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witchscauldronThe terrain is hillish - sort of rocky, deciduous trees, red earth, grasses dry and autumnal - all mixed. It's hot and very dry and everyone under this sun is thirsty. I am in a group, but not of anyone familiar. We split into twos and threes, to try to trek to a safe place higher in the hills, where it is cooler and water might still flow.
The problem becomes getting through a chunk of territory defended by a group of feral people, who have left their various societies to live together, for some reason. They make short walls of stone and earth in the shady, forested parts of the land, and seem to have water and wind that isn't like the breath of fire.
We slowly skirt the edges of these walls, trying not to alert anyone to our presence. But I can see the light in the center of these places, half-hidden in briar- small holes in the earth, welling up spirals of blue-green moisture and air, surrounded by stones of power. The forest spirits are all crying out - the walls block the energy from passing their boundaries. The people I am with don't seem to notice this, but know that the Earth is suffering.
I cross one of the walls, with my companion. She is agast, and terrified, but can now smell the water-energy in the air, and follows. Where I break the walls a red rune flares, glaring, and then fades again. I see nearby a empty brown hole, surrounded by dull stones, and move to it. Swiftly a man comes to us, bearing no weapon but menace and malice...we stop when he draws close. He is tall and strong, dark-skinned, golden-eyed. He challenges us, wishes to know if we are stupid or merely haven't heard that his people do not tolerate trespassers.
I ask who his people are. He curls his lip, patronizing me as he shows me his "colours". He flexes, somehow, and swirls of colour appear on his skin, mottled and iridescent. I smile. The "People of Colour", he says, are the rightful keepers of the gateways, and those who cannot see it, or manifest the brightness, are not welcome. I tell him the forest spirits are dying - he says they are preserving the energy until those without the gifts are gone, and only the Awakened remain to await the return of the deities.
I am still bemused. My companion has slowly snuck away, terrified of the colours blossoming across his dark flesh. The warrior does not seem to have noticed. I ask him "Why do you think that the Gods are gone?". He says it has long been so...no-one can activate the gateways anymore, even though many have tried. I offer to try for him...he says he can see that my soul is white, and without colour. I laugh now, letting wings flare - Raven and Phoenix unfold together, and the colours that bloom on my skin swirl with the blue and green of the gateway. My heart can been seen clearly through my chest, and the energy coils down my arms and over my hands.
He drops to his knees when the dead gate at my feet opens, and weeps.
The problem becomes getting through a chunk of territory defended by a group of feral people, who have left their various societies to live together, for some reason. They make short walls of stone and earth in the shady, forested parts of the land, and seem to have water and wind that isn't like the breath of fire.
We slowly skirt the edges of these walls, trying not to alert anyone to our presence. But I can see the light in the center of these places, half-hidden in briar- small holes in the earth, welling up spirals of blue-green moisture and air, surrounded by stones of power. The forest spirits are all crying out - the walls block the energy from passing their boundaries. The people I am with don't seem to notice this, but know that the Earth is suffering.
I cross one of the walls, with my companion. She is agast, and terrified, but can now smell the water-energy in the air, and follows. Where I break the walls a red rune flares, glaring, and then fades again. I see nearby a empty brown hole, surrounded by dull stones, and move to it. Swiftly a man comes to us, bearing no weapon but menace and malice...we stop when he draws close. He is tall and strong, dark-skinned, golden-eyed. He challenges us, wishes to know if we are stupid or merely haven't heard that his people do not tolerate trespassers.
I ask who his people are. He curls his lip, patronizing me as he shows me his "colours". He flexes, somehow, and swirls of colour appear on his skin, mottled and iridescent. I smile. The "People of Colour", he says, are the rightful keepers of the gateways, and those who cannot see it, or manifest the brightness, are not welcome. I tell him the forest spirits are dying - he says they are preserving the energy until those without the gifts are gone, and only the Awakened remain to await the return of the deities.
I am still bemused. My companion has slowly snuck away, terrified of the colours blossoming across his dark flesh. The warrior does not seem to have noticed. I ask him "Why do you think that the Gods are gone?". He says it has long been so...no-one can activate the gateways anymore, even though many have tried. I offer to try for him...he says he can see that my soul is white, and without colour. I laugh now, letting wings flare - Raven and Phoenix unfold together, and the colours that bloom on my skin swirl with the blue and green of the gateway. My heart can been seen clearly through my chest, and the energy coils down my arms and over my hands.
He drops to his knees when the dead gate at my feet opens, and weeps.
