Messages

Dear Giver-of-Gifts,

It's Narwen! I am writing to you from Ephia's Well.

The Festival of The First Blooming should be soon upon us.

Should I invite the people of Ephia's Well to the Spring to renew our bonds of friendship through the telling of tales and the singing of songs and the giving of gifts?

I think many of them have forgotten. The man who signed the first friendship pact has perished in the course of this terrible war. These people have such short memories.

Perhaps this can be a time to remind them and to plant more wholesome ideas in their hearts? Ideas of friendship and harmony rather than war and conquest?


Narwen

Hziran 25 7789

I was young when the world was old,
I shall be old when the world is young.
I may not see that new beginning,
But the thought remains.

The garden is ash, the forest burns,
In my hand is held a torch.
Burn, burn, burn, ye olden roots,
Loosen thy grasp upon the world!

I weep for you, I weep for the world, I weep for the fallen.
Shall anyone weep for me?

Will new voices sing songs of creation instead of lamenting destruction?
Can I still sing in Summer as I did in the Spring?

We wait, weary survivors of an old world,
For the dawn of a new.

The Bronze War
The Battle of Hidden Gates
The Abulmahhu

Iyar 2 7789

Thank you, Magistrate-Balestiere Donisthrope.

I too am confounded as to why this is being discussed in this way.

I have made a written report to the Divan.

The scholars present made their notations on the music that I was able to draw out of the miasma's memory.

I purposely did not chant the words aloud at that time, for their purpose was dark and wicked and forbidden. They drifted through the periphery of my awareness like a predator and I was filled with the knowledge that to look too acutely at this predator would be to bare my neck to it. Thus I only have a tenuous awareness of the vocal contents of the chant.

I will not reproduce the spoken chant beyond the syllabic melody. Nor will I put them to parchment. The chant and the miasma are joined together as one. To invoke one is to invite the other and so this matter must be handled with great care.


In humble service as the Seat of Lore,
Acolyte Narwen Alendiel

Also at lvl 11 the normal song is insane because of the +2 dodge AC. (Rare, I know)

Nope it's actually Natural AC

I would argue that giving it physical damage instead of positive would be a buff in most non-Mupp situations as the physical damage bonus would work on archers as well.

This song is by far the best pick in almost every situation. +30 temp hp is never not good, people take chip and chunk damage all the time. On top of that it has the standard +2 ab, +2 dmg and also has +3 nat ac and +2 universal saves. No other song comes close to it.

The song offering an unresisted damage type versus Mupps is just icing on the cake and in itself not the reason why the song is so good.

Dear Exequer,


My fellow acolyte and I currently maintain the Art Gallery of Ephia's Well, which was initially established by Balladeer Niranye.

Under Balladeer Niranye, the Art Gallery was open to the people of Ephia's Well and celebrated the artists and artistic culture of the Well. In addition it features a smaller display of artwork from our neighbors across the Great Dune Sea, but the majority of the space is given to local artists. At one time it displayed some antique art pieces from the Caliphate and from the era of the Giants, but these antique art pieces have been removed due to the new law prohibiting handling of antiques without a license, which the Astronomers of Q'Tolip have denied us.

We have been renovating the Art Gallery in anticipation of opening its doors to the public very soon.

I am hunmbly writing to you in the hopes that your office can help relieve some of the financial burden associated with maintaining the Art Gallery. We currently pay taxes in the amount of 550 dinar per week, much of which we raise through donations and charitable auctions - the proceeds of which are split between paying the dues on the Gallery and donating towards the needs of the refugees and the Drifter's Stockade.


Thank you for your consideration,
Acolyte Narwen Alendiel of Sisterhood of the Sibylline Vine

Dream Painting 12
Adar 5th 7788

Kusatma
The end of history as we knew it
Adar 5th 7788

Ithelred is dead. He has been brought back to the Spring by his kinband.

He looked at everything I did and said with contempt. With every breath he called me a liar and a serpent. But I did not feel anything for him but pity and love.

Did I do enough to help them? Could I have done more?

It was so long ago when I left the Spring with Joriel and Miwindel. We had no visions. All we had were our concerns born from the signs that we saw.

I think about where I buried Miwindel. I try not to think about it most of the time but sometimes I do. Those last days with her when she was dying and the cruel things she said. I know that wasn't her. That was the sickness.

I couldn't help her. I couldn't heal her. All I could do was be there for her.

All I could do was take on the role of the Mother and hold her and weep for her.

I try to keep those thoughts inside.

My work continues.


N
The 23rd day of the 11th month of 7788

Untitled
Subat 17 7788

Bashir Khatara and Tonka
Comissioned by Jaecop de Clercq
Subat 16 7788

Beloved Balladeer,

Enclosed with this letter are some of the sacred verses that are known to me. Many were recovered from ancient texts and tablet carvings and translated from their archaic forms with the help of Sister Nebtu. There are many different fragments from many different sources. You will notice some common ideas, symbols and passages among them.

It is my understanding of the Sacred Mysteries, by which these mundane words are given power, that these should serve as guides rather than as unchanging works of scripture to be recited verbatten. They should be adjusted to the situation at hand.

You will note some of the repetitive symbols in them, in particular, the ruins from which the spirit comes and must return to, and the house and the fence. It is thus best to prepare the place before recital. The ground should be made clean and pure and made sacred, separate in an intangible way from the space around it. A threshold should be created, where one can pass from the mundane into this sacred space, and through which the spirits can be forbidden and cast out.

The speaker of rites must describe and name the spirit as best they can. The better they can name and describe the spirit the more authority they can assert upon it.

Remember, the paint brush is but the tool through which the painter expresses themselves, through which they create. Do not mistake the brush for the painter.

These words must come from your spirit, flow through your heart, and exit through your mouth, heavy with sacred purpose. Spoken by a man without virtue, who scorns the sacred and the divine, they are weak and empty sounds. Spoken by a man who is virtuous, whose spirit shines bright with the fire that does not burn, who brings himself to a state of sacralized purpose, and who utters them in a place that has likewise been made sacred and pure, they are thus imbued with a sacred power and purpose and these words echo even in the sacred realm.


Acolyte Narwen Alendiel

With the storm wind they blow,
And cannot be withstood.
Haloed with awful brilliance,
They carry terror far and wide.
They stand in the broad places
And circle round the highways of the land,
In the temples of the gods they exalt themselves,
They pour no libations of oil
Nor offer sacrifices;
Evil is their way.

Whether thou art an evil man,
Or an evil djinn,
Or an evil djinn that hath fallen like a wall
And hath crushed the man,
Or an evil djinn that gibbereth
And bindeth hands and feet,
Or an evil djinn that hath no mouth,
Or an evil djinn that hath no limbs,
Or an evil djinn that cannot hear,
Or an evil djinn that in a goblet flasheth in the sun,
Or an evil djinn that the man hath created
On a bed by night in sleep,
Or an evil djinn stealing sleep away
Ready to carry off the man,
Or an evil djinn that roameth by night,
Whose unclean hands know no reverence,
Or an evil djinn crouching like a wolf,
That lurketh in wait for the man,
Or an evil djinn that knoweth not sacrifice of beasts or herbs,
Or an evil djinn that like a bat dwelleth in caverns by night,
Or an evil djinn that like a bird of night flieth in dark places,
Or an evil djinn that envelopeth the man
As it were with a coverlet,
Or an evil djinn that enshroudeth the man
As it were with a sack,
Or an evil djinn that like night hath no brightness,
Or an evil djinn that by night prowleth in the mud,
O thou evil djinn, turn thee to get hence,
O thou that dwelleth in ruins, get thee to thy ruins,
With fleabane on the lintel of the door I have hung,
Wheatears on the latch I have hung,
Thy body I restrain;
O evil spirit, get thee hence,
Depart, O evil Spirit!
From the body of the man,
O evil Spirit, depart!
O evil Spirit, get thee forth to distant places,
O evil Spirit, hie thee unto the ruins,
Where thou standest is forbidden ground,
A ruined, desolate house is thy home;
Be thou removed from before me!
By the Wheel be thou exorcised!
By the Disc be thou exorcised!

For my life and health follow after me.
A kindly Guardian marcheth on my right,
A kindly Spirit marcheth on my left,
...

Evil Spirit,
Evil Djinn,
Evil Ghost,
Evil Fiend,
Evil are they!

Unto my body may they not draw nigh,
Before me may they wreak no evil.
Nor follow behind me.

Into my house may they not enter.
My fence may they not break through,
Into my chamber may they not enter.

By the Wheel be thou exorcised!
By the Disc be thou exorcised!

O B'aara, Lady of Pure Waters,
I, the supplicant, am thy servant.
I, the priest, am thy servant.
March thou on my right hand,
Be present on my left;
Add thy pure spell unto mine,
Add thy pure voice unto mine,
Add thy pure spittle unto mine,
Add thy pure prayer unto mine,
Make fortunate the utterances of my mouth,
Ordain that my decisions be happy,
Let me be blessed wherever I tread,
Let the man whom I now touch be blessed.
Before me may lucky thoughts be spoken,
After me may a lucky finger be pointed.
Oh that thou wert my guardian Genius,
And my guardian Spirit!
Oh, god that blesseth, B'aara,
Let me be blessed, wherever my path may be!
Thy power shall god and man proclaim;
This man shall do thy service,
And I too, the priest, thy servant.

I am the messenger of IZDU.
To revive the spirit of this sick man
The Great Magi IZDU has sent me;
He hath added his pure spell to mine,
He hath added his pure voice to mine,
He hath added his pure spittle to mine,
He hath added his pure prayer to mine.
Whether thou art an evil Spirit or an evil Djinn,
Or an evil Ghost or an evil Devil,
Or an evil God or an evil fiend,
Be thou removed before me!
By the Wheel be thou exorcised!
By the Disc be thou exorcised!
May the pestilence, fever, pain, sorcery and all evil
Be removed from the body of the wanderer.
Unto my body may they not come nigh,
May they get hence from near me,
May they not follow after me.
By the Great Wheel may they be exorcised!
May he not be held in bondage,
May his fetters be loosened!

Whether thou art an evil Spirit or an evil Djinn,
Or an evil Ghost or an evil Devil,
Or an evil God or an evil Fiend,
Or Hag-demon or Ghoul or Robber Sprite,
Or Phantom of Night or Wraith of Night,
Or Handmaiden of the Phantom,
Or evil pestilence or noisome fever,
Or pain or sorcery or any evil,
Or headache or shivering or shakes or terror,
Or an evil man or evil face.
Or evil spell, or evil tongue, or evil mouth, or sorcery, or any evil,
Be thou removed from before me!
By the Wheel be thou exorcised!
By the Disc be thou exorcised!

Where I sit, there sit thou not!
Where I walk, there walk thou not!
Where I enter, there enter thou not!

It bites with the bite of a wolf
It leaps with the leap of a dog
It enters as animals enter,
It leaves as animal leaves
Get away, maskadu-sickness,
Before the flint,
The scalpel of Kula,
Catches up with you!

Whether thou art a ghost that hath come from the earth,
or a phantom of night that hath no couch...
or one that lieth dead in the desert...
or a ghost unburied...
or a hag-demon,
or a ghoul,
or a robber-sprite,
or a weeping woman that hath died with a babe at the breast...
Whatever thou be
until thou art removed,
until thou departest from the body of this place,
thou shalt have no water to drink.
Thou shalt not stretch forth thy hand...
Into the house enter thou not.
Through the fence break thou not.

They creep like a snake on their bellies,
They make the chamber to stink like mice,
They give tongue like a pack of hounds.

Over the highest wall and through the thickest wall,
Like an ash storm they can pass,
Breaking through from house to house;
No door can shut them out,
No bolt can turn them back,
For through the portal like a snake they creep,
And through the hinges like the wind they blow.

They scour from land to land,
Driving the maid from her chamber,
And the man from his home,
And the son from his father's house.
They hunt the doves from their cotes,
And drive the bird from Its nest,
And chase the martin from Its hole.
...

The Bronze War
The Union's Course to Bet Neppahi
The Scalding

Subat 10 7788