Saturday, December 17, 2011

The Legacy of Tra’Han

 

What? What is this… Where am I? The spell…

The spell must have mutated in ways I could not anticipate. Someone – or something – must have interfered. I should be home, not… not here…

But where is here?

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2011-12-12_21.55.27Clearly I am in some sort of primitive tower. It doesn’t have any discernable connection to the resonant currents inherent to the sky, but that can be corrected. First I need to find a way to get out of here. To get home. Home…

I am Tra’Han. I see the truth in everything. My perspective is skewed. I am a weaver of worlds. As such I see a purity of form in all that is around me. My skin reflects my position.

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I have been Marked since birth. I move on pathways unknown. But something – I feel with some certainty that no someONE could have pulled me off my trajectory – has brought me here to some purpose.

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Hmm. Religion. Fanaticism. And grass? A hovel by any standards. This will have to go.

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And standing water. Were I not bound by the limitations of the currents of this place, I would fill this festering hole with the sweet songs of glitterfish, frolicking amongst the ripples of eddies of paradise. Instead, I will let it rot. For now.

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A hole in the roof. Easily fixed. Why wasn’t it fixed before?

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2011-12-12_22.31.55There is at least a storeroom, its organization making up for its content, which is severely lacking. There is also a leak, bringing the stinking, murky water from the floor above into this subsequently dank basement. Perhaps I was brought here out of pure misery – an unhappiness so great it could pull the very stars from the sky. Or one of them.

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I am confused. To what purpose could these wooden steps, or this dirt pillar have served?

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Something looms in the distance. Perhaps the resonant frequencies of this world would be more accessible from atop the distant peaks. A discovery for another time. I must continue investigating my immediate surroundings. I feel that… I feel… I must continue.

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In the lower reaches of this slovenly outpost, I have found some unnatural tunnels. I assume they are mineshafts.

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I even find who I assume to be some of the religious fanatics who left the wooden artifact on the main floor above (which I destroyed immediately). I leave them alone. They have enough to think about.

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I climb back up the crude ladder to find yet another deranged individual with monotheic tendencies. This one I dispatch – he seems dangerous. Small orbs pop out of his quickly vanishing body – naturally they are absorbed by my superior aura. I can feel my inherent powers growing. Perhaps I could make myself comfortable here after all – albeit temporarily – as I attempt to find my way back home. I will need an enchantment room with sufficient elevation – the “lookout” will do – it needs only a few modifications.

But I will not walk on grass inside my… this… place. I find some similarly textured, differently colored material in the storeroom, which I install in the floor. So easy. So obvious. Why does it fall to Tra’Han?

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Now I can work on my enchantment tower. I will need blackstone, and magma. And bluesto…

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What is this? A fungus farm? This is an empty room. Breach? The ineptitude of the resident (who is nowhere to be found) only heightens my curiosity – how was someone so stupid able to draw me here? Or was it something else? Was I not drawn, but sent? To help?

But why? What service could I provide that would necessitate my unannounced, abrupt arrival? And why has no one welcomed me? I can only assume that the brain-dead fanatics I have run into thus far are not the builders of this place. But if not them, then who?

Who indeed…

Oh… it appears that during my musings, I managed to construct a small operational farm room.

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It even keeps out the fanatics. Oh, but they do try to be clever.

Wait. What? I am Tra’Han. I am not a grower of mushrooms! Why am I wasting so much time? I have work to do!

I must go up to the tower and…

And…

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Well what’s that?

There is something atop that dirt obelisk. I feel drawn…

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Hmm. It seems I have been drawn upwards by some kind of pastry. I am Tra’Han. I see the essence of the world! I see more of everything than everyone! I see… this cake is stale. I am Tra’Han! Time to build an enchantm…

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Who surrounds their home with wood? Wood is nothing. Wood is weak. I must protect my new home if I am to leave myself vulnerable. Conducting spells requires every ounce of concentration – even those usually saved for defense and awareness. Iron!

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And a fortified entrance!

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…and…

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…and…

…the moon…

 

 

 

(Continued in PART II)

2 comments:

  1. Where did you get that texture pack? It's pretty sweet looking.

    ReplyDelete
  2. It's called Summerfield. It was in a top ten list of some dude's favorite texture packs. I like it a lot.

    ReplyDelete