Journal #55: Soul to Soul Talk [Text Roleplay]

Curiosity might have gotten the better of him, dragons in general were always something the barkeep had interest in. Now in the palm of his hand, a purple gem held the soul of one. Speaking to a trapped soul wasn’t something he had learned in the Boneyard, but maybe there was a way? Aniks gave it a little thought closed his eyes. Drawing both on his little spark of divine energy he had to cast a spell to also mingle it with a subdomain of Pharasma. Hoping to create some sort of Soul Telepathy, if that were even possible. Aniks sent some thoughts out to test the water “Hopefully this can allow us to talk.”

The first thing Aniks felt was... cold. Icy cold, the kind he'd only experienced a few times before - the kind that heralded Death's grasp. Except instead of wrenching his soul to leave behind a corpse, this cold was different- it settled around him as a shroud, lending an odd feeling of weightlessness.
 
At the very edge of his consciousness, he caught a distant whisper on the wind: "Hath juddgement Finallye comme?"
 
Before he had a chance to speak, however, unseen fingers (claws?) caught his wrist in a sharpened grip of burning ice. They bid him answer a different question, one not spoken with words but thrust into his mind: Tis one thing to serve at Her side and another to draw forth a soul's will - are you ready for this step, Champion of Death?
 
If anybody had been near him, they saw Aniks visible taken aback. Eyes opening slightly shocked, he rolled up his sleeves to check his wrist as the lack of heat was disturbing him. That however wasn’t what had really caught is attention. The correct identification of who he was, had thrown him off. As the existence of Champions was myth, well there was that ancient magma dragon that knew they were Champions. Besides this dragon had felt Her presence, mistaking for their final judgement. “Champion? Well given what I did, denying that would be a rather large lie to get past anybody. That being said, knowing Champions are more than myth, must mean you are quite old. You misunderstand, I have no attention of passing judgement on you. Curiosity lead me to attempt a conversation.”
An amused laugh in the back of Aniks's skull - the kind of chilling laughter that sets the hairs on one's neck on edge. It is telling of your mental state that you would confuse those who speak with you. The step has been taken. Converse freely with the bound.
 
The icy grasp on his wrist released him, leaving the lingering burn of cold to remind Aniks of its presence. The whisper, once quiet, now sounded far closer - far louder. A deep voice. Masculine. "Time cannot Stoppe for one soul alone. Only ye fools wouldst yet number the waves as they Come. What questions doth thine curiosity Seeke from the living past?"
 
His eyes narrowed to the small gem, two voices. No only one came from the gem. He looked at the spiraling comet on his arm mentality sighing. “Sorry this is the first time I tried something like this. I hadn’t expected a second voice to speak. So please forgive the confusion in the last statement. As for my curiosity, a name for a name would be nice so I have something to call you. Though Aniks likely knew the other none dragon voice/thoughts knew who he was.
 
"Mortals wish for the strangeste of Thinges. Ye may Calle me as Vorthómin, the Shield of Glóandi, the Terrorlight. It is the Name that shall mar the Tombes of mine enemies." comes the response, the voice low and crackling with badly-restrained power. The soul was vibrant.
 
"Well, you may call me Aniks" The silence from the other was not surprising. "I hardly think it's strange would you like me to call you dragon constantly. Well Vorthómin, I am unfamiliar with Iskaldhal is Glóandi a city you protected?"
 
A cool grumble echoed from the trapped soul. "Glóandi is that whyche setts Flame to the Darknesse. A questionne for a questionne. What form dost thou take, mortal by name of Aniks?"
 
"Before you judge my form" Aniks thought almost knowing this could only lead to problems if he lied. "I am a dark elf, but I do to perpetuate the stereotypes of my race." Aniks then waited to see if this dragon Vorthómin would react in a negative fashion.
 
"Thou muste hail from the Western Scourge. Yon Northern kin hath loste all Righte to claims of Darknesse. Doth thou seek redemption in our lands, Elf?"
 
"You are correct that I come from the west, my northern kin must be the Snow Elf, as for their claim to the darkness I am unfamiliar with that. As for redemption here, no I am not. If I might ask what form to do you take?"
 
"Thou maketh assumptions. Thy kin still show such Ignorance in youth. I bear the scales and fangs of a True Dragon, mortal, one far Elder than even the Longestte-Lived of thy kin. If tis not redemption thou seek, what dost thou intend? Mine wrath shalt fall upon thee if tis to spread the Darknesse within!"
 
"Currently we are looking for a companion's father. I have no attention of spreading Darkness." It was simple but he was telling the truth. "Vorthómin, I meant to ask what kind of scales you had, I knew you were a Dragon. I was missing a couple of details as to who your were."
 
"Thine kind wouldst greet me with Trickerie; tis only fair that thou shalt be exposed to the same. Mine hide is one of a Thousande Shades - a Glorie any Kinge would come to envy. In what depth doth this "father" lie? The Missing and the Dead are oft the same in the Northern Lands."
 
"I have no reason to lie, as why would I openly admit to being a dark elf. If I want lie I would have tried some race that is more trustworthy outright. Though it's a two way street as I cannot prove anything you say as well." Aniks paused for a moment, probably for the best he didn't explain everything as to this gold dragon. "As for my companions father, it seems we are going to some place call Akha Ekhursan."
 
 
"Trickerie and Lies aught not to be confused, Elf. Thou art headed to a Place most Foule. Art thou stumbling without Sighte into the Den of Evil?"
 
"Where I was born they were often one in the same. We are currently doing research into the place. Though I am unsure how helpful books can be from just from one trip to the library."
 
"If thou seek knowledge on Ancient Evils, thou must delve into Scrolls moste rare or seek the Wisdom of those few souls that hath survived its deepest depths."
 
"An interesting place to start, find a person who had once traveled there and survived." Aniks found himself quietly nodding agreeing. Then stopped as this probably looked weird just nodding at nothing. Scrolls might be a bit more tricky but not impossible. People we're a bit easier to find. He would have to talk to his friends to see where they were going next. "How long have you been trapped in this prison Vorthómin?"
 
"A fool's question. Tis yet evident to mine eyes that the Power upon thine soul is far from mastered. Thou wouldst heed mine caution now: thou art wielding Weaknesse in blinding fashion. The Darknesse wouldst fain ignore such a potent treat. Yet, tis an answer thou hast asked for. The Hands of Time art not apparent in the Space between Life and Death. Thou art linked to both: mine soul remains Entrapped betwixt."
 
He remained silent for a while, then decided to cross reference the dragon. "It's a learning process Vorthómin, I will take more care when choosing my words.That being said, am I correct to assume you have never entered Akha Ekhursan. As your first response was to find scrolls and people. But you have heard of it, as you called it a din of evil?"
 
"No beast nor man of sanity wouldst enter its fell halls. Prithee, even the Mistress of Undeath wouldst not wish to sully herself. The land is Tainted with Darknesse of an age long-past, stirred to unlife by Foule Necromancie and deeper whispers. Mine claws hath not grasped the spires that doth encircle it past its loss. Tis truly a Darknesse that even the greatest of Dragons meet forbidden artes within our once-held depths, far beyond Evil's usual reach. Tis a sign of the coming Toll, shouldst thou consult Prophecie."
 
"Ahhh was there once place or a person where people consult prophecy here, are they scrolls that have been written down?" Well that did match up some of Licia's scrying. We'd be dealing Undead no doubt about it, though the Mistress of Undeath not going to there? Was it the god or the other lich on this Icy continent. "Well a question for a question, I believe it's is your turn after that."
 
"Mortals gifted with Prophecie art rare. More so art those far greater than mortals that beare both Power and Prophecie; tis a Danger to beare doubled strengths. Tis a Weaknesse most Obviouse. Confining one such being to a Place wouldst require thine strength to transcend theirs at maxim. Tis possible. Thine research shalt find more purchase in the realm of Paper and Scroll, unless thou find incredible luck to uncover the Lost Realms wherein Seers might meet." There is a long pause. "Wherefore didst thou obtain a Blessing of Death?"
 
Aniks paused and pulled out the newer journal as well as a some to scratch down notes. 'Lost Realm where seers meet?' was written in lightly across the top of the page. As well as some other notes from before. He would probably write down anything else that seems interesting. "In all honestly, I could not give you a good answer as to why I have a 'Blessing of Death', as the one I had got was vague. You did not hear another voice when I contacted you did you?"
 
"Thou art alone, mortal, in this Realme of Nothinge."
 
Aniks sighed then in his voice, his eyes looking at the spiral tattoo. “Your just going to remain silent through this aren’t you” Then after a moment he shut his eyes again turning his thoughts back to the Dragon “As I thought, I believe I will be answering your question next.”
"Thou hath motivations of Mysterie and power moste rare. What art thine goals in this fragile life? If thou wouldst care to speak them aloud."
 
“My goals?” There was a moment of pause “Long term? Live a life where I do not need to be a ‘hero’, where my partner and I can just explore Istralar. Short term well that is different, there are obstacles in the way, Artifact needing to destroyed, families to be dealt with, dealing with shadowy groups pulling with strings in the background. Temptical ‘hero’ work.”
 
"Thou wouldst find value in reflection. Only a Foole would grant Darknesse its demands through the Finality of Death. Shouldst mine Release lie within thy power, thou shouldst accomplish it with greate haste. Dost thy partner aid thee in thine travails, or dost he seeke employ of differing kind?"
 
"There is work to be done Vorthómin, and I know that. As for releasing you it might be within a day or two. Causing a commotion inside this city would be problematic, however you have my word that I'll try." Aniks rotated the stone in his hand thinking of a question to ask. "She does, and I am grateful that she's willing to help as much as she does. Why did you ask that?"
 
"For thee to travel without Companie wouldst be a minor Tragedie. Thy kin draw breath centuries past humanity's fall. That much of Time with thine owne thoughts defieth thee thine Sanitie. Absence from thine partner couldst lead thou to ruin shouldst thine Darke foes claim them. Tis a Storie retold thousandfold. Thou spoke of Familie. Dost thou possess it?"
 
Vorthómin had hit the nail on the head, the one thing he feared above almost anything else. Was Celuriel Sister taking her and not being able to do anything about it. So he remained quiet about it, though that lingering feeling didn’t go away. That feeling of not being prepared enough. “Siblings by blood, though only one I speak with. I have lost a family too, and found another. Since we getting personal, what caused you to be sealed away?”
 
A deep sigh echoes across the rift to Aniks. "Tis not Unexpected that thou wouldst ask of it. Thou seeketh one with Power necessarie to repeat the acte with thyself. My Heart hadst the Fyre of an Armie within his scales. He didst seek the fall of Darknesse. Twas not a Fight for but one Dragon - nay, an Armie wouldst hath hadst yet further struggle. But my Heart wouldst not be accused of inaction, and thus our kin rallied. If thy Enemie doth not bear a Scar of Searing Glass upon his truest face, then the Battle was our loss. Mine Heart hath yet to fall when mine Imprisoning Blow was dealt by the Wicked Darknesse. Yet he doeth naught for mine Safetie, and our bond lieth still. He hath not escaped Fate's grasp, her Plans too varying to Suggest. Dost thou hath Power and Strengthe enough to Protect thine partner?"
 
"Vorthómin, I expect you might have to answer some of the same questions from my companion when I release you. As for your question. One could only hope, as I will not know till the time comes will I?" It was a fact of life, he couldn't know if he was strong enough. Not till the moment came. He He very much doubted that a years worth of training in the Boneyard with a Herald and his 125 years of experience could match that of a Lich. A being who had been alive for a millennia. Not to mention that looming cataclysm in the future. How could anybody be ready for that. "I have darted around some questions, so you must excuse me for this next one, You may not answer it if you wish. However I have a feeling my companions likely will ask you when your free. When we had attempted to scry on the shaman's father, it showed us some of the insides Akha Ekhursan, though another member of our party had mentioned the Onyx Shrine. Is there anything you could tell me about it?"
 
"Shouldst thou be present upon mine Freedom, I shalt prevail upon thee to aid mine speech." The silence stretched out between Aniks's question and Vorthómin's eventual answer, the thrum of noise's absence loud in the drow's ears. "Thou sayeth its appellation with such assurance. There is much and more to speake of the Shrine of Onyx, of its Gatewayes and the Rituals once helde deep within its depths. Thou must know the stillness of all Shrines. The Darknesse betwixt Entrance and Skye wouldst wish vibrance upon it; wouldst hope to draw forth Remnants. It is Power moste Olde, and Power thou shalt not encounter if Luck strides next to thee. The Foulest Necromancie may twist Forme and Functionne, but it cannot Awaken the Darke Depths of a Shrine."
 
Something deep within the depth of the Shrine, power a Necromancer probably wants. Given that it’s dragons what could it be? “That is at least something good, they cannot access the shrine in full.” However knowing there luck, they might know what that power is by then end of all this. “I believe it is your question next?”
 
"Thou must hath a Plan if thou seeketh prisoners of the Darknesse. What doth thou believest to be the path to thy goal? Thou hath little knowledge of our lands, t'would seem, Elf of the Western Scourge. Thy answer shalt bear Greate Amusement."
 
“I honestly hope it is more of a stealth mission, get in get out. Without drawing attention to ourselves, unlikely but I can hope. Realistically a frontal assault would be suicidal, so finding an unguarded route might be in our best interests. We had done some research before coming here, but I think we might need to do more, as your land’s text might yield different results.”
 
"Tis a foolish thought for thee to wander into Darknesse unaided but by thy own magicks. Shouldst thou wish it, and shouldst thou hath no other Path open to thee, thou might findeth success not in Onyx but in another Shrine - for tis Knowledge moste ancient that their Paths entwine, ley-guided deep within Iskaldhal's Heart. I hath already told thou that thou must Research thy fates. Do not preclude that Necessitie. Yet I offer this Fate for thy considering."
 
“I will take your words to heart, a path like that would be helpful. Yet the more we know the better. We can never be too prepared. If I were to show you a dragon egg would you be able to identify it?”
 
"Dost thou carry a Precious Childe with thee? Few Dragons hath Abilitie to Identifie alle of our kin by egg alone, yet thou may perchance hath luck if the Childe bears traits of mine own kind or those Moste Common. Where didst thou locate the Hope of our kin?"
 
“Yes and I have had no such luck at figuring it out this mystery. I had found it deep within a demon’s ivory maze, hidden away. I do not think a purple egg with pinks spots is not among common eggs.” Given that the land he found it in was Tenaerul, it might have been normal once and twisted by the land around it. “What would you like to do when you are free?”
 
"Freedom... I hath the wish of soaring through verdant winds and azure skies once more. Tis confining to be entrapped within the Nothinge. Thou speaketh of a Wounde? How didst thou fare against the Unspoken's lasting Wrath? Such places art aberrant beyond thy wildest imaginings, sundered tears of the Loste in many Times past..."
 
“Wound? You have to forgive me unless you are speaking of my time within that maze, I am unsure what you are talking about. If the maze is what your talking about then none of us wish to see that place again.”
 
"Thou Called it as Tenaerul; a Worde moste apt for a Scar of the Wars. Thy maze of Ivorie doth soundeth like the work of Baphomet and His Unholy minions, but tis the Scar that granted the Foule Creatures passage. Thine Scar like as not still weepeth with the Anguishe of its many Dead, a boon to the Summoninge of those Seeking to bring yet further Darknesse."
 
“Huh, I guess I need to organize my thoughts better. As this Telepathic bond is not something I am used to. We dealt with Tenaerul as well as we could have. Spending as little time as possible within that twisted place. However we still needed to go to The Ivory Maze to escape, and once passing those trails we escaped. I found the egg there. Overall that is not a place I would like to visit for a second time in my life.”
"Thou wouldst be Wise in that Decision. The Wounds still breathe the Whispers and Cries of those Loste to the Wars of eld; their Bloodie wills still bear Power moste Dangerous. Thine precious Childe may yet be of Goode; equally, its Darke beginning may Twiste the Childe within its shell. Thou must prayeth that it doth not carry the Taint of the Sundered. For a Dragon to be born with that Defying Will... tis a worrying concept. How hath thou treated the Childe? Doth it yet show signs of Freedom?
 
“It is not the circumstance of how or why we are born than defines us. It's the journey that defines a person. Though that thought had crossed my mind once or twice I can only hope that hasn’t happened. The child has been silent, no knock, pecking or rocking for well of a year. During that year, I had made a box filled with a soft quilt to carefully place it in. Watching over it every night when I returned home.”
 
"Tis not uncommon for a Childe to remain Silent until the Kiss of a greater Wyrm yet smiles upon them. Hast thou introduced it, perhaps, to true Fyre? Yet thou mistake my former words. The Darknesse within a Wound festers akin to that which fyrste corrupted thee. The Greate Destroyer is but one force of Corruption: the Sundering didst open the Pathway for Darknesse to blaze anew as the very skies themselves burnt with Power. Shouldst the Taint of a Forgotten have grasp on thy Charge, its Soul might be fouled and twisted into a Being of true Monstrosity..."
 
(Vorthómin sounded distressed at this prospect.)
 
“True Fire, dragons fire wait before all that. I might be able to check in the child’s soul had been warped. GIve me a moment I might be silent for a second”
Realizing he had never looked at the Egg with Soul Vision. Within a couple of seconds Aniks held in his hands the child in question. Making sure the Soul Gem of Vorthómin and dragon egg made no physical connection. Unsure of how ‘healthy’ that could be. Again Aniks pulled on the Soul Domain glimpse this child's soul.
 
As Aniks again called on Pharasma's power, a bolt of icy energy shot up both of the drow's arms. It was a lingering cold that nestled into his skin; a stilling of the blood, and a reminder of the line he walked. Next time he looked at a mirror, he might find the cobalt swirls of Death's power engraved across his shoulders. Or perhaps he might not, if he wore a shirt. He would eventually spot them, regardless.
 
The chaotic-patterned egg was a simple and smooth thing in reality. Dragon eggs usually had no visible magical aura, and the mystery egg was no different. However, through soul vision, the fledgling soul could be glimpsed within. Like any innocent child's soul, it burnt bright with the untempered golden light of life. Unlike a human, whose soul might shine entirely singularly in colour until an older age, the draconic child's soul glimmered with flickers of other shades. Of the most visible were flashes of silver wing-like shapes that occasionally encircled the soul almost protectively, and small swirls of vibrant pink that danced within its core. It would seem a dragon's soul looked quite different to that of a human (or elf, drow, aasimar, etc)
 
The Egg replaced Aniks in bed, he swung his arms pacing trying to get some semblance of warmth back into his body. The soul gem still clutched in his left hand. He was muttering some curse in Undercommon as his hands took turns rubbing his forearms trying to create heat through friction. After he gave himself enough time to look at the dragon’s newborn soul. The drow quickly lessened how much he pulled on Pharasma’s power by canceling his glimpse into other souls. The icy feeling was new, and he wondered if it was some sort of backlash or reminder. If the cold didn’t go away soon he’d have to figure out how to warm up again, besides adding more layers of clothes.

After giving Vorthómin the description of the child’s soul through the connection. Aniks continued “While I am not overly familiar with dragon souls, our concern can be lessened as it is not as bad as it could have been. Prehabs before they breaks into this world, we could possibly shrink the twisted land’s effect on the child.”
 
"Thou dost bring this elder soul much peace with thine words, mortal, but thou must needs be cautious in thy proceedings. To interfere with Life is to toy with the Divine."
 
“I am glad I can bring you some semblance of peace. As for your word warning, I will take caution but I’ll be fine for now.” Aniks retrieved the egg placing it back in its proper spot. The lingering chill still clinging to his body.
 
"Thou doth possess Honour despite thy fell beginnings. Thine Northern kin wouldst have learnt much from thy actions... Verily, I speak naught of Import. Thou hath not continued thy Questioning, mortal. I wouldst not taketh thine 'turn', as thy might speak."
 
“A Question?” He avoided the first part, as he disagreed. He’ll deal with the cold after he was done speaking with Vorthómin “Your far more familiar with this country than us, is there anything you can tell me about the artifact known as The Harp?”
 
"Thou must needs learn the Importance of Specifitie, mortal. This land holdeth many Countries and yet further Instruments of String. Song hath long been the vessel of Information betwixt mine kin, and thou shouldst hold nay Surprise at thine mortal fellows imitating their Elders. Tis no surprise that Harps number the Many Greats crafted by mortal and Elder hand alike, though thou might avail thyself of Native custom: twas not until Humans, Gnomes, and thy purer kin became truly settled that their delicate Instruments were summoned unto being. Wouldst thou grant more light upon what thy wish to Learn?"
 
The dark elf sat on the edge of the bed, “I believe it was a harp connected to virtues, I heard tales about heroes being changed by its music. Even being told we might have already been affected by something like that…” A single finger poked his back, then again as he was mentally speaking, and a final time before Aniks was brought back from the world of thought he had been so lost in. The hybrid spell broke down as Aniks’s mind had something new to focus on. He no longer drew on the soul domain, but still felt lasting effects. Aniks turned to face Celuriel, Vorthómin thoughts now gone from his mind. He’d get a chance to speak to him when Vorthómin is out. Besides Aniks pocketed the soul gem, not willing to try making contact again tonight.