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Author Topic: Andrew's Songbook  (Read 2453 times)

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #220 on: June 20, 2012, 10:58:23 pm »
Written in a jumble, quickly, penmanship forgotten.

Rose fears the crow-haired man.  Raven hair, like crow feathers.  She had a drink, in Center - remembering him made her shudder.  Fear.  He asked her to read cards for him.  She remembers pain and dropping the cards, and he changing into something else - seeing everyone around her dead or dying, and it was dark.

She was carried somewhere.  Master Cedric was there taking care of her, but it was not him; he turned into the crow-haired man, and then came after her.  It was all real, and yet not real...she felt he was going to kill her so she tried to stop him.  She made an image of his death and sent it to him.  He rejected it and continued to come after her.  She tried again and it didn't work, so she ran, and there were screams, and dead women, and and shouting, and then people grabbing her.  And then she was somewhere else.  She ran, sometimes in the woods, sometimes in the dark, sometimes other places - real, and not real.

She walked into the water, meaning to make it stop, but it did not stop, and she was in the woods again.  They took away her name and she was somewhere dark.  They bound her hands, tied off her mouth, and locked her away.

The recounted narrative ends abruptly with an ink blot.
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #221 on: June 21, 2012, 09:40:14 pm »
And later, added to the same page:

Minu remembers Rose speaking of a single demon coming.  Just one.

Who?  For whom?  

Has the one the dark elves made a pact with come back to cash in his chips?

And more, later -

Fighting with men dying in the field.  Two dragons circle like birds of prey.  Everything is dying.

"I'm just the messenger."
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #222 on: June 25, 2012, 04:55:10 pm »
Muse, he had to get his head together.  Rose was gone - he wasn't sure when she'd walked out, for all he knew she was in the tavern finding someone to kiss and he'd have some very strange looks tomorrow.  He wasn't coming out today.  Bugger them all.

Minu was still in the kitchen and pots and pans were coming down with force that a ninety-four pound woman should not be able to generate.  So she was mad after all...bloody hells, it was about time.  She wouldn't admit it when they talked.  Well, she should be, anyway.  More so if she could see his condition right now even with all her talk of "be yourself" and "don't hide from me".  Smoke formed cirrus patterns across the ceiling and he was as far gone as he'd been in a while.  Escapist.

Yes, and so what?

Ilsare, that's what.  Two women, one he was in love with and yet; the other he was not, although he loved her.  And yet.  

He couldn't stop rubbing his face, it felt good.  Fuzzy, which it was most certainly not, and the weed-influenced sensations felt odd against the clarity of his thoughts.  

So, my Muse, what do I do?

Part the first was obvious.  He had to make things right with Minu, he was married, this was childish, and he was Ilsarian and not Xeenite after all.  Pleasure was all well and good but he'd taken vows.  It wasn't his fault if Zira hadn't specifically made them exclude others, it was implied, although he didn't expect Rose to know that.  It wasn't like she went to a lot of weddings.

Rose.  He'd used her, he'd admitted it.  When Minu was sick and perhaps dying he'd found his comfort with her.  He'd used her completely and justified it with her religion.  She said she used him as well and that was fine but how did he "lift her fog" when they were together?  Must ask.  Didn't make what he'd done any less wrong.

One foot was numb; he had them crossed at the ankle up on his desk with his legs stretched out.  He asked his foot kindly to rest on the desk next to its twin, got no response, gave up.  He'd fall over when he had to stand and have something to blame it on.  Very good then.

Where was he...sorting this out...a parchment slipped under his door. Ignore it for now.  If it was important they'd have knocked or just barged in so he could stand up and fall over.

Where was he...oh, Minu and Rose.  Muse...sort this out...he'd better, or at least set it all aside because they all had a lot more to worry about.  Two red eyes in the night's sky, stones, dark elves, horses that spread famine, moths - his double - Minu's blood captive.  All of it.  Too much, too soon after war, and Ilsare - I love you, I love you more than any mortal woman, I pray my soul goes to you when this shell finally nourishes soil - but I will kill every single dark elf I see without question, except Alantha, and that's that.  Dead.  All of them.  Don't care if it's Az'attan or not, no way to tell unless you bless me with that knowledge.  The Heartsong will have to get along without them.

How'd he get on that tack?  Where was he?  Oh, right.  Women.  Minu wanted more romance, to go touring with him, okay.  He could do that.  Could he ask her for what he wanted?  To not be so bloody gentle all the time?  Pain was her enemy and he'd never had the kyûsyo to ask her to do certain things, things he could ask Rose to do although the Xeenite wasn't that enthused either.  Too submissive...well, usually.  Last night's conversation made a lie of that.

Really need to move this foot.

Seers and magic and women, the death of him someday.  Now wouldn't that be a mess?  Stars and song, what if she ever came back from wherever she's been...she knew, she knew.  She'd been there with him and they both knew what they liked and what the other liked and she was not gentle, that one, although she could be kind when she chose.  If she ever walked in the Buckle's front door his vows were in trouble.  Serious trouble.  He'd finally told Minu that a while back...how long?  It didn't matter.  It would test him.  He dreamed of her still.  He looked up at the glittering night sky and thought of her still, less than before - but still.  

"Your goddess doesn't make things easy."

No, She does not.  It's up to him to decide his path and whether it is true to Her teachings.  Right now, it didn't feel like it.  Well, he's right about one thing; he can love and not sleep with someone for it.  That will be the way.  And that powder she put on her tongue?  No no no.  He translated it into Melody's voice as he thought it.  That was a firestorm of trouble.  His special cigars would do, thank you.  

Thank you for listening my Muse.  Can you help me move this foot now?  Bless.
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #223 on: June 30, 2012, 09:02:05 pm »
Notes jotted quickly in not quite so neat italic script.

"Red eyes in black...she knows". - Rose

Connor speaks of a way to re-till the soil with composting and fertilization, provided it is free of moth larvae.  It reduces the feel of the pits when done. - Connor by way of Jil

The larvae are rare within the affected soil - are they cause of the blight?  How? - Jil

And so I was tattooed with dark elf flesh in the shape of a moth that appears to be the moth that the larvae become, a creature of some as yet unknown pit.  Wonderful.

"Two red stars are thought to be associated with a goddess of the dark elves though none know her name other than the Mother of Darkness. The formation is sometimes called the Mother's Eyes.  It is always in the night sky but faint among the others." - Jil

Milara.  Milara scrying Minu, Milara sending agents under the ground near Mariner's Hold...and he wished to be a god once.

Vin'larie - Demon horses?  By the Muse.  They are of another plane.  Also raised on this plane, Voltrex at the least.  Harbingers of doom - there is a white version.  The Golden Emerald?  I've never heard of it.  Vin'larie with another creature, Lance says Jehemina, again I have no idea. - Jil and Daniel

Vin'larie orginally bred to be magical food for dragons, corrupted by the Mother of Darkness. Said that their appearance were part of ancient prophecies about the rise of Sinthar, dragons, and demons. - Lance

Moth pit creatures are called aaa, or whisperers in the dark. - Lance

Attack on Vale led by female dark elf riding a black horse with one horn, a Vin'larie.  - Lance

We need to understand that contract.  They hit Vale, and Plenarius is one of Milara's greatest rivals.

Attack on Vale and Rangely and another on a village in the Wolfswood, no one left alive, rituals.  There was a similar attack before the war, thirty years at least ago, on Mistone - when the Vin'larie were first spotted.  Dagger found at that scene with Vin'larie used in conjunction with dark elf houses.  Here there is a sketch of a crest, the head of a Vin'larie centered, and another sketch of a very similar crest.  Notes under each say "found in Mistone village" and "found by Connor's wife in Wolfswood".

Pit moths from a prison pit, no idea who is kept there - same pit as Xandrial came from.  Barron, hot, looks like the hells.  - Griff and Brisbane

Blight is selective to a degree - as Jil said - forests and gardens less affected.  - Connor

The pit moth has escaped recently.  It emerged from it's cocoon, left traces of conjuration, transmutation and illusion, a husk, and some partially destroyed larvae.  It teleported out, even better.

Rose has traced out and paced out a summoning pattern.  Connor has stopped her, requested she doesn't summon pit kind to the inn.  She did anyway - she doesn't seem in control and can't stop the motions.  Plants all died.  Rose was possessed, it took a number of us to bring her around.

Sketch of dark elf woman, from memory.  Rose said she was deep in a cave, open to the sky - she went back to look, it called to her.  Anna says it's the one who led the attack on Vale from Vin'larie-back.

Katia, Folian - both attacked by dark elves and the highest priest slaughtered and sacrificed.  Connor, Jaelle, Steel, Annalee and another - Acacea maybe? - were tracking the murders when the trail ran cold, before the war.
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #224 on: July 08, 2012, 03:48:27 pm »
"Andy?  Are you okay?"

"Of course, why would I not be?"

"Your neck..."  Heloise stretches to her tiptoes and his flips his collar up.  He's pretty sure he's blushing.

"I'm fine, really.  Very good in fact.  How are you?"

"Was Elly with you last night?"  

"Yes..."

"Hmph."  Helly's eyes narrow at the starched fabric shield brushing his chin.  His waitress/cook/nurse/bartender folds her arms, looks around the great room - for Minu, no doubt - before stalking away without a further word.  He can't blame her.  He's giddy, breathless still.  He hasn't had a hickey since making out with Rose, and before that...since before he was married.  His office doors close silently now that some of the repair work on the meeting room wall is complete; Amaria's demonstration had thrown his hinges out of whack as well.

The red velvet chair welcomes.  It's starting to mold to him, much like the one that used to sit in the Twin Dragons and now resides by his fireplace.  Little pleasures...and big ones, as his fingers brush his bruised flesh while straightening the collar again.

All this time, and all he had to do was ask.  All the drama avoided - could he be forgiven for thinking that an Aeridinite priestess would not take to the idea of pain?  Or was he an idiot for never asking?

Idiot, certainly.  Another lesson from Ilsare and he sings a prayer with necklace in hand.  Famine spreads, new wars threaten, evil burns in the night sky, and still his wife can amaze him.  It wasn't that he expected her to refuse outright, of course.  It wasn't that at all.  It was that he expected her to try without any enthusiasm.  With distaste.  He expected and he did not give her the chance to prove him wrong.  And oh, how wrong he was.  Beautifully, abjectly wrong.  

She was honest about her reservations and equally honest about wanting to learn - to understand why he could enjoy it.  It would not be now but last night was a first step, a hopeful first step.  Score one for love and marriage and Ilsare.  Which made him smile, because he has a Xeenite to thank for it.

"Are you happy?"

Yes, Rose.  Today I am happy.
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #225 on: August 03, 2012, 04:15:52 pm »
It didn't take much these days.  In the Deep, trying to free gnome slaves, one guildmate chanting "freedom", and he felt that involuntary cheek twitching he never seemed to get a handle on and had visions of a man on a battlefield leading Rael's armies.  He felt sick.  It never seemed to get any easier.

The song had come unbidden and he'd hummed it but now, just now, back under the sun and in a dizzying spiral of self-reflection, he'd put words to it.  A glance at them was all he allowed.  He couldn't sing it.  Not yet.

Door to chamber thick with dust
Hinges shut and limed with rust
A place I closed long ago
A place that I never go
A place I always hoped you’d know
Where you’ll always be
 
Faded after many years
Red paint flakes like bleeding tears
I step into this shrine
Your face so much like mine
An image frozen, stopped in time
Still a child of three
 
Freedom isn’t free
At least it’s not for me
Letting go left scars
That most will never see
There’s always a someday
A will I’m told, a way
I see your smile as I pray
One day we will meet
 
Old pain lingers in the air
Fading sounds of her despair
Ticking of the clock
Doorway open to the dock
The carriage-horse’s steady clop
Taking you from me

Her heart breaking still so fresh
Each note bound into my flesh
She lost me, I lost you
Child that I never knew
Held tight inside this tiny room
Here yet absentee

Ilsare please whisper in his ear
Let him know my love is near
Guide this boy whose gifts are mine
Please let he himself define
What he is, whom he shall be
Please, Ilsare, keep Freedom free
 
But freedom isn’t free
At least it’s not for me
Letting go left scars
That most will never see
There’s always a someday
A will I’m told, a way
I see your smile as I pray
One day we will meet


It hadn't started out that way.  He knew his son had his blood, he'd felt the bardic magic, and the words had begun as a prayer that Ilsare would inspire Dom to discover them.  He still hoped it would happen, had happened.  Yet who was he?  The son of a potter, that's who, and it wasn't an accident that an unfinished letter to his slowly ailing father lay near the inkwell.  The same father who, despite knowing his youngest was musically inclined, always assumed he'd come home and make pottery.  As a child he'd resented that assumption deeply, causing fights and rebellion.  Would Dom feel any less?  From him, should he ever see the boy, or his adoptive father?  He hoped his son would feel art in his heart - music preferably - which was egotistic to say the least.  The man raising Dom wanted him to be an officer in the Prantz military.  If Dom realized his gift, whatever form it took, he was in one of the most hostile places on the planet to be practicing if he was allowed to at all.

So - no, my Muse.  I don't want him to be like me.  It would be easier on him if he's not.  I want only for him to have a choice.  To play, to draw?  To master sword and armor if that is truly who he is?  To do both?  They are not mutually exclusive after all.  So long as it's his choice, I will be content.  Which is not to say I'll be happy.  But that's the price of freedom - choice and everything that comes with it.

He closed his journal as soon as the words to the song dried.  Perhaps it was time to seek Dom out.  Perhaps Thalia's heart had softened over time and she'd allow some contact.  It was easy to say it was her fault.  He'd nursed that wound for years.  But was it?  He'd never gone back to check.  Such a fine line, respect versus abdication.  What if the husband who was to solve all her problems had died?  What if she'd left him, unable to make things work?  What if he was abusive?

What if everything was fine and he was butting in where he wasn't wanted?  

No.  His Muse knew his heart and if Dom had been on his mind so much, there had to be a reason.  He only had to check that the child was reasonably happy, that he was secure and thriving.  That's all.  Just check.  Just...to check.
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #226 on: August 29, 2012, 10:35:58 am »
A draft and a response tucked into a journal that has been outfitted with a lock and newly added magical trap.

Colleagues:

After our last meeting I spent some time thinking on the proceedings, as you all did. I went to the Breath of the Muse to inquire about a possibly related event of the past. Jil and Brisbane have read my progress but I repeat here:

"There was a young woman found dead in the Hlint gardens, her Ilsarian lover missing. Witnesses at the time mounted a rescue with the town guards. The attack was blamed on Corathian ruffians.

"There was a witness identified as Kell Ereptor might be found to tell more.

"There was a body found in the moors that could have been the lover but it was too badly mutilated to be identified. Pieces of the chest were missing and something ate the face.

"The Ilsarian lover, Elias Sayian, is presumed missing pending final identification of the body though some think he may just be in some deep artistic depression over his lost love and someday make his way back to the Muse."

No one was overly concerned, although the missing heart still makes me wonder how it might be connected to our Vin'larie riding dark elf. As for the sketch of the staff, no one espoused any recognition.

Copied from my original letters, with apologies. Having reached a bit of detente with the situation I pondered the ritual. Part of my communication is to see what others are investigating, and part is to suggest an idea and have the feasibility appraised. Assuming that these moths are from the pit that the ritual opened, would it be possible to create an un-summoning ritual for them? Half the battle is the cleansing of the soil, the other half seems to be removing the blight. If something can be brought here, it can be sent back, yes?

Again my magical knowledge is gained by instinct and hard knocks, so I turn to more researched heads for opinions. I'm not sure I'm the best person to look into this but it's thought possible I will ask Minu to lend her expertise and get working on it.

Yours in the Muse,


Andrew Reid



The return note is scrawled in reply on rice paper, written quickly and without it's usual care. It is bundled in a number of layers and extra is paid to have the note delivered by hand directly to the addressee, no other.


I know Kell. He once lived in Leringard, raising a child with his partner. He is... or was... a mighty tracker. I do not know if he still lives, but that might be a good place to start. I do not have time to track him at the moment, though I think if enough tongues wag, he would find his way to the one looking for him.

Additionally, I believe we have a tertiary problem that may need to be addressed in the primary sense. I know it has been discussed at least somewhat in the past, but I feel this is more than just a side effect of Dark Elf workings. The collection of body parts is a trend that apparently stretches back decades in conjunction with these other issues. There is little that I am aware of that the collection of body parts is useful for, besides cruelty and gore, but dark magics. Each of these robbed bodies have been associated with a deity unfriendly to the Dark Elf. That only increases my concern.

There may be somewhat more but...  The handwriting pauses here, leaving a dark blot. I need a little more time....

~anna
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #227 on: September 24, 2012, 05:05:36 pm »
A song short and sweet of battle and pain
A suicide mission for us lacking in sane
The mist and the monsters have come for a war
The Blue Man and Elf have something in store

Oh, yeah they do. And it’s a doozy.

A lantern that glows with a mystical light
Will shut down the source of those creatures of night
From Storm’s Haven to merc the handoff is made
We leave on our mission right after the trade

Next time I’m taking a boat.

A ride off of this world which is really the Pits
Rough on the stomach, we’re tossing up bits
Not once and not twice but three time’s the charm
By the time we arrived I thought I’d bought the farm

Don’t eat before you go is all I have to say.

The odds were quite bad when our feet hit the dirt
Swarms of fiends looking for something to hurt
They can’t be worse that the traveling there
We dragged ourselves up and went on a tear

Lost a few, but they lost more!

Shadows to left and shadows to right
Shadows that stay at the edge of your sight
We rattled their teeth and shattered their bones
With metal and magic and arrows and stones

Without that mist? Easy pickings.

The portal was huge and quite hard to miss
A beacon lighting up that entire abyss
On the top of a mount behind a writhing mass
Of shadow-spawn creatures we had to get past

You know what they say at times like this, folks? Giddyup.

We waded on in and fought back to back
Trying to survive each fresh attack
We cut our way through at least thousands, plus ten
And finally got to the magic, and then

Well, the Blue Guy stuck his hand right on in, lantern and all. Hurt. A lot.

Rumbles and shaking and we all went uh-oh
The mountain was shaking and ready to blow
No one had time to make good an escape
Which is why we all ended up in bad shape

How bad? Keep listening.

The portal went BOOM and most of us died
I still have bits of Steel stuck in my hide
Four of our number was all that remained
Standing and even they were pretty maimed

We got it together and raised up our dead
Before they could regroup well, we pretty much fled
Came back to here and now I’m in this room
And that’s our whole story from beginning, to boom!
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #228 on: October 10, 2012, 08:21:20 pm »
It’s of dear grog to you that I’ll sing
And to dear grog I’ll always cling
I like my cup filled up to the lip
I’ll drink the right lot in one manly sip!

And it’s oh, dear grog, thou art my darling,
You are my joy at night and in morning
Grog is me breakfast and grog is me sup
A keg, a bottle, a mug or a cup

If all the rest of the world’s races
Was assembled here in one place
I’d part with all without one single tear
Before I’d part with you, groggy my dear

And it’s oh, dear grog, thou art my darling,
You are my joy at night and in morning
Many’s the waking I did with a bruising
After a scuffle that followed a boozing

The brewer brewed thee up in his pan
The tapster drew thee into his can
Now I with thee will play out my part
And guzzle thee down to my grog-loving heart

And it’s oh, dear grog, thou art my darling,
You are my joy at night and in morning
Grog got me wed one night glass after glass
Use your noggin’ while groggin’ round a dwarven lass!

Though oft hast made my friends my foes
And oft hast made me pawn my clothes
But since thou art so near my nose
It’s up, me boys, and down she goes!

And it’s oh, dear grog, thou art my darling,
You are my joy at night and in morning
Give me a stout, a pilsner or ale
In bucket or trough or jug or a pail

Now since this liquor’s all drunk up,
Hand to this bard that big empty cup
And when I’ve filled it up with sling
We’ll drink to your health all over again

And it’s oh, dear grog, thou art my darling,
You are my joy at night and in morning!
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #229 on: November 03, 2012, 10:26:49 pm »
In a tomb of kings and warriors, footsteps in the dust
Ivory bones shuffle past
Dried red streaks of blood, or rust

There they rest but rest they don’t, trapped in rocky cages
Carefully nurtured vitriol
Distilled down the ages

Curses screamed from wall to wall
Echoing down carved stone hall
Crimson spray and broken crawl - final hate from grey lips fall
A lock formed from a death rattle...

How long did they stay that way, barred from final night?
No one left to apologize
No one left to set things right

Dust like snow as dark forgets, this place you cannot tread
Until steps echo long and short
Odd companions to the dead

Elves and humans, kith and kin
Not of the past and so let in
Inside a rage as dense as tin yet gaseous, diluted thin
A cloying mist across our skin...

Racing time the odd ones out, to pull life from angry ashes
Each step heavier than last
Then and now in desperate clashes

New blood conquers what has gone, the lost are finally found
Still that rage and pain a boot
Crushing them onto the ground

What can fix the centuries
Who among us would be keys
In three small words the anger ease and ghostly memories are pleased
'I forgive you...'

'I forgive you...'

More power than in any spell and sharper than a blade
Elf and kin dissolve
The curses that ancestors made

From an opening of doors and hearts the living are brought out
What other good might come of that?
Seems to be worth thinking about




When Lusaxon was young, oh he was a dandy
The men were like tree-trunks, the ladies like candy
The draughts poured from kegs as a golden spring shower
Crisp as a fall wind and sweet as a flower

Lusaxon! Lusaxon! Lift one for me
There’s no other place that I’d rather be
Lusaxon! Lusaxon! Raise up your glass
To old friends and new friends both laddie and lass!

Lusaxon’s a sweet lamb but a lion in war
The city may purr but gods it can roar!
The allies he keeps are steadfast and true
From history’s pages...and maybe some new

Lusaxon! Lusaxon! Lift one for me
There’s no other place that I’d rather be
Lusaxon! Lusaxon! Raise up your glass
To old friends and new friends both laddie and lass!

Bold and unconquered the city he’ll stand
No matter who tries to mine up the land!
So rise if you love these sturdy old hills
Clap whistle or stomp and keep that mug filled!

Lusaxon! Lusaxon! Lift one for me
There’s no other place that I’d rather be
Lusaxon! Lusaxon! Raise up your glass
To old friends and new friends both laddie and lass!

I’m making this up as you sing along
And I’m glad that you’re all enjoying this song
Turn to those near you one to another
Let’s all raise our glasses as Lusaxon’s brothers!

Lusaxon! Lusaxon! Lift one for me
There’s no other place that I’d rather be
Lusaxon! Lusaxon! Raise up your glass
To old friends and new friends both laddie and lass!
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #230 on: November 30, 2012, 11:37:14 am »
A copy with several words crossed through sits in a discard pile.

Milady Brisbane

I hope this letter finds you [strike]in good health[/strike] well and loved. I recall our previous evening together with a smile, and [strike]hope to enjoy your company[/strike] wish I were writing with another such offer; however I am adding a request to the bait of my banter, and I hope you will consider it.

We have come against a food shortage, as so many parts of the world have, while trying to provide for the needy of Mariner's Hold. I recall discussion of a method of reclaiming the soil, but my failing memory has put the details of this out of mind's reach.

Would you be willing to travel to Mariner's Hold and [strike]aid[/strike] instruct us in testing this method? We're losing farmers and vendors and people in general, and while this is normal on a geological scale, this is also my home. I'm not sure if the famine "cure" is being implemented elsewhere but I'm willing to bankroll testing it here.

Please let me know soonest Milady and I hope in addition you might enjoy the hospitality of the Silver Buckle and some entertainment owed to you, by me.

Yours in the Muse,


Andrew Reid




Another letter, received some time later, lies on a "respond" pile. A separate sheaf of parchments, scripted in a hand accustomed to lengthy report writing, is in the process of being read and bears a few pinprick hot ash holes and a smudge of fruit preserve, apricot by the look of it, highlighting a tiny incriminating thumbprint.


My old friend,

As you can see from my report, nothing is detected by the good Paladins of Toran's faithful and the energy we used did not seem to have the desired effect. I now believe whatever contagion corrupts the soil is not detectable by any means outside of druidic magic. I strong advise enlisting a druid.

Your friend,
Daniel.
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #231 on: January 09, 2013, 02:57:07 pm »
A copy of an old letter is filed under "Angels"...but not in date order.

My guildmates

Due to the circumstances of both Elohanna's and my own capture by dark elves and recent happenings around Port Hempstead, both my wife and myself have been requested to remain outside the city until such a time as we are deemed safe to enter.

Neither Minu nor I will be able to assist with the guild hall upkeep, nor will we be able to do business there or use the crafting facilities in the city.  We are however allowed to use the store in the fields; the banning only applies within city walls.

With this in mind and also knowing this could drag out for decades and be possibly permanent, I would ask that my instrument chests be brought from the guild hall to the guild store as well as some empty chests that I can place for silk and wood storage.  It would be greatly appreciated as I will have to travel to Center for the instrument bench now or ship everything to Mariner's Hold via Fort Vehl.

We would be grateful for your understanding in this matter, and again I will stress the importance of changing all the locks on both the guild hall and the guild store as soon as possible.

Yours in the Muse,


 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #232 on: January 10, 2013, 07:34:38 pm »
Milord Celador

I would be delighted to meet with you.  There are innumerable others more in touch than I, not the least of which would include Jilsephonie of the Angel's Guild, Connor Garvill and his wife, the druidess Brisbane, Ferrit Pandorn, and others.

Connor and his wife have gone underground, as has the lovely Brisbane, but the others should be available.  As much as I have been centered on one small geographical area, namely Mariner's Hold, I will do what I can to help your greater efforts as well.

And you are officially the other judge for the Fashion Show!  Zari, fashionista extraordinaire, will be co-judging for the "expert" portion.

I am spending much of my time in Mariner's Hold these days, we can meet at the Buckle and I would of course welcome any of the above listed whom you may with to also invite.

Yours in the Muse,


Andrew Reid




Dear Andrew,

I hope you are well and forgive me for not contacting you sooner. It seems time has gotten away with me because of my studies. I have been back for four months now and I’m most interested in hearing the story of how the land has been infected with this blight. Also I have come up with a theory which I am testing now and would dearly care to listen to your opinions and suggestions.

If it would be convenient for you, I would like to perhaps meet at your inn and discuss this matter with you in person. As well as that, I’d most love to hear about the happenings in your life and any other gossip you’d like to share.

P.S. Also have you found a judge for your little get together for your fashion show? If not I would case my ballet to be the last judge.


Celador
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #233 on: January 25, 2013, 04:34:21 pm »
Daniel, my friend

I am embarking on a project to test this cure - your efforts may have been more fruitful, pun intended, than you know.  Having pondered what you've told me, I wonder if the bindstones themselves may carry the magic of the "cure" throughout the land?  It seems interesting that the ritual must be carried out near red poppies.  I am wondering if it may be repeated near other stones to strengthen the effect.  Would arranging another such ritual, say near the Center bindstone and the red flowers there, be feasible?  If I am far off base, at minimum the ritual may need to be repeated as you've mentioned, and I will be happy to add my own research to the matter if it helps.

Regardless, we put this to the test.  We are working a plot of land out by Farmer Part's, three acres, enough to manage with the backs we have available, one of whom is Charlie.  I thought you'd like to know he's a resident of the Buckle again, staying with Kat and throwing himself into farming like he was born to it.  He fancies getting his hands into soil in fact and is quite good at it.

Let me know your thoughts.  I will be close to home if you seek me out.


Andrew




My old friend,
 
As you can see from my http://forums.layonara.com/rumour-has/285795-meeting-faiths-united-against-famine.html"]report[/URL], nothing is detected by the good Paladins of Toran's faithful and the energy we used did not seem to have the desired effect.  I now believe whatever contagion corrupts the soil is not detectable by any means outside of druidic magic.  I strong advise enlisting a druid.
 
Your friend,

Daniel.
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #234 on: January 25, 2013, 10:41:54 pm »
From discussion with Daniel -

Jhemina - unicorns, in the simplest sense - Daniel has seen they and the Vin'larie in the same paddock, "not here", meaning on another plane.  The Golden Emerald is charged with protecting the Jhemina.

Katherien and Rael, Sun...

From Daniels' report:

Brothers and Sisters of the Faith,

I have met with a contact, who will remain anonymous, regarding a symbol that was found on a group of dark elves when we were investigating the blight.

The symbol belongs to a clan or house of dark elves called the Ur'thal Skagvin'larie. The Ur'thal Skagvinlarie are known to be associated with an ancient prophecy that supposedly foretold the return of Sinthar Bloodstone as well as the defeat of the Demon Lords by Xandrial and the return of the dragons to Layonara. It is said that these things must happen and then the Vin'larie will return along with the Sons and Daughters of the Mother of Darkness to reclaim the surface of the world for themselves.

Upon asking more of the Vin'larie, it was said that these creatures were once created as creatures whose sole purpose was to feed and strengthen the dragons. But in the moment of their creation, the Mother of Darkness put in a drop of her own blood and fed into it all of her hatred and malice and corruption, thereby creating the Vin'larie. This is obviously a myth since the tales do not coincide as far as history shows, however, it does show that it is acknowledged that the Vin'larie are creatures of evil. They exist in the Deep along with the dark elves, but have recently been seen on the surface in conjunction with the blight.

As far as the moths, or Pit Moths as they have been called, they are known possibly also as "aaa", or even butterflies depending on the translation. These aaa are said to be like whispers in the dark, heralding the presence of the Mother of Darkness. They flock to her.

This is no small thing that we are dealing with. We must defend our homes against those of the Deep that seek to destroy and overtake it.

Of rumors that I have heard regarding a ritual to solve the problem, I would only ask if this ritual mentions any of the above mentioned information before taking it entirely seriously.

In the Light of the Hand of Virtue,


_ Brothers and sister in the faith.

This indeed has been something that has come to gesture slowly upon the last 100 years, the Vin'larie are not new to the land and had been appearing before the famine happened, This creature to those who doesn't know what they are, have equine form with a single horn on the middle of the eyes, they are of black hair and they are indeed of magical nature, they can't be tracked naturally since their trails disappears almost instantly once they pass for a place, They are as our sister Daniella highly dangerous, I've crossed singular combat with one and must say that there are indeed formidable foes, none of us fell on that combat, but one of our brothers fell against it, Strongly caution is recommended on the deals with this creature.

This have some antecedents, back in time about 20 years , there was an attack on the Northern of Co'rrys where a whole village was wipped out, on that time a single dark elven dagger was found that poiinted out under a process of scrying towards a city in the deep, this is the first time I learned about the Vin'larie, but they become silent after this events. It may be they were testing or that other attacks were missed by all the troubles we have under on the last years.

Now this attack to this small village its quite likely as other that happened recently upon the area of Alindor, in the Barony of Green, A whole village gone and one Folianite priest was killed and apparently used in a ritual, Investigations in the Barony are in order.

I've also heard nothing of the said ritual and the questions that my sister in Faith has done concerns me as well.

By the light of Toran , be careful on this, stand bravely and vigilant .
 

RollinsCat

Re: Andrew's Songbook
« Reply #235 on: February 05, 2013, 12:38:44 pm »
Scribbled from memory, a love song from a pixie...

Worlds apart; we finally meet
You sent me sailing into your arms
Without you, I am incomplete
In your warm embrace, there I will find no harm

Hear my voice on the wind calling out your name, I am the voice of your desire
Come good sir, come and dance in my flame, take my hand as the fire grows higher

I'm the light of your earth
I will give you sight to your eyes
Here at the moment of our birth
With your new vision, I have been stripped of my disguise

Feel the rhythm of my heart, do you hear the lover's call
Worlds apart; Our love they will condemn - alas, this is my requiem

But, let's make it a sweet, sweet goodbye
Sing, sing me to sleep
It will be our only time
As our eyes close, you will not see me weep

And below the words he made up sitting there, being serenaded by six inches of lady.

Your tears are a gift
Your heart a rare book
I would read and read over
Were I able to look

Your heat draws me in
Wings toward a flame
I hear you, I hear you
Singing my name

Smoother than rose petals
Sweeter than nectar
Beguiling
Bewitching
Your voice is a spectre

Haunting and fragile
What might have been
Worlds apart as we sit
Skin to skin

I will sing in your slumber
Till sun dissolves night
Close your eyes, close your eyes
Dream well and sleep tight...
 

 

anything