Siegliend’s Vision


This vision takes place after the most recent game.  As of this writing, I haven’t actually written the sessions for those games. I just wanted to get this out ther ASAP because it matters to the character, the player, and the world.  And it seemed awesome.

As Sieglinde lays down to sleep after her most recent adventure, having helped push back the bone slime into the gap opened to the Aspect of the Moon of Death, Lythronax, by Malfrecues Nul, she is troubled in her thoughts. She knows that she must, by the decree of her stewardship to the moon Maya – counter and couple to Lythronax that completes the twin, Circumago – help all those that she can lead the best lives they may. Yet… She is driven by her own desire to find her mother.

Thinking back on her travails in the dungeon, and seeing that the further she goes she knows in her heart that she must become more powerful than she imagined she might in order to overcome those that would stand in her way.

Drifting into sleep, she sees herself standing in a sandy bowl, surrounded by massive, mountain sized sand dunes. Before her is a flashing, undulating source of holy power. Trying to look directly at it, she finds that she can’t, but she also can’t look away. At the edges of her vision, she sees feathers, fur, countless eyes boring into her very soul, each one seeming to ask a different question, each one imploring and yet patient as time beyond time.

In her dream, she reaches out a hand and touches the light. She feels the softest fur she’s ever felt, with muscles and sinew, hard as the bedrock beneath her, rippling below. A dichotomy of ultimate comfort and ultimate sacrifice envelopes her as the vision sweeps her across the entire face of the Coin of the World in an instant.

Her dream pilgrimage has deposited her in her bed, sitting bolt upright, sweating and panting.
As she looks about her small dorm in the Keep, she eventually focuses on her small shrine to Maya with its candle almost burnt out and the incense she lit before she lay down still smoldering. The brass and cheap silvering of the icons seem to glow and pulse under her scrutiny. Next to these, she sees her armor, recently imbued with the fleur de lis that her mother must have deposited into the iron golem’s gambling trough. As well, her mace, given to her by her father, whose leather handgrip still holds the shape of his fist. They pulse in sync to the light from the shrines.

Entering a sort of fugue state, not knowing if she’s actually awake yet or not, she feels the glow growing to envelope her. She can sense, if not actually hear, a choir singing somewhere just beyond.
She can almost understand it, but…
If only she could…
The song of Purity… And Cleanliness… And … Almost…

Then her vision retreats, back across the span of the great disc that is the Coin of the World, back through the forests and the mountains and meadows and across the trackless seas and down, deep into the low places of the desert.

And she looks into the heart of the glowing, winged thing before her for a moment…

And then wakes for real in the cold, hard, stone heart of the Keep.

And she knows what she has to do.

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