Fallean Impressions

After another difficult sleep, I went to watch my cohorts contest themselves against Quiet Snow. Frankly, we weren't terribly assertive. Makaan struggled in the mud wrestle, Avindir tried to hold himself in a drunken debate, and Calliope also drank then tried to dance (with an impressive fumble). When it was my turn, I went across their nimble and acrobatic course. I thought he was to observe how well I did, but he instead chose to race me. I'm quite nimble and speedy beyond what my frame tells, so I was feeling a certain amount of confidence. However, after seeing how he soundly asserted himself over my allies, I felt worried.
 
I cleared my mind of self-doubts and uncertainties of an unknown future. I focused on the physicality of the task and resolved to not use my soul's breath to lift me to heights, for Quick Snow wouldn't either. To my pride, I was faster and went farther than he did!
 
This felt odd to me, though. Why wrestle with us, give us drinks, watch us dance, debate us, and race us? What was the true point? I asked this of him, and he shared with me the insights he gleaned of our characters. Makaan was single-minded and focused, but when distracted he fell. Avindir was an intellectual unburdened by hubris or cowardice. Calliope was unsure, nervous, and uncertain of her place here, so she wouldn't reveal her true potential. Finally, I was confidence, assured, and knowing of my capabilities. He was looking for (with Leosin) a group of people who were dedicated and driven by purposes against the Dark Cult. The tyranny of the Dreamer was a subtle beast and he didn't want any associates who would shy away from the risks involved.
 
That evening, I had the counsel of Leosin, who is the closest access I have to a master this far from Lake Ulmarog. I explained to him my supersensory experience to the best of my limited ability. He kindly confirmed my suspicions and named it a naohaih lyma okoidao, or "soul's refusal of the darkest shadow" in the common tongue (with some poetic liberties). It is a phenomenon that rarely happens when a soul barely survives death without any form of divine necromancy or resurrection miracles or some other mystical whoodewhoos I don't understand. It seems I qualified and my soul rebelled against the incoming death enough to have this second sight.
 
Beyond this, though, he gave me wisdom. "It places a heavy burden on the practitioner, providing insight into themselves and others that would be otherwise imperceptible. Your qi is not yet ready to fix all the problems that you will be able to detect in others. Diseases that have yet to manifest visibly, complications inside the body, and so on. How do you tell someone that something no one but you can see is killing them, but you have no way to help? Even when you have a way to help, how will you convince someone they need it if they do not realize the problem?"
 
I was silent after this. I didn't think of the moral responsibilities such a sight would weigh upon me. He continued further. "The foot you placed in the realms of the dead awoke your spirit to a new perception and opened a third eye. That is a blessing, but we are taught that Thuses is not one to bless without equally cursing. Dealing with that curse will take patience and effort. That pain you cannot escape or relieve is not a piece of metal slowly making its way to your heart the more you try to heal it. It is the reminder from death of its hand. You would not be able to perceive in this third way without its cold presence. However, cold would be meaningless without warmth, and it is through the use of this ability of death and darkness to bring love and compassion that we find balance. It requires one to touch death personally to learn it intimately."
 
It seems this discomfort and pain I've felt every moment since the cave is permanent and the cost of the sight. I was relieved that I wasn't plagued with a shard of metal, infection, or a broken meridian. However, I felt a sense of dread when facing my future. For the rest of my existence, I would have this pain?
 
He offered to help me center myself with a few disciples by going through some spars, forms, and exercises. I gratefully accepted and thanked him for his wisdom and his kindness.
 
After the forms, Quick Snow and Leosin gathered the vanguards (me included) to inform us of an assigned mission for us. The abandoned ravine camp was due to arrive in Fallean in over a week's time. We were to wait in the city for their arrival, then follow the money to whoever was supporting them and, thus, funding the cult. I was told of the Comfort Rose and how it served as a Mercy Lodge safehouse, a contact for us, and how Zilry Vov would be an equipper for our trials near the port. We also were told about O'Harron's Grove, a druidic circle from Scorland that (while typically insular) was concerned of the consequences of a strengthening cult.
 
I thanked them for the opportunity to help the world, then retired to my room for whatever rest I could find.
 
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The next morn, I woke with a purpose and drive. I had forged my crucible in the fires of conflict, and I had achieved so much so quickly in the world outside monastery walls. I may received a divine benediction twinned with its divine malediction, and I may struggle to filter what my third eye is seeing, but I know that the best way for me to learn control and achieve is to face reality. I have a mission.
 
I collected our newly bought giant goats (mine is named Auwaon, which is Terran for fuzzy), helped collect supplies, and participated in the final debrief. We were told that our mission is to truly trace the money to its final destination, wherever it may lead us. This could mean more than just the city, or even the nation of Umenor. In addition, we learned more of Fallean. It seemed to be a bit of a corrupt port town with swindlers and dirty coppers and more. Frankly, it sounded like my kind of town. We were advised not to bring our goats to the city proper, so a few squires would accompany us so they could escort our mounts back to the safety of Carangoroth. In addition, we were advised to find a means to disguise ourselves and were given false travel documents for entry and exits.
 
I looked over my new and false identity of Holodao, a raven-feathered 26 year old kenku. Due to my new age, I would only be able to communicate with a vulgar tongue, so it would be best for me to remain silent as much as possible or to only mimic phrases back at people. Fine by me -- I'm not great at conversation to begin with. Calliope had the identification of Ariadani Brightwater, a young scion of a loving family. Avindir Covenblower had the identity of Ace Deckart, an Umenor detective and investigator. Makaan had the identity of Viriak Slysmasher Ogolukate, a goliath of wandering sort. Very well, we were newly identified, and so I purchased feather dye from the lodge to temporarily darken my beautiful, luscious feathers. A shame; I worked very hard on their sheen.
 
We gathered our things, collected ourselves, then ventured forth.
 
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On the first night of travel, I pondered my fortunes. I wonder if the divine scales of Aeoton decided to intervene on me. I was well-off for forging my crucible and growing so quickly. Maybe my touch with death was the cost for such luck? Perhaps Aeoton chose to play a game with me? I've not the ear of a god nor desire to have their conversation, so I may never know.
 
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On the third day of travel, we were fortunate for the good weather. We passed by a farm, where two young minotaur calves watched our passing caravan and called to us for stories of the road. The vanguards chose to comply, then the matron of the farm welcomed us to slumber that evening in their barn in exchange for stories and news. We then met them proper.
 
Dodoron was the minotaur father and a stout man of hard-work. Raasza was the minotaur monther and a confident woman of resolute will. There were five calves in total; Dorradak was the eldest male, followed by Tinnian the boy, followed by Vifa the eldest female, followed by Henura the middle girl, then finally followed by Sirinatta the youngest girl. They served us a delightful meal of dandelion and violet tea with mulled nettle ale as an option and a main dish of herb dumplings in beet and carrot soup. I did ever so miss minotaur cooking; the minotaur stall in the market was one of my favorite eateries back home. We finished the meal with white cheese and spiced crusty bread.
 
The group shared stories of encounters of the road and warnings of dangers and threats from the cult. Dodoron promised that he would care for his family and, if needed, flee their home to save their children.
 
We slept soundly as a group, but again I felt as though my slumber was difficult.
 
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On day four, we awoke to rain. It was strange, being in rain with the Refusal of Shadow. I can sense every raindrop. It is like the air was permeated by thin pillars of water, echoing past me. I could see past it with great clarity, but it was such an unnerving feeling. For those whom my journals may comfort in this journey, I could only describe it like sand landing lightly on my skin. I could feel the grains, and their presence didn't hide grains further down a limb. The entire experience felt distracting and almost itchy at first.
 
I had to center myself intensely that morning. I needed to be functional for the vanguards. And truly, I needed to be functional for the farm that shared with us their sacred hospitality. For lo! Dodoron told us that a beast attacked their livestock. We followed and witnessed what were tracks of a wyvern. A mysterious draconic beast, but Avindir remained silent on its nature, so it must not be a terrible foe.
 
We tracked it to a small clearing where it was devouring a cow. With great speed, we struck it in ambush and began the hunt's climax. Makaan and I were the melee containment while Calliope and Avindir spread around to avoid tight groupings. Makaan's sister even joined us in the fray. It tried to flee our strikes, but I locked it down with a precise blow of my staff. It tried to take a bite out of Makaan, but he resisted its poisons (apparently it was highly venomous). After Makaan's sister dealt the final blow, Avindir harvested the toxin from its stinger, Calliope kept the stinger for a possible blade, and I took a tooth out of Makaan's shoulder for a souvenir. I mended Makaan's injuries; don't worry about that.
 
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On day five, we reached a village in the midst of a drizzle and light mist. It wasn't particularly active this day, so we stopped by the tavern to work on getting used to our new fictitious identities. We met a man who claimed to be an important grifter in the Fallean scene back in his youth. He left the hustle of his kingpin role in a neighborhood under a local thieves' guild known as "The Nest". There was a spiking assault and violent crime rate in the area, which encouraged his emigration from the city and to this village. According to him, there was a cult of wanton murder and violence. Perhaps there were practitioners of the darker aspects of Batis?
 
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Finally, we reached Fallean. At this point, we were well-equipped with our new personas and eager to try them out. The Order of Metal squires wished us well on our mission before beginning their escort back to Carangoroth.
 
We waited at the gate where, not to my surprise, an Umenor guard chose my cohorts and myself for a "random selection" for more rigorous screening. Makaan-Viriak played the kenku marginalization card and accused the guard of being prejudiced for seeing a raven-feathered kenku at the gates, which I gleefully backed him up with. The rest of our merry band began to chastise the man for his prejudice and even noted the conspicuous passing of a shady fellow when we were being unreasonably detained. Ultimately, though, it was clear that the guard was assessing us for valuables and goods. Avindir-Ace's vial of toxin was apparently highly valuable and the guard was quite interested. Avindir-Ace wove a tale of us tracking illegal wyvern breeders and the vial was meant to be a means for gaining clout for infiltration into their circle.
 
We were let through, which prompted me to offer to hide goods on my person. I'm comfortable in this kind of seedy settlement, so I knew where to hide small goods on my person to avoid the curious eyes and hands of passerby citizens. I ended up collecting the coinpurses, flutes, rings, and vials of the vanguard stash and hid them tightly in the folds of my clothes.
 
We elected to travel to the Comfort Rose, a location opposite in the walls of the city. While walking there, I couldn't help but notice how truly unsanitary the city felt. The air was thick with what must have been some form of miasma. There was the unmistakable stench of labor, refuse, fish, and the salt breeze. Nonetheless, we made it to the Comfort Rose without any concern.
 
When we entered, the proprietor Theladrial greeted us. She was a stately elven woman who radiated the intent of quality business and no funny business. This was a neutral establishment in the city; a bathhouse for discourse and meetings with no strong affiliation with the upper or lower factions of city politics and society. The attendants were well trained in the arts of comfort and hospitality and, when I began my Mercy Lodge greeting, she swiftly passed me along to another.
 
This is the point where I met Caeled Alean, a male half-elf. I knew him to be half-elven due to his slightly pointed ears (of which I could 'see' under his hair -- maybe this Refusal of Shadow would truly help me detect the various ancestral factions and tribes the outside world cares about so deeply). However, the rest of his presence told another story. He was tall (taller than most human men), broad (broader than most human men), and had vibrant red-gold hair. His eyes were a piercing blue of morning sky, his chest (visible between the folds of his attendant robe) covered in the same red-gold hair as his head, and his demeanor most pleasant. Truly, this is the kind of man whom I could see within the commune back home! Too many men outside of the commune seem to be in favor of drab, boring hues. This man's vibrancy was a true testament to his masculine nature.
 
He was my contact and my connection to the Mercy Lodge during my tenure in the city.
 
I performed a game of introduction over Dragonchess in a small chamber, which allowed us both to confirm our mutual allegiance to the lodge. It turned out that the Comfort Rose was (subtly) allied with the lodge in many ways, and thus we gained access to a safehouse to hide in and work from. It wasn't nearly luxurious as the baths with their marble and silks would have let us believe. Instead, it was in the basement, moist, warm, and a bit uncomfortable. Perfect for our tasks -- too many comforts would breed lax discipline.
 
Caeled Alean informed us of a few locations in the city and we shared with him our mission. He promised us to aid in our tasks, to pull upon his network of contacts, and to watch for newcomers from the gates who matched the description of the campdwellers. Meanwhile, he offered me three letters in response to those I sent out in Carangoroth a week past.
 
According to my cantor, auspicious moons seemed to be fairly common. His best guesses were the full moon, new moon, and crescent moons as regular occurances; blood moons or eclipses; hunter moons; and finally harvest moons. Essentially. there were four moons a month and perhaps a dozen moons over each year that could be "auspicious" for a birth. Typically, the blood moons were the most auspicious. The overwhelming number of possibilities didn't simplify our calendar greatly to help identify Calliope's pre-abduction self, so this wasn't terribly useful.
 
Speaking of not terribly useful, the Cartographer's Guild replied. Master Pyh of the Cartographers informed me that he produced the map from a particularly vivid and wonderful dream of his. No one knew what the map described.
 
Finally, my monastery replied. They have taken my transcribed journals as poorly formatted reports and archived it after review. I wholly welcomed any and all thoughts my masters had for me, and there were a few. Many of the pieces of advice and wisdom aligned with what Leosin earlier told me. My Refusal of Shadow is indeed a rare technique and not one the order advises its disciples to try and obtain. It is highly dangerous to try and obtain and not at all guaranteed even if everything goes according to plan. Truly, a fortune was upon me for the opportunity to gain a benediction and malediction paired for my experience. In addition, there were passages about the nature of past pain, healing, and growing beyond it. I will try to meditate upon these thoughts (as I have been trained to do). In addition, my funds have been disseminated as I planned (one part to the monastery, one to the lodge, one to my nation, and one to my family).
 
After I disseminated the knowledge (however sparse) from the letters to the vanguards, we went out to sell the wyvern poison and distribute its value fairly amongst the vanguards. With some clever discourse, Avindir sold it for 105 platinum coins of the realm, which meant each of us gained 25 platinum coins and we reserved the remaining 5 for the party funds. Avindir proceeded to buy some scrolls or gold dust or whatnots for his wizardly tasks, then we returned to the Comfort Rose. There, I dutifully sent back 100 total gold pieces worth of wealth to my family, my monastery, my commune, and my lodge.
 
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I slept more soundly than I thought I would in the safehouse. I think my daily meditations are working to help control my gift.
 
Caeled heavily advised us to speak to an archivist at Blo Rhaimsol as a lead for Zaul Krieg, the missing mentor of Therezia (Makaan's sister). She gambled frequently at the Secret Lady and was likely there presently. We promptly equipped our disguises and went to the den. There, many of my cohorts procured a free drink as I tried to sense the room as an exercise. In preparation, I came with only 15 gold and 50 silver coins to my name. After all, I didn't want to risk losing my significant wealth.
 
We were informed the gamblers were upstairs, so we climbed the stairs to a bit of a busy room. I put myself near the corner with a halfling herbalist and stood back to let my more charming cohorts confront the archivist. Before we could do so meaninfully, ruffians of a disgusting sort ascended the stairs and confronted us all.