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Golden-Fang's Musings #1-3


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Golden-Fang’s Musings #1-3

 

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“When we gaze up into the night sky, captivated by the spirits of light, we bear witness to the beacons that we once paid our admiration and worship. We do not forsake the great Metzli while we hold fire close to our hearts, we use our gifts to protect Her.”

-Golden-Fang, Meditations on Existence

 

“Superstitions have their ways of seething into the minds of mortality. Take comfort in the confines of monotony and discover the unknown to hold far more treachery than it should.” 

-Golden-Fang, Excerpt from the Chronologized Allegories

 


Musing #1

 

Yesterday, at night I felt conflicted, but I couldn't determine what was causing it. I looked up to the milky sky through the open ceiling window... and I'm not foolish enough to think they aren't up there. Stars were more than spectacles to me when I was younger and full of energy. They were supernatural beings. Of course, I did not have the teachings of my elders during this time, but I maintain a cautious optimism.

 

But, to my eyes, they could still see us, even in the deepest cave, couldn't they? Is this a case of superstition? Anyway, that was one of the things that bothered me. The clouds were a strange shade of grey, to put it that way. They seemed natural, but I felt a quiet, chronic grief when I closed my eyes to listen. Not in the sense of sorrow or death, but in the sense of how one would feel if they were hungry. Without a place to stay. As the rainless clouds blew over my oceans, there was nothing but emptiness.

 

It reminded me of why the Mu'un priests were there in the first place. There were so many for Metzli to look at, so many Kharajyr who were lost in such a dark time... Perhaps the sense of emptiness was a cathartic experience. Or maybe it was just my innocent, sweet-clouded eyes, beckoning me to drift off into the darkness. But, as with all emotions, I'm certain that it will pass with a good night's sleep.

 

 


Musing #2

 

Today is a very delicate and gentle day. The song is good, but it isn't kind. Perhaps coercive, even seductive. The drums start with a barely tapped snare.. bu'um—bu'um-buh-dr'uuh-d'um. There's a one, a two, and a three. Then, like a single dancer starting her routine on a quiet stage, a flute joins in with a peaceful melody. She comes to a halt, only to watch as a reeded pipe mimics her movements almost exactly.

 

The drums build to a louder bu’druum, b'uum--buu'm-buh-druu'-du'm. A one-two, a three-four, and a four-five. A one-two, a three-four, and a four-five. The strings are pulled from rhythm, and the fore flute joins her companion in a waltz at the same time. They don't touch; instead, they dance in perfect harmony with one another... The melody is hummed by another string, a kettle drum, and a bass.

 

It has been building steadily throughout the day, but not in a threatening manner. At a time, one instrument, one voice... It develops into a wonderful ensemble, with an unknown climax. Today will be a day for reflection.

 

 


Musing #3

 

Tomorrow will leap with the rasping of claws on scales upon those with open ears. I have learned a lot more about... locksmithing in the last few months than I ever have before. From mathematicians and erudites seeking to outwit anyone who would outwit them, to the use of copper picks to bend and adapt to match various tumblers. It's been a long walk from place to place which I shall not name in favour of reducing suspicion. A lot of reading and practice is expected.

 

However! One thing I learned from it is that not all locks are created equal. Picks are required in some situations, while spells are required in others. It's made me think about a kind of unyielding lock... one breathed from a touched trill. A lovely song, written to keep all those whose morals did not deserve to be exposed to old ways that we cannot remember. In my youth—and my youth contains much to reflect upon—I would constantly seek in the wrong places, and it wasn’t until consulting with one of the Mu’un priests, in one of the temples, that I realized my oversight.

 

She spoke of tales long ago, where some would ‘lock’ doors by singing to them… by enchanting them, with poem and rhyme. Think about it! How many combinations of words and rhythms and notes are there in the world? Think about the kinds of locks that would have to match? Millions upon millions of tumblers, all switching around with one another, every which way… it is brilliant. The old ways are truly brilliant, although to why they were lost I do not know. Suspicion leads me to believe that perhaps the old ways were not as transparent as they may have seemed. As risky as it might have been, I had found myself in awe of some of the older beliefs. It's elegant, a crypt of voices, a reliquary of rhyme. Graceful is the term. Beautiful.

 

I almost feel bad for attempting to solve this riddle and shed its light upon the world… like defiling a deliciously delectable dessert or smashing a hand through a perfectly smooth tuft of sand. But what lay behind that library door? Archives of preserved words for my kin? Unforetold magical tomes that could have saved our… no. It will be worth it, and its days are numbered. Hopefully, with this knowledge, we will achieve one step closer to that day where we will not have to sing any lullabies… but this door would make good practice. One day.

 

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Credits

 

The topic represents In-Character knowledge that may not be used for metagaming purposes and must be discovered through roleplay.

 

Spoiler

- Artwork (listed in order) -

 


Notes

Diaspora from the vanishing of their creator deity has led to the Kharajyr people needing to discover a new purpose. In this topic, I attempt to flex a few creative muscles by describing one of my character's inner musings. With the recent discovery of Kharajyr artefacts on Almaris, a resurgence in wanting to uncover the untold mysteries of a former civilization has been rekindled. What hidden tomes lie still in wait, collecting dust from an ancient era? Has Muun'Trivajza truly disappeared from existence with the departure of Metzli, or could there have been shadows scheming in behind the curtain? Who knows! Feeling cute, might weaponize cat people later idk tho

 

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