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Posted by on 2000 Sep 24 |

Chilling Visions Sensed by Clerics

(Crossing, Zoluren: 321 Dolefaren 362)

I’d just limped back in to the Crossing from the marshes where a crocodile had jumped me. Luckily I managed to recover and walked out on my own power.

It was revelfae, but there were still quite a number of people still awake and about. All in all, it wasn’t really much different than any other night.

Until a faint sense of foreboding trickled into the back of my mind, leaving me ill at ease.

I concentrated on my cambrinths, filling them with a bit of extra holy power, "just in case" I was going to need it.

About the time I was beginning to relax again, the sense grew deeper, taking root in the dark recesses of my mind.

I wasn’t the only cleric sensing this, and it was very disturbing. I went to the guild, meeting a few other clerics there, too. They were as puzzled, and as troubled as I was. We split up to go check on the altars.

I had no sooner arrived at Saemaus’ altar than I could sense it growing again, as a venomous, wintry chill coursed through my veins briefly, as if crystals of ice were forming within my very life’s blood!

Every cleric seemed to feel it — and reports trickled in from afar that it was not localized to the Crossing. I finished cleaning up the altar and offerred a prayer. I sure didn’t know what to do.

But it wasn’t over yet, and the sense grew stronger with each encounter. By the time I got back to town, I swear, the wind was real and I could feel it harshly grating on my exposed flesh, the chill burrowing deeper within my body. It seems to whisper, taunting me with information just beyond my grasp.

People from all walks of life were talking about it over the gwethdesuans and in small groups huddled across town. Some people prepared for an invasion. Some people grew flippant and disrespectful. Frankly, after hearing some of the utterly irreverant and self-centered comments over the gwethdesuan, I’m convinced there should be several examinations before anyone is allowed to use the things. One of the "thinkers" would continue his blasphemous levity… but more on that in a few minutes.

The same wind that was scouring at me then whispered sibilantly, "Ssssoon…", trailing off as a withered crone who has expired. The foreboding feeling dropped off just as suddenly as it had come, leaving me bewildered yet relieved.

It was over. For now.

Almost.

The marks of this encounter were unmistakable for a cleric, this was a harbinger of Asketi’s Ride, still a little over a month away. As several of us remarked of this warning over the gwethdesuans, we were met with ridicule and irreverance. Especially from one named Jerrit, who made deprecating remarks about Asketi.

I don’t know where he was, but he reported feeling a heavy burden on his soul and after another couple ill-advised thoughts, a wicked breeze surrounded him, and that was the last thoughts I heard from this Jerrit, because we all felt him die.

You don’t have to worship every aspect of all of the Thirteen to show them respect. And when disrespect is sensed, any of the Immortals can provide a public object lesson in a properly respectful attitude by a mortal.

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Baresh started working at the Wren’s Nest when it first opened in 349AL. He’s been hearing the news and pouring drinks ever since then.