First published First Harvest 166 - Frost Fall 169.
All episodes written by Galthus, except "Restless sleep" by Bordelaise, and "Tea" by Bless
Several guild elders and scribes are startled by Galthus' giant graceful crane soaring into the guild with a small scroll tied to its leg. A page quickly rushes forward and carefully unfolds the parchment. Many monks gather within the counsel chambers as Kadfail reads the log.
"I write this not because I am captain of this white-winged beautiful vessel; it is a log of all who adventurered here. I hope my crane Elegance finds you well and safe. Do not worry, many of our brothers and sisters are here with me, aboard the Flying Cloud. Eldrian, Butwone, Bloodless, Tarantio, Dwallin, Lal, Eldriad, Colourman, Brandan, Coaltan, Nevets, Lodon, and Zull were present in the lands when I made the call for assistance.
Where are we? I haven't the faintest clue. This swift ship is guided by the hands of the Gods and safely carries us to a destination only it knows. And I cannot be sure the waves we sail upon are the waves of the sea. For eagles swim and dolphins dance among the shimmering clouds and glinting waves far from Cosrin. The dawnbursting moonlight shines brilliantly upon us; it is as if the divines blessed our journey. The light of Kali's grace embraces us and envelops us with a warm soft glow. I cannot imagine reaching our destination or turning back. Though we monks are the spiritual lights of the realm, this light blinds even us. The hands of the Gods weave the threads of the mortal tapestry of Fate. Perhaps we overstep our boundary and fall off the warp and weft of the endless cloth. Into the hands of Kali. She smiles, and catches us. Cradling us in the center of creation. Here, I am at peace."
-Galthus.
And the elders who paced and shuffled about nervously relax and gather in the Garden of Inner Oneness. Kadfail leads the chant, a soft prayer entreating the Gods to smile upon the faithful monks. The chant slowly fades into murmur and into silence as each monk searches within himself for the patience, courage, and serenity to face the future, and the unknown. The only thing echoing about the realms is a soft hoppy laughter, from a certain witchlock, completely immersed in cooking a feast for her recently returned loving husband. She hops about in excitement as the elders pray in content silence and as the crew aboard the ship peer off into the shimmering curtained distance. No one -- except perhaps the Queen of Death herself, or the weak figure sprawled in the sleeping chambers, or the sorrow of a thousand monks -- no one knew that a thin thread of the Tapestry perches precariously under the sharp blade of the curse of the past.
Sleeping Chambers
Galthus wakes up with a startle and a confuzzled look. He blinks and blinks again at the surroundings so familiar, yet so strange. Brother Seltin smiles serenly at him, but hastily remarks, "You are weak and tired, rest well and you can tell us all that transpired later." At the words "weak and tired," Galthus startles, and quickly glances at the other bunks, his face quickly flickering over the monks there, but he doesn't seem to recognize the one he searches. Galthus struggles to get up, but visions and images swim before him, swirling like flickering flames of dancing candlelight. And it's cold, so cold. Black, so black.
When he regains consciousness, Galthus shuffles towards the kitchen and quickly prepares for himself some warm soup. He carries the meal and a candle to his study where he pores over books, tomes, and scrolls while eating, but not tasting, the meal. Galthus sends for pages and scribes and elders to search the archives and libraries for a myriad of odd, unrelated scrolls, dealing with navigation of flying vessels, geography of distant farming lands, living curses, and lore of Kali and Senrania.
Finally, after the sundial is shadowed and lightened, and the full moon begins to wane, Galthus sets down the ancient texts and parchments, puts his fingers on his temples and closes his eyes. Nevertheless, his mind continues to run over the scrolls within his head, searching for the clue, the key to unlock the door of death. For the price of failure is too great.
Galthus blinks. Never in his entire life has he thought of failure. Never will he abandon his faith and trust in himself, in the guild, and in the Gods. Why the hestiation now? Perhaps because of the life -- the lives -- hanging on the thin thread of responsibility.
Very few others know the entire situation. Galthus has not spoken more than a handful of words to another person since he reappeared in the Garden of Inner Oneness, exhausted and wounded. The elders scratch their heads in wonder and confuzzlement, unable to understand why he has requested that varieties of fresh vegetables and fruits from the gardens be carted to Astera for her cooking.
Revelation
A shrine to Kali, the earth goddess
This large shrine contains adornments to represent the earth
goddess herself. Ever-burning candles for fire, set afloat upon
the water contained in a large earthen bowl. A gentle breeze
permeates the location, making the flames burn brightly.
Galthus slowly enters the shrine to Kali, in great reverence and awe of the tremendous feeling of divinity and spirituality. He kneels at the shrine, softly chanting a prayer to the Gods. Henley smiles and nods at him, for it is a regularity; Galthus comes here without failure every day, and after his mysterious voyage, he prays more often than before.
And perhaps his devotion to the divines has been rewarded. A pale silver-haired figure, the Doshu of the Kwon, enters, leaning heavily on a bronze tipped walking stick. He seems weak and tired; his face is haggard and his robes are dusty and dirty. Galthus blinks and looks up at the gloved figure.
They exchange a few words, perhaps about Galthus' quest, or the failure thereof. It seems as though Kali had not permitted entrance -- entrance to what, you wonder. Darby, though debilitated and exhausted, reveals a tattoo of Kali, and Galthus touches it. Henley's eyes open wide as a visage of the earth goddess graces the room and exchanges words with the humble brother. And as She disappears, Darby crumples to the floor, the tattoo crying tears of blood. Galthus, still in awe and amazement, snaps out of his trance-like state and rushes to Darby. But alas, it is too late.
Cursed
Galthus, completely exhausted, staggers into his office, but wounded not from battle, but from something far more corrupt and dangerous. He dismisses the concerned scribe and sits down heavily in his chair. After removing his battle gi mask, he looks at it and ponders, "I'll never use this again...Or perhaps, I'll use it the rest of my life." His shining aura has dulled into a faint blue glow, as if Galthus' inner brilliance has faded into nothingness. He slowly removes his shroud of moonstones and thinks how fitting such a shroud really is. But most curiously, he fiddles with a single black glove on his right hand. Look about furtively, he checks that no one else is present, and removes it. His hand has a small blue indistinguishable mark. Galthus looks at it, sighs deeply, and holds his head in his hands. Instinctively, he rubs his hand, but he knows that the odd glowing tattoo is permanent. The tattoo. Where did it come from? Galthus ponders deeply but cannot recall when he first noticed the curious symbol. Although he knows exactly what it is, he looks closer, trying to find some sort of evidence that it is what it is not.
He sighs.
A Call for Help
Galthus looks at the faint blue mark and trembles. "I couldn't..I could never..." he whispers, yet he realizes the inevitable Fate: the helpless mortal strands blown to pieces by the winds of destiny. He looks at the portraits of guild heros on the wall of his office: the peaceful and serene Cecily, Hirobi, Lord of Dragons, and the Doshu of the Kwon. He lingers on the last painting of Darby for a moment. "How could a hero die? One of such power and strength as the Doshu? I can't comprehend the vileness of a curse that could do such damage. Something that could possess the target to slay his most trusting companion. A haunting misery leeching off Kali's creations. Heaven sobs tears of sorrow at what will pass."
Galthus picks up his soul katana, and runs through a kata, gracefully whirling about, slashing cleanly, elegantly, combining a series of kicks among the glint of the silver blade. He looks at it, as if pondering something, perhaps even contemplating suicide. "Nae, the curse follows me beyond the threshold of death. No chains, no cages can trap this odd blue mark." As an afterthought, he takes out his Kusarifundo, feeling the weight in his hand, and places both in his locker, vowing never to touch them until the curse has been removed.
But Galthus looks at his hands, and ponders how he can neutralize such a weapon. He is not a master of the Kwon, and it is inexplicable how his novice skills can defeat a hero. "Darby," he whispered, "How could I ever slay Darby?" Galthus sighs, and slowly puts on the glove on the tattoed hand. "I need the help of my brothers and sisters." He begins a scroll:
"I need the prayers and blessings of all my brothers and sisters to guide me to stop this madness. Last voyage, our quest to find the sacred Starflower and water from the River of Tears failed. But this time, we have the blessing of Kali, who will grant entrance to the divine realm. All monks who are able, please contact me so we can gather and embark on a trip to find the ingredients we need. Not only does Darby's life rest on this decision, but also the lives of all those in the guild. If we cannot heal this foul curse, it will destroy the guild, causing monk to fight monk. This quest is of utmost importance. Note that not a single word is to be spoken to someone not part of the guild, and especially not Astera. May Kali guide us in our endeavor, and Fate allow us to repair the threads of the broken tapestry."
Galthus.
Discipline
A page makes a fumbled and confused report, wide-eyed in horror, gasping for breath. He babbles furiously and incoherently, and you catch the words:
The taint of the curse has become stronger and more penetrating, endangering his soul. His eyes dilate with inner fury as if his mind struggles painfully to attain an unattainable peace. His hands are clenched and his jaws clamped tightly, though nothing physical around him threatens. Sweat and tears drip from his face, a payment of salt to the ceaseless demands of some demonic entity. A delirium of some sort? Neither the apothecary nor the herbalist can find balms or elixirs to soothe this illness. The priests cannot channel enough power to cure it, and the scholars pore continuously over scrolls and manuscripts in search of answers. Something must be done at once.
Meanwhile, he has begun to meditate in the Garden of Blood. It is almost as if he is uneasy anywhere else. He concentrates hard, breathing deeply, trying to focus on the balance of mind, body, and soul. I pray, do not disturb him; he battles for his life, and all rests on his deep meditation.
You wonder who the page is referring to...Darby or Galthus?
A decision
Galthus crumples to the floor, the internal pressure bursting and imploding, singing and shattering, flowing and breaking, crushing Galthus from all sides, and from within. The pain, the terror, the all consuming fear of the unknown grips Galthus in a way that no other beast in the realm ever has. Rats gnaw at his shackled limbs as slavers flay his body into pieces. The most terrifying of dragons lunges to bite his head off while assassins of the dark stalk about preparing the most lethal venom. Venom. The curse has caused the tattoo to glow darker, almost a purple hydra fang black, dripping with the evil that contaminates the soul, whispering corruption and hatred in one's ear. He feels that vileness course through his veins, from his tattooed hand to his arms and legs. They are no longer his. His body writhes as it fights the possession, the intruder and invader. And the venom continues to his head, his mind. And they are no longer his. Delirium and hallucination entrance him, throwing Siren ropes of death around thought and reason. The poison flows, uninterrupted, to his heart...
Galthus touches the tattoo, and wonders whether it can make him rebel from himself. Make him a non-monk. A killer. A heartless, ruthless, deadly murderer without care or faith or trust in the world. So he vows not to take another life until he is himself. Galthus, resolved with a new promise of pacifism, sits and tries to meditate, but cannot attain the concentration required. He has lost all faith in himself, but will never lose hope in the guild.
A delay
Though Kali has blessed the mission and the boat has been prepared, it seems as though the celestial bodies have been obscured by dense clouds of fog. Navigation, even though the ship may be guided by the winds of the Gods, is too difficult to warrant a voyage. At the same time, the curse weakens Galthus, immersing him in nightmares of dread and doom. Galthus claws in the air, but the demonic presence smothers him, so that he cannot breathe, drowning in the sea of horror. And he cannot wake up; unconciousness grips him like steel bands, unyielding.
Restless sleep
A small sprite suddenly wakes up. It is after midnight, the monk's guild is silent...silent? The sprite listens, wondering what had troubled her sleep, and hears a faint moaning coming from another part of the guild. The sprite gets up and carefully, without a noice, moves toward where the moaning is heard...
...as the sprite moves closer, she realizes she is walking toward where her guild master is trying to get his nightly rest, but what kind of rest is that? Pushing the door open, she can see, in the soft light of the moon, a tormented man...covered in sweat and rolling back and forth. The nightmares of this man cannot be just nightmares. It is something more, something worse, something that scares the sprite only to look at. Hesitating she walks closer, sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches out for the hand of her guild master. Holding the hand, and stroking it softly, the sprite whispers: "We will be here. We will always be here..."
Nightmares
The visions swirl and dance before his eyes, so vivid they bleed with the colors of the dying sunset. Images engulf and envelope Galthus, embracing his mind and memory. Memory. Oddly enough, the library contains no histories of Galthus, no stories of his past. A past shadowed by obscurity; no one knows where Galthus came from or of his life before he was welcomed by the Monks. And perhaps he does not know himself; shock or fear has eradicated Galthus' memories of his past, and perhaps this selective amnesia is a safeguard against a vile entity who could use the knowledge for his personal gain. But with the delirium and confusion of sickness - of the mind, body, and soul - Galthus yields to unconcious contemplation, and the past returns to haunt him. Most of the images he first sees are recognizable, recent events and people, but pivotal points in his life. The dedicated monkess, a dragonhearted human, wearing a White Tiger Gi speaks to him: "I am all I experience in this life...All my joys and my sorrows, choices made and unmade, weave my path, and trace my soul. As I walk, I learn to love, and to transcend." Galthus ponders that, knowing its importance in understanding life, but he cannot grasp the concentration he needs. He sighs, but remembers an old weathered iron necklace reading: "All is well." Galthus smiles inwardly, for all is well, and he hears a spritely whisper: "We will be here. We will always be here..."
He speaks
Galthus bursts awake and shakes his head in confusion, breathing deeply, in, out, in, out, in deathly surprise, excited shock, babbling truth, pondering nonsense. He struggles out of the bed, tears streaming down his face, and he mutters incoherently, "I saw it..I saw it.." He clutches at nothingness, clinging to the whispy air. The phantoms, ghosts that no one can see, but everyone can feel, haunt him, and yet he breathes them in with joy, in, out, in out, inhaling the sickish air filled with visions as if it were the lifeblood of truth, pouring out of the books of Andaria. He whispers, "She blessed me with this dream..I can see it.." But as Galthus realizes he cannot recall what he has seen, he gasps and falls back, unconscious. The room is silent once more, and blackness obscures the clouds with fog. Only an ugly purplish red glow -- almost like the blood of the dead -- from Galthus' hand smiles and revels in the darkness.
Monks rush in, out, in, and out, like Galthus's life, battling the curse.
Tea
You notice a monk slowly fade in from the shadows. Taking a stance he learned as a child from his sensai he sweeps through the room to be sure all is safe. taking the hand of the now restless sensai and bowing say's "we are still here now and always,do not worry ye will be alright we shall see to it". As he fades back into the shadows you notice a cup of tea on the little table by the bed that was not there before.
The Journey
Galthus wakes with a start and his eyes widen. He sees the cup of piping hot tea and sips it slowly, breathing in the pleasant herbal aroma. Galthus, for the first time in quite a while, seems truly content and peaceful; the lines of worry and anger on his face have faded into a tranquil smile. And he speaks.
"I...I cannot describe it in mortal terms. It was something beyond...beyond what, I'm not sure. But it was a Heavenly Isle, a floating land among the lands of the divine. She..She must have blessed me with the dream...And it was so vivid and so deep and so fleeting and so shallow. I can't..I can't recall it. But I must, for it calls. We are called...summoned..to this Heavenly Isle, to find the Starflower and acquire her tears..from that sobbing river. I was so paralyzed when I saw it...the crystal clear flow of voices calling, crying. I wasn't frozen in fear, but rather sorrow, the deepest sorrow I have ever felt. No one, no mortal, was meant to see and hear and cry for it. It may have been only a dream, but it was a reality of a thousand moons. Now I know why she is the monk of a thousand crying graces and perhaps I get a little insight on why she sits on that invisible chair of humility..."
Galthus waves his arms in excitement, as if he is trying to convey something far deeper, far more real than this world. He paints the images of a thousand jumbled pictures, confused yet so perfect that you can see them in your mind. He mentions the hut of the castle of the Gods, the endless fields of flowers, so brilliant they blind mortal eyes, the roses twining up the gazebo post, the waves of the ocean, of the sky, crashing endlessly upon the shores of the world. Galthus smiles, and says, "We go."
Fin (Captain's Log)
Today, on the first day of Frost Fall, 169, Napman, Bless, Akumu, Sovin, Bordelaise, Bouda, Logaan, Aranel, Lal and I set off on the voyage with Cecily's help. We found the ship "Flying Cloud" docked near Trollhaters lean-to and set off, with Sovin guiding the ship. The voyage was quite short, speeded up by the hand of Kali, guiding our vessel. As we passed through a brilliant curtain of light, we realized we were no longer sailing upon the water, but in the air. Soon, we reached the Heavenly Isle, a breathtaking island where the grass is the deepest green and where we could find peace and comfort. Traveling along a babbling pond, we found the legendary River of Tears. No mortal was meant to be there; we all cried, overwhelmed with the feeling of Kali's sorrow. We gathered a vial of the precious water, and followed the path to a gazebo with beautiful roses, probably from the magnificent breathtaking field of flowers we saw. Following a path, we found a hut with a strange old woman, who, though she winked at Bordelaise, would not speak to us. However, that path lead to a dead end at the edge of a gorge. Retracing our steps, Napman finally found a path from the brilliant field of endless flowers, a path we must have missed the first time we came. That lead to the garden of Starflowers, where we prayed in thanks to the creator, for blessing us with this trip. Having retrieved the ingredients, we took the ship home. Bless happened to make friends with a seagull he named Dakaree. When we got home, Cecily took the Star Flower and Vial of Tears, and Leoni helped mix the Vial of Sacred Elixir. The draught purified me, washing away all the corruption and evil of the curse. The living curse of the tattoo no longer troubles me. All in all, a smooth trip. Kali smiles upon us today.
Galthus.
Flying Cloud.
2 Frost Fall 169.