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To Tumata Valley
Posted: 18 Jan 2007 08:36 AM |
Coldness, biting frost, orcs and trolls and a herd of mammoths, it certainly was not easy to reach those people called Aecini that lived far from civilization in the icelands. She had been there before, talking to Harah and staying for a night, just when they arrived themselves after a long journey to gather food and resources for another few weeks, or months.
Actually getting there was nothing a mage of her kind couldn´t accomplish. No, certainly not. The ox she was talking to all the time to follow her deep into the frozen lands most probably thought differently.
Mile after mile she looked for a tree, or a large rock to tie the rope around, so the ox wouldn´t run off scared when she cleaned the way. Polar bears and wolves smelled a potential dinner, and the ox wouldn´t have had a chance to survive longer than a few seconds out here.
But they arrived at the caverns leading to the small valley where the Aecini settled down eventually.
Ice Trolls lurking after every corner, attacking on sight and spraying shimmering particles at her which looked like a small fountain of snow and felt like a hundred needles, the cold hurting badly on the skin.
After another hour through that icy labyrinth the ox, the elemental, the small dragon and the mage finally reached the valley.
The guard behind the self-made barricades looked at the gathering with disbelief.
A snip of her fingers and the elemental vanished, the small dragon coughed a few balls of smoke into the thin air.
“Shihaya’zad is my name, good man. I don´t know if you remember me, Harah certainly does. Could you take care of the ox, please? It was a long journey from Icy Vale to the valley.”
That moment a few others gathered including Harah, who nodded at the man and smiled at Shihaya’zad.
“Welcome again. We don´t often get visitors as you know, and not many who return.”
“Thank you for the welcome. I did not want to come with empty hands and thought you could have use for the ox, and the goods it carried. In the bags is food, corn, wool and some crafting resources I thought you could need.”
Harah glanced at the ox and waved her hand with a smile.
“Thank you, that is very kind. Please, come inside to warm up.”
As the men took care of the ox the two women entered the hut. The sudden warmth was like a shock, but comfortable after the first few seconds inside. They sat down, and Harah handed her a small cup filled with tea.
“As I said, it does not happen often we get visitors that return. What brings you to the Aecini?”
Taking a small nip from her cup, the steam smelling of strong herbs, she answered “Of course I am in need of something either, as you might have guessed. I am in need of a very good tailor, and from what I have seen your people are mastercraftsmen and –women. Aside, I think the silence far from civilization might be a good change.”
Harah nodded. “Yes, you have a lot of time to think up here. Do you want to learn tailoring yourself?”
Shihaya’zad smiled slightly. “Well, if I can be of any help and learn a few things in the process, certainly. But as good as I am an alchemist, I lack the skills in tailoring.”
“Everyone has to start at some point. I will introduce you to Lesaja, he is my grandfather, and most probably the only tailor who has worked any material available to the common folks.”
Shihaya’zad nodded at her words and replied “Common, yes…the material I brought is not of that kind. But I am sure he will know how to work with it. And it is very personal, why I don´t have many choices who I could ask.”
“Very well then. Would you join me to prepare the dinner, the sun will go down soon and the people had a long day of work.”
“Of course, Harah.”
The people welcomed her warmly in that raw and cold area, all of them gathered for the dinner, and after a short prayer the food was served. It was an enjoyable evening, no doubt… |
Portraits: zip.rar
PRAISE HECK, FOR HIS NAME IS HECK, AND JUST HECK! |
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Lesaja
Posted: 18 Jan 2007 08:41 AM |
Shihaya'zad woke up early. After cleaning up the last evening Harah had showed her the place where she could keep her belongings and sleep.
There was not much talk, the Aecini seemed to be a rather passive folk but very friendly.
Unlike other cultures she had seen, there was no one who looked at her oddly or bore her a grudge for no obvious reason. Perhaps they were accepting her because they knew she is also a master in her arts, just like them? She shook off the thoughts. Just assumptions, it was too early to make a picture of these people.
After she had put on her robe and wrapped the warm cloak around her she bought from the hermit who lived deep in the frozen lands she took a bag and opened the door. It was a beautiful day, so bright it was hard for her eyes to get used to look over the snow. The shape of the valley seemed to keep the warmth, only the gusts of wind now and then made perfectly clear how deadly cold this area could be.
“Lass! Come on over.”
The words came from behind her. As she turned around a small old man nodded at her. He leaned on a walking stick, a long white beard covered his face and bright blue eyes surrounded by weathered skin blazed at her. As she moved towards him, he asked “What was yer name again?”
“Shihaya’zad”.
He raised a brow, pondering.
“Right. Come on then, Haya.”
“That´s new”, she said silently to herself, and followed him with a slight smile.
It was Lesaja, Harah´s grandfather. She had met him the other night when Harah introduced Shihaya’zad to her people.
“Ye told me yer willing to learn?”
“Yes, Lesaja.”, she answered, supported by a nod.
The old man mumbled to himself, searching through a pack of cloth. After he found what he was looking for he handed it to her with the words “Clean that. We need to work on that next.”
So she did, and most of the day he gave her little tasks and told her how to prepare the cloth and other material to be able to work it. And he certainly was a master of his arts. Despite his age his fingers moved swiftly when he sewed different pieces of cloths together, or created beautiful patterns on them.
Although he did not let her work on the material yet she could see the progress she made.
And he was able to teach it in a way she never thought of using one of her little helpers as often before. Not a spell, not a magical tool. It was not necessary.
It took a few days until Lesaja began to talk more, or rather to question more. Of course the Aecini were interested what happens in the rest of the world. No curiousity though, except from the children. It was a good feeling to be able to give something back though, and not only by telling stories and tales. She shared her knowledge of plants and herbs, how to work them and the effects of several potions and mixtures.
Lesaja knew she wanted to work on a robe. As they were looking through several cloths for new underwear for the children he asked “Haya. Ye said ye want to work a special leather into it?”
“Yes, a very special leather.”, she responded and opened the bag she always carried with her.
She pulled out the beautiful shimmering golden leather.
Lesaja raised both his brows and touched it softly.
“This is something even I have not worked yet, in all my years. Where do you have that from?”
“It is very…personal, belongs to someone very close to me. A long story.”
For a moment she thought of Salt and Quirini.
He nodded, then turned around to the pack of cloth again, mumbling.
“Ye will have time to tell. Now, pull out that piece, we need to get that underwear done til tonight.” |
Portraits: zip.rar
PRAISE HECK, FOR HIS NAME IS HECK, AND JUST HECK! |
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The Aecini and a recipe
Posted: 19 Jan 2007 10:38 PM |
Shihaya’zad sat near the fireplace in the roundhouse, put her notes aside and filled a cup with hot tea. Harah appeared from behind a curtain which separated her small room from the rest of the hut.
As she walked over she took a cup herself and joined Shihaya’zad at the fire.
“Greetings, Shihaya’zad. I hope you are well? You have been away for a few days.”
“Aye. Greetings, Harah.” She supported with a nod. “Just a moment...”
She finished the last sentence and looked over the notes once more quickly.
Although the Aecini live deep in the wilderness of the frozen lands, well protected and hard to reach, they are quite interested in what happens in the rest of the world. Harah was thankful for every piece of information, and also worried as she heard about the recent Atalan attacks.
Obviously, as Brandibuck, the Midor Farmlands and the Dwarven Halls had been attacked. How long until they would appear in Icy Vale, or the Gladden Farmlands?
At least, would they ever need it all of them are skilled warriors. One of the few similarities to the other tribes who live in the frozen lands, practice begins at a young age. And they seek perfection in combat just as in every other skill, most of all crafting. Healer, alchemist or warrior, everyone knows how to handle a weapon if needbe.
It is no surprise the Aecini worship Vastaldoriun as their main deity. Each one of them is a master of his art. Their wealth is not present in form of gold, it lies in their undisputable skills and creations.
Their leadership seems quite fair. The council consists of twelve members. Eleven crafters, each the most skilled in his field of work. The twelfth was the speaker of the council, traditionally a woman who resides in the roundhouse. Still men and woman appeared to be equal in this small society.
Even the older people of the tribe don´t remember where the Aecini come from. Perhaps someone does know, but the lack of interest is lore´s death. The Aecini are a travelling nomadic folk. When they find a good place to settle they stay, if it´s time to move on they leave the encampment within a few days.
Unlike most other tribes living in Helkris’ realm the Aecini are friendly and welcoming people. Noticeable is their calmness and passive character, surely beneficial attributes to become a master of an art.
Satisfied she rolled the parchments and stuffed them away in a satchel.
“Excuse me, I just wanted to finish it.”
Harah filled her wooden cup with some tea, put it aside and pulled a parchment from her robe.
“Of course. I just wanted to give you this note from Lesaja. It is a list of reagents needed.”
Shihaya’zad took the note and read over it silently.
Haya, ye will need to bring the following:
Twenty wires made of pure gold.
Ten studs, also of pure gold.
Twenty oils used for enchanting.
Five finely cut fire agate.
One amulet which has stored raw magic.
The bottled song of a Tulamatran Owl.
The crushed fang of a Wyrmheart Fox.
A longsword of excellent enchantment, be it temporary or permanently.
Good luck. Lesaja.
“That will keep me occupied…” she said to herself silently. Then looked up at Harah and added “Well then. There is a lot to do, I shall be on my way.”
Harah nodded. “I wish you a safe journey, Shihaya’zad.”
“Thank you, Harah. Be well. And don´t worry, if there is sign they move to the frozen lands I will warn you.”
She wrapped herself in her cloak, picked up her staff and prepared for her way through the cold lands once again. |
Portraits: zip.rar
PRAISE HECK, FOR HIS NAME IS HECK, AND JUST HECK! |
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Collecting information
Posted: 19 Jan 2007 10:43 PM |
It was time to get a few clues.
A letter left on the desk in the oakhouse, addressed to Strand.
Dear Strand,
since you seem to be in the woods and I have to move on to Ka'azim I will leave you this note. I am seeking information about two animals, or if those creatures even exist.
I need "The bottled song of a Tulamatran Owl" and "The crushed fang of a Wyrmheart Fox". I don´t know if those are common animals or just metaphors, but if you ever heard of these phrases or animals I´d appreciate any information.
I´ll come visit the oakhouse soon again, perhaps I´ll meet you or just leave me a note.
Thank you very much in advance.
Shihaya'zad
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Shihaya'zad walked slowly towards the tower, wiping the pictures of the destroyed Port Royale from her mind. The last days of mining, smelting and working gold left marks of exhaustion. She stopped for a moment at the door, then opened it and stepped inside. Shamn was sitting at his desk, an adept picked up a few papers to bring them to the second floor...everything as usual.
She moved over to the table.
"Good day, Shamn."
He looked up from his writing, not moving the head.
"Shihaya'zad. You look like you marched from Ferein to Port, dear."
"Not quite, but I am learning to work metals...I´ll tell you about that another time. Tell me, could you look something up for me?"
Shamn nodded slightly. "Certainly. Write down what you are looking for, and I will forward it to the second floor."
Shihaya'zad took a parchment, a quill and began to write.
Subjects to investigate:
- The bottled song of a Tulamatran Owl
1. Tulamatran Owl a known animal? Where does it live? Ranger reports?
2. Bottled Song a metaphor? A procedure (if so, how is it done?)?
3. Reports from people who could know anything about it?
- The crushed fang of a Wyrmheart Fox
1. Wyrmheart Fox a known animal? Where does it live? Ranger reports?
2. Just another name for a common animal?
Any information on these subjects welcome.
She put the quill aside and handed Shamn the parchment and a small bag with 500 gold coins.
"Please, make sure it will be looked up as soon as possible. And if you would, could you see if there is anything about Atalan history?"
Shamn nodded. "Aye. Our adepts are looking through the library already, just come visit the tower again, perhaps we have news on the Atalan."
He glanced at an adept, put the parchment on a few books in his hands, and motioned him towards the stairs to the second floor.
"Well then. Thank you very much, Shamn. I will be upstairs myself and try to find what I am looking for." |
Portraits: zip.rar
PRAISE HECK, FOR HIS NAME IS HECK, AND JUST HECK! |
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Thoughts
Posted: 20 Jan 2007 09:02 AM |
Late at night she arrived at the oakhouse. Everyone seemed to be asleep, so she took a candle and sat on one of the couches. She rummaged in her bag for her quill and a parchment, and a few letters she had received. Looking for something to write on, she found “Common wildlife – Port Royale in a different light”, one of Melphus Benimen´s bestsellers.
“That´ll do” she said to herself, and began to take a few notes.
The Bottled Song of the Tulamatran Owl:
- Bereil: A tale. Tula, Matran-Mother. A heroine of the sea, pirate? Was known to sing for her children. Bottled a metaphor, as in power of bard songs?
- Ka’azim: Tulamatran Tundra/Tulamatran Owl undocumented. Tale mentioned in a few documents. Bottled Songs: Not common practice, various wandering bards known to do it. Substitute for traditional instruments. Johanne/Aecini confirmed. Ask Vilyavaen.
- Aecini: Tulamatran Owl known, shy. Found near Tumata Valley, never been seen. Just a magical phenomenon? Cry, a mournful dirge, yet tempered by quiet sort of wisdom and reassurance.
The Crushed Fang of the Wyrmheart Fox:
- Wyrmhearted = Dragonhearted?
- Bereil: dragons are coldblooded. No, draconic ‘blood’ is different, pulsating magic. Crushed Fang. Shed much blood. Or crushed to serve as a reagent?
- Wyrmtongue – Wyrmheart…connection? Hermit in Wyrmtongue Estuary: Correlation? Pattern to how places are named? Places associated with dragons almost certain to have related names.
Wyrm – Tongue
Cold – Heart
Devil’s – Backbone
- Salt: “I think that is you.” Related to me? Wyrmhearted? Fox, intelligence? Crushed fang…losing teeth? No.
- Lesaja: alchemical information confirmed. Fox apparently massive, size of mastodons? Most intelligent of its kind, strongest magic.
Addition - Alchemy:
It would appear there is more than one way to make a potion to enhance one's intelligence. Foxes, it would seem, have in the past been used extensively in the making of items such as charms and clothing which enhance intellect. This has driven them near to extinction. Nowadays jewelry is more common, or minor weak potions, because of the scarcity of foxes. The fang of a fox would be a powerful charm or reagent to increase intelligence.
She looked over the parchment and put a finger on the ink to see if it has dried. Then she rolled it, put it carefully in a satchel and lay down on the couch. Staring at the ceiling those two phrases danced around in her mind… |
Portraits: zip.rar
PRAISE HECK, FOR HIS NAME IS HECK, AND JUST HECK! |
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Sound
Posted: 31 Oct 2009 08:12 PM |
Shihaya’zad stood in front of the music box in her room and put another piece of gold in it. It cracked and began to play another masterpiece of gnomish culture, the "One and a quarter of a seventh" polka.
She walked around her room slowly, as much as the free space allowed it, and talked to herself silently.
“How would you capture a song...hm. What is a song? A sound. Several sounds combined even.
What is a sound then?
It is known it can be loud or silent. That depends on how the sound is performed, a yell is loud, a whisper is silent. A yell can be heard better over a larger distance. A whisper can only be heard in a smaller distance.
An echo can not be heard instantly though…that would mean sound is not instantly at every place in its reach, it travels somehow.”
She moved over to the desk and scribbled on a parchment: Test how sound travels. Mediums.
“Speaking of echoes. Why is there an echo in the first place?
If you yell in the mountains you hear an echo of just what you yelled. Considering sound travels, then it must be reflected. On the other hand, if you cast a silencing spell the sound is not being heard, therefore absorbed?
It should be. Just as in Maldovia the other day, the Void absorbs sounds just as it absorbs anything else into nothingness.
Sound must have physical properties then.
Right. Back to the reflection. In the mountains a sound is kind of repeated. In a large hall like the throne room in Port Royale it sounds as if your voice is being amplified, somewhat delayed, clangorous. If the mountainside is capable of reflecting a sound, then the walls should be aswell. Same material, same physical properties.
But there is not only one wall, there are walls all around. So it must be reflected over and over again. A bit like in the mountains when you hear several echoes one after the other, each less recognizable than the previous.
Not to forget the ceiling and the floor. Those must play a role aswell, since you can hear someone talking no matter if you are his height or a few feet above or below, even if you stand behind him.
Yes. Sound spreads.
Still, why does it sound so odd in a room compared to the mountainside?
We said sound is being reflected. Considering sound travels, you can hear someone quite instantly even if that person is a far distance away, so sound must travel fast. Which would explain why you hear an echo in the mountains about a second after yelling, it has to travel to the reflecting medium and back to the source.
In a room then, it has a much smaller distance to travel and the amount of reflections happen in a shorter timespan. Like an accumulation of echoes that are so close to the others it produces this amplifying clangorous sound.”
She picked up her quill again.
Assumption
Sound has physical properties
Sound travels
It can be reflected
It spreads into different directions
It loses loudness the longer the distance is
It travels at a fast pace
To-do
Test how sound travels. Mediums.
Test what reflects sounds. Quality of reflection.
---
The water elemental floated in front of her leaving a wet trail on the floor. Xyr blinked as her head vanished in the elemental´s liquid body and a gargling could be heard.
“Alright”, she said, as she took a towel to dry her hair.
“That was the last test. It is proven sound travels differently in different mediums, but it travels in either solid or liquid materials, or air.
Solid, as in someone knocking a door. You hear it inside.
Liquid, as in water.
Still both make it sound different from the original. I suppose to answer that phenomenom there are more tests needed, and the knowledge what a sound is after all. I have a list of properties, but I still have to find out what it consists of. Which would give an answer to how exactly sound travels through those mediums, I hope.
Let us see what reflects sound.”
She put the towel over her mouth and began to speak. Xyr raised the corners of his mouth at the dampened voice, which always gave him a look someone could interpret either as being amused, or just ready to attack the potential breakfast.
“Right. Cloth does reflect badly, sound goes through it. But then cloth is not as dense as stone for example, it has…let us say leaks.
Makes actually sense. If cloth would just reflect and not let anything through, then bandits certainly would have a hard time telling someone to give his gold to them.”
She snickered at the thought.
“Stone is pretty good. Glass aswell. Crystals, metals.
You can hardly hear talking through a door. The better the “leaks”, the more you hear. Keylock, unsealed edges. Yet you hear knocking quite good, everytime, as sound is being transported through the different medium wood or stone. Oddly you hear sounds from the inside better though if you put your ear directly on the door…anyway.
Another test.”
They left the boarding house and walked through Buckshire.
“What arrre we doing?” Xyr asked.
“Hunting.” She replied.
As they arrived at the bridge leading to the Buckshire Fair they stopped.
“Well then. We need a cricket.”
“A crrricket. That isss what you call hunting?”
“Aye.”
Xyr hopped into the higher grass with flapping wings.
“Therrre…crrrap. Ssstepped on it.”
“I need a living one.”
The little dragon grumbled and vanished completely in the higher grasses.
“Herrrre. Quick!”
With a swift move she put the small box over the cricket, then carefully moved it over the cover she held in the other hand.
“Excellent. Now let us listen...nothing.”
She put her ear on the small box.
“Hmm, silent, but you can hear it.”
Then she pulled the cover slightly to open the box, but to not let the grill escape. The small animal commented the sudden light with another chirp.
“Alright. Loud, very well recognizable.”
Finally she opened the box, and the grill immediately took the chance to jump back into freedom. With a tone of satisfaction she said
“This just proves the theory with the closed door.”
Xyr gave her a confused look, obviously beginning to doubt her mental sanity. |
Portraits: zip.rar
PRAISE HECK, FOR HIS NAME IS HECK, AND JUST HECK! |
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The Wyrmheart Fox
Posted: 05 Nov 2009 07:41 PM |
Shihaya’zad thought about her fruitless attempts over the last weeks to find any sign of the Wyrmheart Fox. Neither the rangers of the cold lands had heard of it, nor any of the hunters. Ka’azim did not have any records of such a creature, or phenomenom. There was not even a legend or a tale about it.
She shook her head slightly as she remembered the day she broke off one of the fangs of the head that rested in the Wyrmheart River. The bridge was battered in the process, and the fang ended up in the river eventually. That day she would have drowned, had Alton not been there to pull her out of the water.
It was evening, and the last sunrays immersed the Spirit Lake in a fascinating and calming light. She had been here often lately when she needed time to think. As usual in the cold lands, it was silent. Just everything seemed to be in balance, undisturbed and under the watch of the Ice Queen.
A distant cry woke the mage from her daydream. She turned around and followed the direction it came from. The Wyrmheart River could already be heard in the distance, as she noticed a figure dressed in a black robe. It moved awkwardly, as if trying to pull at something she could not make out from her position.
After a few steps she recognized the beard. And the quite familiar form of cursing. Bereil.
As he spotted her, he concealed his hands behind his back abruptly and forced a “Greetings, lass”, just to turn away again in a ducked posture. He struggled with something in his hands. Shihaya’zad moved closer until she could see his bleeding right hand in the mouth of a dog-like skull, which seemed to be quite alive.
Bereil uttered unintelligibly while trying to pull his arm out of the skull. Minutes passed until he managed to free his arm to end his unintentionally quizzical dance finally. Blood spilt out of several wounds creating odd paradigms on the snow around him.
Still bewildered from the sight, Shihaya’zad slowly moved towards Bereil to take care of his arm, or what was left of it. Her gaze fell back on the skull as it began speaking with a growling voice. Its eye-sockets were filled with a pulsating red glow. She knew the strange echoing of words in her head, it was the language of dragons.
“Why do you disturb the spirit of the river?”
The voice did not show a sign of fear, just anger.
“We did not want to disturb you…” she replied, a bit ashamed of the blatant lie considering what just had happened.
“Then what do you want?” the skull roared impatiently.
“Well, we…I am looking for the fang of the Wyrmheart Fox.”
“Will you then leave?”
She simply nodded.
“Do not come back and disturb the balance again!” were the last words of the skull.
Rapids began to form in the river, the wind blew harshly causing aching noises from the nearby trees. The sky darkened, and the snow-flakes turned to icicles raining down on the two mages, leaving small wounds where they hit their bodies. Within a few seconds everything returned to its normal state, and the eye-sockets of the skull lost their life. Everything seemed to be in balance again, the two mages being the only distraction in the picture.
As Bereil finally passed out from his loss of blood she realized the icicles scattered all over the ground had a reminiscent shape.
They looked like fangs. |
Portraits: zip.rar
PRAISE HECK, FOR HIS NAME IS HECK, AND JUST HECK! |
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