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story, the third
The young man found other things to occupy his time for some years.
That is not the point of this story.
One day he got a call from the home where the old woman lived.
Somehow he was listed as a contact for emergencies.
She had been found out wandering. She was attempting to feed a carrot to a
petrol pump in an attempt to coax it into giving her a ride to visit her lost love.
“Dementia”, they said.
“How did she get out?”, the man asked.
“There was a fire. She wandered away in the confusion.”
“Is she alright now?”
“She is very distraught. Suffered some burns and pretty bad cuts.
Lots of bruising around her hands and neck.
She is even more incoherent than she was before.
She keeps repeating the same words over and over.
‘Ils ont pris mon couer.’”
For a long time the young man didn’t know what to do.
That is until some mountain climbers and an heiress carved through
the storm’s heart. Look where we all find ourselves now.
Guess who doesn’t have their pet meteorological event to
be their guard dog anymore?
Those who directed the Storm are not going to get away with this.
Magic isn’t that far off technology. It’s powerful, but
it has the same limits. The people who use it.
Three simple phishing attempts, one pair of forged credentials
and a good browbeating later, and one of their underlings
prepared to move some of their precious artefacts to
a new research lab. Not a single spell need be cast.
Five items, including one plain, costume jewelry necklace
left their vault and simply vanished on route to
their destination. They haven’t been seen since.
It seems the “young man”, if I wish to keep up this pretense,
underestimated the greed of those he worked with to waylay the packages.
The Heart of Chaos must never be locked away in their vaults again.
There is a plan winding its way through the hidden corners of Neithernor.
If you have come this far and you wish to help see a wrong set right then
you can find me there.
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a story ][
“Wonders without end” was how she frequently described what she saw.
The young man listened to dozens of these stories before he realized
she believed all these companions to be one in the same.
Their adventures seemed to string on forever, until the day
she begged her companion to come back to the mundane with her.
She never wanted to be without them.
Perhaps because it was novel.
Perhaps out of sentiment the companion agreed.
Upon return to her meager rooms she found herself standing aside
a simple, plain man, no older than her.
They spent the night together talking, dreaming
and no doubt doing other things the young man would rather not envision
of the elderly storyteller.
In the morning the winds rose, and the sky shook.
A storm had descended upon them.
Lightning crashed through windows.
Thunder split their skulls.
As the pair sprinted for the door
a singular bolt struck out, and the man pushed his
love to safety, taking the blow full in the chest.
He fell through the open door as she lost consciousness.
She awoke days later in the hospital.
Once she was released she ran home to see what lay beyond the door.
When she emerged into the land all she found on the other side
was a single, beautiful necklace, made of rubies and sapphires.
As she reached to touch it, it’s luster faded into a cheap piece
of costume jewelry. It was still beautiful to her.
The old woman never went back to those lands.
Soon she found herself with child, and the enormous weight
of life conspired to keep her in the mundane.
But she claimed the cheap necklace she wore was one
and the same as the one she found. She never took it off.
“Is it magic?”, the young man snidely asked once.
“Oh yes”, came her response. “I used it only once but never again.
With this necklace one can be anyone, anything, and deceive everyone.
With this necklace you can be the last thing anyone expects, or the first thing
to surprise them. With this necklace, you can be Chaos."
“If it’s that powerful, why did you only use it once?”
"Because this is my heart, and I cannot bear to see it break any more than it already has."
She showed the young man the back of the necklace.
There was a single, long crack through it, and inside the crack could be seen a strange light.
It was only then he truly believed her.
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Just one word
Seven brave Mountaineers
crossing the river Styx.
one fell down and broke his crown
and then there were six.
Six wise Mountaineers
just trying to survive
one burst into flames
And then there were five.
Five brilliant Mountaineers
stood at Hell’s front door
one faded into mere legend
and then there were four
Four crafty Mountaineers
oh wait the sixth lives once more
a thousand blows from mad Goths later
and now we’re back to four
Four crafty Mountaineers
feel like they have done this before
one fell into disrepair
the fourth is now no more
Three guiding Mountaineers
wondering what to do
one was torn apart to build a citadel
and now we’re down to two
Two weary Mountaineers
just want this to be done
Anatolian rocks fall and Caria’s Kral rests no more
and then there was one
One lonely Mountaineer
resigned to its fate
Surprise! this one never died
It is still doing Great.
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a story
I’d like to tell you a story, if you’ll forgive the indulgence.
If you like I’ll even promise some of it is true.
Once upon a time, there was a woman.
She was old, alone and seemingly insane.
There was also a handsome young man, made to visit her.
“Ophellia Margarette Winchester of the great House Baymor!” was how
she always introduced herself. Each time with a more elaborate flourish.
The nurses figured she was once an actress given her wild imagination.
Every week for years the young man visited the old woman.
Every visit she told him a new story of her past.
Not a one made a lick of sense.
The first story was the most grounded.
On the day of her eighteenth birthday.
The day she was to wed someone she absolutely detested.
She had found a place, a secret place only she could go.
“A knock brought me there”, she insisted.
She arrived in a forest, at the foot of a great tree.
After a few minutes she heard singing on the breeze.
“Someone to play with at last!
Tell me! Tell me!
What do you want to see?
Tell me! Tell me!
What do you want me to be?”
She thought she was imagining things. Maybe even dreaming.
So she asked for the most ostentatious thing she could think of.
"A necklace of rubies and sapphires for me!
That is what I want you to be!"
She was enjoying this game.
The wind laughed, giddy that she was playing along.
As the air stilled, from behind a nearby tree came a tiny kitten.
It rubbed against her leg and purred, and abandoning her
dream of jewels, she played with the kitten the rest of the day.
Many, many times she visited the land.
She had runaway from her mundane life to live alone and walk among the forest.
Every time she did she found a new companion.
She travelled once with a dashing swashbuckler.
An old crone.
Her own sister.
The son she never had
A white pony with a pink mane.
A wise crab.
Seven small rocks orbiting an eighth.
Ferdinand Magellan.
Even once with her own self.
These adventures all centered around exploring, and playing
tricks on the foul creatures that inhabited parts of this world.
“Les branleurs d’Argent”, she called them.
They seemed like quite the buffoons.
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Cold be ice and cold be graves
Cold be not those Chaos faves
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