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Maeara's Journal: Day 40, Nightmares no more.
9 years ago
General
I can say without a shadow of a doubt that what I just experienced was one of the most unusual and unsettling events of my life. Taking the short journey up the mountain to Nightcaller Temple with Erandur was hardly a problem. We ran into a pair of wolves, but oddly they didn't seem aggressive. They just moved aside and let us pass. I should have known the day was going to be odd when that happened.
Once we arrived at the temple Erandur revealed that he had once been a priest of Vaermina, and that the temple had been placed under the sway of a sleep-inducing mystical fog, or miasma, that had knocked out not only the resident priests but also a horde of Orc raiders that had barged in. THAT was why the temple had been abandoned, and why a grotesque artifact, a corrupted skull staff of sorts, had been left behind. It was as good as alive, and it had been feeding on dreams and memories within those cold, slumbering walls for decades. Only recently had it grown strong enough to lash out at the town below, as well as at the sleeping minds within.
It was all a bit much to take in, but I did my best to roll with the circumstances as it were. Upon entering the abandoned edifice Erandur opened a hidden passage in the back wall of the temple, leading deep within. We found slumbering Orcs and priests alike, but as we neared they awakened. They were dazed, confused. It turns out they were also insane, no doubt from being held in stasis by the miasma for decades and having their minds eaten away by endless nightmares. Putting them down was a mercy, one which I administered deftly and quickly with an arrow a piece. I decided that I would be cautious and slot an arrow into the head of every body we saw as we moved on. Erandur didn't speak, but I sensed that he accepted this as a necessity. He had become a Priest of Mara, and forgiveness would be granted for the needs of the many in Dawnstar below.
And so we worked our way through the temple, with Erandur guiding me one chamber at a time, my bow returning mad men and women to their eternal slumbers with ease. Once or twice the hearty and strong Orcs rose, and they wouldn't die with a single arrow. One of them nearly took my head off with an iron-fitted battle staff, in fact. Only a mystical bolt of lightning from Erandur stopped him in his tracks, fusing his armor and leathers into his skin as he cooked. A gruesome death, but better than the fate of living insane and screaming, lashing out at the world.
I helped Erandur find a book, which spoke of a ritual to enter the dreams and memories of another. Using that book we were able to identify a draught, Vaermina's Torpor, which would allow someone to follow through with the ritual, which would allow us access to the temple sanctum within. I, of course, was volunteered to drink the potion. It was easily the strangest sensation I've ever felt. My skin tingled, my eyes floated, the world grew vivid and dim all at once, and I found myself living in the skin of another person briefly. A Priest of Vaermina, during the original Orc raid. I didn't have the time to think, or the ability to question matters. I ran, in the memories of someone else, and found myself activating the miasma. The fog was released, and everyone fell into a deep sleep.
More than that, I found that I had somehow passed through solid matter when I returned to my own body. I had passed a portal, a mystical barrier that had kept us from progressing, and found that I could disarm it from within. With that done Erandur and I moved deeper into the temple. We found ourselves confronted by the two remaining priests, both of whom seeming more coherent and sane than the others. They lashed out at Erandur, and revealed that he had once been the very man whose memories I had walked through.
Before I knew what was going on there were three figures throwing arcs of energy and swinging bludgeons. No room for my bow, it seemed, so I swapped to a throwing axe. I managed to nail one of the priests in the side, putting him on his knees long enough to run up and finish the job. Erandur managed to incapacitate the other mage long enough for me to throw another axe. A bit of steel between the eyes seems remarkably useful for ending a threat, to be honest.
When all was done, it was all up to Erandur to bring down the barrier around the cursed skull staff and destroy it. As he set to casting his spell, a voice crawled into my mind and whispered. A female voice, cloying and sweet with false words, warning me that Erandur would turn on me and use the staff for evil. It demanded that I kill him. I refused, and in the end the blasted item was turned to naught but dust and fragments.
For my assistance Erandur pledged his loyalties, to aid me in my future times of need. An ally is always a good thing to make. Perhaps I'll take him up on his offer of aid in the future, but for now, as I write this, I simply want a peaceful night of sleep. I sit on the docks of Dawnstar, watching the moons rise, and I feel myself...Ill at ease, despite my best efforts. I haven't slept well for days; it's difficult to feel truly rested. And something about the moons gnaws at me, as if there's some secret I haven't yet glimpsed under their light...
All this talk of dreams and nightmares has me in a strange mood, though. A bit of mead, a good meal and a night in a warm bed, then I can return home and see where my next journey takes me.
Once we arrived at the temple Erandur revealed that he had once been a priest of Vaermina, and that the temple had been placed under the sway of a sleep-inducing mystical fog, or miasma, that had knocked out not only the resident priests but also a horde of Orc raiders that had barged in. THAT was why the temple had been abandoned, and why a grotesque artifact, a corrupted skull staff of sorts, had been left behind. It was as good as alive, and it had been feeding on dreams and memories within those cold, slumbering walls for decades. Only recently had it grown strong enough to lash out at the town below, as well as at the sleeping minds within.
It was all a bit much to take in, but I did my best to roll with the circumstances as it were. Upon entering the abandoned edifice Erandur opened a hidden passage in the back wall of the temple, leading deep within. We found slumbering Orcs and priests alike, but as we neared they awakened. They were dazed, confused. It turns out they were also insane, no doubt from being held in stasis by the miasma for decades and having their minds eaten away by endless nightmares. Putting them down was a mercy, one which I administered deftly and quickly with an arrow a piece. I decided that I would be cautious and slot an arrow into the head of every body we saw as we moved on. Erandur didn't speak, but I sensed that he accepted this as a necessity. He had become a Priest of Mara, and forgiveness would be granted for the needs of the many in Dawnstar below.
And so we worked our way through the temple, with Erandur guiding me one chamber at a time, my bow returning mad men and women to their eternal slumbers with ease. Once or twice the hearty and strong Orcs rose, and they wouldn't die with a single arrow. One of them nearly took my head off with an iron-fitted battle staff, in fact. Only a mystical bolt of lightning from Erandur stopped him in his tracks, fusing his armor and leathers into his skin as he cooked. A gruesome death, but better than the fate of living insane and screaming, lashing out at the world.
I helped Erandur find a book, which spoke of a ritual to enter the dreams and memories of another. Using that book we were able to identify a draught, Vaermina's Torpor, which would allow someone to follow through with the ritual, which would allow us access to the temple sanctum within. I, of course, was volunteered to drink the potion. It was easily the strangest sensation I've ever felt. My skin tingled, my eyes floated, the world grew vivid and dim all at once, and I found myself living in the skin of another person briefly. A Priest of Vaermina, during the original Orc raid. I didn't have the time to think, or the ability to question matters. I ran, in the memories of someone else, and found myself activating the miasma. The fog was released, and everyone fell into a deep sleep.
More than that, I found that I had somehow passed through solid matter when I returned to my own body. I had passed a portal, a mystical barrier that had kept us from progressing, and found that I could disarm it from within. With that done Erandur and I moved deeper into the temple. We found ourselves confronted by the two remaining priests, both of whom seeming more coherent and sane than the others. They lashed out at Erandur, and revealed that he had once been the very man whose memories I had walked through.
Before I knew what was going on there were three figures throwing arcs of energy and swinging bludgeons. No room for my bow, it seemed, so I swapped to a throwing axe. I managed to nail one of the priests in the side, putting him on his knees long enough to run up and finish the job. Erandur managed to incapacitate the other mage long enough for me to throw another axe. A bit of steel between the eyes seems remarkably useful for ending a threat, to be honest.
When all was done, it was all up to Erandur to bring down the barrier around the cursed skull staff and destroy it. As he set to casting his spell, a voice crawled into my mind and whispered. A female voice, cloying and sweet with false words, warning me that Erandur would turn on me and use the staff for evil. It demanded that I kill him. I refused, and in the end the blasted item was turned to naught but dust and fragments.
For my assistance Erandur pledged his loyalties, to aid me in my future times of need. An ally is always a good thing to make. Perhaps I'll take him up on his offer of aid in the future, but for now, as I write this, I simply want a peaceful night of sleep. I sit on the docks of Dawnstar, watching the moons rise, and I feel myself...Ill at ease, despite my best efforts. I haven't slept well for days; it's difficult to feel truly rested. And something about the moons gnaws at me, as if there's some secret I haven't yet glimpsed under their light...
All this talk of dreams and nightmares has me in a strange mood, though. A bit of mead, a good meal and a night in a warm bed, then I can return home and see where my next journey takes me.
