An Open Investigation into Eldritch Occurences

[KidKrinkles 2043]

 

---

An artist rendition of the gnarled-shape of Vallagne, as described by the affected.

 

---

 

 

---

 

AS A MATTER OF INTRIGUE.

 

 

It was not long ago that I found myself patrolling with Garenbrig levymen. While we made our rounds across the land, we found an incident outside of Petra. The matter was sorted, but not before something assailed the greater party. I could only describe the confounding sensation that befell me as cacophony to my eyes, and dizzying to my ears. In one moment, while tensions were at their crescendo and coming down, the land itself swirled.

 

The countryside around Petra became like a kaleidoscope. Shapes twisted into alien shapes and hues. What I can … vaguely… recall as numbers crawled across the corner of my eye, and even my missing eye, taking presence in my head where I should not see. I could feel my head on fire, like every part of my skull was wrapping around itself, individually, in a horrific dance of nightmarish possibility. A voice screamed in the finale; “The numbers, Mason, what do they mean?”

 

When we had parted ways… none of us felt at peace. 

 

It wasn’t even the next Saint’s Day that I rode to Celia’nor to visit a student and friend. I’d gotten to the gate, and, when it opened, I stepped inside. The gate closed behind me, and as I looked up, I saw horror. It was bulging, writhing flesh, folding on top of itself endlessly, with gnashing teeth and a thousand eyes. They all blinked at me in horror, and fascination. I recall drawing my blade and turning; another beast.

 

It’s shape twisted and stretched inhumanely. It reached up, its feet narrowing. I felt it. Primal hunger. Base urge. Something well beyond intellect; only instinct. I swung my leg and drew my blade in the same motion; cleft it in twain. It fell as any beast does: and bled ichorous, revolting blood upon the floor. The beast in the gatehouse continued to scream, like it’s voice could crack my skull. In my frenzy, I tried to escape through a pass to small for my body in the wall. But I began to hear the voices of descendant-kine once more.

 

I was left with the laughter of an eldritch being, giddy with sadistic excitement. Offering a final knock at the proverbial doors of our minds, as it exited the space. I turned and saw a dead Dra'kaar on the ground, where a monster once was. I had entered to chaos. My student cradled herself, and a blade, having slashed her arms to ribbons, and threatened her throat with the last of her strength; muttering incoherently. This entity lay just beyond the veil. Murderous. Insidious. Wicked. Intelligent.

 

When I had returned to Numendil; the guardsmen had experienced the same in Numenost. Some told me they had almost paid with their lives. At first, I had presumed it was centered on me. Once is a coincidence. Twice is a plot. It seems we are beyond twice, and, with no answers. There are many enemies that lie in the dark. But I fear this is something unaccounted for. I wonder: are there answers in the madness? Is there truth in the numbers?

 

I am Victor Rorin. I am seeking those answers. Any information any have: I am eager to hear, and I will produce my findings. You may write to myself, or, to my squire, the fair Baralin. I pray for us all.

 

Signed,

THE HONORABLE, Ser Victor Rorin of the House Tarus, Veteran-Ranger of Númendil, Wildsmen of Garenbrig, and Knight of the Order of the Pyre

 

Spoiler

[MC Names: KidKrinkles/Cass_the_scribe, respectively for IG responses].

 

@Petsch2k, @Cass_the_Scribe

 

[lemonke 6014]

The spider, Igarashi Jorogumo shall prepare a letter for her favorite knight.

[KidKrinkles 2043]

Just now, lemonke said:

The spider, Igarashi Jorogumo shall prepare a letter for her favorite knight.

 

 

Spoiler

Siri, how do I change my phone number, but for mail?

 

 

[Cass_the_Scribe 40]

Baralin awaits the arrival of letters and orders to quest most anxiously...finally a new quest to undertake with her (Dad) Knightly Master

[PrimnyaQuorum 3999]

Starlight coalesces between rune-soaked arms, as the words are pondered. It does not take long for a choice to be made.

 

 The Ranger finds a note in his mailbox, one morning.