONS & EXCERPTS from the JOURNAL of SECOND ASSISTANT ARCHIVIST ORIANNA ÈIRIGH of ASHKHA
Arrived in a forest just north of the town on the hill I saw in the stars — the place called Daring Heights. The ancient oaks of the woods seemed to sigh as I left them, as if they wished to come with me. Strange. Perhaps they are lonely. Or scared? I will see if I can visit them again soon…
The town is a bustling place, sprawling out beyond the hill the majority of it is built on. Quite the marvel how quickly it has sprung up. A decade ago there was nothing here. Civilisations rise as quickly as they fall though. I wonder how long this place will last.
I wonder what the stars wish for me to do here…
Found a place to bed in, a tavern called The Three Headed Dragon. I could tell it’d be a place I would like with a name like that. It made me think of… people I wish I could remember better. Family. Yes. That’s who they are. Nimuel, my cousin. Maia, my aunt. Thaneni, one of my fathers. Crystal dragonborns. Family.
I knew it would be hard to remember them, that there would be times their faces and their names would be withheld from me. For their safety. For everyone’s safety. For Ashkha’s safety. It is still cruel though. I can see why most who leave never come back. Remembering is too painful. Easier to forget…
A notice on a large board caught my eye. A poem that had both lyrical verse but doubled as instructions. A curious thing. My cradle hummed as I looked at it and so I took the notice from the board — no one stopping me — and proceeded to consult my map.
Pasted into the journal is the notice in question:
Seems I needed to gather ingredients for tea if I wished to help the one named within — Reka…
On my way to the Dawn Market a human man casually approached me, noticing I had the poem, same as him. A curious man, he did not know what a stanza was, let alone that the poem held instructions. Even in this strange new place, I found my Archivist ways coming through, like putting on comforting mittens. It made both he and I comfortable, I believe, as I told him the basic structure of poetry and how this one in particular was intended. The man, Ivan Erickson, retained what I taught him, as we made our way to the Market — with a guiding touch of the stars…
With honey, cloves and cinnamon gathered, I asked where the closest garden was. I had seen several but they were all small or hidden behind fences labelled as private property. I clarified I wanted to find a public garden space and was directed to The Dusk Yard. Here was where I gathered our moss and ivy from the headstones of the ones who sleep. The stillness of the place reminded me of… The Singing Halls of Anai. Nim. A tall figure with… not a human face but something else… It would be nice to remember.
Ivan helped make a trench for me to create water and then we proceeded to have a picnic. A simple fair, sandwiches for me, a leg of lamb for Ivan. Then we stepped into the trench, drank our tea, and sank into the depths. Such a fun teleportation! The sensation of tumbling down, like a clot of sand dropped into a pond, not knowing which way was up or down, to suddenly break through the surface of a vast lake in a place I had never been before.
Others were there with us. A very tall, very strong goliath man by the name of Kavel. Another male, this one a gnome, who when he walked out of the lake was stark naked! I wonder why he thought it necessary to disrobe. Perhaps to get a better sensory experience from the teleportation? This fellow’s name is Amble. I could tell he was a curious but smart person. Then there was another human, a young man I believe, that has a vibe to him that saw the two of us looking at the place we had emerged from closely — from the rocks to the algae in the still waters. As we were drying ourselves off, Florian, his name, and I overheard the two strong men Ivan and Kavel talking about the strength of their muscles and how they considered their physical conditions better than others in the group. I wonder that they work every other muscle except the one that really matters. Then, a drow woman with a crystal crown growing from her head, Zola, and her silver hart companion joined us. The stag looked decidedly unimpressed with everything…
We were in the Witching Court. It is always night time here, the moon always full. I set about trying to record every star, every constellation I could see. I vaguely recall Florian casting a spell on all of us, then getting into a boat, and that he was watching what I was doing — as was Zola. She said my map was pretty. I liked her for that compliment.
I was broken out of my reverie when our vessel was lifted out of the water by a gigantic mermaid! Yes, the mythical creatures of legend and lore I had only read about in children’s stories held in the Grand Archive were real! And her name was Reka! Same as the poem — and she had a very important task she wanted our help with.
Her friend, an ancient and beautiful spirit of water, was sick with some form of disease or madness. We needed to cleanse her shrine but she, the spirit, would try to fight us. I will admit, when Reka told us this, all the days I had not gone to training with the Talons loomed over me. Was I going to have to fight using the sickle at my side? But looking at Zola, Ivan, and Kavel strapped with swords, axes, and polearms, I knew they would be best suited for such a task. Which meant I would help Florian and Amble cleanse the shrine. This is not the first time I have had to help seal away an unknown corruption or creature that had spilled out from a sealed bottle or broken the bonds of its prison. Such things happened fairly frequently in the Grand Archives. It is why we have to train to be so vigilant when it comes to interacting with and holding any of the ancient tomes and scrolls… and… other things.
How am I to keep a journal if I cannot remember where I’m from, my frame of reference?
Reka also gave us a bottle that contained a map of the Witching Court and a token — a small splinter of bone wrapped with fine cord and very tiny engravings. Once the corruption was dealt with we were to place this token on the shrine. If we did that, the water spirit would know we were sent by Reka and reward us for helping her. It seems strange to do something for a reward. Of course, at the time, I did not know it would be a monetary one. Is this common practice for the peoples of Daring Heights who help their neighbours? Perhaps I can find a history text somewhere. Maybe at the Academy I when passing through the centre of the city?
Setting us on our way, we travelled through fog from Reka’s lake to a river that would take us down to the marshlands where the water spirit resided. Taking this opportunity to continue the expansion of my star map, the journey passed in no time at all for me…
The water in the Spriteswells Depths was crystal clear, making it easy to see where the corruption was. Florian kindly gifted Amble and I with the spirit of a foxes swift cunning in order to help us survey the area. The small wizard was the one to spot a flat pebble radiating a subtle necromantic magic. It seemed to be enchanted to draw in energy from the area nearby but otherwise appeared harmless. Florian and I had the same thought that, maybe, the pebbles were drawing the necrotic energy of the corruption in. Not all necromancy magic is inherently bad. Death is part of the cycle of Life. Stars die all the time to give birth to new ones, just as empires rise and fall. My suggestion was to leave it.
Turns out, once Zola, Kavel and Ivan engaged the enraged water spirit, Amble wasn’t going to help Florian and I cleanse the shrine. He was going to spend his time searching for pebbles — for apparently there was more than one. Later, when he was telling us what he was doing, it aligned with what Florian and I saw in the waters…
Florian — changing his form into that of a predator of the seas — helped me swim towards the corrupted shrine. But we were met with dark tendrils that became unnatural creatures of the depths which attacked us. Stuck where we were, I tried to get a better look at what was on the shrine, what could be causing such an evil presence. Destroying the water in front of the shrine, we saw a bloated and decayed corpse weighed down. How long had it been sitting there, unchecked, allowing it’s rot to poison such pure waters?
The creatures from the dark tendrils were endless. I worried for both mine and Florian’s safety as the shape of one — a large moray eel — took a bite from my side, tearing holes into my Archivists uniform, and rending great gashes across Florian’s shark belly. Realising we needed help I called to the stars and summoned into myself the Chalice. The unicorn’s bounty of the Lady of New Life and Beginnings, entered my body as I began to dance for her. She helped heal myself and my new friend. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if it would work. But even in the strange fey lands the stars answered me — perhaps because of the perpetual night of the Witching Court?
Feeling the swell of the Cosmos within, I broke away from Florian so he could concentrate on holding back the moray eel whilst I went to deal with the source of the corruption. Looking up through the crystal clear waters I saw the stars of my form reflected in the mirror of the water’s surface. Behind her I saw the moon — and I knew what light I needed to invoke in order to destroy the body. It burned into nothing in the concentrated silvery beam of pale moonlight. The murky darkness disappeared, and the water spirit fighting Zola, Kavel and Ivan retreated back into the crystalline waters.
Leaving Reka’s token on the shrine as instructed, Florian and I swam back to shore, the Dance of the Chalice still embodied in my person. The others did not seem phased by my change, perhaps because they have seen such a form before? I did not ask at the time. It did not seem important. But now, reflecting on it, I wonder if others of my home have passed through or been with these people. Perhaps my fathers.
Seeing their injuries I helped heal Ivan and Kavel who needed it most. As we were milling about on the water’s edge a hand rose up, bearing a sword and a bag. Zola and I retrieved it — myself, muttering a word of thanks in the Ancient Tongue to the spirit whose home was now their own again.
It was here where Zola invited us over for tea at her home. I had never met the fey before and hearing her mothers were three powerful hags I was curious to find out more…
Continued in ‘Tea & Divinations’ 💫
Arrived in a forest just north of the town on the hill I saw in the stars — the place called Daring Heights. The ancient oaks of the woods seemed to sigh as I left them, as if they wished to come with me. Strange. Perhaps they are lonely. Or scared? I will see if I can visit them again soon…
The town is a bustling place, sprawling out beyond the hill the majority of it is built on. Quite the marvel how quickly it has sprung up. A decade ago there was nothing here. Civilisations rise as quickly as they fall though. I wonder how long this place will last.
I wonder what the stars wish for me to do here…
Found a place to bed in, a tavern called The Three Headed Dragon. I could tell it’d be a place I would like with a name like that. It made me think of… people I wish I could remember better. Family. Yes. That’s who they are. Nimuel, my cousin. Maia, my aunt. Thaneni, one of my fathers. Crystal dragonborns. Family.
I knew it would be hard to remember them, that there would be times their faces and their names would be withheld from me. For their safety. For everyone’s safety. For Ashkha’s safety. It is still cruel though. I can see why most who leave never come back. Remembering is too painful. Easier to forget…
A notice on a large board caught my eye. A poem that had both lyrical verse but doubled as instructions. A curious thing. My cradle hummed as I looked at it and so I took the notice from the board — no one stopping me — and proceeded to consult my map.
Pasted into the journal is the notice in question:
Spirit of ancient providence
Lay deep in waters pure
Now twisted relic mars her altar
Causing the old ones mind to falter
And so I, Reka, she of prominence
Great maiden off the shore
Summons thee into the lake
To venture for the spirits sake
Those who seek to heed the call
Should brew a tea, a feat so small
A clutch of moss and leaf of ivy
Spoon of honey and something spicy
Drink it deep and step into water
Call my name to seek the deeps daughter
Seems I needed to gather ingredients for tea if I wished to help the one named within — Reka…
On my way to the Dawn Market a human man casually approached me, noticing I had the poem, same as him. A curious man, he did not know what a stanza was, let alone that the poem held instructions. Even in this strange new place, I found my Archivist ways coming through, like putting on comforting mittens. It made both he and I comfortable, I believe, as I told him the basic structure of poetry and how this one in particular was intended. The man, Ivan Erickson, retained what I taught him, as we made our way to the Market — with a guiding touch of the stars…
With honey, cloves and cinnamon gathered, I asked where the closest garden was. I had seen several but they were all small or hidden behind fences labelled as private property. I clarified I wanted to find a public garden space and was directed to The Dusk Yard. Here was where I gathered our moss and ivy from the headstones of the ones who sleep. The stillness of the place reminded me of… The Singing Halls of Anai. Nim. A tall figure with… not a human face but something else… It would be nice to remember.
Ivan helped make a trench for me to create water and then we proceeded to have a picnic. A simple fair, sandwiches for me, a leg of lamb for Ivan. Then we stepped into the trench, drank our tea, and sank into the depths. Such a fun teleportation! The sensation of tumbling down, like a clot of sand dropped into a pond, not knowing which way was up or down, to suddenly break through the surface of a vast lake in a place I had never been before.
Others were there with us. A very tall, very strong goliath man by the name of Kavel. Another male, this one a gnome, who when he walked out of the lake was stark naked! I wonder why he thought it necessary to disrobe. Perhaps to get a better sensory experience from the teleportation? This fellow’s name is Amble. I could tell he was a curious but smart person. Then there was another human, a young man I believe, that has a vibe to him that saw the two of us looking at the place we had emerged from closely — from the rocks to the algae in the still waters. As we were drying ourselves off, Florian, his name, and I overheard the two strong men Ivan and Kavel talking about the strength of their muscles and how they considered their physical conditions better than others in the group. I wonder that they work every other muscle except the one that really matters. Then, a drow woman with a crystal crown growing from her head, Zola, and her silver hart companion joined us. The stag looked decidedly unimpressed with everything…
We were in the Witching Court. It is always night time here, the moon always full. I set about trying to record every star, every constellation I could see. I vaguely recall Florian casting a spell on all of us, then getting into a boat, and that he was watching what I was doing — as was Zola. She said my map was pretty. I liked her for that compliment.
I was broken out of my reverie when our vessel was lifted out of the water by a gigantic mermaid! Yes, the mythical creatures of legend and lore I had only read about in children’s stories held in the Grand Archive were real! And her name was Reka! Same as the poem — and she had a very important task she wanted our help with.
Her friend, an ancient and beautiful spirit of water, was sick with some form of disease or madness. We needed to cleanse her shrine but she, the spirit, would try to fight us. I will admit, when Reka told us this, all the days I had not gone to training with the Talons loomed over me. Was I going to have to fight using the sickle at my side? But looking at Zola, Ivan, and Kavel strapped with swords, axes, and polearms, I knew they would be best suited for such a task. Which meant I would help Florian and Amble cleanse the shrine. This is not the first time I have had to help seal away an unknown corruption or creature that had spilled out from a sealed bottle or broken the bonds of its prison. Such things happened fairly frequently in the Grand Archives. It is why we have to train to be so vigilant when it comes to interacting with and holding any of the ancient tomes and scrolls… and… other things.
Reka also gave us a bottle that contained a map of the Witching Court and a token — a small splinter of bone wrapped with fine cord and very tiny engravings. Once the corruption was dealt with we were to place this token on the shrine. If we did that, the water spirit would know we were sent by Reka and reward us for helping her. It seems strange to do something for a reward. Of course, at the time, I did not know it would be a monetary one. Is this common practice for the peoples of Daring Heights who help their neighbours? Perhaps I can find a history text somewhere. Maybe at the Academy I when passing through the centre of the city?
Setting us on our way, we travelled through fog from Reka’s lake to a river that would take us down to the marshlands where the water spirit resided. Taking this opportunity to continue the expansion of my star map, the journey passed in no time at all for me…
The water in the Spriteswells Depths was crystal clear, making it easy to see where the corruption was. Florian kindly gifted Amble and I with the spirit of a foxes swift cunning in order to help us survey the area. The small wizard was the one to spot a flat pebble radiating a subtle necromantic magic. It seemed to be enchanted to draw in energy from the area nearby but otherwise appeared harmless. Florian and I had the same thought that, maybe, the pebbles were drawing the necrotic energy of the corruption in. Not all necromancy magic is inherently bad. Death is part of the cycle of Life. Stars die all the time to give birth to new ones, just as empires rise and fall. My suggestion was to leave it.
Turns out, once Zola, Kavel and Ivan engaged the enraged water spirit, Amble wasn’t going to help Florian and I cleanse the shrine. He was going to spend his time searching for pebbles — for apparently there was more than one. Later, when he was telling us what he was doing, it aligned with what Florian and I saw in the waters…
Florian — changing his form into that of a predator of the seas — helped me swim towards the corrupted shrine. But we were met with dark tendrils that became unnatural creatures of the depths which attacked us. Stuck where we were, I tried to get a better look at what was on the shrine, what could be causing such an evil presence. Destroying the water in front of the shrine, we saw a bloated and decayed corpse weighed down. How long had it been sitting there, unchecked, allowing it’s rot to poison such pure waters?
The creatures from the dark tendrils were endless. I worried for both mine and Florian’s safety as the shape of one — a large moray eel — took a bite from my side, tearing holes into my Archivists uniform, and rending great gashes across Florian’s shark belly. Realising we needed help I called to the stars and summoned into myself the Chalice. The unicorn’s bounty of the Lady of New Life and Beginnings, entered my body as I began to dance for her. She helped heal myself and my new friend. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if it would work. But even in the strange fey lands the stars answered me — perhaps because of the perpetual night of the Witching Court?
Feeling the swell of the Cosmos within, I broke away from Florian so he could concentrate on holding back the moray eel whilst I went to deal with the source of the corruption. Looking up through the crystal clear waters I saw the stars of my form reflected in the mirror of the water’s surface. Behind her I saw the moon — and I knew what light I needed to invoke in order to destroy the body. It burned into nothing in the concentrated silvery beam of pale moonlight. The murky darkness disappeared, and the water spirit fighting Zola, Kavel and Ivan retreated back into the crystalline waters.
Leaving Reka’s token on the shrine as instructed, Florian and I swam back to shore, the Dance of the Chalice still embodied in my person. The others did not seem phased by my change, perhaps because they have seen such a form before? I did not ask at the time. It did not seem important. But now, reflecting on it, I wonder if others of my home have passed through or been with these people. Perhaps my fathers.
Seeing their injuries I helped heal Ivan and Kavel who needed it most. As we were milling about on the water’s edge a hand rose up, bearing a sword and a bag. Zola and I retrieved it — myself, muttering a word of thanks in the Ancient Tongue to the spirit whose home was now their own again.
It was here where Zola invited us over for tea at her home. I had never met the fey before and hearing her mothers were three powerful hags I was curious to find out more…
Continued in ‘Tea & Divinations’ 💫
