An extravagant white leather bound journal contains several chapters detailing Calina Ravanqnerosicor’s journeys. It is written in a rich blue ink and the pages have a gold trim. It is written in Sperethiel.
Chapter 127: Becoming a Passion
Truck dropped by in the Great Library and has requested a particular research topic be expanded upon and explained in great detail. An old shrine to Rashamon, the dead name of Raggok. Back when Raggok was the Passion of Endurance, many had made the pilgrimage to his shrine prior to the scourge, often offering up donations that eventually turned what was a tiny shrine tended to by Ardan Yan into a grand altar. Of particular note were these rubbings of various runes found by travelers who documented their journeys to or through the altar. Reports of massive pillars that were covered in these runes were supported by other similar reports. I have never met a language that I couldn't eventually master, so I began the long process of deciphering the runes. As I worked (I'm not sure how many hours went by, but I am told that I had spent weeks researching the symbols) it felt as though there was something missing from the runes. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I had to translate these runes. It would be quite the milestone in my career as a translator.
So the party had made their last minute purchases and finally was ready to head out. They deigned to meet at the least civilized of taverns in the Hall of Bodal, a place called the Ghost Pepper. Not sure why we had to meet up anywhere other than the front gate. It would have made sense to meet at the Great Library. Unaware of who all was joining us on this journey, I was particularly excited to see that Elisen would be joining us. Vralino has spoken at great lengths about the Cavalryman turned Cavalier. A bit later, the rest of the party came out of the Ghost Pepper with Truck, the honorable R'edtarian among the members, and we headed out the Gates of Throal.
Continuing into Barter Town, I felt an unnerving presence that seemed to be observing us as we traveled through. If there was anyone I trusted to keep me safe, it was R'edtarian, so I clutched onto him, letting him know we were being watched. I didn't know where these observers were, but I told him to keep an eye out. The party, seeing me distraught and R'edtarian searching for the observers, guided us down an alleyway. R'edtarian informed me that there were symbols running across the back of my neck and tried to draw them in the sand, so I immediately pulled out the notes I had taken of the research I did for Truck. Normally I'm much more ogranized, but I didn't have the time to filter through the information, so I pulled everything out and handed him the copies of the rubbings from the Great Library. He went over the information, but I was more concerned with finding that observer than his ability to identify the runes on my neck. After packing up, we continued onward towards Juniper Hollow.
I have never noticed how beautiful Via Triolvi is. Most Plebeians don't know the name of the road between Barter Town and Juniper Hollow, but I know. It was quite the peaceful trip as we put distance between us and the observer, only ever coming across potential threats every once in a while. With the party confidently walking past these other "travelers", my instinct to hide off the road as they passed was ignored, for the time being. Upon arrival at Juniper Hollow, my Astral Sense granted me a higher level of being. I didn't just see the Astral Plane, I merged with it. It was quite the experience. Then there was that pesky rat, annoying rodent. It must be cleansed of the road. R'edtarian will do nicely for just such a task. We must keep the roadways clear and safe. Felines. Felines everywhere. Begone Mr. Whiskers! The town is safe from rodent and feline alike. Well done, R'edtarian. Well done. Our next destination on our journey shall be Clear Creek Crossing.
When we arrive, there are more felines, but significantly fewer rodents. I shall have them away. There's a big construction site, as the town prepares to defend itself, erecting palisades and other fortifications. These will be useless against any real threat. The party knows this. The town is safe from taint and horror. I once again merge with the Astral, and it is as clean as the garments I donned for this journey. Silky, comfortable, cooling, and comfortable Astral comfort perfect for sleeping in safety. But, there's a Ley Line! And the soil! Such accurate representation of the cycle of life and nutritional recycling! Such a wondrous flow of magic passing through this city! I found a pebble, and in this pebble is a model of the universe. I can peer into it and focus and identify the path ahead, this magical pebble, so perfectly spherical, unnatural, a true sayer's tool, and it'll assist me in my passionate predictions. A band is scheduled to perform at the Cracked Barrel. My followers deserve a respite, and I shall demonstrate the proper way to head bang! Yes, the pebble has shown me the ways of dancing in the future! Next on our pilgrimage, we hit Kampung Gaja.
But before our arrival, there is something magnificent about this tree. This grand tree, one of many, forming the whole of the forest while only be a tiny part of it, absorbs nutrients from the soil saturated and sated by the death and decay of moving life which feeds on the tree. What a wondrous cycle and intertwined is not a mystic thread of magic made for spells and talents but a simpler magic that blends with the area undetected by Astral Sense or Horror's sight. I must dig in, I must merge with it and siphon its latent and hidden power, I must become one with the cycle. I see... darkness. Betrayal, someone has stolen consciousness from me, but I see all. As if in a dream, but reflective of the real world. I am dragged away from the tree, the ritual cleansed from the earth, and an Elemental is summoned in fear. Faithful servant, you have no fear of my wrath when I return to the physical plane.
Despite Elisen's Betrayal, I forgive you, as all Passions do. My brother and fellow entity Upandal has a shrine higher in the mountains, along the Via Caucavic route. Electricity flows as Upandal and I commune, and a scent of fear washed over R'edtarian as he realizes what his long time companion really is. A small group of dwarves passes through, I think those little pods are called families? I had a family once. They betrayed me, too. Now I have transcended. We must erect my shrine on the grounds of the altar belonging to the Mad Passion.
We have arrived. I immediately begin to try reading the runes, but they are incomplete, as their rubbings would suggest. I see astral glyphs, but still, the message is incomplete. We need different light. Quartz crystal? You there! Servant! Bring me a quartz crystal! No, that didn't do anything. Maybe a magical flame or moonlight? Moonlight! Yes! The last of the waning moon is tonight, and it will provide the missing details we need to decipher the language of the Passions, completing my transcendence! It's only two hours away! I must prepare everything so that the lunar glyphs will simply fall into place and provide me my answers!
As we await the rise of the moon, I get a grand idea from Orlam. Upandal can craft a moon. Perhaps returning to his shrine below will allow us the proper tools to interpret this message properly, but too late. The moon rises and the first term is... open? As I say it aloud, a netherportal to the Astral Realm leaks corruption into the valley, bringing with it several tentacled beasts, flying, obsessed with taking my fellowship as tribute to the Mad Passion. I will not allow my worshippers harm! But they have not accepted my mark!?! I cannot assist nearly as well without my mark! Blasphemers! I will deal with you once you stand in awe of my power! Burst into oblivion, vile fiend! Those who threaten my followers will give their essence to me!
The battle left my worshippers bruised and battered, but not broken. We descend to the safety of Upandal's shrine. The gate shall be weakened enough to prevent passage as the lightless moon refuses its mystic energy to the shrine of the Mad Passion. We return on the night of the new moon, and the gate opens once more. Another Passion child appears. This pretender must be dealt with. I am the one true Passion of this age! Go forth, minions! Remove this stain of a lineage from existence! A grand assault, Elisen! Orlam, take cover, and stop using spells! Move to attack, Truck and R'edtarian!
With the battle won, the last of my efforts bolster Orlam's ability to bring Truck back from the brink of death. I collect the corruption of the area and cram it into his tiny windling body. No pretender will rob me of even one faithful. You shall not die today, young windling. Arise and continue to spread the word of Calina, the Passion of the Aether!
I'm not even sure what to make of these ramblings. We had forced the retreat of whomever that tentacled woman was. The master, assumed to be the Mad Passion Raggok himself, also retreated from the Gate, denied of his newest handmaiden. I may have gone mildly insane. I think Truck, Orlam, Elisen, and even R'edtarian believe me to be Horror Marked. This is not the best first impression I could have made to Elisen. I think it'll be best to burn the notes on this location. Every translation, as much as it pains me to remove my work from this plane, seems to be useful to nothing but death, doom, discourse, and dysphoria. I am thankful to have R'edtarian watch over me during this tirade.