Month: July 2024

The Journal of Morwyn mac Tíre

<- Eyes in the Storm | Children of the Blood ->

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More needed done after the violence with idiot children bandits and speaking to the sad Small God trapped beneath the earth, before we could leave and rest. The taken had to be done with. We should have just scattered them and let fate and gods take the foolish. No, Enzidh and Azah bickered like old wives about putting them to a blade or into cages and we talked to them all. Dragged out every story from them.

Rgg. It was the right thing to do. Sort the rot from the unspoiled. But so many words and so many stories that wound around and through me like thorned vines. All these braying two-leg herds are so tiring.

The innocent and the foolish were sent home. The less spoiled were thrown to the winds with warnings. The sinners and the unpardonable met Enzidh‘s sword. One went willingly, burdened by sins unspoken. Looked her in the eyes as she snuffed him out.

None were caged. It was the right thing to do, but why does it feel so wearisome. Why do I need to tell myself that?

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Returned to Brolko after that, Erissin-irelum carried by Enzidh. Nitra-izisakh went her own path, wished her well. Bridiyya-namirska remained to free Ky’trrix, both would follow the next day to heal the sicked wife. Did not notice talk on the road, thoughts still stained by the thorny words and bloody ends of the taken bandits.

Brolko was bright. Sheriff was wrangling new deputies, glad that the bandits are gone but conflicted. Some old tangle of connection with dead Cormund, now severed and lost. Still seemed glad to see us. A strange feeling to be wanted, to be celebrated. Still too many voices. Lingered at the fringe, felt safer there.

Tried to rest. Good food helped but hunger remained. Sleep never came, driven off by every sound loud as screams and every scent burning. Everything howled and my blood sang with it. Had to get out, had to be free, had to hunt.

The rest is a broken mirror. Jagged fragments of memories drowned in night and blood. Killing a rodent thing and eating it blood-hot. Vivian-bhakhiir finding me devouring my prize. Hunting with her. Raking the eyes and splitting the belly of a water horse before getting tossed half-broken into mud and dust. The fire in my blood guttered out, engulfed by fog of shame and emptiness. Not at the pain but the loss of control. Why?

I remember running free like that before. Long ago. How long ago? I don’t know… After the silver light and before I saw myself and knew myself. Before I knew my name. I am myself. I am Morwyn mac Tíre. That’s what matters. I am me and I am free. Why do I feel shame for being free?

Vivian-bhakhiir guided me back to myself and my place of rest. She was kind, offered to hunt with me again. I will, in time. Urum da takus.

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Finally was able to sleep after all. A few hours of dreams and tangled visions. Amahanam Iduth poured their light into my soul and I remember only fragments. Burning green stars and silver fire flowing like blood and the world writhing beneath its skin. And a word as bright and loud as screaming sunlight but gone before I could remember it.

Spent the rest of the night carving. Needed to make something of the water-horse teeth. Something for the pack. I do not know how long we will linger together, something for them to remember me by, for their kindness and company.

A butterfly for flitting changeable Lishan-azah. A falcon striking prey for deadly-sharp Leera-ninna. A sword-shape like moon-crescent and grass-blade for noble Hatsuko-enzidh, that she may know why. A sharp gemstone blade-shape for brilliant Charlotte-zaazi. A paw and flashing claws ready to strike for kind-sharp Vivian-bhakhiir. A ribbon-shape of wolf and magpie wings for Erissin-irelum and her wives.

Worked through until dawn on those, carving dreamshapes into ivory. Felt good to create with my claws. Felt clean, like I had cleaned the last remnant echoes of death from them.

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Was finishing the carving in the common room of the inn when word rose of strange arrivals – Bridiyya-namirska and Ky’trrix. No violence or harm, Brolko too sleepy and confused. Ky’trrix got his crackers and cider, then helped Reane’s sickened wife. Freed her of a dream-curse that was eating her from within before they birthed new agyamut like it. Unpleasant end, good she was saved.

Remainder of the morning was spent with too many people. Talking. Trading. Shopping… rrgg… Something interesting broken the sea of grey, someone invisible tried to steal from a trader when I was buying wine, smelled like zaazi but why would she do that?

Gave the carvings to the pack when they stopped talking to all the people. Do not know what they think. Hope they liked or understood. Afraid they do not and think me buying their kindness or am sentimental and foolish. Fool old wolf! Gifts are gifts, not for any other reason.

Just as I was writing this, Zaazi gave me a gift. I did not expect that. Very kind. Embroidered a design of wolf and moon onto my cloak. Beautiful delicate needleworking. I will treasure it. Foolish old wolf, maybe they do enjoy your company…

The Journal of Morwyn mac Tíre

This is a collected list of the odd terms Morwyn has used in her journal or in RP sessions, along with any known or implied meanings.

• Agyamut-ka (Old Ones?) – Written about when discussing the source of Cormund’s magic and the appearance of beings from the Astral Sea
• Ama – Appears to be a name of a being of veneration. Thanked for a dreamless night after fighting aartuks and Cormund’s bandits for the first time.
• Amahanam Iduth – Appears to be an object of veneration or worship. Invoked for protection of Szabina.
• Arrathag – Written about the rod of stone that cursed Reane’s wife. May be an angy epithet.
• Azah (butterfly) – Nickname for Lishan.
• Bhakiir – Nickname for Vivian.
• Enzidh – Nickname for Hatsuko.
• Farasmirska – Used to refer to the wyverns.
• Gauru – Morwyn’s term for her werewolf form.
• Haremehir – Morwyn’s term for the rumbling, growling language that she speaks. A dialect of the Terran form of Primordial.
• Harzu thimir – Said to Lishan and Charlotte when asked about her past. Means something similar to ‘I don’t know’ but not specifically.
• Izi-guth – Written about burning aartuks.
• Izisakh – Nickname for Nitra Glizzy.
• Irelum – Nickname for Erissin Minn.
• Irmirska – Nickname for Drashi.
• Iduth Isihar – A person or group Morwyn suspects may have made the tomb that sealed Didel away
• Kul kusura udmeda – Written about the saving of Gryffa from the farmhouse destroyed by aartuks. Seems to be expressing approval of wise or honourable action.
• Mirskazisu – Used to refer to the snake-horse Selesnya.
• Namirska – Nickname for Bridiyya Saxus.
• Ninna – Nickname for Leera.
• Ninnisu – Reference to her urge to hunt.
• Nusir innakh – Said in admiration when Lishan, Hatsuko and Erissin’s complex relationship seemed to be brewing to romance.
• Rahag kuthuu. Thi sah kathar – Angry words written as she wrote about Charles Zp’pt’s “On the Question of Gender” and felt herself falling into Rage.
• Urum da takus – Said when thinking about hunting again with Vivian.
• Wasu-im – Some part of her Rage, the name she uses for both her metamorphic abilities and the deep well of anger that fuels them.
• Zaazi (Gem-soul): Nickname for Charlotte

The Journal of Morwyn mac Tíre

<- Desert Fires | Blood and Gifts ->

Attempts at stealth and surprise failed. Ironic, only things worth merit in this broken child-fort ruin were the locks on cages. Freeing Nitra-izisakh raised alarm and the hunt became a storm. Most children-playing-bandits were too dull-witted to fight, but numbers were on their side and some were still capable of violence.

Lean rogues with fiery whips and brutes with fists of arcano-steel burned and battered Lishan-ninna, Charlotte-zaazi and I before they fell to arrow and needle-precise blades and shadow claws. Still hurt. A lot. Ribs broken. Only anger and adrenaline kept me standing, alive but sharper and keener than before. The Rage swirled under my skin, clawing to get out with new ferocity.

Cormund duelled with Hatsuko-enzidh and Erissin-irelum and Lishan-azah. Good, three women teaching the brute man the flaw of his lies in the only language he understands. His maul was brutal as he, left bloody bone-cracked wounds with each blow. Azah nimbleness and shining new shield kept her safe. Enzidh was made of iron and silver, almost breaking the maul on her tenacity.

Stole Cormund’s eyes from him with a weave of moonless night. He grew new ones that hung in the air like spoiled fruit and hurled baleful magic, but it was not enough. Scythed and carved by enzidh‘s wind-grass sword, finished by zaazi‘s nimble stroke. He died as he lived under the shadow of that soulkilling book, worthlessly spitting impotent hatred. Good. Should burn his body before the venom poisons the soil.

Remaining bandits surrendered or fled with his death and the storm ended. Found our breath again. Wounds tended and healed. Discussion was had about what to do with those taken. They should be checked. Victims of Cormund and the venom of that book must be found and saved. The rest go to the winds. They fed on the weak, let them be weak. Fate will decide if they live or die.

Met the cause of the foolish children’s dull-wittedness. Bridiyya Saxus. Tiny dragon lady, the one who traded the cursed rod to the sickened wife in Brolko. She poisoned the bandits’ food and stole their wits, then burned some with lightning as we fought the rest. Explorer of history. Could not speak a common tongue with most of the pack, but Nitra-izisakh translated. She knew of the tunnels beneath, ruins and secrets. The place where the Small God lies? The hunt must go there, cut such tumours out of the world’s flesh.

Erissin-irelum and Hatsuko-enzidh had a true reunion. Old lovers beautifully reunited. Tension with azah. Words lead to charm and truths and yearning bubbling forth like fresh blood. A marking of sorts – not a wedding, not yet – as Erissin took both enzidh and azah as her own in a ritual of dominance and love, with ribbon and knife and arcane power. Marked them as hers and wound the skeins of their souls in her hands. Felt warm and charmed by the display. Good to see such bright moments even in a dark place of ruins after a storm.

Took the chance while gathering the remains of the dead to collect materials from my kills. Something to remember this storm by. Somethings to remember this pack for. I have ideas for what to make.

After a rest we descended into the darkness beneath the broken fort, guided by Bridiyya-namirska. She spoke of tombs to great dragons beneath the earth and the fool children had spoken of Cormund finding ruins under their fort. Likely the same.

Tension lifted along the way. Azah and Zaazi refound connection. Relieved that the pack is coming together. Am unused to spending much time with others. It is pleasant but it hurts when they fight. They asked about the words, could not explain that they are my thoughts. Other words get stuck like bones sometimes, choke me when I try to speak. Azah asked of my past and I told her of the silver light and seeing my face. Don’t know why I did that. The butterfly is charming but promised now. And tension remains. Who was I Before?

After a great chasm we found the tomb. Bridiyya-namirska named it the resting place of Burrathix, the Sky Sailor, a great blue dragon. It was pretty in a haunted way, but the tomb was empty. Nothing. No remains. But we were not alone.

Something was lurking above us far beyond any sight except Leera-ninna‘s keen eyes. A wet voice burbled in our minds, afraid to come out until weapons were put away. Convinced it to come out with directness. No harm intended, just curiosity. It did not feel like a threat. It was Cormund’s patron, the small god he found beneath the world and gained power from, and it was not monstrous but piteous, lonely and sun-starved and hungry.

The being – Ky’trrix – told us everything in exchange for a promise to get it out of the cold tunnels beneath the earth. Poor creature only offered Cormund power because he promised it freedom. It was disgusted by his hate and venom and upset that he had never completed his duty. So I made the promise. No cages.

Ky’trrix had been sent to the area to break the structures of society by a manticore being more than a half-century ago. It had found the tomb and the remains of the dead great dragon, had eaten them and had grown too large to leave. So it had been alone down there for decades until Cormund found it. It just wanted out, to feel the sun on its skin and drink cider and eat normal food.

Bridiyya-namirska will use magic to shrink it enough to leave, and it will help her find another tomb to a dragon-god as apology for eating her sacred treasures then flee to its home beyond the moons before the Aartuk find it. Not the small god I expected. It wished to eat crackers, not souls or terror or manflesh. Not all agyamut need be burned from the world. Not all ‘monsters’ are monsters.

I will think about this as I sing this tale to the moons tonight.