Post by plainsman94 on Feb 22, 2020 8:17:27 GMT -7
I remember
My nameday.
It’s supposed to be a joyful rite of passage, an experience to be treasured and remembered fondly for years.
Mine was different…
I remember
The bonfire was lit and some of the young men, who were barely above their own namedays, had already gotten into the ale when Qadir approached me, asking that I follow him into the hut where the Elder Council meets.
Stepping inside the thatch roofed building, I saw the typical gloom was beaten back by the larger than normal fire blazing in the center. As Qadir sat down among the others, I saw seven sets of eyes focused on me at once. Suddenly a cramp attacked my stomach and sour bile rose within the throat. The damp smoky smell of the room, which I’ve known all my life, seemed different, a pungent stench of burning chemicals.
Alif, the eldest among the Council, spoke, “Lamech, today is the day you become a man before the clan. You will be asked to accept not only the privileges but the responsibilities of being a Drover. As you no doubt have discussed with the other young men of your generation, we are descendant from a great kingdom, in fact a Magocratic Empire of great power. Our clan was once the most powerful force in all of Faerun. That power still flows within each of us, to a greater or lesser extent. The measure of the power each one of us has depends on decisions made by our ancestors.
Before the ceremony you have witnessed other boys go through outside occurs, we must put you to the test to determine the power contained within your blood.”
Thoughts roiled within my mind. Why is this not more openly discussed among my people?
If every person is tested prior to their nameday celebration, surely everyone knows about this…
I remember
The old man continued, in his creaky voice, “However, your situation is different than most. Your parents would normally participate in this testing. But they are not…” he paused.
My heart stirred as I thought of the mother I never knew, and of the stories I was told about her, before her death in childbirth. As happened every time I thought of her, a pang of guilt struck my soul.
Also, a conflicting wave a unease washed over me as I thought about my other parent. The older folk in the clan consistently told me my mother never confided in anyone who my father might be, rebuffing all attempts to pry the information from her.
Do they know and are not telling me?
Nadir then began to speak. The man, easily the largest person I have ever seen, was who everyone looked to lead them any time force of arms were required. If a band of wandering undead or wild animals threatened our little floating village in the marsh, Nadir was the one who everyone expected to rally the warriors and lead the charge to protect those not so skilled in battle.
Nadir, spoke in a grave tone as his brow furrowed, “Lamech, we’ve all protected and raised you. Everyone in this village has pitched in to not only feed and care for you, but to protect you. You need to know, we’ve protected you from threats both seen and unseen.
There is something you don’t know that we’ve protected you from all of these years. But today, as you become a man, you have the right to know.”
The bile rose in my throat again. What is wrong? What did I do? Are they going to deny me the rite of passage?
I remember
Never one to flinch from a tough chore, Nadir barreled on in his almost monotone cadence, “Your mother used powerful magics. She displayed arcane power far and above anything folk of this village have seen in generations. She and a group of others left the village when she was a little older than you are now on a quest to search for ways to recover certain artifacts from our ancestral empire. At that time she had some arcane ability, similar to many others you see today.
Years later she returned to Silverpool, alone, and pregnant with you. But she was different. There was something about her personality that seemed…off. And her ability to manipulate the Weave was far beyond anything anyone, even among the Council, had ever seen.
When the time of your birth arrived, she was in the birthing hut with the midwife Atefeh when something happened. You mother…she…she began screaming in a tongue none of us have ever heard. It was eldritch trilling and gurgling mixed with words and phrases that hurt the mortal ear.
Then, apparently, at the moment your birth, the cacophony rose to a new height. As poor Atefeh cut the cord to separate you from your mother, a power erupted with the hut. Atefeh was slain, bloodily ripped to pieces, and your mother burst through the wall of the hut, all but destroying the structure, and fled into the Marsh through the stunned gathering…”
My mind spun. What are they saying?
Why are they telling me this?
I seemed to be losing my balance, or the floor and walls are tilting…
why is the light getting suddenly dimmer and brighter in this room?
I remember
Old man Alif interrupted the story to continue in his own way, “Those that were able to witness the event first hand reported your mother’s eyes burning like red hot coals, and white froth pouring from the corner of her mouth.
She threw crackling beams of arcane energy as she ran through the village. How she had the strength after just giving birth, we cannot comprehend. She seemed almost possessed of some greater power…”
My hands flew to the sides of my head. I felt as if my skull would crack at any moment. The strain of these revelations was more than any one man could bear.
Alif continued, “She disappeared into the Marsh. We searched the wreckage of the birthing hut, and found you crying, but in sound condition. Covered in blood, but unharmed.
We stood guard around Silverpool for many days and nights, honestly fearful of her return. You must understand, we did not know how, or even if, we could contain her if she did decide to return…but after weeks and months of no sign, we feared she was lost to the denizens of the Swamp…
During that time we searched for meaning or understanding of just what had occurred. The one thing we found among her possessions, that seemed to stand out was a scroll, in your mothers hand writing. We believe now you should have it, though we warn you it may be upsetting. As a man, you have a right to know everything we know about your parents.”
The old man held out a rolled piece of parchment. The sheet, browned and somewhat brittle, crackled as I began to straighten it. In a somewhat delicate, flowing script of Iokharic letters, it was a short phrase. I have never seen my mother’s handwriting…It read,
As the words rang in my head, my mind warped. I felt tears welling in my eyes, but they burned. They burned red hot. Everything in the room took on a red tint with dark black outlines.
I screamed, “NOOOOOOOO!!!”
I raised my hands up in fury to the sky above... and lightning seemed to crackle from them.
These revelations were more than my mind or soul could bear. Grasping the scroll tightly in my hand, I fled the Council Hut. Running through the gathering of my fellow villagers, without acknowledging their presence, I fled into the Marsh without thinking, like a mindless beast, I ran and ran into the darkening night…
I remember
I wish I didn't
Sometimes
My nameday.
It’s supposed to be a joyful rite of passage, an experience to be treasured and remembered fondly for years.
Mine was different…
I remember
The bonfire was lit and some of the young men, who were barely above their own namedays, had already gotten into the ale when Qadir approached me, asking that I follow him into the hut where the Elder Council meets.
Stepping inside the thatch roofed building, I saw the typical gloom was beaten back by the larger than normal fire blazing in the center. As Qadir sat down among the others, I saw seven sets of eyes focused on me at once. Suddenly a cramp attacked my stomach and sour bile rose within the throat. The damp smoky smell of the room, which I’ve known all my life, seemed different, a pungent stench of burning chemicals.
Alif, the eldest among the Council, spoke, “Lamech, today is the day you become a man before the clan. You will be asked to accept not only the privileges but the responsibilities of being a Drover. As you no doubt have discussed with the other young men of your generation, we are descendant from a great kingdom, in fact a Magocratic Empire of great power. Our clan was once the most powerful force in all of Faerun. That power still flows within each of us, to a greater or lesser extent. The measure of the power each one of us has depends on decisions made by our ancestors.
Before the ceremony you have witnessed other boys go through outside occurs, we must put you to the test to determine the power contained within your blood.”
Thoughts roiled within my mind. Why is this not more openly discussed among my people?
If every person is tested prior to their nameday celebration, surely everyone knows about this…
I remember
The old man continued, in his creaky voice, “However, your situation is different than most. Your parents would normally participate in this testing. But they are not…” he paused.
My heart stirred as I thought of the mother I never knew, and of the stories I was told about her, before her death in childbirth. As happened every time I thought of her, a pang of guilt struck my soul.
Also, a conflicting wave a unease washed over me as I thought about my other parent. The older folk in the clan consistently told me my mother never confided in anyone who my father might be, rebuffing all attempts to pry the information from her.
Do they know and are not telling me?
Nadir then began to speak. The man, easily the largest person I have ever seen, was who everyone looked to lead them any time force of arms were required. If a band of wandering undead or wild animals threatened our little floating village in the marsh, Nadir was the one who everyone expected to rally the warriors and lead the charge to protect those not so skilled in battle.
Nadir, spoke in a grave tone as his brow furrowed, “Lamech, we’ve all protected and raised you. Everyone in this village has pitched in to not only feed and care for you, but to protect you. You need to know, we’ve protected you from threats both seen and unseen.
There is something you don’t know that we’ve protected you from all of these years. But today, as you become a man, you have the right to know.”
The bile rose in my throat again. What is wrong? What did I do? Are they going to deny me the rite of passage?
I remember
Never one to flinch from a tough chore, Nadir barreled on in his almost monotone cadence, “Your mother used powerful magics. She displayed arcane power far and above anything folk of this village have seen in generations. She and a group of others left the village when she was a little older than you are now on a quest to search for ways to recover certain artifacts from our ancestral empire. At that time she had some arcane ability, similar to many others you see today.
Years later she returned to Silverpool, alone, and pregnant with you. But she was different. There was something about her personality that seemed…off. And her ability to manipulate the Weave was far beyond anything anyone, even among the Council, had ever seen.
When the time of your birth arrived, she was in the birthing hut with the midwife Atefeh when something happened. You mother…she…she began screaming in a tongue none of us have ever heard. It was eldritch trilling and gurgling mixed with words and phrases that hurt the mortal ear.
Then, apparently, at the moment your birth, the cacophony rose to a new height. As poor Atefeh cut the cord to separate you from your mother, a power erupted with the hut. Atefeh was slain, bloodily ripped to pieces, and your mother burst through the wall of the hut, all but destroying the structure, and fled into the Marsh through the stunned gathering…”
My mind spun. What are they saying?
Why are they telling me this?
I seemed to be losing my balance, or the floor and walls are tilting…
why is the light getting suddenly dimmer and brighter in this room?
I remember
Old man Alif interrupted the story to continue in his own way, “Those that were able to witness the event first hand reported your mother’s eyes burning like red hot coals, and white froth pouring from the corner of her mouth.
She threw crackling beams of arcane energy as she ran through the village. How she had the strength after just giving birth, we cannot comprehend. She seemed almost possessed of some greater power…”
My hands flew to the sides of my head. I felt as if my skull would crack at any moment. The strain of these revelations was more than any one man could bear.
Alif continued, “She disappeared into the Marsh. We searched the wreckage of the birthing hut, and found you crying, but in sound condition. Covered in blood, but unharmed.
We stood guard around Silverpool for many days and nights, honestly fearful of her return. You must understand, we did not know how, or even if, we could contain her if she did decide to return…but after weeks and months of no sign, we feared she was lost to the denizens of the Swamp…
During that time we searched for meaning or understanding of just what had occurred. The one thing we found among her possessions, that seemed to stand out was a scroll, in your mothers hand writing. We believe now you should have it, though we warn you it may be upsetting. As a man, you have a right to know everything we know about your parents.”
The old man held out a rolled piece of parchment. The sheet, browned and somewhat brittle, crackled as I began to straighten it. In a somewhat delicate, flowing script of Iokharic letters, it was a short phrase. I have never seen my mother’s handwriting…It read,
“Bolothamogg knows the gate.
Bolothamogg is the gate.
Bolothamogg is the key and guardian of the gate.
Past, present, future, all are one in Bolothamogg.
He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again.
He knows where They have trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread.”
Bolothamogg is the gate.
Bolothamogg is the key and guardian of the gate.
Past, present, future, all are one in Bolothamogg.
He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again.
He knows where They have trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread.”
I screamed, “NOOOOOOOO!!!”
I raised my hands up in fury to the sky above... and lightning seemed to crackle from them.
These revelations were more than my mind or soul could bear. Grasping the scroll tightly in my hand, I fled the Council Hut. Running through the gathering of my fellow villagers, without acknowledging their presence, I fled into the Marsh without thinking, like a mindless beast, I ran and ran into the darkening night…
I remember
I wish I didn't
Sometimes
