Blood and Bone

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Blood and Bone

Post by Revelations » Mon Feb 04, 2019 1:17 pm

She has left, o old one. The birds don’t sing. All that is, is silent and still. The sun is pale and so are our hearts.
The blood still feeds the earth as we bury their bodies, soothe the spirits.
I still see her trail in the moss, hear her words in the silence of the trees.
I still sense her terror in those who remained.

But she has left, o old one, your child is gone.

She has fled into a world she does not know.
Not their language.
Nor their lies.
Not their ways.
Nor their violence.
The child, she has naught but love in her heart.

May she stumble, may she fall, may they break her neck, and burn her.
For she deserves no less.

No blood through your veins, no beat of your heart.
But you love her still.
I come to tell you, she will not come far.


She is small now, like a mouse.
Climbing over stone and leaf, searching.
She will be tall, as the grand old oaks.
Reaching to the wide, wide sky.
And the light will filter through her branches.
And the birds will sing.
And she will be great.
And victorious.
For she has naught but love in her heart.
Be faithful in the face of death
And I will give you the crown of life

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Re: Blood and Bone

Post by Revelations » Sat Aug 03, 2019 11:06 am


At night, the forest is not silent. It is always full of life, full of sounds. In some nights, more than in others.
There is movement in the darkness under the branches, under moonlit shadows cast onto the paths, and roots, and undergrowth.

She followed the path through the woodlands, soon reaching the hillside of the barrow. Above, on the clearing, the memorials and tombstones stood, illuminated under the open nightsky. Mute testimonies to finity, and finality. As she stood there, feeling reminded, a cold breeze blew from the nearby coastline, rushing through the treetops. The leaves trembled, shaken, as if already afraid of their numbered days, and the coming autumn.

Here rest the fallen.

Am I like them?
Once so weightless
Now beneath the soil
Carrying all the gravity of this world
On my bones

Water hollows the stone
The dunes are carried away
Trees fall to rot
The flesh, like grass, it withers
And too the heart turns cold
Run dry of blood"

Indifferent, the breeze kept blowing over the hill laying under the bright moon. And while the world spun around her, she stood still, closed her eyes and remembered.

Home. The sun was bright, the rays reaching down unto the moss-covered stones of the grove. A slow summer day. Most of the shaman circle were working. The other children were playing in the not so far distance. But the pale child was to learn, to listen. The Old One sat beside her on the root of the great oak.

It is all in motion
Like the seasons
Like the journey of the sun
Like the circle of life
And the water
The rain, the river, the lake and the sea, and the rain, and the river...

This world is changing
And so are you

Do not bury that which you were
If you find you did
Dig, dig into the grave
It may be more shallow than you think
Drag your cold self into your arms

You are who you used to be
You are yesterday, the day before that
And you are today
All at once

If you find the colours faded
Paint it anew and make it breathe life
Make it a part of the new you

Like streamlines feeding into a torrent

Always become more, not less"

Almost two centuries later, on the moonlit barrow, the pale child stood alone. She recalled and understood what was lost on her then. The wind kept stirring the surrounding forest, coming from the east, from the sea. It carried the faintest nuance of salt in its fragrance. And the first leaf fell, unnoticed by all. A silent herald of the coming end.

She sank to her knees and started digging.
Be faithful in the face of death
And I will give you the crown of life

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Re: Blood and Bone

Post by Revelations » Sun Jan 12, 2020 4:22 pm

Away with wood and fur
Away with metal and linen
Away with bone and tooth
Away with paint and away with the spirits

To return
Into the woods
And onto the path
Of leaf and grain
Admidst the trees and all that was
And all that still is

It is only I now
And nothing
And the memory
Of here, where we used to walk
Of how your voice used to sound
Of how they came
And how I knelt
And held your head
When your life ebbed out

I am here
And I kneel
So the cycle ends
So frost will come and scar the land

Then I will stand
Before a new beginning
My breath will cloud the world
My heartbeat will shake the trees
My word will shatter the still

I am here
It is only I now
And nothing
But a coming flood

It washes me away
And in froth and dark water
Your hands reach out

Away with distance
We are here

Be faithful in the face of death
And I will give you the crown of life

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Posts: 156
Joined: Fri Jan 26, 2018 3:17 pm

Re: Blood and Bone

Post by Revelations » Sun Jan 12, 2020 4:23 pm

These things are small experiments. I personally found the way the game "Kisima Ingitchuna" tells the story in the interludes compelling, someone telling an old piece of folklore by the fire to others in a pictorial, more or less cryptic way. I want to come back to what I wrote someday and decide if I conveyed that. I thought I might as well share.
Be faithful in the face of death
And I will give you the crown of life

User avatar
Posts: 156
Joined: Fri Jan 26, 2018 3:17 pm

Re: Blood and Bone

Post by Revelations » Fri Jun 26, 2020 11:10 pm

((This is an adaptation of one of my favourite IG events, if the involved players a problem with this iteration, please contact me.))

Three friends lay in the grass under the starry nightsky, with their heads resting next to each other.

One wore a golden mask, matching his golden shirt, his golden trousers and his golden boots. “I have always wondered.” he started slowly. “Why your cave ceiling is so far away, and why it changes colors so much.”

The other friend snickered. He was a tall man, and his hair was a curly mess. He had long fingers, with which he scribbled something into his notebook with a quill, and then held it up for the other two to see. “It’s not a ceiling dummy, that’s the sky, and it’s open.”

The one with the mask turned his head and looked to the third friend. She was small, her skin was pale and fair and she had a black feather in her hair, and right now she was smiling. “It is the truth. We stare into the vast, wide open. Some say the spirits and gods live up there, some say there are many more worlds like ours. What we know is that it’s probably endless.”

The masked one was silent for a while, gazing unto the stars again. “... I don’t believe you. That’s impossible. I can't imagine it.”

The tall man quickly wrote something into his book again. “But it’s -true-, it has always been like that. Above you is only air, and then nothing, and then everything.”

The golden one shook his head and thought they were taking him for a fool.

“Shall we show him?” She read as the book was stuck in her face. She looked to the curly head curiously.

“There is a place, it’s just like the sky, endless and wide.”

“Oh, so there is.” She stood up and held a hand out to each of them. “Let us go now, and see it together.”

And so they went, walking through the night, side by side. They passed the ponds in the forest, the fireflies and the high trees. The hours passed, but they found a hidden place, with a hidden door that led them somewhere else entirely.

Arriving there, they found a gate before them, and before that a shimmering orb of light, swirling with bright colors, as if it held all the worlds within itself.

“Where are we?” Asked the man of gold.

“Think of it as a crossroad. It will take us to where want to be.” The tall man wrote and then closed the book. He fetched the feather from the woman’s hair, and threw it into the air, over the orb of light. It floated down slowly, dancing back and forth, before it touched the light, and vanished. He then gestured them to follow, and went through the gate. The woman went then, and finally the heart of gold.

Suddenly it was very loud. They were on a ship, but it was not the sea that surrounded them, but only air. It drifted through the air, forward, downward, carried by the forceful winds of the realm.

The golden one held onto the railing and screamed, and so did the other two, but they didn’t scream. The pale woman put a hand on his shoulder, and smiled at him encouragingly, and that brought peace to him. The woman spoke loudly against the breeze. “Such is the sky, vast and endless, free, but never at rest.”

“It scares me!” Was the small man’s response.

“But you have to go further.” She said. “For there is something I need. Everywhere I go, I leave something, and I take something with me, too. From this place, I will take a piece of a cloud, and we will leave here the memory of our love and laughter.”

He considered that for a moment, and then nodded, as he trusted his friends. “Then tie a rope around my waist, and hang me from the ship, so that I may reach a cloud.”

The tall man gave the other a jar of glass, and smiled at him warmly. He wrote into his book and let him read. “I will hold the rope, and keep you safe!”. Meanwhile the shaman tied the rope around him. The golden one stood there with his big jar, like an empty jar of sweets, as the knots were pulled tight.

With shaking legs, he climbed onto the railing.

“Do a flip!” Said the woman, meaning to encourage him and lighten the mood. The other man meanwhile got into position, tying the other end of the rope around his own waist, and holding it in a firm grip.

Wisely, they let him down slowly, instead of letting him jump. He was swinging back and forth some, dragged somewhat behind the ship. At the rope’s full length, he was screaming fearfully, floundering with his arms and legs, the jar strapped to his back. “Ahhhhhh!” It echoed across the endless sky. The two above were trying hard to keep their friend safe, holding onto the rope.

“You can do it!” Yelled the woman to him. “I believe in you!”

It was then that he noticed that it wasn’t all so bad, and after a bit he stopped fidgeting and focused. “Left! Up! Right!” He directed them so he would reach one of the clouds. He took the jar, opened the lid and ran the large thing through the soft and pillowy cloud, collecting a small piece of it. He closed the jar quickly and held it to his chest.

He looked around in wonder, squinting against the rough wind. He had never seen anything alike. Where he came from, everything was confined, everything had an end. So many ends. It was so beautiful, so free.

Meanwhile, above, the other man was concentrated, putting his full weight into the rope, to keep his friend below steady. But the woman had a mischievous idea. She asked him. “What if we cut the rope, and jump after him. What if we let go, and fall free.”

His eyes became big at that. He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded quickly. And so she took a knife, and cut the rope. “Ahhhhhh!” they heard, but the sound was soon out of reach. They looked at each other. The man hopped onto the railing, looked back, and jumped.

The woman stayed for a moment, climbing up then. She closed her eyes and spread her arms, like a bird would its wings. Then she let herself fall over the edge, into the sky. She let go of weight and burden, of obligations, expectations. Of the past and the future.

And so the three friends fell.

It was chaotic at first, even louder than before. One screamed, the other was silent, the last one laughed, unrestrained and from the depth of her heart. They just drifted with the wind, with no control, and no destination.

But soon they learned what it was to fall. It was to fly. And of fearful floundering came fluent motions, and they found a destination, too: Each other. They found each other again and again, dashing through the air like angels without wings. Holding onto each other, and then drifting apart again.

Their laughter and their screams of joy could be heard all across the sky.

But then they saw a dark cloud beneath them, crackling and banging with lightning, grumbling with thunder, and they were rushing towards it, unable to avoid it.

“What do we do?!” Yelled the one with the jar, and they all looked at each other with worry. The cloud was very close now.

The feral one grasped their hands and pressed her eyes shut.

And then the moment passed by and many worlds passed by, and they went away.

They were lying in a dark and confined, wet place, on a walkway over a deep drop. Quite a change from the endlessness of the place they were in before. She was the first to rise, and she laughed - quite in contrast to the other two, who were still fearing for their lives, screaming their lungs out.

When they heard her laughter, and realized they were lying still, they rose after her, looked at each other and joined in, laughing as unburdened and true as never before. They held each others’ hands in a moment that seemed to last forever.

One put the jar down between them, the proof that it was was all true. The other produced his book, and wrote, with a shy look on his face. “It's good to have friends.” She squeezed his hand, and they both agreed with him with no doubt or hesitation.

“Where are we?” He continued then, and she spoke. “In a place left behind, a place in between. We’re above a dark depths, and below the lands of light. No one comes here, but those who have been here before.”

“But how does one get here?” Asked the man of gold.

“Now? Only by invitation.”

Water dropped from the cavernous ceiling. They were silent for a bit. Then, the sound of a quill going over rough paper was audible for a while, and the golden monk, and the death shaman read what was written there.

“I cherish our friendship and love, and I will create a testimony in its honour. Here I will build a place for people to come together, to meet and learn from each other. Just as we do. And every one who understands the peace and the sentiment will be invited. Those from above, from below, and those in between. For you I made the first flower of glass; there shall be a garden of glass here. From you I learned so much, so there shall be a library. Here I will build, and here we will remember.”

Then the three friends sat there for hours, and spoke, and laughed, until they all parted.

And that's the story of how the Undergarden came to be. A place that is not one, and not the other. A bridge between realms, and people.
Be faithful in the face of death
And I will give you the crown of life

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