Previous: Issue One, Part IV
(Content Warning: Language, Violence, Character Act of Ritualistic Self-Harm, Discussion of Death, Bound Character)All right, it's been awhile. I admit I struggled with returning to this for a couple of reasons. Some self doubt and a lack of mood for what must necessarily come next. Though I think I can skirt it a little now, with some time and perspective.
When I left off, the young, corrupted wisewoman Temira's dark magic had strangled me into unconsciousness but not before I believed myself to have scored a killing blow against her with my trusty iron spear. The last thing I heard before the darkness took me was Keelan, the Overseer of Thornhill, arriving and expressing her disappointment and resignation with the outcome of events here. I wanted to explain, to tell her how Temira the woman was gone and hollowed out by the evil magic that lived inside her now, to tell her how I had no choice if I wanted to preserve my own life and my vow. But I was quite beyond telling anyone anything and very close to sailing into the mists of the dead. I could almost hear those waters from the other side lapping at my boat, inexorably pulling me in.
But waterborn am I and wither the boat will travel, I will not yet go. I have some cold memory of plunging into those waters, leaving the boat to float off the edge of the world while I pulled myself back toward warmer waves with all the speed, strength, and grace of a lifelong diver. Thin vestiges of the memory cling to my waking mind like a dream, my mind already forgetting as the reality of the waking world settles on my senses.
I am lying on a cold metal slab, set into the soft ground of the forest floor like some kind of ancient altar. Surrounding me is the rare sight of four iron obelisks, growing from the ground like giant sized crystals, angling away from each other like the corners of a nest. Surrounding the pillars and I is an exceptionally dense cluster of trees. I must be deep in the forests now. I am only vaguely aware that it's daytime, a very small amount of sunlight filtering through the thick canopy above.
At this point, I think it's appropriate to assume that Keelan brought me here in the hopes of healing me. The village of Thornhill is absent their wisewoman, on account of the fact that she's evil, insane, and I almost just killed her for it, so like desperate Ironlanders all across this continent they brought me to rest here in this sacred place. Seems appropriate to consider this a Sojourn.
I don't yet have a bond with these people and my vow isn't technically finished. I decided last time to wait a little longer and get more progress on the vow before trying for the bond. I do actually envision two ways in which that can happen (the latter of these was part of my hesitation for returning to the story): seeing to the wellbeing of the Primordial I fought and serving as a witness at Temira's trial. I've done neither yet. And I'd rather wait to try to Forge a Bond until my vow is complete, so I have a much higher chance of succeeding. One step at a time. So, long story short, I won't have any bonus to Sojourn just yet. Just ever so slightly out of reach. That's okay, though.
Sojourn
Roll +Heart (2) is 8 vs 2, 7. Strong Hit.
Choose Two: Recuperate (+2 Health) and Consort (+2 Spirit).
I'll focus on Recuperate. It's a risk but I'm in a bad way.
Roll +Heart (2) is 7 vs 9, 6. Weak Hit.
Add 1 more Health.
Health is now 3, Spirit is now 4.
There's something about being here, in this sacred Iron Grove, that has restored me. Not fully, but well. I have only ever seen a few pillars in my life but I have known neighbors who have journeyed to them in the hope of healing loved ones. Of course, I had heard the rumors that the pillars could miraculously restore the sick and dying. Everyone had. But these neighbors of mine always returned bereaved and disappointed. I had begun to think the rumors nothing more than mere myth and uncontrolled, wild hope.
Yet here I sat, feeling pretty good all things considered.
I decide to reach out with my magic, taking this rare opportunity to study the Great Iron with my Sight.
When I Gather Info to detect magic, I add +1 and take +1 momentum on a hit.
Gather Information (Sighted)
Roll +Wits (1) + Sighted (1) is 7 vs 9, 2. Weak Hit.
Danger or New Complication but +1 Momentum.
+1 Momentum from Sighted.
Momentum now 8.
I have a couple of thoughts here. I think maybe Iron serves as a natural siphon for magic, sucking it in the same way I do. That's why some folks get healed and some don't. The wounds have to be caused by magic. I had an abundance of dark magic both in me and used against me. If the Iron bled me of it, no wonder I am healed. I actually think this is cool enough to just leave as canon for Currentbound, so I'm not going to roll for it.
That said, though, Iron being a Magic Siphon might have some interesting connections to my own ability as a Magic Siphon but that's both for me to uncover later and not really a danger or a complication to either of my existing vows (which are to restore the Primordial who sacrificed herself for me and to aid Thornhill). So I'll roll on the Action/Theme to see if I can gen something up.
Secure Debt.
Right, that sounds like a perfect time to check Mystic Backlash.
You see a troubling vision of your future.
What kind of vision? I think I'll roll on multiple oracles to get a strong picture of the vision.
Action/Theme: Depart Stranger
Settlement Trouble: Wrathful Haunt
Major Plot Twist: You are betrayed by someone who was trusted.
As I extend my senses toward the Iron that surrounds me, I sense the entirety of its structure. It really is something of a nest, being a single pillar buried deep beneath the earth, the tip of which splits four ways just before punching through the surface. I can sense the null void of magic in this area, between the prongs of the pillar. It is like suddenly being without air to breathe. The Iron siphons magic in the same way I do, but it seems to be a natural siphon, always on, always working, always pulling in stray, nearby magic. I can feel the dark magic being bled from me and I realize I need to get a grip on my own personal magic, lest it be drained from me too. The pull is stronger than mine, too. I fear suddenly that any loss of magic to these inexorable pillars would be permanent. And that makes me very, very nervous.
I cast about and see my belongings at the foot of the metal altar. I reach out to snatch them up with the intent to depart this place. I knew there was evil magic yet within me but I couldn't risk the loss of my own magic once the Pillar had taken the darkness from me in its entirety. I didn't think I was strong enough to withstand that.
But one thing I don't consider is: where does all that magic go? I find ways to disperse the magic I siphon. Carefully, in a considered and measured fashion, usually. But the pillars are natural siphons, not thinking creatures. The magic just sits in them forever, unable to escape in any fashion. And a lot of that, thanks to the unwitting customs of the Ironlanders seeking healing, is dark magic.
My eyes widen as I realize that I sit still within the pillar's sphere of influence. The magic doesn't have to escape to affect me here. So much magic, so much dark magic. My senses flood with it and I am overcome. For a moment that lasts an eternity, I am plunged back into that dreamstate that isn't a dream. It's real. As real as my blood and bones but it isn't here and it isn't now and my mind trying to make sense of that discrepancy leaves the vision I receive distorted, confused, and fuzzy around the edges.
I'm with someone I know, someone I trust. We're laughing, the tension of some moment of high danger passing, the fire in our veins settling back down to cool. Nervous laughter and relieved laughter. I embrace them but when I do, I feel the sharp pain of a blade slipped between my ribs and into the heart that trusted this person, this betrayer, so well. I pull back, bloody, confused, afraid. I want to know why but the face of my friend is lost to me. I don't know them. Or I don't know them anymore. Or I never knew them. And I never receive an answer. The world blurs around me, the sun rising and falling and rising and falling and rising and falling. I am dead now. And I have been for a long time. The knife wounds me every day, jutting from my chest to remind me of my folly even in death. I am going slowly insane. I cannot pass on. I just need to know why. Why? Why?
Then, as quickly as it came, the vision is done. My senses clear. For a moment, they even become almost too clear, attuned to the sounds of nature around me. Shakily, I grab my belongings and leave the circle of Iron. I stumble away into the wilderness. I can hear rushing water nearby, so I move in that direction. Slowly, my nerves calm. I contemplate the vision as I walk but I can't make heads or tails of it.
In a few minutes, I emerge into a wide basin that cradles a deep crystal pool in its middle, fed by a rushing waterfall tumbling some fifty feet or so down the adjacent cliffsides.
I move toward the water and kneel beside it. I can see in my reflection that I am filthy but I become suddenly aware that I am far more parched than anything. I greedily cup the water in my hands and drink as deeply as I can. Several moments pass with me, my hands, and my face buried in the clean waters of this blessed place. Finally, I sit back on my haunches and take in my surroundings.
I'm still pretty hurt so I'm going to
Make Camp
Roll +Supply (5) is 6 vs 5, 3. Strong Hit. Barely.
Choose Two: Recuperate (+1 Health) and Partake (-1 Supply/+1 Health)
Health is now at 5, feeling real good, and Supply is now at 4, had to use some firemaking tools and some rations to fill out the meal of berries I can pick from the surrounding plants.
After awhile, I have a meal of berries and rations and clean water prepared along with a roaring fire. I bandage some of my wounds, the compression easing the pain a great deal. The peacefulness of this place gives me hope and gladdens my heart. I feel much lighter now, drained of much of the dark magic that possessed me, and less nervous too, having seen the color of my eyes in the nearby waters.
After a long, much needed rest stretched out on the bank of the basin, I begin to consider returning to Thornhill. I don't know how long it has been, nor do I know in what direction it lay, but it must be nearby. I have a responsibility to let those people know about the fall of their witch. I was sorry to have killed Temira. I didn't, as we discussed last time, but Koavarr doesn't know that yet but it had to be done. She was too far gone. There was nothing left to salvage. I just hoped Keelan and Aeddon would understand. People didn't always understand.
As I sit up and stretch, I lock gazes with the massive tree at the far end of the basin, realizing that the tree was not in fact a tree but the Primordial with whom I had been engaged in mortal combat not too many hours or days ago. It had been standing there respectfully this whole time, giving me my peace and time. I felt vaguely ashamed that I hadn't noticed it standing there...well, slightly leaning there...but honored and touched that it had shown me such respect. Primordials were mysterious beings. They possessed powers beyond the ken of mortal men and struck awe into any who drew breath in their presence. I had only ever encountered a few but it wasn't unreasonable to say that they had all left a mark on me...in one way or the other.
The great wood spirit regards me silently for a time. It's gaze slowly drops to the pearl secured around my neck and the Iron Coin that sits strung alongside it. My hand moves up almost protectively but I slowly lower it when I realize the wood spirit holds no ill intent. It seems to come to a decision. I don't think I am part of this decision making process.
How will it help?
Action/Theme: Threaten Creature
Oh, well, okay.
The Primordial moves with great speed and impossible strength. I only have a second to register the movement and I fall into a defensive stance.
But the Primordial does not continue its earlier attacks. Rather, it plunges one thick, barbed claw into its own main trunk, shattering the wood of its own body with deafening force. I stare in shock as it stands stock still, limb buried deep in what would be its chest if it were a mortal man. After a moment, the Primordial slowly removes the limb from its trunk. Grasped in its clawlike hand is a large chunk of dark, near ebony colored, polished wood. I can't make out the shape of it until the primordial opens the claw and extends it in offering to me.
A wooden heart, like a human heart in shape if not in size, smooth and polished to perfection.
I immediately understand that this is not its actual heart. The shape is a metaphor. But it is an important part of the creature. I gently take the offering. It takes a second for the shock to recede and I slowly realize that this offering could help me reconstitute the Sea Spirit I wear around my neck.
I touch my chest, over my own heart, in a gesture of gratitude. "I know this must have cost you dearly, especially after everything else. Thank you, Great Spirit." I am touched beyond words.
I think I'd like to either bond or work toward a bond with the "forces of nature." It's a nebulous idea because I don't specifically mean something like "just the race of primordials." I want to avoid that kind of thing. But, in the doing here, becoming more at one and at home with the natural world. I'll have to look into the assets and see if I can eventually take something to represent that more (though I do already have waterborn).
In any case, this is definitely progress on both of my existing vows.
"Honor the Sea Spirit who saved my life and restore her to her form." is now at 1 tick.
"Release the people of Thornhill from the tyranny of the Forest Spirit." is now at 8 Boxes.
We move slowly through the dense woods in companionable silence. I assume we are headed back to the village but as we get closer, my feelings of peace and ease begin to fade, replaced with a small anxiety. I could rationalize Temira's death as a necessary stroke against the darkness which took her. It might even be true. But in those final moments of our duel, I struck her down not out of some heroic obligation but out of the very strong sense of self-preservation. I can't condemn myself for wanting to live, for fighting and even killing to survive, but I also can't help but wonder if I might have done something different to invoke a better outcome. In any case, I will face Keelan and the people of Thornhill and explain. I just...I'm really not looking forward to it.
The primordial and I part ways, me walking toward the Overseer's long hall and it rooting itself amid the greenery at the edge of the village. I announce myself as I approach the guards at the entrance. Wide eyed, the younger of the two pulls aside the temporary curtain blocking the doorway to allow me past. The whole building is taking shape quickly but is still very much massively under construction. I can hear the workers around back. I step inside, nodding my thanks to the youth, and stand for a moment to allow my eyes to adjust to the dimmer lighting.
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