| Logs |
2010 October 10
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Bough Logs |
Seventh Movement, Entre'acte
The airship docks are busy, with more than a few comings-and-goings, with bells and shouts and calls. The docks are as busy as those at Thebes and Babylon, if smaller; this is clearly a somewhat major trade port for this region of the Dreamtime.
Aelfar seem to be rather numerous here, in both "light" and "dark" varieties, and seem to match humans -- both mortal and aethyr -- in numbers. The clothing is more distinctive than that of the Winter Palace, though; it all has a very Nineteenth Century flavor (whatever that means) with some very dramatically baroque military uniforms on the part of the city and castle guards. They seem to be leaving most of the tradesmen alone, however, and none of the ship crews seem particularly wary of the guards.
Throughout it all, Yggdrasil looms over everything, dwarfing the mountain valley that Neuschwanstein is set in. It almost seems unreal, the way it towers high into the sky, being lost into the clouds. Raphael glances at the looming Worlds-Ash now and then, but other than a vague disquiet, does not make mention of it; instead he pays more attention to the scroll that Saladin gave Mikal.
The instructions are -- relatively -- straightforward. This many steps, or this long, in this direction, find that marker and change direction.... There are numerous warnings and notes, however, and some of the directions are esoteric -- walking backward at times, or taking specific steps to the side, or touching a particular rock before moving on. Considering that Neuschwabenland is in the Deep Wyld, these are probably -- the mortals surmise -- markers left when Neuschwabenland was first formed here in the Dreamtime.
Mikal glances up at the huge World-Tree, then gets Raphael's help in re-arranging her clothing. When she's done, she looks like a small Norse boy: embroidered, fur-lined woolen cloak over layered tunics, loose trousers tucked into sturdy boots. Her gorytus is the only anomalous note, slung to hang on her hip shoulder. She murmurs quietly to the big raptor-wolf, "Glad we have horses and Iron Antlers. This is going to be a while, I suspect."
Norris feels sympathy for Raph. The most enigmatic of the group...only Mikal knows well his feelings regarding this whole mess, and even for her, he's sure the wolf keeps much of his feelings buried. Tapping into Hephaestus's memory, the smith-god didn't know the Norse pantheon well, though he knows of the stories told of the Lie-Smith. Of course, he also knows of the stories told of his mother, and himself, and knows how wrong some of *those* were. He's tending to Ferro, who more and more adopts the young man's serious countenance. "I wonder how Iron Antlers and the kits will take to the Wyld. If they are in the same sort of danger we are, going into Neuschwabenland." he comments, in response to Mikal's words.
Raph gives a quiet 'wurf' in agreement. Indeed, the directions say it will be at least six Dawns before they return to the roots of the Worlds-Ash.
Mikal sighs softly, her expression concerned, "I don't know, Norr. But we don't have anyone to leave the kits with, this time." She gently scritches little Lazuli's poll, adding as the small creature purrs blissfully, "We're kind of walking in blind here. We don't even know precisely what we're looking for, past that it's a name, you know?"
Jareth smiles whimsically, "It's no more cryptic than the other things we've searched for."
Mikal murmurs thoughtfully, "This is the first time we've been into what was supposed to be very dangerous Wylde, though. I do not like not knowing what to expect."
Norris nods. "The difference here, of course, is that it's unlikely any now live that could tell us what the place is actually like. Assuming it even stays the same. From what we've been told...it will very likely be a personal experience for each of us."
Mikal sighs thoughtfully again, nodding, "Well... if it is, then we might as well get rolling." She packs up the little map into her backpack, then rises, "Are we ready to go?"
Jareth makes sure his little winged companion is well settled on his shoulder and nods, "Soonest begun is soonest done."
Ferro, who's being held in Norris's hands, gives an inquiring chirp to the smith. He hmms, and leans in, as the gryphkit climbs up onto his shoulder, and then straightens his fur-lined hood, ears twitching adorably. He picks up his pack and nods. "I think so."
They start out, resolute and determined. The trek from Neuschwanstein to the roots of Yggdrasil takes surprisingly little time, as there is a well-worn trail. At the nearest of the massive roots, someone has set up shrines to the Norse gods of Asgard; they look to be new, actually, and a little crude. But there are mortals and aethyrs there, praying to the absent gods, perhaps having heard of the failed siege on Mount Meru and, perhaps, the events at Babylon. If they have not yet heard of that yet, though, then this little valley of shrines set betwixt the Worlds-Ash's roots will soon be extremely excited. For the moment, it is a little somber and pensive.
Norris looks fascinated by those shrines. "I wonder..." he murmurs thoughtfully, as he rides his horse along. "I wonder if enough people believe again, if they start to worship again, if those that had fallen might come back." he says to no one in particular. Although he peers at the raptor-wolf.
Mikal cannot help glancing at Raphael as she spots the little shrines, settled easily astride the big fey stag. She's silent for a moment... then she slips off her tall mount and heads for the shrines, pulling her backpack around in front of her. Iron Antlers glances her way, then calmly starts cropping grass at the side of the trail. The small woman steps over, studying the shrines carefully, searching for one dedicated to Loki.
Norris blinks, and looks at Jareth. He nudges his mare to follow, slow, but giving Mikal and Raph a wide berth.
It isn't hard to find the one dedicated to Loki -- a makeshift brazier sits before a wooden plaque, the smoke concealing what is on it. It takes her a few moments to see through the thick smoke -- someone must have just put in some wet grass or something more pungent recently -- and when she can, the image on the plaque is hard to see, hard to focus on. Sometimes it's a man, sometimes it's a wolf, sometimes it is a horse....
Mikal smiles at that, crouching before it as she whispers, "Here, Raph... even for Loki, they remember. Come see."
Raphael is a little cautious, but a touch bemused, bemusement which gives way to mildly humble embarrassment, an "Aw, shucks," moment for him. He doesn't look at all like the wolf on the plaque, but his huge, heavy tail does thump a little into the ground.
Jareth slipes off his horse and goes to follow Mikal, smiling as he looks around at the shrines. He hmms quietly, wondering if he's got something appropriate for Loki... and perhaps for Freyja.
Norris doesn't get down himself, instead hovering protectively nearby his pack...just in case.
Mikal pulls her dagger and straightens, looking around as she does so. She steps to the root which holds the little shrine and bows her head in respect, then carefully carves two runes into the wood. "Thurisaz, the thorn, for the giantson. Wunjo to finally bring him joy." She turns the blade, running her left index finger along the sharp edge so blood wells up, then uses the blood to mark the runes. Her face is still and meditative, "For you, my brother: our blood, like our wyrd, is shared."
As Mikal touches the runes with her bloodied fingertip, she has a sudden moment of scary clarity that sometimes strikes us, Mikal realizes where she's seen that image before: In the depths of a vault beneath a Cretan palace, minutes before Santorini detonated again.
Mikal blinks, trying to figure out why she's seen the image of the wolf-man-horse in Crete -- and if this is a warning that they all should bolt instantly. Although... they were not in the Dreaming then. She shakes her head, confused, then looks at Raph, "Do you remember this image in Crete, big brother?"
Mikal keeps her voice soft, so as to not interrupt the other worshippers.
Raphael's eyes widen, and he tosses his head a little to cover his glances at the others. [Yes,] he replies. [I remember it well, now. The hand of God reached down from the heavens and made Santorini belch fire once again. Norris was there, too.]
Mikal nods, turning to the others and calling sharply, "Time to go!" She's already running for Iron Antlers, not even bothering to sheathe her blade yet.
Jareth knows to follow Mikal's instincts when she says it's time to get out. He mounts back up and turns to go.
Norris blinks, and wonders at Mikal running. "Is there aught wrong?" he queries, looking about.
Mikal swings up easily onto the fey stag's back -- he's already thrown up his head and started cantering forward, while Raphael snaps at the heels of the horses to get them running swiftly after the big stag. She calls over her shoulder, "C'mon! Tell you in a bit!"
Norris blinks at the actions of Mikal and Raph...but when you get right down to it, he trusts his pack. So, he spurs his mare into making haste, and checks Jareth to make sure he is doing the same.
Mikal whips along the trail leading her pack at as fast a gallop as is safe, Raphael tailgating to make sure no one is left behind. She's silent for about 15 minutes, hoping to put enough distance between the icon and themselves that whatever it was that triggered El-Amon-Re's notice last time will not activate this time as well. She figures the kindest thing they can do is make sure they do not have a major portion of this port town destroyed, and its inhabitants killed. Attracting some notice from the passers-by doesn't bother her, in comparison.
Fortunately they're not traveling on a major thoroughfare; the path is clear and well-worn.
Somewhere in the mad gallop, Jareth appears to turn over while sleeping in the Waking, because he is not there when she finally draws to a halt. Fortunately, it's become easy for them to tell when this happens, and they know Jareth will again return to them.
Mikal looks relieved as she glances back over her shoulder, although she keeps the group moving at a brisk walk. There do not appear to be any tremendous disasters behind them, so hopefully her strategem was successful. She tersely explains the memory she shared with Raphael, upon marking the runes, and checks with Norris: does he remember it also now?
Norris looks quizzical at first. But he remembers now, the past, and how he came upon the armor that was clearly made by Hephaestus...by *him*, for his own protection.
Mikal sighs softly, her voice quiet, "I figured best for us to flee, since that jerk has shown he's willing to kill thousands of innocents to reach us."
Norris is bemused at first...the volcano erupting...that was El-Amon-Re? "Oh dear." He looks pensive. "Still...I'd be amazed if the Architect could actually do anything to us, so close to the World Tree. And this *is* the Dreaming, not the mortal world. Better safe than sorry, though."
Mikal nods, turning so she's facing forward again, "I agree. Plus, no reason to make it easy for his minions to find us." She pulls out the map, checking it, "All right, let's get this show on the road. What's first..."
Circling the roots to get to the one indicated in the directions takes a good portion of a day, but there's no doubt as to which root they seek: It is one that reaches far, far out from the rest, as if the tree is reaching a single root out into the Deep Wyld to garner some nourishment from the deep-set soil there. A small shack is there, a ragged banner hanging from its front, a sign proclaiming it the lodge of the foresters for the anti-Mirrorward side of the tree. This is not a well-travelled location, though, and there seems to be but one forester in the lodge awake at the moment, an older drokaelfar working an oil into the arms of his longbow. He does notice the group of mortals, on horses and stag, but pays them little attention unless they approach; his own stag is off a ways, grazing on the sparse grasses
Mikal nods politely to the man but simply continues onwards. She knows they have a long ways to go; no lollygagging about!
Norris follows Mikal's lead...he's curious what the forester does out here. But also, eager to be done with this, and face whatever awaits them in the Wyld.
Once they get out of sight of the foresters' lodge, the trip seems to instantly become gruelling. It's not the walking; it's the seeming dozens of details that demand their attention to stay on track. That it is starting to snow, and picking up more and more the further they go into the Wyld, does not help, and neither does the occasional gaping crevasse that seems to rend the landscape in twain. At some point, after so many of these gaping chasms, it seems more like they're going from one island floating in the air to another, rather than between land-masses that lie between the chasms.
The trip seems to take more out of Raphael than it does Mikal; he lags behind, clearly trying to keep up but loosing ground. At one point, a snow drift seems to briefly conceal him completely from view.
Mikal stops and switches places with the big raptor-wolf -- though he grumbles about it, she insists he get laid sprawled across the big fey stag's back. She walks ahead, her will sharply focused -- she will get them to this strange place in the Wyld!
Norris does not tease Raph for having trouble in a winter storm, something that, considering his divine soul, he should be quite at home in. The weather is not exactly fun, and he's protecting Ferro inside his coat when it gets especially bad.
The way is still rather hard going. It's actually hard to tell when Dawn comes next, but they are so far they do not feel it's refreshing awen wash -- the Deep Wyld is supported only by the dreams of but few mortals. Between slogging through snow drifts, and leaping over chasms -- and somehow managing to not encounter any chasms that are not crossable -- they continue on.
The sky is as dark as midnight with heavy clouds and the discomfited moan of the wind. The slap of wet snow upon their faces tells them that it is snowing lightly, but the directions were clear: They made it to the last marker, a statue of an eagle half-buried by snow and dirt and dung, and from here they must simply walk, focussing on reaching Neuschwabenland until they hear a bell.
And hear it they do.
It is distant and seems to conduct more through the ground than the air, so deep and resonant is it. It peals once, then is silent for many minutes....
Mikal pauses for a moment, one hand resting protectively on her cloak, under which Lazuli is curled -- the other resting on Iron Antlers' shaggy neck. The big fey stag is breathing hard, plumes of steam snorting from his nose and mouth. On his back Raphael raises his head and sighs, his breath warm next to Mikal's cheek. She pats them both as she glances back to make sure Norris is close behind -- then resolutely presses on.
Norris is well enough...the spirit of Hephaestus is strong in him, and even before he knew of his divine soul, he was hardy and endures things well. Keeping Ferro warm with the heat of his own big body, and doing his best to protect his own mare from the cold as well... she was not made for it, like the giant stag. He nods at Mikal when she looks at him, and follows resolutely.
The bell tolls again... and up ahead they think that they can see a set of structures. A small city, perhaps, or a town. There is a single dark tower, somehow it can be made out against the dark clouds of the sky. From it the bell sounds again.
Norris wonders at the ringing of the bell. Is it a welcome, a warning, or something else?
Mikal wonders how they're supposed to find this lost True Name... then she shakes her head once, murmuring to herself, "It tolls for thee." She heads for the dark church tower.
They approach the small town. As they approach, it becomes somewhat easier to see, a little lighter. It's hard to say exactly how, or even why, because the shadows don't look entirely right. They make odd patterns on the ground.
Before the tower, there is a series of fences, and right in front of them is a large wrought-iron gate. Above the gate are letters that spell out 'Arbeit Macht Frei.' From here, the town appears less than deserted: It is empty and seems as if it has been thrown together and never inhabited.
Mikal raises an eyebrow at Raphael's silent whisper of translation, her soft voice dubious, "'Work sets you free'? Riiight..."
The storm is still half-heartedly going, but they can still somewhat see. Interestingly, the 'B' in 'Arbeit' is upside-down.
Norris shakes his head at the topsy-turveyness of this place...still, one shouldn't be surprosed. "Creepy place." he agrees, Ferro surveying everything from inside his coat.
Mikal mutters quietly to herself, tucking her fur-lined hood more closely about her body, and strides on in under the gate, heading for the church tower. Her voice is clear and strong as she passes under the creepy slogan, "I refuse the imposition of your will on mine. We are not your prisoners."
The gryphkits are hiding, mostly; Ferro nestling back into Norris's hood, and Lazuli huddling deeper onto Mikal's shoulder; both are slightly digging in their claws. Jareth's gryphkit has nested in Iron Antler's antlers, and is trying very hard to not be noticed. Raphael nods at Mikal's commentary on the veracity of the words above the gate.
Mikal's words cause nothing visible to happen, though the next time the bell tolls the tone is slightly discordant. The toll after that, though, sounds normal.
Norris grins a little. "I think you might have given the bell pause." Ferro squeaks? "No, no. Pause. Not paws." Norris is odd sometimes...there's no evidence he can actually understand what the gryphkit says. Yet he talks to Ferro nonetheless.
Mikal tilts her head at Ferro's squeak, then notices Jareth's poor, cold gryphkit huddled on the fey stag's antlers. She tchs, reaching for the tiny thing, "Come here, silly -- you'll freeze there!" She tucks the cold little fellow in with her Lazuli, crooning quietly, "There you go; stay warm, babies!"
Mikal glances up at Raphael, "Want down now?" The big raptor wolf slides stiffly off the stag, and both big beasts shake themselves vigorously, resettling their fur. Mikal grins and hugs them each once, then turns and firmly continues her advance on the dark tower. "We will have that True Name soon!"
Norris nods approvingly, and returns his attention to the gloomy city, as if wondering if something sinister lurks. Or maybe the city itself is alive, and disapproving of their presence.
The doors to the tower are black wood, and opening them reveals... a rather plain foyer, simple and well-lit apparently from above, tiling on the walls and elegant marble tabletops atop wrought-iron legs. A set of stairs leads up into the tower itself. On the floor, directly beneath the center of the tower, is a large, circular logogram of some kind, done in black ceramic tiles, made up of a score or so bent lines radiating from the center.
Norris looks at Mikal. "Should we bring the mounts inside?"
Mikal nods firmly, "Absolutely -- they need the shelter, and we are forming this realm to our expectations!" Iron Antlers is already ducking his antlered head through the door, his cloven hooves clacking on the tiles. Mikal moves to stand by the symbol, looking down at it and up into the tower, as the stag clip-clops neatly past without touching the symbol. The small woman murmurs, "Some sort of sun symbol?" She nods to Raphael's silent mental verification from his Old Norse background, "A Norse sun wheel then? All right."
Norris just wasn't sure. He's the compassionate short, and wants the stag and horses to be safe. But he knows some folk have feelings of appropriateness of where mounts should and shouldn't be stabled. He takes a moment to dismount from his mare, then, and brushes off snow, gives her a rubdown, thanking her for carrying his heavy ass for so long.
The bell rings again, high above.
Looking up, the foyer beneath the tower is a vaulted ceiling hung with a simple cut-glass chandelier, though there appears to be no light in the chandelier. The shadows are less weird here, in fact there appears to be no shadows at all, which is disturbing in its own right. The stairs lead upward, disappearing behind a wall as they head upward past the cieling.
Mikal's eyes narrow thoughtfully... then she looks at Norris and nods, "Let's leave the kits here with the horses and Iron Antlers. They'll be protected from the weather, and able to rest and eat. You and Raph and I can go up to the top. That's where I think we'll find the Name, for some reason." She considers a bit, then adds quietly, "Inscribed on the bell, perhaps."
Norris is curious, certainly...but he's more concerned about the folk that can't talk. He immediately starts looking for a place to build a proper fire, so he can heat up some mash for the stag and mare, as well as something for the kits. He's interrupted by Mikal, though, and looks at her askance. "Shouldn't we take care of them first? The kits, particularly, will be less inclined to wander with full bellies."
Mikal gives Norris a perplexed glance, "Where did I say we shouldn't care for them?" She's already pulling off her cloak and backpack to make a warm little nest for the gryphkits. She pauses, her head raising again in sudden thought. She counts mentally...
Norris shakes his head. "No,no, I'm sorry if I misunderstood. I thought you were suggesting we go up there now."
Mikal's head swivels around abruptly, her soft voice urgent, "Five -- it's rung five times so far. Norris, we have to go now -- before the twelfth ring!" She drops the kits and cloak on one of the marble tabletops, murmuring, "Sorry, sweeties; we'll be back soon to feed you, promise!" -- and then she's whirled and is running for the stairs, her bow in her hand. Raphel gives a quiet, startled yip, glancing questioningly at Norris before he visibly shrugs and takes off after her, his long claws clicking on the tiled floor.
Norris has no idea. None. Whatever Mikal is thinking, it escapes him. But he's pretty well trained to follow her hunches, now, so he pulls free his mace and follows in her wake, the stairs creaking under his heavy footfalls as he charges up after her.
Mikal calls down over her shoulder, "Twelve spokes to the black sun wheel -- twelve strokes of the bell!" Past that she saves her breath for climbing.
Norris blinks, and considers. Very interesting...but the connection still escapes him. What could happen at the twelfth tolling?
The bell rings a sixth time while they are going up the stairs, just before they enter the belfry. What sits up there in the belfry at the top of the stairs, however, is unlike any bell they have ever seen before.
It is made from wrought black iron or steel, hanging in the center of the room; it is bell-shaped, but that's the extent of it's bell-ness, since it is completely sealed. There is, however, what looks like a single, circular porthole in it's side, allowing a glimpse into it. The thing makes a faint, buzzing or mechanical sound, like something is rotating at very high speeds within the bell, or at least giving that impression.
And yet the bell is the source of the light throughout Neuschwabenland. Impossible as it may be, though, the light seems cast only from shadows that are themselves cast from the bell -- if that explanation is confusing, it may as well be, since the shadows are themselves confused, twisted and almost painful in their contortions against the black walls of the belfry. The window into the heart of the bell is the only source of actual light, and it is hazy, flickering, unhealthy and uncomfortable to look at, like it is being emanated from ghostly white fires. The mortals get the distinct impression that they do not want to look into the bell. At all.
The bell rings again while they are up there, and the sound is an almost visible thing that sweeps out from the casing. It sounds like a bell, one that is albeit much larger and of much deeper tone; this close, the visible sound wave has feeling too, like a breaker upon a beach as it passes them. For a brief moment after the bell tolls, the world seems to be of inverted colors -- black is white, light is dark -- before it goes back to normal.
Mikal pulls up, frowning as she spots the bell... then she stalks slowly around it on the walkway around the inside of the belfry, studying it carefully. Finally she murmurs softly, "...now what?"
Norris stares at the bell, and then at Mikal, and back at the bell. "No clue. Strangest bell I ever did see. Should I..stop it?" The bell is certainly odd, but it's tolling somehow...so he looks for the mechanism by which it does.
The outside of the bell seems to have writing on it, both engraved and in raised letters. It's all German industrial markings, though.
Mikail notices that the slots on each of the walls, normally to allow the sound of the bell to ring out over the landscape, are all blocked... except for one. The window in the side of the bell is the only part of the bell that actually faces an open slot.
Mikal slowly shakes her head, "Not... until we know more what stopping it does, Norr." Without looking away from the eerie bell she adds perplexedly, "Raph? Any suggestions?"
Mikal murmurs confusedly under her breath, "Should we... block in all the sound? Is it responsible for all this strangeness?"
Mikal heads over to look out that slot, wondering what she'll see.
Raphael is, as Mikal notices, terrified. Something in the bell has his hackles rising far, far up. He does not like it at all and if Mikal weren't here he most definitely would not be.
Norris's brow knits as he keeps looking around the bell tower. "Responsible for the strangeness of the town, maybe, not the Wyld itself..." he rumbles.
The slot looks out into what looks like a courtyard, on the other side of the tower from the gate. A broad, blank wall is there, and the misformed shadows seem to play roughly against it in wicked shapes and hints of movement and the occasional suggestion of light; Mikal realises that what light is playing against that wall is from her own 'shadow' being cast on it, since she is between the bell and the wall.
The bell seems to be ringing of its own accord, with no external mechanism. It just rings.
Mikal whispers softly, "So... our shadows are the light here?"
Norris finally shakes his head. "Nothing. There's nothing. There's no gears, no pulley...the bell swings free with nothing to cause it to." He looks at Raphael. "I'd say that's plenty creepy enough on its own."
Mikal leans back, turning to look at Norris. Her voice is quick and perplexed, "It's really a black sun, then -- it casts light instead of shadow. But it's... wrong, it feels off somehow."
Norris looks wry. "A black sun being off? Yeah, I'd have to float my stick along side yours on that score."
Mikal looks back out at the eerie courtyard, her confusion plain, "So what's the right thing to do? Should we stop it?"
Norris bobs his head. "You say the word, and I'll halt it in it's tracks."
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