The Key To The Past [Dego]

[Gossamer]

TS: To be decided by PC, Winter, Era X (pf)
Late Evening, the first time within the city limits.

Sometimes those that walked the world had less of an understanding of who they were than perhaps the world gave them credit for. When Dego stepped into Zinn'Sunn for the first time leading his Raslin, the city took notice. It wasn't due to the company he kept. No indeed, nor was it due to his black hair, which was exactly opposite of his snow white skin. What the statues indeed did notice was something far different. They could smell it in him like they could smell a birth on the wind. Bloodlines, old and true, stretched back in time and though they were only statues, they understood such things with a powerful inkling that rarely went unnoticed. It was his Esh'lahier blood that caught their attention. Zinn'Sunn was located in close proximity to the Forest of Light, which indeed was a living thing. In fact, some of the best and oldest of these statues, the ones with real power, had been carved initially by the hands of masters from stone quarried within the heart of the living forest. And so it was they recognized such things. Yes, they recognized Dego. And as such, their eyes followed him. Carver blood, for sure, though how it manifested itself in his bloodline, they had no idea. Such people could be artists of some sort, though the line had branched into armor and jewelry and some even into fabric dying and lace weaving. And Dego's line in particular had a rare trait. Back in time, stretching so far back only a select few knew about it, his blood had worked crystal. Oh the marble and granite edifices remembered, because the most beautiful of them had been carved of such things. But crystal wasn't enduring, not like the harder stones... and anyhow, they had keyed it to become what it was, rather than take mallet to chisel and create for themselves. They weren't mages, though truth was they were closer to elementalists than most anything else. And such things had purpose, though in the present time, it was long since forgotten.

Zinn'Sunn had been founded after such bloodlines reached a pinnacle and then had started to disperse or become muddied. Dego though, with his presence in the city, gave them some cause for excitement. For Zinn'Sunn held its secrets, some small and insignificant, and some large and mysterious. But the statues, who heard all and witnessed far more, understood such things. And now that he was here, they were bound and determined to make sure he learned at least one.

And so they followed him. With their eyes, with their heads, and some even smaller more mobile statues trailed along in his wake, moving from one pose to another, non distinct, watching to see what the traveler and his Raslin would do.

[Dego Mernoff]

15th of Pontius, Late evening
The Season of Winter,
Era I of the Celestine Mandate,
Era XV Post Fractum

The world was silent around the elf, and he was growing very used to the still of the night, and becoming a creature of it, not by choice but rather by curse. Zinn’Sunn had a strange feeling to it, as if the city itself was alive, though this was only one of countless strange things that had entered into the elves life as of late. The man couldn’t place it in his mind really but something about the city was different, very different.

Dego had made several trips to the stables today, trying to calm diligence and assure him that the steed was not in the way of harm, and after many candlemarks of silent communication, the Raslin finally gave in to his friend’s will and let his mind rest and drift into the sweet release of slumber. No such release came to the half esh in this world however. After many brightenings of counting Dego had at last figured out the pattern, ten brightenings without sleep and then one with it. That is if you could call a day plagued with endless nightmares rest.

They tore at the man’s mind, skewing his reality, the endless days without sleep giving him no relief from his wandering mind. Even with the Raslin he often felt more alone then he had ever been, tainted by witchcraft, his chances of returning to his mother’s homelands all but gone now.

Slowing his pace through the city Dego found himself in a garden of stone, statues of all shapes and sizes, expertly carven and placed for effect. If anything, the young craftsman had to give credit to the artisans of the city, their craft was so good the product seemed disturbingly lifelike, as if each piece was the victim of a stony gaze, forever locked in their final stance of resistance. It brought a sad smile to his face, the idea of some existence more twisted then his own.

The man found a patch in the grass away from the path he had traveled to try and clear his mind of thoughts. He had already been given the bulky frame and dark hair of his father, a curse by no means; the man was just as proud of his fathers flesh as he was of his mothers. His cousin’s the full blooded elves would not see the dark hair and muscular frame the same. Black symbolized taint in their eyes, and now he carried a true taint one that surpassed the first, and would not be seen kindly by his kin. It made his heart ache for he had traveled so far and now had little chance of completing the journey.

Then there was this city, it seemed as if it watched him. Dego didn’t know if that thought was truth or one of paranoia that had formed while in the forest. He had a constant urge to look over his shoulder now, the shadows of near forgotten dreams still ringing clear in his mind. Witches who had given him life, and a friend, but also more time then any man should have to ponder a life he didn’t know. The lord Ioannes worked in mysterious ways, for surely it had to have been his will for all of these things. If it wasn’t however then what was he living his life for, what path did he walk.