wildestlogs | Secrets and Stone

It works on one of them and he lets go...

But the rest of the others apparently are unaffected and strong enough to keep going. Their minds are a little alien and he'll find he has to focus on one of them at a time to properly enchant them.

"Hup hup hup hup!"

But at least he has one of them to possibly influence to show him the way to the same place, let him keep up with them as they move, to arrive at where she's been taken as she gets there.

The gnome he enchanted wobbles on its feet, making chattering noises.

:It's all right,: Need tells him, a little surprised that he came so quickly after her, a little more concerned that he'll put too much strain on himself doing so. :I can stay in contact with you, I'm not going to get lost.:

She has a general plan of waiting until the gnomes have gotten where they're going, then picking one or more who seem receptive and asking about the trolls. Probably having to work in only imagery and emotion, but she can manage that.

:And if you end up somewhere without eyes to see with, again? I'd rather intercept before they throw you down a well or scarifice you to a bottomless pit or Lunitari knows what else:

The one gnome who had obeyed is still standing in front of him, looking up at Raistlin with a cocked head and peculiar, half-mad eyes. It chatters at him in its own language.

"Take me where the others are going," he orders it. The gnome jabbers angrily, and makes a lunge for his ankle. Raistlin steps back neatly, resists the urge to kick it, and lowers himself down to the gnome's level.

"I'm a friend," he says, working another enchantment. "I don't mean any harm. Show me where you and your friends were going," he coaxes. The compulsion is gone, now. "I'm sure you're very clever, and you've found all sorts of treasures. I'd love to admire them."

[The gnome chatters with less hostility now and waves a little hand for Raistlin to follow.]

[It starts leading him through tunnels and doors near walls that follow along with the path the other gnomes are taking. Their "hup hup hup"s can be heard faintly through the walls.]

[Finally, they come to rest. Outside the wall, Raistlin will have a few peepholes to see in.]

[Inside, is the gnomes' lair, a series of chambers and tunnels covered in all kinds of shinies they stole. On a little chair probably made for a doll, on top of a pile of shinies, sits one gnome whose hat flops more than the others. Sitting in another throne next him is some kind of Barbie doll in space age costume, as if she's his queen.]

[He rubs his chin curiously as he looks at Need and starts chattering at the others.]

:That's not the feeling I get, and I can keep it from happening anyway,: Need insists, though she can't and doesn't hide that the idea unsettles her.

The gnomes take her to that place she saw in their minds - oh, it's a throne room! Through their eyes all the gleaming things have a particular luster, and the lanky thin-limbed figure has some odd quality. Need regards the throne-gnome's emotional state and personality, what she can of it across the short physical distance and the larger gap of an unfamiliar type of mind, the kind that keeps an effigy of a miniature human woman as a sort of totem. He seems... yes, she decides, this one is excitable and short-tempered, but there's compassion there too, and she thinks more familiarity with humans. Need makes a judgement.

There are hands on her which aren't really suited to bearing her, probably wouldn't be even if they were human scale. She calls up the glow on her blade anyway, a soft version without the brilliant flash, that builds slowly into the words. If they can read any language, it will translate into that. WOMAN’S NEED CALLS ME, AS WOMAN’S NEED MADE ME. HER NEED MUST I ANSWER, AS MY MAKER BADE ME.

As gently as she can make her harsh, gravelly voice, she says, :Hello.:

Raistlin follows the strange little creature as it scampers ahead, periodically checking over its shoulder to make sure he's following. At certain points it seems distinctly impatient with the care Raistlin takes, but he's not risking breaking his neck no matter how hard it hup-hups. Gods only know how long it would be before anyone bothered looking.

He takes in the throne room in one look, focusing on Need in the center, and hisses from his peephole when she reveals herself.

:Is that wise?:

The little gnome besides him chitters, explaining something Raistlin has absolutely no hope of comprehending.

[The gnome leader holds up a hand to silence the other gnomes and then walks closer.]

[This gnome is wiser than the others. He's been exposed to more beings other than gnome kind.]

[He tries to talk to her. Even if he's hard to understand, even if the exact words don't mentally translate, his intentions come across.]

[There is a greeting. And a question. He asks if Need can truly understand others, if Need is able to think for herself. He's questioning her to figure out her level of sentience.]

[It does apparently matter to him.]

Remembering he’s had to get by on appeasing teachers and that she’s been encouraging him to question and defy her if he thinks she’s wrong, Need restrains the urge to make a sharp comment and sends Raistlin a wordless warmth. She loops him in on some of what she’s picking up, too, though that is going to be an unfamiliar input.

Need tries just talking to the gnome, on the grounds that she seems to know a common tongue anyway, and even if he can’t speak it he may recognize it. If nothing else it’s definitely a response.

:I can hear you. I don’t look like a person, but I am. My name is Need. I’m not here to cause you any harm.: With that she shares a sense of calm, listening awareness.

[Gnome Chompsky, the leader, turns and starts chittering at another gnome in annoyance - possibly the one in charge of the group that kidnapped need. He slaps him upside the head.]

[Then he turns to Need and offers what are clearly his deepest apologies. He directs some of the others to take her back where she came from.]

[If she wants to ask any other questions, now's the time.]

She lets her glow fade. It had been dazzling parts of the entourage.

:Thank you. I know this is your home. I regret that we’ve trespassed without speaking to you first, but we were chased by strange creatures. Can you tell me anything about them?:

She’ll describe the Nightrenders and masked women, but decides not to share any clear images of them. Her read on these people isn’t good enough to be sure they’ll understand what she’s doing.

[Gnome takes the time to listen.]

[He shakes his head.]

[He tries to explain something about the monsters, and the stone, and the people who once lived here, but it's hard to interpret.]

Maybe if she keeps it to questions with simpler answers. Need is patient.

:You’re saying they haven’t been here? The Heartstone keeps them away? Did you know the big people who used to live here?:

[The gnome nods yes to both questions.]

[He says something incoherent about a place where she can learn more if she wants. Something about words. Writing, maybe?]

[He points to a tunnel that seems to lead to light, perhaps leading her back out of the walls again.]

[And then he asks if she wants to go get answers.]

:I would like this very much. Can I bring my human friend? He can carry me.: So that Raistlin won't hear, she tells the gnome king, :He was upset when I disappeared.:

So that Raistlin and and only Raistlin will hear her Need also says :They're harder to understand than I'd like, but I'm not sensing any hostility or deception. Haven't you been curious about this place?:

:I have been. And you can't lie in mindspeech, which, he's beginning to believe, really is different from the telepathy he knows back home. Need had demonstrated, and he had tried himself, to test it. There's always the outside possibility that the creatures' minds function in such a way as to allow them to lie, but...

:I suppose we're not entirely helpless if they have some way to deceive your mindspeech: Raistlin tells her, tightening his grip on the staff. :It's an acceptable risk, for some answers.

Gnome Chompsky signals for the gnomes to pick need up again.

"Hup hup hup hup hup hup," they chant as they carry her once more. But this time they lead her out of a hole in the wall and back into the wall near Raistlin.

Gnome sees the large man, assumes he's with Need, and points in the direction they're taking her.

The area they take them into is a little library, tucked away where the entrance is hard to see. It doesn't have the high roof of some libraries but it's stacked wall to wall with ancient, dusty tomes. Some are on bookcases and shelves, others are stacked on top of each other in towers.

There's also a writing desk. Several scrolls and sheaves of paper are on it, pinned down by a metal paperweight.

A library. Well, that would be terribly useful, except that Raistlin has a feeling these are all going to be written in that script no one can decipher. But there might still be some clue. Pictures, maybe. Or a child's primer, and then he could try to learn their script -

"Here, then?" The little gnome-king nods. "Thank you. Where to begin...?"

He approaches the desk, cautiously. This could be an ordinary scholar's workspace, or it could be a mage's. No way to tell by looking, and any mage worth the title would have protections around their tools.

The gnomes prop up Need against a chair, much more respectfully than they were carrying her before. Gnome Chompsky has seen much of the world - realms even - and they trust the compassionate wisdom of their king.

The gnome climbs on the desk and points at the papers. Instead of being written in a strange tongue, they're written in Sylvaen, the language they all instantly understood upon arrival to this world - apparently the author learned that language too.

Under the papers is a small clockwork small device, with a crystal on top. It has a switch.

Edited 2021-12-07 04:03 (UTC)

Raistlin is a clever lad. He reads the note before he so much as breathes on the crystal; it's clearly a device of some kind and you don't go activating unknown devices without precautions unless you have a real yen to be turned inside out or splattered across the ceiling.

But first he reclaims Need, buckling her back around his waist with an air of "and don't do it again, please."

:Learning a new language from a child's book? Ambitious of you,: Need murmurs approvingly, interested by the half-plans that cross her bearer's mind before the notes are indicated. She's seen, through various sets of eyes, translations in this new language floating over various scraps of writing, but she hasn't seen a whole lot of that writing yet. She is very curious, but also glad that Raistlin takes her back at the first chance where that doesn't mean snatching her right out of the gnomes' little hands.

Need stretches out, inasmuch as that word can apply to her. Her magical senses have been largely made nonfunctional but this is the kind of range where she can tell if the device is magic, and if it has a particular feeling to it.

The device doesn't feel like a trap. It feels like something that projects light. Maybe a recorder? Or a communication device.

The letter is fairly illuminating all on it its own.

It's written in a strong hand, in large letters, as if the person doing it had much bigger hands than a human. Indeed, the paper itself is larger too. It fits over several pages.

To whosoever comes across this letter,

I write these words with a heavy heart. My name is Blinkous Galadrigal and I am the leader of the Trolls that once lived here in Heartstone Trollmarket.

We Trolls are a proud people, and aside from mild personal squabbles, we are for the most part a peace-loving people that cares for its own. We are a people that has even coexisted peacefully with some of our human allies, despite our differences; and the times we rose to conflict, it was against great destructive forces plaguing human and Trollkind.

We built much and delved deep into the earth, to depths no other species has been able to go, and we've unearthed what resplendent beauty could be found there.

Something fairly obvious by all the jewels and crystals around Trollmarket.

The letter goes on:

The greatest and most pulchritudinous of these treasures was the Heartstone, the great stone in the center of our community. It was more than just sublime in appearance - until it was damaged by one of our enemies, it was something that tapped into our planet's sacred energies, a medium that channeled life energy and magic from the Earth itself. It provided us with light and sustenance.

Not long after it was broken and we nearly faced Earth's final night, calamity befell our people. Our home was spirited away to this world and Trollmarket was forced above ground. Part of the cavern's roof caved in, partly exposing our realm to sunlight, which is fatal to our people. Strange creatures roamed in the lands outside, as well, held only at bay by the Heartstone's light. We fear what will happen when that light finally fails, and we believe it will fail soon.

If you're reading this, I ask that you respect our honored dead, those who were turned to stone in the disaster. We lost many good trolls that fateful day and have laid them to rest in our people's way.

We plan to move on, under the guidance of our steadfast and sagacious human friends, who plan to keep scouting ahead for refuge to escape the sun each day, until we might find a new home, suitable for our kind. They have already traveled great distances in their scouting. They said they've learned something of this world from other people in it: that it has drawn in large swaths of land and entire realms from other worlds, much like our own.

According to those they've spoken to, many of the places drawn here - to a world its communal people apparently call the Wilderlands - are worlds of myth and magic. We've also been told that there is respite to be found past the mountain pass, far beyond the lake. A small desert lies beyond but our friends have already timed how long it takes to reach shelter. It's traversable in one night and there are greener lands beyond the ruins they found. The creatures that prowl the night seem to fear the desert sun.

Word from passing forest guardians called "rangers" is that these wooded lands beyond are supposed to contain a haven of safety and healing called Rivendell. We are hoping they'll give us refuge - and they may do the same for you. One of the wizards that travels with us says they may be able to grant you the answers we cannot.

...Although I'm sure he could leave you with some answers of his own, but unfortunately he's disobliging on a good day. However, I can at least offer some guidance at the behest of the wizard. Disagreeable though Merlin is, his gift of foresight has been irritatingly spot on. I've pressed him enough that he talked me into writing this letter for someone.

Apparently, it will be read by a talking sword and a man with golden skin. I hesitate to believe him, but I suppose I have seen things far more unbelievable than that. So I intend to take him at his word.

If you are one of those individuals and are currently reading this, he says that you and the group you find yourselves with are bound to a greater destiny in this world - and bound to one another. And that your path will not be an easy one. I'm afraid he is often right about such things, which is why I agreed to write this, so I can render what little aid I can, even if it's only information.

I have seen the burden that destiny can be on one's shoulders, and if he tells the truth, I'm terribly sorry you and those you're with may have to bear it. But I have also seen the heights it can cause one to rise to.

The wizard has had Master Jim, our champion and defender, our Trollhunter, record something for you on some strange device. I don't know what it is he said but it's supposed to open at an appointed time, when the message is one you need to hear most.

Whatever it is you face, I wish you all a safe journey and I make one humble request, lest we're unable to make our own journey safely:

Please. Remember us. Even if all that you know of us is "they cared for their own, grieved those they lost, and tried to guide those that came after."

May your own path be safe and swift. With great consideration and estimation,

- Blinkous Galadrigal

:They were clearly a literate people. Literacy has to be taught. If they make tools to do so, then anyone can use them: Raistlin says, before settling in to read the letter.

"...Hmm. So this place - collects people?" he says aloud. "People and places. To what end?"

He turns the papers over, looking for anything further.

"Quite courteously written for a cryptic message of destiny."

:The angle the implement was held at is different here. This leader or their scribe paused and came back to continue,: Need muses absently as her bearer reads down the document. :Or changed hands? Hard to say, there's not the smudging I'd expect from writing this direction left handed, but some people can pull it off.:

Her first thought is: oh these poor people, this is clearly a horrifically difficult and risky thing to do, and they've been gone long enough and went far enough away that she can't pick up on them with her Empathy. Her second thought is: we can't just tell everyone. Would it cause a panic? Is there a way to work off this information alone or with some hand-chosen people? Need likes secrets and slow, careful reveals, she likes to have a more complete picture than other people. Sometimes knowing just upsets others.

She regards that second, completely reflexive thought carefully, allowing Raistlin to see what she's considering. The "Chosen" are not a cohesive unit, is the problem, and controlling who's told... That's just the leadership question all over again, but putting her metaphorical hand in. And if the Heartstone flickers its last quickly, it will better serve for everyone to know.

Need then asks the gnome, :Did they leave you here? Are you a kind of Trolls?: Their biology is certainly further from human than it seems at a glance. But if the sun affects them the same way, they're certainly small enough to have an easier time avoiding it than the hulking bodies she's seen in the Market.

The gnome chatters away. It's clear he holds some respect for some trolls, but only for a few it'd fought side by side with.

The gnome says it was closer to some humans.

And that no, they're not related to trolls. And they chose to stay behind - most of the trolls weren't overly fond of them anyway, seeing them more as pests.

He explains that their human friends realized the monsters the Trolls were afraid of disliked the daylight. But since they were unable to take advantage of that themselves, and could only move at night when the monsters were active, they decided to move on.

He explains the gnomes don't fear the monsters. Even when the Heartstone fails, they can move during the day to hunt animals in the woods and hide in small tunnels and caves and cracks at night where they can't be reached.

So they decided to stay. Their ability to hide easily and move during daytime means they can also leave to find communities to relocate to if needed.

He explains that the trolls weren't so lucky.

:Keeping it secret won't do any good: Raistlin says, as soon as Need introduces the idea. :If the others knew we'd discovered and concealed this, they'd be outraged, and I can't say they'd be wrong. This is the first thing like an explanation or a goal that we've encountered; half the reason that ridiculous fight happened is that we don't have anything to do but fight. This is, if nothing else, a direction to move in.:

The fate of the trolls doesn't move him particularly, other than a vague approval that they'd done exactly what he would do - accepted the parameters and risks of their current situation and chosen to act constructively towards a solution, rather than sit around bemoaning their fate and clinging to the way things used to be.

"Your Majesty," is how he addresses Gnome Chompsky, since he hasn't actually been told the little creature's name. "May we tell our companions about you and your people, or would you prefer to keep to yourselves?" He'd certainly thought them unintelligent pests until recent events; others, laboring under the same misapprehension, might act without care when defending their possessions.

Secrets and Stone

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