Some Secrets Are Best Left Buried – Orianna Èirigh – 23.08
Aug 28, 2022 15:39:05 GMT
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Post by Orianna Èirigh on Aug 28, 2022 15:39:05 GMT
OBSERVATIONS & EXCERPTS from the JOURNAL of SECOND ASSISTANT ARCHIVIST ORIANNA ÈIRIGH of ASHKHA
Living so close to the Academy has its benefits: a shorter distance to get there, closer to the Dawn Market, but also as I have found last week, a shorter distance to the teleportation circle that can be used to take one anywhere.
That was where I was that morning, waiting to return to Kundar.
I did not have to wait long. Prowler showed up with a blue kobold by the name of Digs. It seemed at first that my height would intimidate him — it has happened in the past much to my dismay. But he relaxed fairly quickly. Then he casually mentioned a prophecy and my intense attention on him might have negated any reassurance that I wasn’t a threat — which I really am not! It seemed like his prophecy was something from the feywild in exchange for a certain nervous smile. It made me think of Ilthuryn and I wanted to ask where Digs was to have such an exchange happen, but I never got the chance to as Kreekor arrived next with endless grapefruits — Where does he hide his snacks? — pure excitement, and a reminder to pick up spices when he can. Anåbæl was the final one to arrive, with porridge (much to Kreekor’s delight) and then we were off.
It wasn’t until later that I saw Digs with two bags of flour. A curious tool, one that turned out to be helpful when the time came…
It is nice being in the desert again. The heat is familiar, comforting. I already feel the cooler winds of autumn pushing their way through the trees to Daring Heights. I’m not ready for summer to end…
We were speaking with one of the teleportation circle operators when we arrived, a young black scaled kobold about where to find Dragonstone Academy when he mentioned, until recently, only nobles were allowed admittance. I had heard of Kundar before arriving in the Dawnlands. It is a city run and ruled by kobolds with dragonborn seen as the lesser. It is why, both times I have been there, we see kobolds ordering around their larger kin.
However that has changed recently due to one dragonborn in particular, Ghesh.
This name is familiar, but only in passing. I wonder if any of the Scholars at the Academy know more about this person. Something for another day…
Curious.
Every so often, some of the noble kobolds would look at us and have one of two reactions. Scorn or trepidation.
I wonder why this would be…
We met our Dragonstone Academy counterparts, Ambrose and Cornelia, the only two dragonborn part of the Academy! The more I learn about this place the less certain I am that my father’s passed this way, but it would behove me to look into it this time if I can.
Ambrose, a tall black scaled dragonborn, was the one who wrote the notice calling for aid, whilst Cornelia was his research assistant, a beautiful golden scaled dragonborn. They explained: four to five days ago one of the other researchers, Praxis, returned from the Sunset Spines. Their work was to be just general geological surveys of the Spines over a wide area.
My Star Cradle hummed at this news. I showed Ambrose the map I had made of the trail towards Grougaloragran’s cave and he confirmed it was more or less in that same area.
He then informed us that the scholars who had locked themselves away were hearing and muttering a strange language, something incomprehensible and painful. The pain was more in the mind, as if the whispers were being forced into their heads against their will. Unfortunately none of the scholars could make heads or tales of it and that was why, they claimed, to lock themselves away, to study and understand it.
First at the Temple of Bahamut. Now at the Dragonstone Academy. Accident? Coincidence? I am beginning to think that it is not likely…
I was in the midst of ritually casting a spell that would allow my eyes to see as the Cosmos does to better trace the magic in the first victim’s study when I felt it. Something necrotic and menacing, coming up behind me. I didn’t think, I just acted, channelling a bolt of my inner starlight through my hand towards the creature I could see.
A horrible, swirling, dark thing that only wanted to pass on its malice to me, to drive me mad!
It was here that I found out why Digs was carrying the flour. The clever kobold threw the entire contents onto the spectral creature whilst the undetectable Prowler mystically marked it to better track it. It screamed then. The voices we heard! They were exactly like the black necrotic fire that tried to overtake me in the Temple of Bahamut.
We gave chase…
I had to become the Cosmos’ Chalice in order to better help my allies. They were hurt and I quickly realised I was probably our own way to ensure we could make it out of the Dragonstone Academy alive — besides the inconvenience it would cause to the pompous kobold scholars, the more I saw of this creature (an Allip) the more certain I was that Grougaloragran’s prophecy was happening before me.
Speaking of, for the first time I used the ancient crystal dragon’s gift and I swore I heard him speak to me. “Be careful, young one…” This I know, but if what Ambrose said is true, and these undead creatures are coming from where you are, are you safe?…
I feared we would not make it out alive, but we did! By the Great Cosmos, I am so grateful we did.
I memorised all I could from the notes of the scholars and the blackboard in the classrooms. The language is not one, but three: Celestial, Inferlal and Draconic. It is a good thing I do not know all tongues just yet as the moment the scholars supposedly understood what was being whispered to them, they became those creatures — allips. To think one of them tried to give me their madness.
Not only that but when we compared the notes of the final scholar and those that were in the classroom it became clear that they were all working on the same piece. Just like he did when he took me and all those other me’s from alternate realities to-
The steady tap tap tap comes to a stuttering stop, the quill in Orianna’s hand slipping through her suddenly freezing cold fingers. The room has gotten dark without her realising it. Her throat begins to close up. Struggling to breath through her sudden panic, a cold sweat breaks out across her forehead as the tiefling stumbles towards the small kitchen, searching desperately for a candle to light.
Finally, after what felt like too long, she finds one. Flicking her fingers to match the primordial sound of crackling flame, a spark of light catches on the wick. The instant she sees the warm light her breathing calms down. Orianna brings her hands close to the flame and closes her eyes, imagining it is a roaring fire, grounding herself in the here and now.
That’s done. It is over. You did not die. You are here. You are safe. He will return in a day or two and you will be okay…
Mrrw.
Ah, hello Maurice, Orianna says in the Language of Cats to the raggedy animal framed in the kitchen window. What have you brought home today?
The tom leaps down from the windowsill, promptly coming over to her along the counter and carefully placing a dead rat by her elbow.
A mighty hunt. Well done.
It was a tricksome thing, the cat tells her. I first saw it trying to get in here to eat your papers but such disrespect of my space could not stand. I bring it here as homage to what you and your mate do for me every day.
She cannot help but chuckle at that. We are honoured to have your skills to help us. Shall I prepare this in a meal for you?
Yes, I quite like how you flavour the meat. More to my tastes than how the other one does, he said, then proceeds to clean himself.
Orianna shakes her head, goes to pick up the rat but notices the ink staining her fingers and sleeve. I’ll just clean up first.
She turns, grabbing the candle, lighting more lamps in the main room as she does, creating a warm and welcoming glow to their apartments. When Orianna gets to the writing desk she sighs in relief. The ink didn’t get all over her journal, only a little bit on the corner. She is cleaning it up when the flicker of the candle by her elbow casts a shadow on the wall. Her eyes lift up as her mind drifts back to the bonfire they had made to burn the notes left by the scholars who had descended into madness.
The fire was normal at first, blazing hotter with each piece added to the destructive pile. Then the flames had turned black, the necrotic energy undeniable and hungry. It roared higher and she swore that roar sounded more draconic than elemental. Orianna was about to dismiss it as her mind jumping to wild conclusions when her eyes registered what she was seeing: A dragon staring directly at Orianna and her companions.
It was wise of her to tell Ambrose about what happened at the Temple of Bahamut the week before. He thought like her: once was an ‘accident’. Twice was a ‘coincidence’. If there was to be a third it would be better to have more than just her eyes aware of the emerging pattern.
Living so close to the Academy has its benefits: a shorter distance to get there, closer to the Dawn Market, but also as I have found last week, a shorter distance to the teleportation circle that can be used to take one anywhere.
That was where I was that morning, waiting to return to Kundar.
I did not have to wait long. Prowler showed up with a blue kobold by the name of Digs. It seemed at first that my height would intimidate him — it has happened in the past much to my dismay. But he relaxed fairly quickly. Then he casually mentioned a prophecy and my intense attention on him might have negated any reassurance that I wasn’t a threat — which I really am not! It seemed like his prophecy was something from the feywild in exchange for a certain nervous smile. It made me think of Ilthuryn and I wanted to ask where Digs was to have such an exchange happen, but I never got the chance to as Kreekor arrived next with endless grapefruits — Where does he hide his snacks? — pure excitement, and a reminder to pick up spices when he can. Anåbæl was the final one to arrive, with porridge (much to Kreekor’s delight) and then we were off.
It wasn’t until later that I saw Digs with two bags of flour. A curious tool, one that turned out to be helpful when the time came…
It is nice being in the desert again. The heat is familiar, comforting. I already feel the cooler winds of autumn pushing their way through the trees to Daring Heights. I’m not ready for summer to end…
We were speaking with one of the teleportation circle operators when we arrived, a young black scaled kobold about where to find Dragonstone Academy when he mentioned, until recently, only nobles were allowed admittance. I had heard of Kundar before arriving in the Dawnlands. It is a city run and ruled by kobolds with dragonborn seen as the lesser. It is why, both times I have been there, we see kobolds ordering around their larger kin.
However that has changed recently due to one dragonborn in particular, Ghesh.
This name is familiar, but only in passing. I wonder if any of the Scholars at the Academy know more about this person. Something for another day…
Curious.
Every so often, some of the noble kobolds would look at us and have one of two reactions. Scorn or trepidation.
I wonder why this would be…
We met our Dragonstone Academy counterparts, Ambrose and Cornelia, the only two dragonborn part of the Academy! The more I learn about this place the less certain I am that my father’s passed this way, but it would behove me to look into it this time if I can.
Ambrose, a tall black scaled dragonborn, was the one who wrote the notice calling for aid, whilst Cornelia was his research assistant, a beautiful golden scaled dragonborn. They explained: four to five days ago one of the other researchers, Praxis, returned from the Sunset Spines. Their work was to be just general geological surveys of the Spines over a wide area.
My Star Cradle hummed at this news. I showed Ambrose the map I had made of the trail towards Grougaloragran’s cave and he confirmed it was more or less in that same area.
He then informed us that the scholars who had locked themselves away were hearing and muttering a strange language, something incomprehensible and painful. The pain was more in the mind, as if the whispers were being forced into their heads against their will. Unfortunately none of the scholars could make heads or tales of it and that was why, they claimed, to lock themselves away, to study and understand it.
First at the Temple of Bahamut. Now at the Dragonstone Academy. Accident? Coincidence? I am beginning to think that it is not likely…
I was in the midst of ritually casting a spell that would allow my eyes to see as the Cosmos does to better trace the magic in the first victim’s study when I felt it. Something necrotic and menacing, coming up behind me. I didn’t think, I just acted, channelling a bolt of my inner starlight through my hand towards the creature I could see.
A horrible, swirling, dark thing that only wanted to pass on its malice to me, to drive me mad!
It was here that I found out why Digs was carrying the flour. The clever kobold threw the entire contents onto the spectral creature whilst the undetectable Prowler mystically marked it to better track it. It screamed then. The voices we heard! They were exactly like the black necrotic fire that tried to overtake me in the Temple of Bahamut.
We gave chase…
I had to become the Cosmos’ Chalice in order to better help my allies. They were hurt and I quickly realised I was probably our own way to ensure we could make it out of the Dragonstone Academy alive — besides the inconvenience it would cause to the pompous kobold scholars, the more I saw of this creature (an Allip) the more certain I was that Grougaloragran’s prophecy was happening before me.
Speaking of, for the first time I used the ancient crystal dragon’s gift and I swore I heard him speak to me. “Be careful, young one…” This I know, but if what Ambrose said is true, and these undead creatures are coming from where you are, are you safe?…
I feared we would not make it out alive, but we did! By the Great Cosmos, I am so grateful we did.
I memorised all I could from the notes of the scholars and the blackboard in the classrooms. The language is not one, but three: Celestial, Inferlal and Draconic. It is a good thing I do not know all tongues just yet as the moment the scholars supposedly understood what was being whispered to them, they became those creatures — allips. To think one of them tried to give me their madness.
Not only that but when we compared the notes of the final scholar and those that were in the classroom it became clear that they were all working on the same piece. Just like he did when he took me and all those other me’s from alternate realities to-
The steady tap tap tap comes to a stuttering stop, the quill in Orianna’s hand slipping through her suddenly freezing cold fingers. The room has gotten dark without her realising it. Her throat begins to close up. Struggling to breath through her sudden panic, a cold sweat breaks out across her forehead as the tiefling stumbles towards the small kitchen, searching desperately for a candle to light.
Finally, after what felt like too long, she finds one. Flicking her fingers to match the primordial sound of crackling flame, a spark of light catches on the wick. The instant she sees the warm light her breathing calms down. Orianna brings her hands close to the flame and closes her eyes, imagining it is a roaring fire, grounding herself in the here and now.
That’s done. It is over. You did not die. You are here. You are safe. He will return in a day or two and you will be okay…
Mrrw.
Ah, hello Maurice, Orianna says in the Language of Cats to the raggedy animal framed in the kitchen window. What have you brought home today?
The tom leaps down from the windowsill, promptly coming over to her along the counter and carefully placing a dead rat by her elbow.
A mighty hunt. Well done.
It was a tricksome thing, the cat tells her. I first saw it trying to get in here to eat your papers but such disrespect of my space could not stand. I bring it here as homage to what you and your mate do for me every day.
She cannot help but chuckle at that. We are honoured to have your skills to help us. Shall I prepare this in a meal for you?
Yes, I quite like how you flavour the meat. More to my tastes than how the other one does, he said, then proceeds to clean himself.
Orianna shakes her head, goes to pick up the rat but notices the ink staining her fingers and sleeve. I’ll just clean up first.
She turns, grabbing the candle, lighting more lamps in the main room as she does, creating a warm and welcoming glow to their apartments. When Orianna gets to the writing desk she sighs in relief. The ink didn’t get all over her journal, only a little bit on the corner. She is cleaning it up when the flicker of the candle by her elbow casts a shadow on the wall. Her eyes lift up as her mind drifts back to the bonfire they had made to burn the notes left by the scholars who had descended into madness.
The fire was normal at first, blazing hotter with each piece added to the destructive pile. Then the flames had turned black, the necrotic energy undeniable and hungry. It roared higher and she swore that roar sounded more draconic than elemental. Orianna was about to dismiss it as her mind jumping to wild conclusions when her eyes registered what she was seeing: A dragon staring directly at Orianna and her companions.
It was wise of her to tell Ambrose about what happened at the Temple of Bahamut the week before. He thought like her: once was an ‘accident’. Twice was a ‘coincidence’. If there was to be a third it would be better to have more than just her eyes aware of the emerging pattern.