crystal;

[arcaneadvisor]

FORM: Sending crystal
SENDER: Morrigan
RECIPIENT: Open
WHAT: Spook podcast 3: Autumn edition
WHEN: Vaguely nowish
WHERE: Sundermount (Morrigan)
NOTES: Threadjack, share spooky stories etc just have fun 'tis the season (for us)

There was a tale mother told when I was a girl.

[Perhaps not unsurprising that her mother isn't so far from her mind. Not so easy to banish her just yet alas yet Morrigan sounds untroubled, a fire crackling behind her; Sundermount is eerily silent come evening at least where her humble abode has been for this long.]

A young woman of the court - she never said what court, let us say Highever for the sake of it - heard it so that there were none who might go into the wilds bordering the lands else they would not emerge with their reputation intact, a command laid down by a mysterious Tamlane. This young woman was not deterred by such a thing and so did she set out to the wilds where she did pick a wild rose; Tamlane revealed himself to her--

The young woman's father noticed, upon her return, that she was very much with child. You can imagine this was far from ideal for her and when she told him it was not even a man from his court… [Well times haven't moved on so far, or so Morrigan's quietly amused tone implies.] Away she went again to the wilds, to Tamlane.

When they met again, Tamlane told the young woman he had been taken by a witch, and no longer was he as he had been, instead possessed by a spirit though fearing he was to be offered up to the demon the witch had made her terrible pact with as she had to do every seven years. But she could save him! If she waited for the stroke of midnight on Satinalia when the witch would ride through alongside Tamlane, though she would have to pull him clean off his horse.

The witch, of course, would not give Tamlane lightly: she had magic far beyond that which the young woman had encountered, and in her grasp Tamlane's form was not his own. He twisted about her as a great terrible serpent to crush the breath from her lungs though as she thought she might gasp her last and then he was Tamlane again for a moment only to leap out of his skin as a wolf as monstrous as all those the huntsman told tale of in her father's hall, snarling with his jaws about her throat. An eagle shrieking, talons to blind her eyes. Stinging wasps and biting gnats. On and on it went as her arms struggled to hold him--

[Her voice is close to the crystal, so close, as if the world has melted away entirely and she's back once more in a simple hut with Flemeth who told this tale to a girl too small to hear it.]

Hold him she did. Marry him she did. The witch was not best pleased but knew she had been bested that day. I always thought this Tamlane such a trouble for but one man, I suspect mother saw herself somewhere else in the tale.

Comments

[shri]

We have one, about a Fort. My father told me of it.

[ She's writing, by the scratching sound of the quill behind her voice, that after a moment, stops. ]

A young prince went to build what is now called Bhangarh Fort. But the land he wished to use belonged to a priest. Being a fearing and faithful son, he petitioned the priest to be allowed to build his Fort, and the priest agreed, on the grounds that no building ever grow so tall as to cast a shadow on his house. The Prince agreed. The Fortress was built, tall and powerful around the house, but never did the house fall within the shadow of any building. So they had an accord, but it was not to last.

[ A little pause for the purpose of storytelling. Then she carries on. ]

As things go, the Prince met a Princess, and she was beautiful. Her skin like honey, her hair like earth. Truly, Goddess Lakshmi was within her face. He brought her back for them to be married, and in her honour, built her a tall part of the palace all her own. I suppose you can guess who that angered. Little did the Prince know what wickedness the Priest had in his heart. He brewed a potion, a love potion, to give to the Princess as she walked along the building site of her new quarters. To steal away the Princesses love and punish the Prince.

When he gave her the phial, he attempted to deceive her to its purpose but she did not trust him. Enraged and disgusted, she threw the phial away, smashing it on a rock. Unfortunately, she threw it with such force, the rock moved, sending more tumbling. The landslide crushed the Priest. With his dying breathe, he cursed them all. Saying that no building would ever cast a shadow over his house, and they, and she especially, would pay for their vanity.

[ She lets the ominous words hang, carrying with weight even if it is - a might ridiculous. But all stories of this nature usually were. ]

Not a week later, a great invader came. The Fortress was surrounded, only half completed as it was, it stood no chance. They seized the land, and the people within it, and they spared no prisoners. The city, including the Princess in all her beauty, was slaughtered. No one survived.

From that night onwards, it is said that the Priest and the Princess are trapped by its walls, his laughter and her screaming can he heard, trapped and wailing within it. Others claim they see her wandering the walls, asking passers-by when her beautiful rooms will be finished. The legend tells it, only when the Princess is born again and returns to the Fortress, will the curse be lifted. Until then, no one will go there.

[arcaneadvisor]

[A second one with a tale wrapped up with faith in some way, certain lessons stitched in, bound to them. That the faith is to be obeyed. Not to be trifled with or slighted in some way.]

There is oft a woman who might find herself caught between two men, especially if she is a great beauty. [Flemeth had once been a woman beautiful enough to have two men who loved her deeply, death and dishonour and broken promises between them.

Vengeance. Reckoning.

Morrigan is glad to be alone out by Sundermount where only Kieran might chance past on his way for something to eat or drink to ask why the hairs on her arms are stood on end.]

You do not believe in fate and chance where you are from? Of what might be called out to that might shake the very heavens to achieve that which one wishes even from the beyond?

[shri]

[ She laughs, and oh - ]

We do and we don't. It is a sight more complicated than that. But we believe that certain actions are enough to shake heaven from the sky for but a single moment that can extend a lifetime. That even man may transcend his limitations to change the world. They just tend not to be sad tales, but tales of triumph.

[ And isn't that a dangerous thing in the time of Corypheus. ]

[arcaneadvisor]

My mother says she seeks such a reckoning.

[Casually. By now they have said worse to one another have they not and Morrigan's admissions regarding her mother are recorded on paper for others to read, to make of what they will.]

Vengeance for wrongs visited not upon her but upon Mythal that will go beyond that. Corypheus himself is a Magister of oldest Tevinter in the days when it spread across the land, a sickness, a Blight: I have been to the altar of Dumat in the dark, in the place where he was imprisoned. Is this not a shaking of the heavens with the sky split asunder now?

Here I suppose there is Andraste. She lived, she was prophet. She died in agony then took her place at the Maker's side.

[If you believe that sort of thing.]

cw: self immolation, mass suicide, well, maybe in a lil

[shri]

[ Rather than become particularly in ire. Instead, she laughs quite brilliantly and quickly.

How deep and stark the differences there could be, sometimes. Sometimes, it felt all familiar. Was there not even lines in the Chant that she had sung but in her puja to Ganesha, Shiva, Vishnu? Was the tale of Andraste not familiar in its devotions.

But then: ]

Do all the tales here only end in suffering? Is that all anyone has in their heart? No, that is not at all what I meant. I meant love, not in vengeance, but in the raising of two beings higher. The love story of Radha Krishna stopped the heavens. For the night she danced for him, their love was powerful enough that the world itself let the night reign as long as they wanted so that they could be together. We call it the RasLeela. When people are in love, even, and their love is deep and true, we call it dancing the RasLeela. We believe in such things so deeply, that even if you could not sing a single prayer, to know your lover's name is to know the name of God.

[ She huffs another bit of laughter, still not furious particularly. Because yes, they had said it all, hadn't that? It affords her a bluntness that she might not give others, in truth. ]

As for Andraste - we would call that another matter entirely. But... our tales of such things are quite different. I could tell you of Rani Padmavati's Jauhur, or the rage of Goddess Sita.

[arcaneadvisor]

[If there are stories with joy in them to be found they are the stories Morrigan has reserved for Kieran. Fashioned anew. Looked for new lessons in them. The Fifth Blight where even those she was unkind to, those she disliked are heroes one and all stood brave against the darkness closing in that blackened the sky and festered in the earth beneath the feet towards the very end.

Morrigan herself has Flemeth's tales. The legends of Ferelden. The Chasind. Even the fragments of Dalish tales that she now knows had come by with the piece of Mythal that clung to her mother.]

I am not the person to tell you of love. Ask the Orlesians, ask the poets though even they might have a love that does not suit. What I know has been soaked in the mire or in slaughter for that was all that I needed to know where I was. 'Twas my lot. Preparation for what was to come. Andraste's husband Maferath was the one to betray her leading to her death and that is an old, old tale. The Dalish have Andruil and Ghilan'nain that ends with Ghilan'nain transformed into a halla when a hunter, vengeance, blinding and binding come into it.

But I shall tell you another tale then. I shall tell you of Luthias Dwarfson before I tell you the tale of Flemeth for you will understand more if told this way.

Luthias of the Alamarri was small for one of their children, but even so at the age of twelve he saved Tutha the son of the tribal chief from his own rabid hound, slaying it with his own hands. Impressed with the strength and bravery of Luthias, Mabene, father of Tutha, took him in as his own. As he grew, Luthias was still shorter than his fellows but known for his charisma and braver, stronger and persistent, and it was he that Mabene sent to Orzammar to negotiate an alliance for there was conflict between two clans and Mabene needed aid.

Luthias failed in that but instead fell in love with the dwarven king's daughter, Scaea, and she fled with him to his tribe where she taught him how to fight without pain. The battle wrath as beserkers call it so Luthias became a warrior of reknown leading his tribe to many victories and one day he replaced Mabene, his foster father, as chief. But how long does peace ever last? There was a feast between the Alamarri and the Avvar, and it was there that Morrighan'nan the Avvar chieftain beautiful and powerful seduced Luthias. Scaea learned of this and fled to Orzammar. And when Morrigan'nan's marriage offer was rebuffed by Luthias? Oh imagine her ire.

There was war after that.

[Morrigan pauses, allows the weight of the words to land heavily. Her fire cracks and pops, a log splitting.]

Fifteen years did the Alamarri and Avvar wage war with one another, and during the Battle of Red Falls Luthias was challenged by a young warrior of Morrighan'nan's tribe. Despite the injuries he sustained, Luthias slew the boy only to learn from the chieftain that he had slain his son conceived during their time together previously. She cursed him for the murder of his own kin, his own son, and thus did the Battle of Red Falls turn against Luthias.

The Alamarri were driven to the foothills of the Frostback Mountains for Morrighan'nan defeated Luthias time and time again until it came to the last stand. It was there that Scaea came to Luthias. She came to him with an offer: a dwarven suit of chain for one night together. He agreed then went to battle in her armour the next morning. The two chieftains faced one another, a fierce and bloody battle, with Luthias at last slaying Morrighan'nan but Scaea's chain could not save him: Morrighan'nan's final blow pierced his heart. Luthias died whereupon his body was taken to Orzammar by dwarven warriors come down from the mountain.