Sorja's Totems
Sorja has made many totems through the course of the campaign. Over time it has become evident that he is a witchdoctor, but what the purpose of what his totems are, or his end goal, is unclear.
Plot points/Scenes
Laughing Dolls
"/[Morkun to present party] I believe the Egragore is on patrol, based on it's movement and lack of pursuit. We should move out of its patrol area or determine how to kill it. I prefer the former. Someone tell Crow./" He sent the message while he tapped Sorja's shoulder and pointed his head to the group.
Sorja had spent the better part of Synna's burial and their investigation carving a turnip with his claws. He had found the turnip in Gorshi, and when asked about it had answered that he was "-waiting for it to harden-". A rough of facsimile of a face inscribed with runes smiled out from the turnip now.
He tucked it away in a pocket and nodded to Morkun, then walked up to and patted Crow on the shoulder. "Egregore. -Coming-," he said, tugging Crow by the elbow and pointing to where he, Tskhan, Ijin, and Morkun had waited before."
Sorja was looking very uncomfortable. The turnip was back in hand.
A ripple ran through the mass of feathers and pages on the air. Books trembled from their shelves and fell open, meta pouring from their pages and collecting into a quad-set of phantoms whose hearts were made of the turnips Sorja had been carving.
Sorja stood at the edge of the group with Tskhan and Morkun, looking increasingly paranoid. His claws were dripping with turnip juice, though the poor mangled thing was nowhere to be seen. "-This is a necropolis-" He said, voice drawn as much with excitement as fear.
Sorja stood behind Morkun and Tskhan, eyes closed and brows drawn. Expression was one of deep focus as he recited a prayer in a strange tongue of Sazashi. "-Kyzan, whose arts we practice; Marianiyah, whose ways we maintain; Bastet, whose creation we consider; Wheel, whose power we use. I invoke you.-"
A ripple ran through the mass of feathers and pages on the air. Books trembled from their shelves and fell open, meta pouring from their pages and collecting into a quad-set of phantoms whose hearts were made of the turnips Sorja had been carving. Cackling and giggling like children, they began to dance around, bursting meta immolation at Kohliya.
Sorja was looking very uncomfortable. The turnip was back in hand.
A ripple ran through the mass of feathers and pages on the air. Books trembled from their shelves and fell open, meta pouring from their pages and collecting into a quad-set of phantoms whose hearts were made of the turnips Sorja had been carving.
Sorja stood at the edge of the group with Tskhan and Morkun, looking increasingly paranoid. His claws were dripping with turnip juice, though the poor mangled thing was nowhere to be seen. "-This is a necropolis-" He said, voice drawn as much with excitement as fear.
Sorja stood behind Morkun and Tskhan, eyes closed and brows drawn. Expression was one of deep focus as he recited a prayer in a strange tongue of Sazashi. "-Kyzan, whose arts we practice; Marianiyah, whose ways we maintain; Bastet, whose creation we consider; Wheel, whose power we use. I invoke you.-"
A ripple ran through the mass of feathers and pages on the air. Books trembled from their shelves and fell open, meta pouring from their pages and collecting into a quad-set of phantoms whose hearts were made of the turnips Sorja had been carving. Cackling and giggling like children, they began to dance around, bursting meta immolation at Kohliya.
Rat King, Dreamcatchers, Allarah's Hair, and a Mystery Project
On their second day at sea, as a gesture of good faith and to reject her Haimarchy heritage, Allarah had allowed Sorja to cut her hair.
Though confused, the witchdoctor leapt at the opportunity and proved quite adept at it despite (or perhaps because of) using nothing but his claws. He had kept the braid and clippings without asking. Now, in light of the witch fog, he wove dreamcatchers of an unfamiliar mandala from her hair. He hung from them macabre fetishes: the gory heads of rats gathered from the ship's bowels, suspended with her hair threaded through their eye sockets. He hung them by the doors, just another reason for people to stop going topside. With how frigid it was outside, and given that the largely autonomous ship could be run without going topside, it took almost a day before anyone even mentioned it.
After that Sorja made a larger totem in private, a sickening amalgam he called a Rat King. He fashioned it by making a glue of tar and pipe sealant (salvaged from a maintenance closed) and gluing together the tails of rats sedated with ether traded from crow in return for helping him tailor Kohliya’s old raiment. Sorja left the Rat King in an open crate on the deck, with a promise to Allarah and Morkun that “-When the last rat dies I will know more.-” They returned to their diversions. Sorja returned to the bowels of the ship to do Wheel-knows-what. Tskhan had once tried to follow him, insisting on killing the rats before they could find the food stores, but Sorja had sent him back up, saying “-No, I need them, I’m working on something important. I’ll make sure they don’t escape-” It was disquieting, but Morkun, nearby, told Tskhan to keep away from Sorja’s area.
After that Sorja made a larger totem in private, a sickening amalgam he called a Rat King. He fashioned it by making a glue of tar and pipe sealant (salvaged from a maintenance closed) and gluing together the tails of rats sedated with ether traded from crow in return for helping him tailor Kohliya’s old raiment. Sorja left the Rat King in an open crate on the deck, with a promise to Allarah and Morkun that “-When the last rat dies I will know more.-” They returned to their diversions. Sorja returned to the bowels of the ship to do Wheel-knows-what. Tskhan had once tried to follow him, insisting on killing the rats before they could find the food stores, but Sorja had sent him back up, saying “-No, I need them, I’m working on something important. I’ll make sure they don’t escape-” It was disquieting, but Morkun, nearby, told Tskhan to keep away from Sorja’s area.
—Book 2 Chapter 1
Vampire Vines
During Kilnrest, Sorja collected samples of the Vampire Vines in a jar for later use.
Plot type
Subplot
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