Novgorod Log #3: A Ghostly Interlude +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | Of the power of the dead, and how they beget more death in the world of | | the living. How certain days bring with them great power. Last rites | | for an albino. | +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ Dramatis Personae: Ballisto of Tytalus Magus (Bill Filios) Carmen of Bjornaer Maga (Donald Kubasak) Felix of Flambeau Magus (Dave Pickering) Adrean German Grog Adrian German Grog Big Claus Nordic Grog Lars Nordic Grog Little Claus Nordic Grog Aurdal Spirit +------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | "Odin! Guide my Axe!" | | -Lars | +------------------------------------------------------------------------+ For the mundane man, days pass one after another. They are a seemingly endless stream of the ordinary, the normal, the mundane. Most men are unable to see the great differences in the heavens, the subtle configurations of the stars, the changing places of all things in this world and beyond. And that is why they are weak, the Mundane. It is the gifted of the world who may see more, who can understand the strength inherent in the patterns of the world, and draw upon it. They understand the power in the day of the dead, in the solstices, in the equinoxes, even in the Christian holidays of death and rebirth. And, they use it. Still, there are other powers in the universe, and they too wax and wane as the the days plod on. As the gifted may revel in the power of a day, so may they too regret it, for that power may be used against them. During the gaps between the seasons, sometimes great forces may escape upon the world, especially in those places where the Mundane world is too near the worlds of faerie and magic. These forces can bring danger to the gifted and ungifted alike. - * - The Book of Nature's Teeth as Chronicled by Pacifer of Tytalus March 2, 1201 Boring days lie ahead. Since returning from Vastervik, I have been forced to plunge into our tomes on Vim. It is a tedious art, one that I consistantly avoided throughout my apprenticeship. Unfortunately, we must have the vis in the Sowyer's Field, and none of us are able to collect it. Since I am skilled in Muto, the task of learning the appropriate spell fell upon me. At the least, I may console myself with the fact that this is all preparation for the war. Ballisto too is studying, learning of the Order of Odin. If nothing else, I may ridicule him when the words of Vim weight too heavily upon my mind. I envy the others. Felix is studying boating. Carmen is working with the grogs. Auditor is lounging about, learning all he can of our new home. I wish another could have been the one to invent the spell we need. In three weeks, as soon as Adriana has made a copy of 'Sense the Nature of Vis,' she and Felix plan to head out once more, seeking both covenfolk and supplies of magic. I will be hard pressed not to join them on their journey, trying to avoid studying Vim. Unfortunately, there is still much to learn of Vim before I will be competent enough for that damned spell. Damn! - * - The Book of Nature's Teeth as Chronicled by Pacifer of Tytalus March 21, 1201 I was awoken a short time ago by the howling of the winds and the shrieking of the dead. These are common enough sounds here at Nature's Teeth, but today, they are worse than ever. It reminds me of the morning that we first set foot upon this island, over a month ago. Ballisto was woken too, and he has wandered off, ready to start the day despite the early hour. I, however, refuse to be conquered by the storms. I shall lie here until sleep returns, despite the grating noises that even now fill my ears. - * - In the gray limbo between Heaven and Hell, a place that was neither Valhalla nor the Underworld, the spirit lay. It was still too heavily tied to the Mundane world, and thus unable to move on, so, it remained, waiting. The spirit floated comatose in the gray void, too weak to impose itself upon the world of man. It was blissfully ignorant of the changing world, even of the very march of time. And then, the winds blew. Moving faster and faster, the spirit was thrust towards the island, trapped by the circling winds, unable to escape. As it screamed towards the island, the spirit began filling with energy, and it opened its spiritual eyes. And then, he saw. He saw what he had lost. He saw his monotonous existance. He saw the great grey limbo, stretching on forever. And he began to howl, shouting forth his pain and despair. It was happening just as it had a hundred times before. But, this time was different. The energy about the spirit continued to increase, and the world about him became even more clear. A few days in the Mundane world and perhaps all could be set right, and he could finally go on to his final reward. Just a few days. So, the spirit seized his opportunity and thrust himself into the world of man. - * - From the Runes of Little Claus 21 March, 1201 Looking upon my notes of the last month, I now shudder. They are eerily prophetic. Since first I set eyes upon the ivory-skinned Germans, I felt an intense distrust. Today, my fears were proven true. But, let me start from the beginning. It was early in the morning, well before the break of dawn. We had all been awoken by the terrible, howling winds. It was clear that no more sleep would be had that day. Big Claus and I were wandering about the covenant, hoping to find some shelter from the awful din. All about us, others were milling about, each trying to find their own escape from the storm. Ballisto and Carmen choose to spend that raucous morning in the council room, chatting. They were vastly surprised when the albino, Adrean, drew his sword and began to attack them. Big Claus and I both started when we heard Carmen begin to scream. After instructing Big Claus to gather the warrior Hermetics, I began to run at once for Council Room. When I finally arrived, I saw a grim scene before me. Lars, who had been guarding the gates, lay upon the ground, nearly dead. Carmen was nearby, heavily wounded. She seemed astounded by the violence that had suddenly confronted her. Backing across the room was Adrean, his short sword dripping blood. As I watched, Ballisto threw a dagger across the room. It rebounded harmlessly from Adrean's armor. As I stood, trying to decide upon a good action, I noticed an odd thing. As he backed away from us all, the German, Adrean, was cursing in Nordic. Carefully, from across the room, I raised my voice in my native tongue. Amazingly, Adrean responded. Several uncomfortable moments followed. Adrean stood with his bloody sword drawn. Nearby, Ballisto too stood ready, with his own weapons of magic. Carefully and cautiously, I pulled Adrean's story forth. A spirit named Aurdal had possessed the albino. Aurdal had no memories of his death, nothing past a last meal in his Gotland home. When he suddenly appeared in our covenant, surrounded by strange people, garbed in pure white skin, he had reacted violently, sure that he was being attacked by evil sorceries. When I finally convinced Aurdal of the truth, that he had been dead a hundred years, he nearly wept, sad for the pain that he had cost us, sad for wondrous Valhalla, which had been denied him. For a long time he spoke, of his family which had been lost to him, of the Kriles, who were his ancestoral enemies, of all that he had been, of all that he had lost. Although Ballisto still watched warily, by this time, Carmen, was beginning to show compassion. And then Big Claus burst into the room, with Felix close behind him. Quickly assessing the situtaion, Felix began to throw flames at Aurdal. Ballisto quickly joined in the attack. And so Aurdal fell, a confused look upon his face. And so Aurdal died again, along with the grog Adrean. - * - The spirit screamed as he was sucked back into the storm. The opportunity had been missed. Again, he was dead, doomed to that grey limbo, except when the storm called. He yelled his despair to the gods, but they did not listen. He had been given his second chance, and he had failed. - * - The Book of Nature's Teeth as Chronicled by Pacifer of Tytalus March 21, 1201 When I was finally dragged from my bed today, it was for a most awkward and uncomfortable meeting. One of our grogs, the albino named Adrean, was today possessed by a spirit. Only by killing Adrean was Felix able to save Carmen. Carmen was terribly distraught, unable to believe that the killing had been necessary. For a time we fought, friendship briefly brushed aside due to the tension of the day. Finally, Carmen made us understand that she did not take death as lightly as others. She thought that killing Adrean had been unjust, for the spirit that posessed had begun to talk, proving himself no longer a threat. Eventually, we made Carmen a solemn promise. In the future, we shall try to be more considerate of her feelings on this matter. It would be silly to let such old friendship dissolve over such a minor matter. With our emotions finally under control, we returned to our labs, but there was no work to be done that day. Perhaps it was the winds, screaming even louder than before. Perhaps it was the fact that our sense of security, the security of our new home, had been utterly shattered. - * - From the Runes of Little Claus 22 March, 1201 Today, we grogs held a ceremony for Adrean, our first casualty. I distrusted him in life, but in death, I feel sorrow for him. I wonder about his twin, Adrian, who wept but a bit, and now seems light hearted about his brother's death. I worry that he is plotting some awful vengeance upon Felix. I will watch him carefully.