“You know,” She said a few minutes later, her spell still active around us. “The ancient Pervolins use to name their children after personal traits they exhibited as they grew up.”
“What's a Pervolin?” I asked.
“Whats a...?” her voice grew in tone as her mood grew in exasperation. “A… a… Do you not know why you are here meathead?! Co’le’thel’ka promised me you had been told what your mission is, and, yeah, I just checked. You have the quest.”
“Yeah, I know I’m supposed to help a bunch of people who are not fully human find a new home or something, but what is a Pervolin? No one has told me about them yet.”
“The, the Pervolins were once a great people. I’ve never seen any Grand Pervolins myself, they were the pure-blooded from their original homeworld. But what I’ve heard about them could fill libraries. Histories of their wars, political struggles, religions, cults, secret combinations, the cataclysms they crafted, stopped, and survived, and their grandest successes and marvelous works of magic, architecture, and crafting were known by a thousand planets across a hundred creations.” As Ailsa spoke she spun around me in her normal loops, but in a slower more deliberate fashion, as if she sought to be reverent as she spoke of the Pervolins.
“From the stories that the ancient fae mothers tell they loved nature in all its forms. They grew mighty cities from great trees and carved cathedrals to their gods out of the highest of mountain stone. They dug deep to find the most beautiful of gems and hung them on silver moonlight spun into string and melded with the most precious of metals. They built cities among kelp and sea salt, grew them from the coral and shale under their home world's oceans. And some stories say they even found a way to build upon the clouds themselves. Though, that is among the more fanciful legends about them.”
Ailsa began to spin and fly around me faster as the story progressed. Light began to flow in streaks behind her, the purple light from her concealment spell bleeding into and mixing with the white light that seemed to trail her, and I thought at times, as my imagination spurred by the words of her story mixed with the sparks and streaks of light, that I saw tall, elegant humanoid figures dancing, fighting, laughing, and building. They were silhouettes living life in a way purer then I had ever thought possible.
“They were a kind and benevolent people for eons. Or so the stories tell. They guarded their world against all incursions with the most powerful of spells, and their faith was the most unshakeable of any species of mortal beings that has ever graced any creation. Though, some might not have called them mortal at all, as a divine spark lay in each of their hearts. They warded many worlds that had not the power to protect themselves, and they often went to war for the freedom and security of those far lesser than themselves.” The white light from Ailsa’s dizzyingly fast movements began to dim slightly. Her movements slowed, and she was silent for a long moment, as if reluctant to continue with the story as she silently drifted around me.
“What happened to them” I dared to ask, my voice small and filled with an emotion I hadn’t noticed.
As if waiting for that very question Ailsa responded with the recitation of something read and memorized long ago.“They fell. They fell through blasphemies so black as to make the void itself weep at their sins. No one knows exactly why, or how, or when, but the holy and wholesome people that were once the Pervolins fell into darkness and gave into hate. Some say they saw the truth of the universe and went mad, others that some great leader conquered them and turned them to his own purpose. The truth is, not even the gods we serve really know.” Ailsa’s voice was a deeply rich alto and reminded me of the playing of a long and clear note from a violin, her words strung together like notes of a sorrowful and soulful song.
“The hatred they embraced twisted them, broke them, and reformed them into something fouler than the deepest of black. It is said that in all of the multiverse no new thoughts are thought, that no new songs are sung as time is infinite and so are the many creations in it, but there, on Pervolin, were born new sins, sins so grave as to turn the stomach of even the foulest of fallen.” Ailsa slowed down and all of the light from her odd performance dissipated. “I don’t have time to finish the story, perhaps tonight before you sleep?” I just nodded, somewhat stunned from it all.
“As I was saying, the Pervolin, the true Pervolin, not the corrupted ones that came later, use to name their children after attributes that they exhibited in youth. If you don’t like any of the names Co’le’thel’ka or I picked out, and you are too much of a meathead to come up with your own, then that might be your guide. It is a practice that some humans use in the western peninsula.”
“What are those people like?” I asked giving the idea some real consideration.
“Weeeell” She dragged the word out for about a second or two longer than needed. “They are generally thought of as barbarian types by the Torish.”
I shook my head “no way, I can’t do that. While it would be cool to go around named Candor or something, I need a name that will at the very least be seen neutrally by the Torish, who I am assuming are going to make up the majority of the people I’ll be trying to guide. Right?” The fairy nodded and bobbed up and down as she did. Stopping myself from laughing, I continued “So no names that would make me seem like a backwoods hick.” I thought about it some more, I asked Ailsa about a few biblical names, and while some of them had analogs in Torish, most of them came with some kind of political or social stigma attached to them. I looked down at the tiny cart as it swayed back and forth and it clicked.
“I got it!” I said “How about, Rayid? It means Pioneer in Arabic, that's another language from my home I’ve studied a little bit, and a pioneer is basically going to be my job for the foreseeable future. From what I understand from looking at the linguistics of the different regions none of them have anything like it, so it will be new and carry virtually no political or social baggage. What do you think?”
“That actually doesn’t completely suck human,” she said, again bobbing up and down as she circled around me. “Not bad for a meathead like you,” I smirked, I knew she was impressed, she just didn’t want to show it for fear I would get a big head. Well, too late fairy, I thought to myself I am RAYID! As I thought the name, it filled in the blinking box. A massive “ACCEPT” button appeared under it and I thought Yes .
“Congratulations on this your naming day, Rayid of House Tear! Welcome to Ethria, may your life here be as prosperous as your life elsewhere ever was!”
This prompt was different, with a gold and royal purple theme. A different booming voice that seemed to shake the ground under the cart read it aloud in my mind, it was distinctly different from the voices I had experienced before, and seemed magnitudes more powerful and present. “What did you do meathead!” came the shrill and diminutive voice of my fairy guide. I minimized the box, and immediately another one appeared.
“Congratulations! As a gift upon this momentous occasion, Ethria itself grants your race a boon!”
I tried minimizing the second notification as soon as I finished reading it, and before the announcing voice finished, but it didn’t close. Finally, when the voice finished reading, it minimized.
“Congratulations! You have been granted a single Boon by the spirit of Ethria itself! As the first and only member of your race to come to Ethria you receive the Trait, Unlimited Potential as your Boon. Unlimited Potential: You will be able to learn any form of magic, skill, or ability native to Ethria. Know This: Unlimited Potential synergies with aspects of each of your 3 Cosmic Gifts. The full effects of which will probably never be fully discovered. Current synergies known for “Gift of Tongues”: None. Current synergies known for “Eldritch Knowledge”: None. Current synergies known for “Mysterious Stranger”: None. Know this: Being able to learn magic, and being skilled in its use and application, are different things. Apply yourself to learning a form of magic and you will succeed. Eventually. Welcome to Ethria, Earthling.”
By
the end of the tirade of powerful booming noise that filled my mind, my head was throbbing. I minimized the last prompt and gave myself a full two minutes before I felt like I could speak again without splitting my brain open to the air around me. Apparently, Ailsa was suffering similar effects to what I was going through, and she sat on my shoulder not saying a word and holding her head as if in pain. When the world stopped spinning long enough for me to look around, the purple haze of Ailsa’s spell was gone, and the world had returned to normal.
“That… hurt…” Was all I heard from Ailsa as she silently crawled on top of my head. I winced slightly, but it looked like I was recovering faster then she was. I felt her cover her face in my hair, and go quickly back to sleep as she had before.
I turned my thoughts back to what I was doing and turned around to look at the driver. “So, Riggil. I haven’t told you my name. Let me correct that.” The older man turned to look at me over his shoulder. “My name is Rayid.” The old man nodded in thanks. “So, to pick up our conversation where we left off, what were you doing before you ran into me? Were you picking something up? Or dropping something off?” Riggil smiled at me, he was missing a few teeth in his grin, but he didn’t seem self-conscious about it.
“Well, I was dropping off some firewood for sale at the twins market. Wood is really the only thing that comes out of Cutters Hollow you know. The wood harvesters are only allowed to cut on the southern side of the river naturally, as the forest to the north is infested with elves. But there's more than enough work for us cutters on the south side of the river. And there should be more than enough work for a brave young traveler like yourself. That reminds me, I had a grandson that left home to be a traveler, something I had always wanted to do…” The older man turned back towards the road and kept talking. As Riggil’s voice droned on, I leaned my back on the rail, lifted my feet back into the cart, and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 4: The Barbarian And The Elves
“He was the sort of person who stood on mountain tops during thunderstorms in copper armor yelling ‘All the gods are bastards.’” - Terry Pratchett
Northeast of the Twins, along the northern border of Tor. Frega, 23rd, 2987 AoR
The cart jostled me awake sometime later. “Ugh” came a fairy voice from just above my head. “What is it?” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and pulled myself back up to a sitting position.
“Riggil, where are we?” I asked stretching. I received a satisfying pop along my spine in response.
“Somewhere further west along the road, Rayid. I thought that the lack of buildings would have tipped you off. I guess not all travelers are the observant type.” He said the last under his breath, but still loud enough for me to hear it over the creaking of the cart. “It’s good you wake Rayid” he continued. “Here,” he gestured around the cart. Thick woods surrounded us on both sides of the road, large hills that sloped into mountains were still visible towering over the trees to the south. “Is where we face the greatest chance of running into bandits, or angry elves.”
“Wait,” I said as I adjusted my leather harness, jerkin, and sword belt, which had all twisted slightly out of place as I slept. “I thought you said the elves were cool with the woodcutters working on the southern side of the river.”
“Cool? Well, they certainly don’t have the warmest disposition towards our little town and the work we do, that is true. But for the most part, they don’t mind it too much. We have an agreement you know. Nothing as fancy as those southern lords and their treaties, but it's served us well over the years.” I thought about what he said.
Freaking idioms, I thought to myself . Of course he would take it wrong. Really gotta watch those going forward.
Riggil continued talking “Even though we have an agreement, not all of them pointy ears are happy with it. Sometimes some of the younger elves like to come over here and stir up trouble. It's usually just pranks like setting wood chips on fire to make it look like the forest is ablaze, stealing the woodcutters' axes and hiding them in the tallest trees, or covering the sawmills blade with mud. Usually, a good talking too by the guards, a night in the jail followed by a council with their parents, is enough to prevent further trouble from the rascals. At least for a while.” The elderly man chuckled at some memory I wasn’t privy to before continuing.
“But, sometimes they take their pranks a little too far, a pair of them killed one of farmer Burts milking cows about a month ago, and almost caused a stampede into town. Could have killed someone if the sheriff hadn’t been along the road looking for bandits, and headed them off in time. The elves paid for the cow of course, but the entire affair has put everyone a bit on edge.”
That’s perhaps, the most boring and mundane inciting event for a plot I have ever heard . I thought sarcastically rolling my eyes behind the elderly man’s back. At least it isn’t “wolves are infesting the forest, please kill six of them to make the forest safer” I thought to myself.
“Of course” the old man continued “they’re not the only problem in the woods. There are bears in the forest, they usually don’t bother us much, but if the bandits and elves keep spooking them and invading the matriarchs dens when they have cubs, well, it tends to lead to a good mauling or two. Usually the bandits, but sometimes it's herders and farmers who weren’t hurting anyone, just minding their own business in The Clearing.”
Spoke too soon , I chided myself. And bears? That's way worse than wolves, particularly mama bears with cubs, messing with those is basically suicide. Don’t do it old man, don’t do it...
“You know, I’m sure if you go speak to the mayor he could arrange a bounty of bear pelts. Kill a few of the bear matriarchs, get them to go back up into the mountains rather than staying here, and there will probably be a goodly reward.” A small notification window opened with a prompt telling me about the potential for the quest. I minimized it without either rejecting or accepting and continued to listen. I got a little text box saying the quest was added to my “quest list.” I’ll have to look that up later.
“I know you traveler types like that kind of thing. Don’t understand it myself, messing with a matriarch bear raising cubs, even one of the small razorbacks, is only a little better than suicide. Might as well go jump off a cliff, would be less painful.”
“That would depend on how high the cliff is” I quipped back.
The old man laughed and turned his attention back to the road, “Too true, too true.” he said and flicked the lead in his hand, eliciting a faster pace from the plodding and emaciated pony. After I finished wrestling with my jerkin and gear and finally got it all straightened out I sat up and watched the woods in front of the cart, scanning first north, then south. I caught my attention slipping a few times and had to shake myself in an effort to stay awake and alert.
As time passed the trees grew thicker in number and taller in stature. The underbrush grew more and more wild, thick shrubbery bushes with large brown thorns seemed to crowed the road on the north side, and to the south wild grass as thick as a lions mane rose to just above the cart's undercarriage.The old man was right, I thought to myself, this is the perfect place for an ambush by bandits or predators.
“Hey Riggil, how long does this thick forest last?” I asked, my voice breaking the oppressive hush that surrounded us. The only sound other than the creaking of the wheels and the breathing of Riggil, the pony, and myself was the soft brushing of the wind through the thick gasses or the creaking the same stiff breeze coaxed out of the thorny brambles.
“Only a bit more, then it thins a little before we hit The Clearing. There are a few farms there where we can find succor if we don’t get to the town before nightfall. We don’t want to be on the road, even in the clearing, after nightfall.”
“Why’s that?” I asked confused as I sat on my knees surveying the tall grass to the south, the thick thorny bramble bushes providing adequate protection to the north. I watched for changes in the pattern as the wind softly moved the g
rass, places where the grass wasn’t as high, or where the swaying seemed to slow or stop unexpectedly. I found nothing.
“The clearing is safe from bears, but some of the more desperate bandits sometimes get that close to town. The tall grass continues on into the clearing and so they use that to hide in, but a watchful eye can usually catch 'em before they get close enough to be a real threat.”
So this tall grass continues in the clearing? I thought to myself. I had originally thought that the grass needed the trees in some way to survive. I can see how even without the trees it could be dangerous, if I were to stand in it the grass it would probably come up to just above my waist.
Our journey continued onward in silence for another few hours with no real change, it was one constant landscape of thickly wooded tree canopy above, with thick bramble bushes on one side, and tall grass that seemed to swallow the roots and trunks of the trees that they surrounded on the other. Ailsa would occasionally dart away into the thick grass zoom around and get some of her energy out of it. It eventually became a game of hide and seek between the two of us, which helped me stay alert and awake. Riggil, if he was bothered by the fact that a random fairy had appeared and begun playing hide and seek with his guard, didn’t show it. When Ailsa had gotten bold enough to try and hide in a beehive, and then ran for her life when the swarm took a decidedly negative view, Riggil simply laughed.
“Oh, it does my heart good to see a fairy in Ethria again. It has been so long since they were seen. My old granddad use to tell tales of how they use to live in the forest with the elves just south of the twins long before even his great granddad was born. He use to tell of how the fairies were the kindest of Fae and found it possible to live among us mortals despite being so different.” He turned and looked at me, as my little purple fairy used a spell to conceal herself from the angry swarm as she hid in a tree up ahead of us, and the swarm slowly returned to its home, unable to find their quarry.
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