Vulūne 20-28, 653 DR: Passing time on the ship. The tide of flowers. Tressta’s dreams. Unworldly words. Pages and pages of magical writing. The body in the belly of the ship. Docking along the Abandoned Coast. The captain’s search. The discovery, trial, and execution of the poisoner. One left behind. The Bay of Crows. The hilltop academy. No room for Feyri. The Folio of Nyl. Magician matters in the Halls of the Kirít Nalam.

Continued from The Nōyn Dag Horror.

Iyldor, 20 Vulūne 653

As the ship passed from the great bay, the crew pointed toward a large island off the port side. It was explained to those on deck that the isle was sacred to the barbarous Ælyryr, for the eastern most face of land bore the likeness of the spirit-goddess’ face. The sailors went on to say that ships of pilgrims left every morning from the City of Nōyn Dag and every evening more shiploads were carried back. At dinner that night, the monks elaborated on the sailors’ tales. They explained that Ælyrēa was believed to be the mother-spirit of the entire island of Ildûn. None of the monks refuted her existence, but pointed out that the Cult was heretical and would be destroyed once the Third Kyrm Orydràun was completed at Savris. The monks toasted the idea with a quick prayer. The sailors that listened toasted, just to toast.

Irídor, 21 Vulūne 653

In the early morning watches, Tressta was awakened by lights and music. Sitting up in the ship’s hammock, she looked around at her sleeping comrades. It was dark. The room swayed gently. Outside she could hear the waves lapping against the ship’s sides. Everything was fine, all normal. When dawn arrived, sunlight filtered down from the deck above. Discussion from the deck convinced her that it was time to get up and see what the day might offer. As she slipped on her boots and pulled the cloak around her shoulders, the dream of lights and music already seemed like something that happened long ago, to someone else. Climbing the steep stairs to the deck, Tressta found a number of her companions looking over the ship’s side. The ship was slowly carving its way through a field of flowers, floating on the waves. The sailors were running to and fro, collecting sacks and nets and throwing them into a rowboat. The boat was lowered with two sailors aboard and they began collecting as many of the sweet smelling flowers as they could. The group learned that such blooms only occurred in the fall, and that the flowers were much prized.

The rest of the day was spent doing everyday tasks. Dammon spent his watches studying the inanimate hulk of Graiç. Fyrgol stood on prow practicing with his strange Feyri blade. Now and then, Jak or Ērēus would walk by to give him pointers. Tressta spoke with the monks as best she could, and tried to learn more about her chitinous claw. The monks were very interested in her condition but could offer little insight into the magics behind it. The best they could do is compare her appendage to the claws of the Urvàrdar that had appeared in Nōyn Dag. Jak tried to make the best of the voyage, offering his services to the captain to learn what he could of sailing. The spearman got along well with the crew, who enjoyed teaching the warrior about ropes, canvas, and wind. Zêla roamed the decks, played music, and like everyone else tried to learn as much of Tradespeak as she could.

Roydor, 22 Vulūne 653

Tressta awoke again in the middle of the night with dreams of light and music. This time it was different however. This time there were voices. Climbing from her hammock, she went and found Dammon to tell him about her dream before the memory of it faded. He listened to story and offered to pray over her as she slept tomorrow. Tressta was surprised by this answer, but thanked him and returned to bed. As Dammon returned to his meditations he became acutely aware of something happening on the lower deck. Climbing down the stairs into the hold, he found one of his books opened atop a bound crate. Above the book a quill danced furiously, writing arcane words onto the blank page. The magician knew better than to interrupt his Conscience when it was scribing, but wondered where it had harvested the blood for ink. Ships were filled with rats he thought, the text would be finished soon enough.

The next day, the sailors seemed more antsy than usual. When Jak asked what was happening, he received some chuckles and a couple “you’ll see” answers. By midday, the cook emerged and explained that the flowers were ready. A handful of sailors handed off their duties and went below. A watch later they returned, laughing to one another. That laughing group relieved a second group, and so on. By late afternoon, a number of them ushered Jak into the cargo hold where the cook was carefully crumbling dried flower petals into the end of a pipe. The pipe was lit and passed around. The remainder of the watch was spent laughing at nothing in particular. Jak’s head felt like a stuffed pillow, and he knew that were danger to appear, he would not have the ability to deal with it. The feeling was pleasant however, and it was good to forget about the monsters they’d faced, the friends they’d lost, and just to laugh.

After dinner, the ship passed by the Town of Eládgāyn. Uðúkar the Captain explained that he had heard tales that the town was surrounded by a forest of webs, and that the legs of the spiders could straddle a horse. Still not feeling completely himself, Jak agreed to spar with Fyrgol for a while before going to bed. That night, Dammon stood near Tressta’s hammock and whispered the Sudùli prayer taught to him in Oð.

Sūdìdor, 23 Vulūne 653

Late that night, Dammon saw that the Taládan was growing restless while she slept. As the fit continued, the sleeping Tressta began muttering softly to herself. Though her words became more clear as the moments passed, Dammon did not recognize the language. As her sleeping conversation continued, Dammon felt the rage of his Conscience as it entered the room, demanding that this be stopped. The magician asked it if it understood the language. The thing said that it did, and that the words were Eðàric. It spoke the word with an air of disgust, before fleeing the room. Peering into the invisible, Dammon was surprised to see an ethereal figure standing over Tressta’s sleeping form. The magician woke his sleeping companion. Alarmed, Tressta explained that she remembered having “a conversation” but did not remember what was said, or with whom. Tressta asked if Dammon would look over her again the next night and he consented.

In the morning, Dammon spoke with the monks over breakfast. The monks knew nothing of Eðàric, except that it was tied to the mysteries of the Ethereal. The magician left the monks to ask his Conscience questions about last night. In the cargo hold he again found an animated quill scribing bloody characters into an opened spell book. Figuring it best not to disturb the thing while it worked, Dammon returned to inspect the body of Graiç.

The ship continued along the Athewyr coast for the rest of the day without incident.

Talídor, 24 Vulūne 653

The next night, Dammon stood again above the sleeping form of Tressta, praying and waiting for her strange visitor. As Tressta slept, she again began to stir and speak. Within the invisible spectrum, Dammon again witnessed the visitor appearing above her. He did not interrupt and waited for the visitation to pass. After a time, the ethereal figure disappeared and Tressta returned to restful sleeping. When she awakened in the morning, Dammon asked her about her dream. For the first time she said she remembered the visit fully, but was not sure what the message meant or whether she should tell anyone. Though frustrated with this turn, the magician agreed to watch over her again the next night and left her until the next evening.

Tressta sat in the middle of her hammock and reviewed the strange conversation in her mind. She knew not who the visitor was, or what its motivations might be, but she remembered each haunting, pleading word. “Woman who stands astride the Three Worlds. Listen to our words. Hear our pleas. A horrible event has come to pass. A veil is sundered. The Darkest Wall has been breached. All remains undone. Daughter of the Enlightened. Do your part. Ancient is our pact. The Blood of your mothers command you. Learn to see. Learn to find. Learn to strike. When she looked into you, the Goddess saw this. When it looked into you, the Darkness saw this too. Find what they saw. Do not surrender the light. The Nurzek must be destroyed. Too long have its claws touched the Twilight soil. Too long has it gorged itself without restraint. Find the Dagger of Kar Ajmur. It lies in the Village of Nyl on the edge of the Great Death, Ilûwyr. Retrieve the dagger and all will be revealed.”

Later that morning, Jak became aware that something was wrong with the crew. They gathered in small agitated groups, occasionally casting glances at their passengers. Eventually, Jak asked one of his new friends what was wrong. Looking over his shoulders to see if anyone was witnessing this conversation, the man explained that something had been found below. With some hesitation, the man agreed to show Jak the discovery. Climbing down into the cargo hold, the man showed him an Yrūn body wedged behind some hard-to-reach boxes. Jak and the man pulled the body free as others entered the room. The man’s clothes were ripped, and his body covered with puncture wounds. The small bloody holes were in turn circled with strange writings. Jak called for Dammon who woke from his daylight nap to answer the warrior’s summons. When Dammon arrived, the sailors stood back. They were very uncomfortable around the chalk-skinned magician. Dammon explained that the writings were nonsense. Jak asked if the companion’s Conscience was responsible. Dammon said he assumed so and would make sure it did not happen again. The magician called his Conscience to him. The thing arrived quickly and explained that the dead man had served a greater purpose. Dammon pointed to the man’s blackened leg and suggested that the man may have been poisoned. This caused a stir among the sailors gathered. The magician went on to say that he could not explain the strange wounds, but did not believe they were the cause of death. At this time Fyrgol arrived with another group of sailors, to investigate the commotion. Fyrgol stayed close to the sailors, listening to their words with his Feyri magics. When the captain heard of this, he ordered two sailors to drag the body to the deck so that it could be studied in the daylight. Two sailors were selected and reluctantly did what they were told.

On the deck, the monks came forward and agreed with Dammon’s diagnosis. The captain studied the reactions of each of his sailors and passengers. Unable to determine who might be behind the death, he ordered that the whole ship be searched. The sailors seemed to like the idea. As the crew changed course, the monks gave rites over the body and ceremoniously delivered it into the sea. Fyrgol relayed the captain’s words to his friends. Soon, the Abandoned Coast drew near. The shores were littered with the ruins of long-deserted towns and villages. The ship continued south, looking for an intact harbor. By late evening, they came to the harbor of Tœrgyryn and anchored off the coast. The captain explained that the ship would be thoroughly searched in the morning.

Dammon stood vigil over Tressta for the entire night. He had hoped to get another look at the ethereal visitor but no such image appeared. For the first time since the voyage began, the woman slept soundly.

Padídor, 25 Vulūne 653

When dawn rose above the eastern sea, the first mate called all sailors topside. Within a few minutes the anchor was lifted and the ship maneuvered aside one the abandoned piers of ruined Tœrgyryn. It was explained that the Abandoned Coast was a stretch of contested land between Ildûni and Ælyri lands. The Ildûni sent columns into Aðéwyr periodically to monitor Ælyryr movements, burn villages, and maintain a margin between Nadrèwyr and Tirewyr. Rarely did these forays extend north of the Shyl Shemyræ, but that was a three days walk north of Tœrgyryn. As the ship pulled into the pier, all could see the collapsed ruins of the old Ælyri town. A marketplace once stood against the wharf, surrounded by a stone and iron arcade. Beyond this area, overgrown cobble streets radiated inland along recessed avenues that wound between the stone foundations. Mature trees grew from the streets and foundations, giving some indication as to how long the town had been abandoned. When the ship was moored, Uðukar explained what would happen. He and his first mate would inspect every person on the ship. Once that person was searched, they would be asked to leave the ship until the larger search was complete. Once all the persons were off the ship, the captain and first mate would search the vessel, top to bottom. Only after this was done, would anyone be permitted back. There was no arguing with this. During the explanation, Fyrgol slipped back down the stairs and grabbed what poisons he had. Moving stealthily, the Feyri found his way into one of the crew areas and slipped the bottles into a random sea-chest. Relieved of these, he found his way back to the crowd above and listened to the end of the captain’s explanation.

Dammon was one of the first passengers inspected. He was reluctant to let the first mate go through his things, and warned him to be particularly careful. The young man nervously pawed through the magician’s clothes and belongings before giving the all-clear. The magician nodded and walked off the ship, finding a tree-shaded hillside to sit and read. The monks were searched quickly and allowed to follow the magician ashore. Jak was inspected for a few minutes, with both the captain and first mate taking the opportunity to fawn over his collection of spears and swords. Tressta stepped forward reluctantly, and after much prodding unwrapped the cloak from her red clawed hand. Gasps arose from all that watched. The first mate jumped back, reaching for a knife. Tressta stood still as the captain looked at the thing with great concern. The captain asked that the Taládan allow the priests of Kirít Nalam inspect her “hand” when they reached the town. She agreed to this and was allowed to disembark. Tressta wrapped her hand again, and proceeded to the old marketplace where Fyrgol and Jak had already begun a day of sparring. After everyone had left, the captain and first mate pulled the gangplank back and began searching the entire ship.

After a few watches, the captain emerged from below deck and called for a number of crew members by name. As the word spread, everyone gathered on the pier to see what was happening. After they lowered the gangplank, the captain called down for the two larger crewmen to grab the third, a man named Garvyd. The man resisted and protested as the larger men grabbed his arms. The man shouted that he had nothing to do with this, that he was innocent. As more gathered along the pier, the first mate stepped forward and produced the bottles of poison found in the man’s sea-chest. Calls to kill the man rose among the surrounding crew as the man cried that he had never seen the bottles before. Uðukar instructed the men to bring Garvyd onto the ship, where the Captain’s Law was unquestioned. Once the man was dragged aboard, the captain grabbed a scimitar. Holding the man’s head was held back by his hair as the captain drew a blade across his neck. Dropping Garvyd’s body to the deck, he announced that the murder was avenged. A cheer went up among the watching crew. Somewhere behind them, Fyrgol watched silently.

Following the execution, the monk Seúra approached the captain. After some hushed conversation, the monk motioned for the others of her Order. While the rest of the crowd returned to the ship, the monks carried the body of Garvyd into the ruins of Tœrgyryn. The monks found a hidden place among the fallen stones and left the “murderer’s” body without burial or ritual, doomed to wander Athewyr forever in lifeless unrest. All returned to the ship, and continued south.

Bærídor, 26 Vulūne 653

In the evening of the next day, most gathered on the ship’s deck to see the coastal keep of Kry Balid. In the evening’s light, only a dozen of so candlelit windows could be seen against the irregular silhouette. The captain explained that Kry Bàlid was the border between Ildûni Nadrèwyr and Ælyri Aðéwyr. A small cheer went up among the monks and sailors. It was a relief to be out of enemy territory.

Virídor, 27 Vulūne 653

Early the next day, the sails were taut with wind and the ship made its way south. The captain intended to make the Town of Kirít Nalam by sundown. By midday they passed by Marwyl and into the Bay of Crows. By evening, as they moved closer to the coast, they saw hundreds of pennants and canvas tents arranged above the beaches. The captain explained that the Town of Kirít Nalam was a staging area where Ildûn troops could camp and resupply before marching toward the border keeps and Athewyr beyond. Soon villages came into view and then the larger Town of Kirít Nalam. The town that their long ago companion, the Drāūn priestess Alcèrra Nàdrelan, called her home lay before them. Ildûn had seemed so impossibly far away in those days. Even as the ship was pulled toward the strange black docks, Dammon and others knew that their journeys would be taking them even further still. The Town of Kirít Nalam was an old town built upon a small peninsula. Above the town rose a rocky mount surrounded by stony foundations, briars, and twisted trees. Atop the mount rose an impressive stone fortress. Even from the harbor, one could make out the long black banners that flanked the structure’s main gate, and the gray tridents of the Cult of Drāūn. That was the Cult academy they sought to seek help with a number of problems.

After gathering their belongings and thanking the captain and crew, the group climbed down to the heavily barnacled pier. The ship would be resupplying for a number of days, so they had time to speak with the priests of Drāūn and discover what they could. The monks of the Order of Ealyma seemed equally interested in spending time on land and offering themselves to their hosts at the Academy. The group walked through the narrow streets of Kirít Nalam, trying to read the plaques hanging above the merchants’ doors. On the the town’s far side, the buildings ended abruptly at the foot of a rocky slope that led up to the school above. A single road wound up the hillside between leafless trees, spreading briars, and ancient crumbled ruins. The monks explained that the town had once extended to the walls of the Academy but the margin was created to make the temple-fort-school more defensible. After a long climb up a rutted path, the group reached the iron gate flanked by the gray and black trident banners they’d seen from the ship. Over their shoulders they could see the town’s jumbled rooftops and the amorphous black wharf where the ship waited. The gate soon opened. A number of young acolytes greeted the monks of Ealyma and invited all inside.

Within the spartan interior, an older man in dark clothes welcomed them to the Academy of Kirít Nalam. He explained that rooms were being made available and that a dinner was being prepared. After exchanging greetings with the monks, he stepped toward the companions and asked how he could help. The monks explained as best they could the various maladies affecting the group: Jak’s turned wrists, Tressta’s crimson claw, and Dammon’s collection of unnatural issues. The priest listened carefully, finally responding in Dekàlic about the dangers of Chaos. The monks agreed and pointed out that the chalk-skinned magician spoke the ancient tongue most skillfully. The priest smiled and nodded to Dammon before continuing. “I can promise nothing, but we will try to help you all. You are welcomed here.” The group thanked the priest. As the priest turned to address the gathered acolytes, Baggar stepped near Dammon and explained that they were very nervous about the Feyri. After some discussion with the priest, it was decided that the Academy would put Fyrgol up in a room in town as a guest of the Academy. Fyrgol agreed to this and was led from the fortress by a young female acolyte. As they returned along the long road to town, the young woman explained that the Ildûni had no positive interactions with the Feyri. The race was associated with the spirit-worshipers of the north. She led Fyrgol to a nice inn and explained that he would be staying as a guest of the Academy. The innkeeper agreed and showed them to a room. After Fyrgol had inspected his new quarters, the young woman explained that she would stop in daily to see if he needed anything.

Palídor, 28 Vulūne 653

After breakfast, the group was divided and taken to separate chambers. Jak explained to the priest that studied his arms that he had been afflicted by the Zrū because “he was a mighty slayer of their kind”. The priest speculated that the Chaos magic that transformed his arms was spent, and that in order to remedy the effect they might need to find a practitioner of Vīsìktrū. When Jak asked what that meant, the priest explained that his current state was now his “natural” state and it could not be undone by a simple reversal. A priest that interviewed Tressta studied her claw for the better part of a watch. She told the priest how the claw had come to be while the Drāūnite nodded quietly. The priest said finally that the transformation had nothing to do with Chaos magics at all. He suggested the cause was Neðérim, made more difficult by her acceptance of the condition. The priest explained that some transformations could be reversed if the magic was still active, but over time the transformative energies leave the subject, and rewrite the natural state. The priest was uncertain what could be done short of severing her arm at the elbow and attempting to regenerate the original form. Even this was risky he explained, for it was possible that the claw would regrow again. In the meantime, the priest suggested further divination on the claw. Tressta consented and was led into the Academy’s main chapel. A second priest exhausted a number of spells upon her arm before determining that her arm was not sentient, but did appear to be a product of the Neðérim.

In a third chamber, a small panel sat and talked to Dammon. After studying the magician’s aura, they determined that Dammon’s body was indeed host to competing souls. The spirit that was original to the host, appeared to be dominant. A second spirit appeared to be much older and more powerful. The priests were clearly intrigued by this. Mostly, they were curious about what magics could have knitted the two spirits together in a single host. The magician could offer them no insight. The priests debated back and forth for a time before concluding that they did not have the expertise to unravel his condition. They suggested that he travel to the City of Savris and present his case before the keepers of Kyrm Orydràun. The priests were also curious about the magics moving through the magician. They suggested that despite his traditional inception via the Acentyri Rites, his powers stemmed from another, unexpected source. The priests explained that such matters were better understood by Arcanists and referred him to Ingun of Palæð.

Dammon found Ingun in the Academy library, nose deep in an over-sized book. After introducing himself, Dammon explained what the priests had told him. The older magician asked for permission to look deeper. Dammon consented. After peering into the invisible, Ingun agreed. “They’re correct about the spirits”, he explained. “Of course they would be.” He then closed the over-sized folio before him and said, “The rest should be no mystery to you. You are not a magician of the Dekàlan traditions, your powers are drawn from the Nether.” Ingun went on to say that such an alignment was not unheard of. The magicians of the Circle of Vereç were well-known for their fascination with the Withering Veil. “What is interesting,” he continued, “is that you are not Vereçh. You are far too composed to be a member of that maddened Circle”. Ingun paused and studied Dammon’s response to this news. “If you truly have no idea how this transpired, I would suggest you deconstruct the events of your Wizardmaking and uncover that which has cast your soul into the Devouring Dark.”

Following their talk, Ingun left Dammon with a large book to peruse, the Folio of Nyl.

Continued in Bane of the Unseen Hunters.

Characters

• Dammon Shroudson = 2 CPs (240)
• Fyrgol = 2+1 CPs (167)
• Jak of Cænden = 2 CPs (233)
• Tressta Drynsval = 3 CPs (227)
• Baggar of Ealyma (Monk)
• Calyedin of Moreun
• Ērēus of Amra = 1 CPs (313)
• Familiar = Unkn.
• Garvyd of Gyrdon (Sailor): executed
• Graiç of Mazzam = 0 CPs
• Ingun of Palæð (Magician)
• Kalvan of Ealyma (Monk)
• “Quiet Kalus” the Tassèri (Sailor): murdered
• Seúra of Ealyma (Monk)
• Teléek of Ealyma (Monk)
• Uðukar the Old (Ship Captain)
• Zêla ma Ler = 1 CPs (176)

Played: 12 Apr 2008