A Life Devoted

[Shaz Zamari]

I must say that was an amazing roller coaster ride of a read! I read all the parts at one go including comments by others, and it was truly entertaining
My reaction progressed from interesting to great and to wow! Including some moments of light comedy in the comments. And I am left wanting more as the coaster ride came to the end! I must agree with Mariana. You should write a book too! That was  unbelievably good! Kudos to you Aramara I am flabbergasted at all the talent in Ps!

[Aramara Meibi]

thanks thanks thanks ever so much! 

hold onto yer butts, the end is near!

[Onilise]

 

[bilbous]

OT @ Onilise

Hey! I was going to do a public reading of "the Magic Hour" at Stonehead's before I figured out how much work it would take to make shortcuts out of it. That isn't going to happen now.

[Mariana Xiechai]

  ARAMARAAAAAAAAA.

* Mariana Xiechai runs off bawling.

[Dannae]

Oni!!! 

[Aramara Meibi]

i can't ever finish these things.





hey guys i'm applying to gradschool! so, as exciting as that may be, i don't foresee my ever logging onto the game, which probably can't run on my computer anymore anyways, again. but that doesn't mean i don't love you and that i don't miss you. so please drop me a line sometime, i still creep the forums occasionally.

...or hop onto elvi's minecraft server.

[Mariana Xiechai]

WE LOVE YOU ARAMARAAAAA!

Good luck in grad school.   

[Cairn]

Meibi you'll come back someday?

[Aramara Meibi]

Meibi you'll come back someday?

i can't help but be thrilled that in some small corner of this vast and untiring universe, somebody else appreciates that joke.

[LigH]

Yes, I do.

[Aramara Meibi]

part 9

Unamorel paused for a moment as she looked after her departing mentor, then took flight down the opposite corridor. The confused visions of her dream continued to play out against the deep shadows of the night, dominating the pattern of her thoughts.  Again, a chime rang out from the heart of the temple and broke her from under their spell. The momentum of the present caught up to her. She must prepare to receive the recently returned.

Torchlight danced off the polished stone walls at the distant end of the corridor. There, at the entrance to the altar chamber, where the re-arisen emerge from Dakkru's embrace, her acolytes appeared with the new arrival in arms. Unamorel waited as the light of the torches approached with echoed bare footsteps, not stopping to contemplate the mystery of her devotion, the reason the Mistress of the Veil chooses to return people to the Realm of the Living, but to let her mind slip back to the potency of her dream. She did not allow herself much time to muse, however, and quickly lead the acolytes down an adjoining corridor towards the dormitory. She threw upon the door  to an unoccupied dorm room and commanded a summons, "Light!". The small room suddenly flooded with the pure light emanating from an enchanted crystal placed upon a desktop. With the spell cast, the acolytes snuffed their torches, and Unamorel directed the priest carrying the arrived to place her upon the bed.

It was then she first caught sight of the arrived. A young fenki child clutched tightly to the robes of the priest as he lay her down. Her eyes were held shut, turned away in sensitivity to the crystal light, her breathing was heavy, audible, yet slow and controlled. The child was scared, but calm about it. Unamorel therefore spoke in encouragement, "It is alright, child, it is alright." At this the young akkaio turned her head and opened her eyes, the color of the crystal lit sky, and peered upwards. The priestess stepped forward towards the bedside, pulled back her hood, and whispered, "Hello young one. Welcome back to the land of the living."

It was her eyes, the way that they glowed with a hidden fire, that sent Unamorel reeling backwards through her dream. Suddenly the chaos and confusion of her vision began to align, fragmentary pieces of a puzzle fell into place to exhibit a larger picture, past, present, and future coalesced into a single revelatory moment. The priestess stepped back, alarmed, and turned to the nearest acolyte, "Fetch Sister Ramah. She's in her study."

Unamorel returned her attention to the young fenki, "Do you remember your name child? What do you recall?"

The akkaio lass stared back, wide eyed and timid, and softly answered, "I am... Aramara."

//\\//\\//\\ .*.*.*. //\\//\\//\\ .*.*.*. //\\//\\//\\ .*.*.*. //\\//\\//\\

The two priestesses of Dakkru's Enlightened and Devout conferred in hushed whispers behind the closed and locked doors of the study. Their voices were stern, controlled. Shared excitement turned quickly towards anger as they argued over the correct course of action.

"She is a child Unamorel! We cannot hold her here against her will. Under jurisdiction of the law, we must notify her parents and turn custody over to them. Our arms are bound by the Octarchy."

"Gods damn the Octarchy! We answer to a higher order! The Kali of this temple has been charged by Dakkru Herself to eliminate Tatewari from Her Realm, and now the Goddess delivers us this child, the child I saw in my dream, who not only made contact with the witch but has been conferred her power. Sister, Our Goddess has shown us the way! We must send word to Brother Jamnin. She can lead him back to her. He can finish his quest and then... Sister... it will be over. He will return to us... to you... for good."

Unamorel's words struck deep, precisely where she had meant them to. Ramah flinched, weakened under the idea of Jamnin's return. Her feelings for him where her detriment, of this she was now acutely aware. She struggled. This attachment to another, a mere living being, mortal, temporal, fleeting. In order to purely serve Dakkru, which was her life's devotion, she must let go of Jamnin, and so she must let go of this girl. There could only be room for Dakkru in the limits of her heart.

She answered Unamorel with a quiet shake of her head, "No Sister... I... In his absence I am in charge of this temple. The decision is mine to make. Our hands are tied, the child is innocent, we must let her go."

  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/  \/
/\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\  /\

On the morning of her departure, Aramara stood amongst the herbs of Sister Ramah's garden. Of all the temple compound, this place was the most comforting to her. It reminded her of home, her mother. It was because of her mother's practice that most of the plants held a familiarity for her, and she felt she was somehow amongst friends. The rest of the compound she found to be cold, harsh, undoubtedly due to its function and purpose if not its architecture. She had been raised in a Xiosian household, where every life was treated as a precious gift, but here, the gift was claimed to be of Dakkru's benevolence. She failed to stomach the idea, and thus removed herself from the daily goings on about the temple, spending her time patiently amongst the plants, with an eye on the temple gates, waiting for her parents.

She was examining a particularly fragrant flower previously unknown to her, when she became aware of a presence entering the garden from the temple interior. Aramara turned to recognize the hooded figure of one of the devotees. It was a strange sight; in her time there, Aramara had yet to see any one of them leave the dark hallways of the interior during daylight hours. In fact, she had only seen Sister Ramah step outdoors at all, and only at night to tend her garden. The priestess had shown Aramara how the leaves and fruit of certain plants actually swelled and ripened at night. One particular variety of plants, the Nocturnes, actually only flowered and blossomed at night. These were the favorite of Sister Ramah, and she had said they contained magickal properties in their essence.

Aramara had found the priestess to be the most open of all she had met at the temple, but it was not Ramah who stepped into the garden now. In stead, Aramara recognized the silver-white hair of the priestess who had first received her drifting from the depths of the grey robes of Dakkru's order. This priestess and Ramah had interrogated her thoroughly throughout that night. Five times Aramara retold her story, of how she stumbled across the nest of Trepor eggs and the subsequent attack of their mother, her first acquaintance with death and The Realm, her encounter with Tatewari, and to her best recollection, the rebirth she experienced under the influence of the witch's medicine. Aramara found this priestess to be passionate, impatient, frustrated, and due to the manner of their discourse, Aramara could guess her relation to Ramah to be one of a subordinate.

The priestess stepped forward, and Aramara felt herself take an instinctive step back, only to feel her heel against the low stone wall of the flower bed. She felt no other choice but to sit upon the impediment and await the approaching priestess. As she advanced, the priestess lowered her hood and held out her palms in an effort to quell Aramara's worries. With her face exposed as such to the light of the crystal, Aramara noticed the milky paleness of her skin, lined with wrinkles that obscured her true age. It was her appearance's contrast to her confident and assertive bearing that caused Aramara discomfort, regardless of the peaceful gesture.

"Aramara, I regret we haven't had the chance to speak. It isn't customary for me to approach you like this, but I feel it is necessary."

She knelt before the akkaio and held a hand out towards her. Aramara took it tentatively, keeping her eyes on those of the priestess. "I am Sister Unamorel," she continued with a slight smile, "I suppose you may remember me from the night you arrived? I would like to speak to you some more about the Death Realm, if you don't mind."

"I've already told you everything. I don't..." Aramara began to object, but the priestess cut her off.

"No child, I've already heard what you have to say. Now it is time for you to listen." She stopped and locked eyes with the fenki child, making sure of her full attention. Satisfied, Unamorel continued, her previous display of warmth now exchanged for a more severe disposition, "What happened to you... it may take some time for you to fully realize... but you've been changed. You are no longer who you once were. For whatever purpose, I am unsure, but you've been given a gift... a power. You're different now. Some might say, even... special."

This last word was conjoined with a quickly subdued smile. The priestess paused again to judge how the young fenki was following. Aramara offered no response, but her attention was rapt.

"It is my wish, child, to help you... to teach you... to train you, but I have some... obstructions to overcome. Soon your family will be here, and then you will leave. It is very likely that we will never see each other again. But I want you to know this... what happened to you... it makes you very special to me... to us. There may come a time when you meet someone who can help you, and in that case, you should wear this mark."

Unamorel reached into the grey folds of her robe and removed a small pouch, into which she dipped two fingers. When she withdrew them, they were covered in a thick red paste, with which she drew a line beginning from the top of Aramara's crown down to the tip of her nose. With this done, Aramara felt a satisfaction, a sense of completion deep inside of her. Cognitively, she was confused, but she accepted it thankfully nonetheless. Somehow she felt the priestess was right in doing so. With a dip of her head, she recalled words familiar to her, words of power uttered at the end of the Xiosian prayers customarily spoken by her mother, "So mote it be."

[Aramara Meibi]

Part 10

Excerpts from the journal of Brother Jamnin,

several curiosities arise in the study of the Death Realm regarding its denizens. In the course of my research I've personally encountered or have heard accounts of a number of phenomena which may be considered entities yet not living. The mystery behind their existence raises questions over the nature of life and death and the power of Dakkruist and the Dark Crystal.

In the land of the living, all life can be said to be possessed of some vital impulse, some animating energy which some faiths attribute Xiosia as the wellspring, others the Great Crystal. This force, at the individual level has been commonly termed 'spirit' or 'soul', and is said to imbibe within the gross body. This 'subtle body' can certainly be said to exist, but it's exact nature is elusive since it itself is directly unobservable. Yet, it's effects can be observed, and so indirectly its existence can be arrived at.

The question pertinent is the fate of the individual soul after death, True Death, when the link between material and subtle bodies is severed. Among the Devout, this link is known as the Mortal Coil and is said to bind a tripartite of body, mind, and spirit together into the living entity. Yet, I conjecture that this bond is not so easily split, and their must be some medium which pervades the expanse of the Death Realm upon which entities, or more so, remnants of entities, can still act upon, as evidenced by the accounts I have gathered as well as my own personal experience.

Normally, in death, as Dakkru's Gift to the kingdom of Yliakum, the Mortal Coil is retained, and the living entity is transported in its entirety to the Death Realm, retaining full rights and possibility of return. Indeed, one in this state cannot true lot said to be dead, yet still fully alive in a realm once removed. In True Death, it is believed that nothing remains of the once living, yet I put forward that there are varying degrees of death, that mind and spirit may still persist in the medium of the void. I have investigated many accounts of strange things encountered in the Death Realm, and these investigations lead me to this conclusion.

The phenomena can be classified into groups, starting with those which seem the least life-like. one doesn't have to venture too far into the murk of the abyssal expanse before they may have the experience of hearing voices. Many say that these or only the thoughts of the troubled traveller, magnified by the shear absence of sensory stimulation. But, I and others, have noted that these voices have a distinct quality from mere inner cognition. They exist externally from the mind, are disembodied, and of a distinct personality. They are indeed of the deceased, for if you have the courage to listen, they tell woeful tales of their lives lost, lamenting their very death. These entities as a group I've named 'Whisp' as a fitting description of the experience of this phenomena.

Some further notes on the nature of the  Whisp: one would be fortunate to encounter just one of these tortured souls, but it seems more than likely to encounter them in groups, as one may be suddenly bombarded from many of these wretched voices at once, as if walking through a cloud. For what reason they congregate as such is unknown but I surmise that they are attracted to the living as they wander blind in the murk, looking for a conscious ear to hear the sadness of their tale. These souls are utterly consumed by their misery, so absorbed in it that they come to identify with their pain. Perhaps, if one is able to find a sympathetic ear they will gain their freedom and at long last merge into Dakkru.

In a way increasing the substantiallity of the Whisp, one arrives at the second form of entity recorded in tales of the realm. The Shadow, like the Whisp, is a spiritual remnant of a being who once was, but the remnant of the Shadow is more a a visual trace rather than an audible one, although Shadows are typically reported to have an audible component. The Shadow image is fleeting, peripheral. It vanishes as soon as it appears, flickering in and out of ones vision. Again, similar to the Whisp, the Shadow seems to be attracted towards the living, haunting them with their presence. Unlike the Whisp, though, Shadows seem to find acquaintances, friends, or  family from the former life. Also unlike the Whisp, Shadows do not congregate and swarm their victims, but work in isolation, haunting their pursuits as individuals. It also seems that those who travel the Death Realm tormented by their past are more likely to attract these spirits. Typically, I hear stories of murderers being haunted by the images of their victims, or the grieving haunted by the images of their lost loves. More often than not, the visitation is painful, unpleasant, or otherwise unwelcome. shadows possess no real personality, instead being echoes of the past.

Note: the hauntings of Whisps and Shadows account for the majority of reports of people returning from the Death Realm without their wits. Usually, in these cases, the terror of the encounter continues to affect these poor sufferers, causing great harm to their mental functioning. Most are able to be remedied of this state through Azure Way therapy, but severe cases have been so far untreatable by all accounts.

Further note: there have been no verifiable cases of Spiritual entities such as Whisps or Shadows leaving the Death Realm and entering the Land of the Living. It has been theorized that their very existence is made possible through the ether of the void and the Dark Crystal's power over it. Dark Way practitioners have claimed to be able to summon such entities, but research lends us to believe that the entities summoned are composed of the dark ether, but have no correlation to people once deceased, and therefore do not fall under such categories. Likewise, investigation into reports of the possession of the the living by the deceased have revealed the workings of malevolent Dark Way and Azure Way mages.

Lastly, and most interestingly, there is the Spectre, a spectral remnant of the deceased. Unlike the two previous entities, spectres retain the full personality of the deceased, staying present minded, not subdued by the past. They exhibit cunning, planning, intelligence and will, making them as formidable encounters as they were in life. Because of their incorporeal nature though, they cannot inflict physical harm, although some have retained, or perhaps relearned, the ability to spell cast. Spectres have full knowledge and understanding of their state of being, most having elected willingly to give up their lives in Yliakum for eternity in the Death Realm. It is my conjecture even, that all those who die in the Death Realm meet this fate. Therefore, not all Spectres are dangerous, in fact many devout have chosen this state of existence in service of the Dark Goddess and her realm, acting as guides and informants. Some are even charged with the rescue of those haunted by Whisps and shadows. Others more independently natured scheme and act on their own, making passage through the realm that more dangerous. In all, their is a Spectral society in the Death Realm on par in terms of size and complexity with that of Yliakum

[Mariana Xiechai]

omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg Arastories.

* Mariana Xiechai settles in to read with a happy sigh.

[Aramara Meibi]

Less a story and more an info dump inspired by the DR expedition thread