December 19, 2020

 We have the flowers. 

Given the slave patrols and other things we've seen in the basin, I thought that gathering them might have been more of a challenge. But, the actual collection was fairly smooth, though weird as things often are here in the desert. 

We found ourselves on the trail after a relatively uneventful evening. Val had been muttering in her sleep about needing to find the way south. Along the way, the non-Brethoreans hounded Ellis about his family and his past. Eillis seems a bit uneasy about his past, and it clearly made him uncomfortable. He clearly comes from the upper class of Brethore. His family owned a plantation with slaves. Ellis claimed to have worked the fields with them, trying to show that he was not afraid of labor, though I fear he only made his standing worse with some of our....hmmm...not entirely sure what to call ourselves. Our group for lack of a better term. I almost stood up for Ellis a bit. Say what you will about his dress and his background, but it seems he has turned his back on that. Perhaps he too wishes to see an end to the slave trade? With the plantation owners though...it's very easy to say one thing, but not live it out. It is always harder to live out our ideals. 

Listen to me talk as if my family didn't own slaves. Not a plantation, but still. Servants. Though without them, perhaps I wouldn't be so enlightened to this cause. If I weren't a witness to their suffering, did not hear their cries...I must remember them. 

We came upon the oasis. It was surrounded by an encampment of 30-40 people there, with wagons all around. The wagons were overturned, some of them at least. It seemed like a festival, with music and food. No one was in charge. Val was the one to spot the flowers first and I followed her to the water of the lake to collect them. We were offered food and drink. I declined, being wary of food from strangers. Of our group, only Slim partook. After finding out that the bread was made with the flowers, I am glad that I did not. 

Virgil played his flute with some of them, and I must say that he was a decent musician. I did feel myself missing my guitar that had been with me in Goodwater. It was an indulgence to carry, but a reminder of home. Perhaps I will find a guitar out here in the desert...perhaps there will be one in the town we will bring back. 

I was collecting flowers most of the time, but I could tell by watching the others that most were uncomfortable with the people encamped here. Virgil, after playing some tunes, joined Ellis at the wagons. Ellis found some moldy bread, cloth, and some nice coats in one of the wagons. The people said we could take them. After Val and I got enough flowers, we joined our companions. Slim wanted to stay and partake in more food, but the rest of us wanted to go. Something about these people gave us the creeps. They were too....jolly to be in the desert. Also, they couldn't seem to tell us how long they had been camped here or where they were from. I remembered the shaman from before who warned us not to consume the flower. It seems to take away their inhibition. Not a good thing in the desert. At least these people are at the oasis. They do seem to have a field for wheat at least. So, they aren't starving themselves. 

We saddled our horses and left. They did not seem to care that we left. No harm befell our group, but still...I do wonder what it would be like to stay with them and observe them.

We traveled back towards the town. It will take multiple days to get there. On our watch the first night, Val and I heard growling and howling noises. The second night, they were closer. I risked magic and cast dancing lights so we could see the source, and it was wargs. They were beastly. A skirmish ensued. For my part, I summoned a viper to fight for me. I do have a revolver, but I loathe to use it. The viper seemed to do some good damage, and after some gunshots from the others, the wargs fell back, one calling out to the others that they should fall back, "to the lair of the cyclops to defend the treasure." 

I was gladdened to see that there were no takers in the group. Given that they could not see the town before, I half expected them to want to chase after wargs in search of gold. But, they seem to want to press on and continue our mission. 

December 3, 2020

 My pursuit of magic was almost better when I went it alone, but now surprised with people ignorant of the powers around us....

Oh journal, you are the only one I can write this out to. Though perhaps I shall censor it slightly, in case one of these companions of mine rifles through my pack and discovers what I furiously scribble by the light of our campfire. 

You have been neglected too long, so here is a recap of what has happened...

Not long after we rode out of Goodwater, we came across a slave caravan. Detestable business that it is, but it's the nature of Brethore. And mother wonders why I didn't want to serve. Serve what? Imperial ambition to subjugate the masses? Does she think that only those in service are the slaves? When I become a sorcerer, I will free them all. Alas, they were too heavily guarded and we are too few in number. I'm sure on his own, Ellis might have shot at them. But, we let them pass. I wasn't shocked by the sight, I knew it happened, but some of the others in our troop seemed outraged. My memory is hazy, but I feel Val especially felt sorry for the slaves. I am gladdened somewhat that they are angered by the sight. At least that is an injustice they will fight against.

That night, a ghost caravan went through our camp. I foolishly ducked out of the way. I really should have been able to sense or detect that it was not from our realm and stood to face it. I cannot balk in the face of magic if I am to understand it. 

We continued on to the oasis when a strange man ranted at us for being on his land and pleaded with us to take the road. Given that we had not seen a road for some time, this perplexed us. In his lunacy, there seemed to me a kernel of truth, and so we went back to where the town was supposed to be. Slim "paid" the man with some rocks for his trouble. You meet all sorts out here. The man did tell us about the ghost caravan and said it had to do with a curse.

There was nothing there, but I cast a spell to allow me to see invisible things and I did find there to be a town there. My companions could not see it, and I believe they think me mad. I led them to a graveyard to try and find the resting place of a man the raving maniac had mentioned. Indeed, I did find an open grave. A man calling himself Ellis was at the bottom and he pleaded with me to kill him. Given that my companions could not see or hear him, or that I could not touch him, I doubted I could do so. When I told Ellis (from our group...too many Ellis's around) that the man wanted to die, he handed me his gun. Brathorian compassion at its finest. 

Ellis in the ground explained that the town had been sent away, a spell gone awry. He was ashamed of his daughter's marriage and only meant to send her and her husband away to the spirit realm, but the spell backfired. And instead of sending just the two people, it sent the whole town to the spirit realm. 

The horror of that, all those people trapped there. I was informed that through the use of a flower, yellow tipped with a red center, this curse could be reversed. When I informed my companions of this, they seemed disinterested in helping these people. It was only when I reminded Ellis that in the spirit world, the whiskey had no flavor that he took pity on those people. 

Ellis in the ground did say that there was a chance that bringing the town back might kill him, as he is trapped between the realms. He told me to find a particular shaman to help. This shaman was different from the shaman in Goodwater. The one that affected this town was well dressed and spoke gravely. Ellis in the ground said to be wary of shamans bringing gifts. Apparently, his town had been offered a kangaroo. Perhaps the shamans don't know the region and the kangaroo was their first guess at what might be a tribute. But...there are none to be found here. 

Assuring the man that we, or perhaps I should have only said I, would help, we continued on our way. That night, we were visited by pookah, strange shapeshifting creatures. They visited us looking like miniature versions of us. Ellis, true to his nature, decided to shoot at them. He missed the pookah that looked like him, but Val shot the same, splattering Ellis with its remains. Seeing the others fight their tiny versions of themselves, I thought this might be futile and I cast a spell to put the creatures to sleep. While I intended to maybe question the creatures (they seemed somewhat intelligent and could at least mimic speech it seemed. I may be wrong but I wanted to know) Slim and Ellis took this time to execute three of the four remaining ones, including the one that looked like me. That was disconcerning. I hope Slim didn't get a feeling of satisfaction watching the head of the tiny "Spooky kid" get blown off. 

Val to her credit did not want to kill the one that looked like her. Over the protests of Ellis and Slim, she adopted it as a pet. I think this is a good approach. Seeing the pookah lad in its more natural form, I think it may be useful to have a tiny creature that can steal be on our side. Ellis and Slim wanted to kill it. Virgil I believe advocated for tying it up and leaving it, which seemed cruel for him. I saw no reason to kill it. The creatures came to us, but they didn't attack until fired upon. No need for senseless violence, and I am glad that Val spared it. I hope the creature, who is named Aeliss, is not used as target practice by some in our party. 

During my portion of the watch, shared with Virgil, a man approached our camp. We were weary of him, but he claimed to be a shaman. He warned us not to consume the flower. I assumed he meant to not eat it, but sometimes shaman speak in trickery, so I will think on it. He also told us we needed to travel into the heart of the desert, to Piccham. He made it seem that Piccham was a town...which, I had never thought of. The town where magic came back? What happened there? Too many speculations for right now....losing track of the important things here. The shaman said that the forces above were trying to bring about the end times, that Goodwater was a poorly executed plan by them, but more would come. We must save Goodwater, and then travel to the heart of the desert to Piccham. 

In my travels and study of magic, I have often found that voices from the dark bring the best information. Virgil seemed to trust him as well. I must admit that this gladdened me. I have been so swept up and eager in the past as to get hoodwinked. 

Oh journal, how fortunate we are that this shaman came when I and Virgil were on the watch. Had it been Ellis or Slim, I fear he would have been shot at or dismissed. They know NOTHING of magic, and seem to not believe in it even though there is magic all around us in the desert. The Great Basin tingles with it. If only they could have seen the town. It was nothing much, but a whole town there, invisible to the unaided eye. But journal, they HAVE seen...they saw Goodwater, they saw the ghost buggy, they have been in the spirit realm themselves. How can they think this the stuff of legends and kiddy stories when they are living it? I do not fully comprehend what is going on, but I feel I have a firmer grasp of the bigger picture than they. Hopefully, they will become more amenable to belief before it is too late.

We ride for the oasis. Val learning the name of her pookah had me thinking about my own horse.  It is time I named it. He is a beautiful horse, worthy of a name. I was thinking after the shaman left of the stories of the sorcerers of old. How powerful they were, the battles they fought, the legends they created. I remember one in particular, a sorcerer from the north.Vodican the powerful. He rode upon Mairama. While I do not pretend to be worthy of his titles and legends, I hope that I may honor him and the legends of old. Thinking of all the names of the sorcerers of old and their horses....Gnonaym, Trefrund, Boots...it is a great history, but of all those famous horses, the one I ride upon seems to be a Mairama. I shall honor the sorcerers of old by naming my horse after one of their steeds. May I prove worthy of being able to ride such magnificent a horse. Someday, they shall tale the tale of how Edward Aquino rode from Picham to free all the enslaved in Brethore on the back of Mairama. 

To the oasis we go. To glory we go. To the legends we go.