As moments pass, Bran finds himself more and more comforted. His breath calms down and though his hands are still shaking, they are steadier now. Still looking at Eithne, his eyes now show a little more confidence. He's not in that room anymore, he's at the Blue Water Inn. He's not alone, he's not helpless, he's even helped save a child but moments ago. He may have come down as if lightning had just struck him, but he's not done for. He will stand up again, as he's done other times. "It doesn't matter if we fall down, Bran. What is important is to stand up again. Always stand up again, son", his father used to say.
- You're right, you're totally right, Eithne. I'm sorry. What a mess. I'm also not sure who these hags are. Lucian just told me about his ... nature ...and I just linked it with what I read about it and other "tales" - what I thought were tales - and remembered the hags of Old Bonegrinder. I swear I was just saying I do not ... did not ... believe in those hags when a repressed memory came back. Gods, I'm questioning so many beliefs right now ...
(OOC: Guess I'll leave a little Deception - in a following post- as I do not want to mention that I thought about the hags because Lucian mentioned them previously. So he can keep his privacy. If Eithne wants to push with that specific part, feel free!)
Spoiler for Aroc:
I really hope I'm not messing up here. If my memory serves me right, the rest of the group already know about your werewolf thing and Bran knows that. He's just realizing - now that the fear has shaken off - that you may not want to speak further about the crones, so he'll just try to say that they are related only to him so you do not feel pushed to reveal anything else. If something is not right please tell me and I'll edit.
- I don't know if the hags that attacked me ... us ...are those same hags. But as you say, I can be a good starting point for investigating. I guess it's a good thing that I have remembered. Now I need to know, to investigate. How the hell do you defeat those things when we don't know the first thing about them? I'll - he shots Lucian a short glance, to reassure him, "I'll ask about MY issue, I won't disclose yours", he tries to convey - have to ask about them. To Urwin, to Blinsky, to Pom ... to whoever I think can provide any information.
He pauses for a moment and stares at Eithne again, taking her hand for a moment and pressing it a little:
- I have remembered something, yes. And so will you. We'll all write our stories, ok? Together. - he adds, looking at both Eithne and Lucian at this point - But..I need to gather myself a little more - he sees Urwin and Dannika begin to bring food - Let's just go on with the dinner, all right? Thanks, guys, really. I 'm lucky to have you.
(OOC: Now Chara enters, dinner is served and we resume talking about the mission and Lady Wachter).
(OOC: lol. I thought so, that's why I assumed Chara was still upstairs. ;) Looks like its figured out though. EDITED: to compensate for Bran's last post, which must have been posted while I was writing this one.)
Lucian glances back and forth from Bran to Eithne, finding himself confused without really knowing why. After a moment he fixes his attention on Bran and says, "I... was it because I brought up the... the... um.."He trails off, realizing that Bran is trying to keep quiet about the ring. Lucian feels a little bad about that, and realizes how silly it likely is to keep the ring a secret .He glances at Eithne, realizing he should probably fill her in on what they were talking about, but not really knowing if that's necessary at this moment. Up until now he'd figured he'd bring it up if he ever felt like they were getting close to the hags. He didn't want to distract from their current mission. Swallowing he says, "You think the hags at Old Bonegrinder were behind...well...putting you in that coffin? You...you're sure? Oh... I... well, I don't know what to say... All I knew about them was the name...I didn't know they were so powerful..." He shakes his head, "We'll figure out what happened. I'm sure we will." His heart sinks a little, wondering what this meant for Bran's family. Could they still be alive? They have to be, they just have to...
"If those hags killed his wife and daughter..." Lucian thinks, clenching his fists. "I don't care if they have the ring or not, I'll beat the answer out of them and kill them when I'm done..." Suddenly realizing his train of thought, he flinches and shakes his head. He can't afford anger. All it would do is serve as a foothold for the beast. Violence is what the wolf wants, he can't afford to fall into such thinking willingly. Besides... it isn't as if he can really do much on his own... More then likely Lenn will be the one doing the beating. Probably Eithne too for that matter.
"We'll find out what happened," he says quietly, his voice a little shaky as he once more grasps his pocket watch. For now, he'll stay quiet about the ring. The ring is his problem after all, and in the light of what is going on with Bran, it seems a small one in comparison. Besides, now Bran can safely ask Urwin and Blinsky about the hags without bringing Lucian into the mix. Once they are well on their way, Lucian will tell everyone else about the ring. After all, it would be as much of a help to them as it would be to him. They wouldn't have to worry about him transforming without warning anymore. Plus... he realizes its a little foolish to keep quiet about something like this. He'll never find it on his own, especially if he doesn't ask questions.
Fairlthilien :) ...
That's fine. He really just doesn't want Urwin and Blinsky to find out. He's going to have to tell everyone else sometime if he really wants to find it, but he's glad that Bran's giving him the option to keep it quiet.
Bran shakes his head when when Lucian asks if he's sure that the Old Bonegrinder hags are behind his being buried alive in the coffin.
- Truth is I'm not sure about anything. They (well, or just other hags!) did something. But to what point ...no, I can't say I'm sure. They are just another piece in this puzzle...- he lets out a tired sigh, and smiles when also the monk assures that they'll figure it out.
After joining the dinner table, when they finish talking about the mission, the estimated time of arrival to the winery and back and even the possibility of magic being used in the making of the precious beverage, Bran says that he'll be practicing with the lute. At that point he's feeling almost completely recovered, but he wouldn't be surprised if his music doesn't sound as always that night, taking into account the terror that overcame him and has left all his muscles strained. In any case, and although the presence of Pom is always imposing, he thinks that loosing himself a little to the music may help him relax a little. At least, he hopes that is what will happen.
In any case, it's not as if he has any choice. He not only feels the urge to play, he also knows that there are questions he wants to ask his tutor. He cannot afford not asking. Not anymore.
When Lucian asks if he can watch, Bran is almost ready to say no. Old habits die hard, and in his "past life" with Elia and Cassie he always kept those training sessions to himself. To protect them, he thought. But had that been the true reason? Was it to protect them, or to protect himself from having to explain anything? He hated the term "past life" as it implied it wouldn't come back. But the had to face that possibility, and also, the fact that he was not the same man as before. Now he had opened up and that implied letting people in. And also ... that he could count on them.
So he nodded at Lucian and displayed a grateful look in his eyes. That night, he wouldn't be playing alone and he would have Lucian's back in case something weird happened. And who knew, could Lucian perhaps be interested in learning to play? It would surely be a nice distraction in their journeys.
- I'm not used to practice with anybody else near, but I'd say ... let's try, yes. I'll be grateful to have you near. Though I have to say this: I'll probably loose myself a little and I don't think I'll be able to pay a lot of attention to what's happening "outside". I apologize in advance if that's what happens, Lucian.
Before leaving the common room to start the practice, Bran approaches Urwin in a moment he's alone.
- Master Urwin, I need to ask. Do I look as inexperienced compared to the rest of the group for you to recognize me as new to the party? When we should all be new to you? Especially when Cole is the newest member? - he laughs nervously - What gave me away? The fact that I was the only one to give my name when we met you for the first time?
Independently of how (or if) he answers, Bran asks what's really critical to him right now:
-I don't know If you can give me any information on this. But if you at least could relay this question to Blinsky - along with the information on Lady Wachter we told you about - I would be grateful. Do you happen to know anything about hags? Especially, the Old Bonegrinder hags? Where are they? What are they? Can they be ...hurt? I'm interested in this because they could be related to the fact that my family - and part of my memories - is missing.
Eithne would have gladly attended Bran's practice session too, but something had kept her from asking... Pom, this figure who up to now had only manifested herself in Bran... she wouldn't want the presence of witnesses to make decide the mysterious mentor not to show up! It is clear that Bran needs to consult with him...
Not even hearing Lucian asking to attend and receiving an assent changes her mind — there will be other times to be in good company. Once she has gathered as much information about the winery as possible, the last of the dusk elf maidens return to her room. Not to sleep... in fact, she spends the rest of the night, without even realizing it, between games with Juhowly or simple moments of watch, with the senses alert to pick up any suspicious noises. She doesn't really expect someone to come and attack them in the inn, but... but she doesn't want to sleep anyway. By focusing on her surroundings, she at least can distract herself from the voices that sometimes undermine her own awareness of who she is. And also from the thought of Bran. The hope that something can still be done for him - and the fear that instead it is already too late and that there is only pain and disappointment waiting for them, that their history has already been written... by an author different from them and probably a sadist.
'Even if it were, you're going to make this end...' the voices in her head point out. 'You're going to make Barovia a better place!' 'You'll avenge us all! And make the Devil Stradh pay for all his evil!' 'When Barovia is no longer ruled by evil, everyone's life will be better, Eithne…'
'Yeah, sure' thinks the last of the dusk elf maidens. 'Everyone's, you say. And Bran and I are included, among those 'everyone'?'
Lucian grins, seemingly back to his usual self, "Okay. Uh... I can keep my distance if that makes anything better." He's not entirely sure what Bran means when he says he might 'lose himself', does it have something to do with Pom? Or is it like... meditating? Like...blocking out the world so that he can focus?
In any case, he doesn't know how long Bran plans to play, but Lucian is sure he can manage to get some meditating in tonight as well. He doesn't need much rest, but he knows better then to skip resting entirely. If they plan to leave in the morning, then he'd best be up to full strength.
Urwin raises an eyebrow at Bran's questions. "Our mutual friend told me of the others coming, but he did not mention you. I don't know why he didn't mention you, but the other's obviously trust you so I chose not to question. Flexibility is required in all this."
After Bran asks about the hags and his family, Urwin blanches. "Those old witches are no longer human. They are, instead, some twisted creature part magic and part of this twisted land. They take others and either consume them or shape them into things equally ugly. I wouldn't have suspected that they are active as far west as Kreszk, but I don't know much of their movements. I could have them watched, if you like. Last I heard, they have been peddling something called dream pies to the most unfortunate among us. I wouldn't eat or touch anything offer by those things, but despair and desperation can guide us into poor choices. I'll talk to our friend about the Lady Wachter and these creatures as well"
Bran and Lucian
When you get to your room to retire for the evening, you find Nikolai already on a bed, snoring softly. Resolving to practice, but practice quietly, Bran takes out his lute and tunes it. When ready, he stretches his fingers and hands and then begins to play one of the exercises Pom taught him to help develop proper form. As he does, a figure seems to form from the air at the foot of Bran's bed, sitting and watching Bran perform. Lucian can see the figure, which looks like an old man in moth-eaten robes with a long beard, but he is translucent and without color, whereas when Bran sees him, he looks like a normal person.
The figure, Pom, ignores Lucian and after a few moments of listening, tsks loudly and waves his hand to stop Bran from playing. "How long has it been since you last practiced?" Pom demands.
Lucian sits quietly on either the floor or the bed closest to where Bran is practicing. He sits cross-legged, and watches with wide eyes as the bard begins playing. He's never really been close enough to watch a musicians fingers dance across an instrument before, and finds it rather mesmerizing. Though... sometimes he does find that the higher pitched sounds a little to... well, high. Stupid wolf senses. Even when he isn't tapping into them, he's found that they tend to still surface from time to time, though they aren't as powerful as when he (on rare occasions) actively uses them. He quickly blocks out those noises, but it is difficult as always.
When Pom appears at the foot of the bed, Lucian gives a start and glances at Bran. When Pom speaks, his demanding tone causes Lucian to flinch again and wonder how Bran puts up with this weird ghostly fellow. At that moment, he has the strange desire to throw something at Pom...just to see if it would hit him or just sail harmlessly through. He keeps that impulse at bay...partly because he doesn't have anything to throw readily available aside from a copper coin, which he would be better off keeping since it was part of his life's savings after all. So, he just sits there and waits to see what happens.
Bran just nods after Urwin's response to his first question and shares a worried look with him regarding the second. Everything sounded awful. And ... dream pies? He silently prayed neither him not Elia (not to mention their child) had fallen for that. Elia had been acting a little off "lately" (whatever that word meant in their timeline), could she have...? No, impossible. Bran knew her wife, why would have she turned to that? She didn't have any reason, did she? They where good, weren't they? The bard was perfectly ready to blame himself instead. Did he made that mistake? What if he had had a particularly bad practice session and had eaten one of those pies in his desperation...?
Many questions, many doubts, and he had answers of none of them. So he just said to Urwin:
- That sounds ... bad, real bad. I'll try to think on it. Who knows, maybe I can get more memories back. Meanwhile, yes, please, if you can keep an eye on those creatures and send word to our friend I will be most grateful - he exhales deeply and tries to smile - Let's hope that when we return from the winery we all have good news for each other.
Lucian / DM:
Upon entering their room, Bran says in whispers:
- ... I would have never taken Nikolai for a snorer...!
At this point it's beginning to be obvious for Lucian that the bard turns to humor when he's feeling nervous. And no matter how many times he had already done it, practicing with Pom always made him nervous.
Before the practice starts, the bard takes the paper sheets Blinksy gave him and scribbles for a short while. Writing, thinking, writing again, humming, crossing out here, fixing something there... When he finishes he simply puts the papers in an ordered pile in his bed before grabbing the lute to start playing. He'll just store them back in his backpack when he finishes, or tomorrow before leaving.
(OOC: If anyone takes a peek at his papers un any point, I'll add post what Bran has written so far).
When he starts with his warm up exercises, Bran starts feeling the typical anxiousnes that overcomes him prior to any training. But he's done this a thousand times before, at home with Elia and Cassie, and has already mastered how to hide that. So all Lucian sees is the bard exhaling deeply, as if he was just concentrating on the task at hand.
When the familiar shape of Pom appears and shows his displeasure, and he's not really surprised. Even if he had been practicing within regular schedule, it would have required the bard to be a piece of cold ice to play to the best of his abilities after the hag flashback experience. But that didn't mean that he could take his comments easily. Not then, not now. That specific part, he had not mastered at all. But... this time ... instead of just critizising himself even harder that Pom did and just retrying again, he mustered every strenght the had and asked:
- Well, Pom, I was just wishing you could answer that for me. You see, something happened. Something bad. And that has prevented me from practicing. Among other things.
He pauses, still surprised by his forthrightness when he has never been able to speak like that to his tutor.
-In my mind, I have only missed two days training. But as I'm lacking memories, I'm starting to believe it could be more. Much more. Wouldn't you happen to have the slightest knowledge regarding this?
He waits for him to answer, but adds another question:
- May I choose the next song to perform. Please?
(OOC: DM, this is just to add some flavour. Not critical. Can add it later in the game)
From Lucian's point of view, Bran hasn't said a word and is just looking directly at Pom and doing nothing else. Old habits die hard, and when he practiced at home with Elia and Cassie around, these conversations always happened in his mind, and his mouth uttered no words at all beyond those of a song 's lyrics he could have been playing during these sessions.
Pom sneers, “Oh? Something bad happened? Did you lose a hand? Your tongue? I’ve told you to practice daily; without practice you won’t be perfect. Nothing is more important. Look how your third finger is placed! Like an amateur. Form slips when it isn’t reinforced. You must practice!”
Pom looks at Bran and, seeing something in his face, his eyes soften. “Well boy, you are obviously going to whine about it until you get it off your chest. What was so important that you had to skip practice?”
As Pom doesn't say no to his question regarding the next song to choose, Bran just follows through with what he has in mind. After all this years, he's perfectly capable of playing a tune with no lyrics and still keep a conversation with him in his mind. So he chooses the first piece he ever wrote, shortly after becoming bound to Pom. It was a beautiful and soft melody who could fill the unknowing listener with pleasing and calming sensation, but had yet another meaning from Bran.
The night he was bound to Pom had not only meant the beginning of this strange and obscure relationship. This had happened long before Bran met his wife, in a moment where his only living family was his father. That was also the night Ned Kenning died. On his death bed, he gave his son the pan pipes necklace, and when Bran put it he blacked out to wake up later to find Ned already dead and Pom looking at him, expectant.
And so, Bran had been robbed of the possibility of saying a proper goodbye to the man he had looked up to all his life. The person that had cared for him and had taught Bran the kind of person he was to become.
Writing and playing this song had been a response to that loss and a way to cry his heart out for everything that had happened.
Bran Kenning had been robbed again. Of his life, of his memories, of his wife and child. And he was not going to allow it this time. Not if he could do anything about it. So he played, and he answered Pom.
"Father" by Olivier Deriviere. From "A Plague Tale: Innocence"
- Have you ever heard of a musician being able to play while he's inside a coffin? I may be a bit good at playing, and you may be an exceptional teacher, but I don't think our skills combined can overcome that. I woke up just like that but two days ago. It's a miracle that I'm here talking to you and playing. And even though you don't really need to care about it, the truth is I've lost everything that gave me the will to live. I've lost my family, Pom. And you can think and call me whatever you like, but they were my inspiration. If you think that a perfect form of hands and a matching tongue is everything a musician needs, then let me tell you that you are sorely mistaken, master. At least, that's how I am. How the person you are bound to is, Pom.
He waits a little and then adds.
- I have never asked for anything. I have never asked what your intentions towards me are. I don't expect they are only that you teach and I try to play to meet your standards. Well ... the tables have turned and the Bran that didn't ask for anything does not exist anymore. So I want two things, Pom. The first, to do whatever is in my hand to get my family back. So again I ask, if you have the slightest information that could help me, then please share it, as it will benefit us both. I don't even know how much time I spent in that coffin. Was it two days? Two weeks? Two years? You know me well enough, and you have a vast knowledge. What does your expertise tell you? How long do you think I've been without practicing? Also, I know I was buried alive magically. I need to know if you happen to know anything about it.
Secondly, I want to know what this relationship of ours is really about. What do you really want from me in the long term, Pom? It can't be only that I reach perfection through your teachings. What's your gain in this? Mine is obvious. What's yours? Specially since ...well... you don't seem happy at all with my performance through all these years.
So, the part of Bran talking is still inaudible for Lucian. I have revolved everything around the fact that I wanted that song to play while I speak to him, and in my head that doesn't match Bran actually talking aloud. But my guess is than Lucian mostly knows beforehand what Bran wants to know, and also since he can hear Pom's answers, I believe he can follow the conversation more or less?
Lucian shoots a confused glance to Bran, wondering why he isn't...well, saying anything. However, when Pom responds to...something, it becomes fairly clear that Bran is communicating somehow even if Lucian can't hear it. So... why can he hear Pom? Maybe the ghostly fellow was to used to being alone and out of sight. ...Why can Lucian see him for that matter?
When Pom further insists on Bran being 'perfect' Lucian really feels the urge to throw something at him. This guy might be the 'master' here, but Lucian can't see anything wrong with Bran's playing. Sure, Lucian doesn't know anything about playing an instrument, but whatever Bran is playing sure sounds professional. However, the last thing he wants is to make this guy leave right now, not when Bran needs to get answers out of him. So he once more surpasses that impulse.
Out of curiosity, he creeps forward and closer to where Bran is, scooting along on his knees and wondering if Pom will take notice of him or if the ghost can only see Bran. ...that would be weird... However, he comes up short, deciding to wait and see if Pom answers Bran's unheard questions. He doesn't want to make the ghost angry or something. So he sinks back into a crosslegged position and watches the situation unfold--for now anyways.
'Pom…' finds herself thinking, at one point in the night, Eithne 'Another magical or supernatural figure. I don't trust magic... but since he's supposed to be a living creature... and he taught Bran music... who knows, maybe he'll be reliable enough. Maybe he will come, as Bran hopes. And maybe he'll be able to tell him something about what happened to him. Maybe'.
'But why so much distrust of magic, Eithne?' the voices in her head retort. 'Magic is inherent in us elves...' 'It is by no means unreliable, if learned diligently and practiced sensibly'.
'Yes, I know, I remember…' the savage stranger replies mentally, as she strokes Juhowly that has fallen asleep 'I remember it's supposed to be like this. I'm an elf too, one of you, as you so love to tell me. But I don't know what to say... It must be something that happened to me before... having you'
'And you still don't remember anything, poor thing...' one of her voices seems to pity her sincerely. 'If magic is involved, it could also have altered or removed her memories…' 'But even if a spell did that, that would be no reason to despise all magic, Eithne! After all, our presence here with you is also the result of magic or is it in any case a supernatural event...'
'Oh, right!' thinks the last of the dusk elf maidens, sarcastically 'So now I have a very much higher opinion of magic...'
(My son loves the music for both Plague Tale games)
Pomlooks startled, both at your anger and at the revelation of waking up in a coffin. He is clearly taken aback by your words and visibly takes a few moments to compose himself. When he looks at you, his expression is still shifting, somewhere between worry, fear, and...relief. Eventually he nods and begins to tell you a story.
"My name is not Pom, although that is what I have been called for two millennia now. My name is Abu Malik ibn Saweed. I was once a being of great power, a djinn on the Elemental plane of Air. I had 100 wives and a 1000 slaves. I oversaw commerce and led my men in battle. I saw the world and thought myself wise. But I was a fool. One of my sons and one of my wives fell in love. I had them both killed of course. I was distraught, for both had been among my favorites. The boy's mother came to me, I thought to comfort my sorrow. But I was blind and easily deceived. She took my hair, my blood, and more and used it to bind me to that amulet you wear. I was to serve whoever wore it. My power was ripped away. I had nothing; I could barely summon a gust of wind. She told me that every night since I arranged the execution, she had sung a song of mourning. A song of pain. And that I had not heard her. That I could not feel the suffering I'd caused. And so I must learn. She told me that I had to teach someone to sing her song, to sing the sorrow that I had caused the world. And, until I had done that, I would be bound and diminished."
"Then she threw my prison into the Material plane. I was passed from one disappointed bearer to another. No-one wanted to learn the song and, to be frank, I could not teach it if someone did. For I knew nothing of music. Most who possessed that damned bauble only asked me for advice and that only when they ascertained I had no power beyond listening and speaking my mind. Some grew wealthy, others grew powerful. Most were careless, releasing me unsupervised for short periods, where I looked for an found bards. I had to learn music to escape. Over 500 years, I gathered snippets of instruction and began to understand how to play, why people played. I began to understand my wife's words. But still, the great and powerful who acquired me had no interest in some song. Then, in a battle I believe, I fell into the hands of one of your ancestors. Low in status, but great in talent. The first, named Sander, 400 years ago, listened to my story and, although he too hoped to grow in power and wealth, decided to attempt to learn the song for my sake. He was a kind-hearted man; he would have been better to leave my chamber in the dirt. For studying the song, brings the sorrows. The only path to my escape is to curse those who would help me. For one hundred years, I taught your family the song as I remembered it and for one hundred years my advice invariably turned sour. I have killed your great-grandparents, murdered your great uncles and aunts, not by my hand, but because I tried to help them. After a time, I stopped teaching the song, but they still sought instruction in music. Some became bards, others simply played for themselves and for their families. I also stopped giving advice, for I feared the effects of my own wisdom. I am diminished; He who was once Abu Malik the Great is now Pom, the humble servant."
"You are the first true bard of your family line in 500 years. I am hard on you because your technique and your heart must be perfect to play the song. I saw your family and your happiness. I thought, 'Here is one who has escaped my curse, a great talent! Perhaps I should teach him the song." And so I started, an exercise here, a chord there, bits and pieces. I thought that, if I didn't teach you the song directly, no harm would come of it. But I see now, that I was wrong. My wife's curse follows me and I am a cancer to another good man."
"Time works differently in the amulet. If I am not present in your world, the time I am there could be two hours or two decades. I do not know what happened to you, although I am sure it is the fault of my curse. I said that you are the first true bard of your family in 500 years and I know this is true because no-one in your family has spoken to me like that in 500 years. Your words carry power unlike that of ordinary men or minstrels. Although you have no reason to trust me, and it likely would be better for you to throw me into a lake, I ask that you give me a chance to help you. To find your family, to find your destiny, to become the man you would be. This curse that has ruined me came of my selfishness, of my self-centeredness. Perhaps it is in your service that I will finally break free."
Lucian, you can hear Pom, but the voice is thin and whispery. If Nikolai was snoring just a bit louder, you wouldn't be able to understand what he was saying at all. You wouldn't even hear him. It is like he is less present for you than he is for Bran.
Eithne:
In the dark of night, you are not meditating. You cannot meditate. You are not sure exactly what it is that you are doing. It is not sleep. But you seem to have...a dream?...a vision? Perhaps a memory.
You are seated at a table with your brother Kasimirand your sister Patrina. Your sister is dancing around the little hut, uncharacteristically happy. Kasimirand you are poking fun. "Do you have a beloved, Patrina?" "Have you fallen for a troll?" Patrinasneers at both of you and dances out of the room, while you and Kasimirgiggle together.
Chara:
Your patron says, "I know your heart is in the right place, child. Perhaps I am too harsh. Even the lowliest may be exalted, just as the highest may fall. But I worry about the little imp's influence. I shall work a spell for you to help him guide you aright. Now sleep, child. The morning will most likely bring you some peace."
"Kasimir... Patrina... Finally I remember something too!" wonders Eithne, after the sudden reminiscence of that scene "Could it have been Bran's proximity that unblocked me? Did the fact that he could remember lead me to remember something too? Patrina... That Patrina... she was my sister! So I too am a Velikov. Eithne Velikovna. Kasimir and Patrina, my siblings, were the leaders of the dusk elves... and Patrina... Patrina fell indeed in love, but with the very wrong type!" she shudders "Count Strahd von Zarovich! She was consorting with the Devil Strahd! This led my people to kill her. And the Devil Strahd to respond with that cruel and ruthless retaliation".
The memory of all that pain makes the savage stranger dissolve in tears, even if she tries to weep in silence so as not to wake up Juhowly, in the solitude of their room. But there is no solitude in her head at all, where the voices have been unleashed like a chorus of banshees, all crying out their pain, now that the sudden memory of their host has made them relive their horrible end.
After the last of the dusk elf maidens has exhausted her tears, even the voices in her head have now given way and she dares to think: 'Perhaps I should have better not remembered...'
'Don't worry, Eithne,' one of her voices in her head tells her, 'what happened was awful, but it wasn't your fault'. 'It was Patrina's fault! What she was thinking?! With the Devil Strahd...' 'It was Kasimir and the other dusk elves' fault! Killing Patrina like that... stoning her! If they hadn't, the Devil Strahd wouldn't have come upon us!'
'Maybe, if I had talked to her...' thinks Eithne 'But why didn't I? And why wasn't I killed like you all? Ah, I still can't remember that... If at least... Patrina? Are you in my head too? Do you remember something?'
'Of course she isn't here, Eithne!' the voices in her head all react fervently 'After what she did, she wasn't one of us anymore!' 'We certainly wouldn't keep her here with us!' 'Perhaps she was claimed by the Devil Strahd...'
"All right, all right..." the savage stranger switches, without realizing it, from thinking to murmuring "Perhaps I've already recovered enough memories for tonight".
The last of the dusk elf maidens takes out a pomegranate and starts eating it slowly.
After the the one he used to call Pom is finished, Bran is left speechless. His first reaction is to gaze wide-eyed look at Lucian, and then back to Pom. He leaves the lute in the bed, stands up and begins walking from one side of the room to the other, and then back again. Silent, thinking, passing a hand through his hair while processing everything he has just heard.
If his otherworldly tutor had just slapped him in response for his direct words, he would have been much less stunned - and even hurt - than he currently was. He couldn't just easily process that such a terrible act made by Pom so long ago could have rippled that far, to the point of reaching him and so many ancestors before him. He did know that his father, and his grandfather before him, had had some relationship to music. But to think that it went that far back ... and to such degree.
"The first true bard in my family line in 500 years...?"
Never had anyone spoken such profound words about Bran. And Pom had been the one to say them. That was almost unbelievable for Bran, who didn't know how to react. It was gratifying. But overwhelming and humbling, too.
And also ... to think that Elia, Cassandra and Bran himself had been affected by someone's decission to respond to newfound love with murder two milennia ago... He wanted to scream, to cry, to use his very hands to cause violence as opposed to his usual intention of performing good deeds.
But then again, when had a violent reaction been helpful in his or anyone's life? Had that not been the cause that his ancestors, his tutor and now Bran himself where in this mess to begin with?
He looked again at his tutor and thought of saying something harsh. But instead he turned back, sat on the floor and grabbed his silver locket pendant. Upon opening it, he saw the familiar lock of Elia's dark hair and Cassie's blonde one. The little one had taken most of her father's features. She was such a lovely child...! Blonde haired, green eyed and keen on showing a smiling face most of the time, same as Bran. Though the bard had always been very sure that she would grow up to be as beautiful, proud and intelligent as her mother.
(OOC: Leaving here a couple of images I found that looked nice for Bran's wife and kid)
Still clutching the locket he drew a deep breath, made a decission and this time he spoke with his tongue and not with his mind, so Lucian would hear it too.
- I'll do it. I'll learn that song - but shakes his head, correcting himself - No. I will master it. And it will be so perfectly performed, so beautifully done, that it will end this curse once and for all, so that no one else has to suffer because of it.
After saying this, he looks directly at Lucian, anticipating a possible protest:
- I was already thinking of asking some of you to do something about all of this ... if something were to happen to me and this would provoke that the amulet end up in my daughter's neck. And I say this because I still hope to find her alive and well. And I will not believe otherwise until I see her - or Elia's, for that matter - dead body with my own eyes - he pales a little at the weight of this words. But though he did have hope, still he had to be realistic. And finding them alive seemed more difficult to him with each passing day.
Bran pauses, before stating:
- No child of mine will have to carry on with this curse.
And so, he goes back to his tutor and extends his hand to stretch his:
- We will end this together, Abu Malik.
(OOC: Now I have a question. Can I perhaps call on the djinn out of practice sessions to maybe help me somehow? I ask this taking into account Aroc's suggestion - which I liked a lot - by which only the persons that know of his existence will be able to see / hear him. Those would be, if I'm not mistaken, the current party, Van Richten and Blinsky).
Chara sighs gently in her sleep, cuddling up a little bit closer with Lydl.
DM:
"Thank you, Master," Chara says to her patron, bowing to the majestic being with reverence. "Um, before you go... can I ask you one question? Do... do you know what happened to Onika?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Unhappy that the market got rid of individual purchases for one-off subclasses, magic items, and monsters?
At first, Lucian doesn't know what to think. One hundred wives? He had his son and wife killed for falling in love? He inflicts misfortune on anyone who tries to learn the song? He decides that he doesn't much like this Pom...er...Abu Malik, at all.
He gives a bit of a start when Bran addresses him, having grown used to being nothing more than an observer here. Plus, after having to strain in order to hear Pom's words, Bran's voice sounds unnaturally loud at first.
"Uh..." He shakes his head, "We... I... won't let that happen. I'll chuck it off a cliff, or... bury it in that grave... anything to keep out of anyone's reach. But... why bother learning the song? Can't you just get rid of it? Or... is it bound so that you can't reject it? Cause... well... if I were you I'd be trying to smash it to pieces at this point."
After a moment he moves to stand in front of, or next to, Pom. He eyes the old man's face before tentatively waving a hand to see if his arm goes through him. Either way, he flinches and takes a step backwards before saying, "I'm not one to wish curses on people, but from your story... well you kind of deserve it." He crosses his arms, "I'm surprised this Sander guy wanted to help you at all."After he says this, he diverts his eyes, backing up and sitting down again, looking a little ashamed. "I guess I shouldn't judge. If you've really learned your lesson... well, I guess I shouldn't judge. But..."He gives the ghostly fellow a sharp look, "You should have told Bran earlier. You should have asked before trying to experiment with teaching him the song. Now he's suffering for it and its your fault. I hope he can master the song, not for your sake, but for his."
At Bran'sresponse, Pomsmiles. "Thank you, my friend. You would have likely been justified in throwing my prison off a high cliff. If you change your mind, I would not blame you. Also, please call me Pom. It has been my name for generations now; Abu Malik has long ceased to exist, which is for the best."
When Lucianattempts to put a hand through Pom, as he starts he encounters very light resistance, like sticking his hand through falling water, but as he attempts to push further, his hands receives a shock. Both Lucianand Pomgasps in pain and Lucianpulls his hand back quickly. Turning to Lucian, Pomsays, "I can't say that I care for your manners, but you are right. I should have warned Bran before beginning to teach him the song. But I thought I could just teach him parts without causing harm and he hadn't really talked to me in more than a dozen years. I assumed he was still scared of me. It seemed impossible to make a request."
Chara:
"My precious child," says the angel, "your purity is demonstrated in the care you show for your fellows. I'm afraid that I don't know what happened to your companion, but I believe that she is now corrupted and beyond anyone's ability to save. Don't let her fate distress you. It was, we can assume, intended all along."
In the morning, you are woken by the sound of Ichabodscreaming. As you open your eyes, you can see the little imp, but he has been changed. His horns are gone, replaced by a halo. His batwings have been given feathers. And he is currently struggling to remove a white robe that has apparently been wrapped around his body. Seeing that Chara is awake, he flies over to her, landing on her chest. He looks her straight in the eyes and says, "What did you do?"
(No prob! With the order I mean. Regarding the trauma ...man... haha ...man you're good! Now I, the player, I'm really scared of you 😂)
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
As moments pass, Bran finds himself more and more comforted. His breath calms down and though his hands are still shaking, they are steadier now. Still looking at Eithne, his eyes now show a little more confidence. He's not in that room anymore, he's at the Blue Water Inn. He's not alone, he's not helpless, he's even helped save a child but moments ago. He may have come down as if lightning had just struck him, but he's not done for. He will stand up again, as he's done other times. "It doesn't matter if we fall down, Bran. What is important is to stand up again. Always stand up again, son", his father used to say.
- You're right, you're totally right, Eithne. I'm sorry. What a mess. I'm also not sure who these hags are. Lucian just told me about his ... nature ...and I just linked it with what I read about it and other "tales" - what I thought were tales - and remembered the hags of Old Bonegrinder. I swear I was just saying I do not ... did not ... believe in those hags when a repressed memory came back. Gods, I'm questioning so many beliefs right now ...
(OOC: Guess I'll leave a little Deception - in a following post- as I do not want to mention that I thought about the hags because Lucian mentioned them previously. So he can keep his privacy. If Eithne wants to push with that specific part, feel free!)
Spoiler for Aroc:
I really hope I'm not messing up here. If my memory serves me right, the rest of the group already know about your werewolf thing and Bran knows that. He's just realizing - now that the fear has shaken off - that you may not want to speak further about the crones, so he'll just try to say that they are related only to him so you do not feel pushed to reveal anything else. If something is not right please tell me and I'll edit.
- I don't know if the hags that attacked me ... us ...are those same hags. But as you say, I can be a good starting point for investigating. I guess it's a good thing that I have remembered. Now I need to know, to investigate. How the hell do you defeat those things when we don't know the first thing about them? I'll - he shots Lucian a short glance, to reassure him, "I'll ask about MY issue, I won't disclose yours", he tries to convey - have to ask about them. To Urwin, to Blinsky, to Pom ... to whoever I think can provide any information.
He pauses for a moment and stares at Eithne again, taking her hand for a moment and pressing it a little:
- I have remembered something, yes. And so will you. We'll all write our stories, ok? Together. - he adds, looking at both Eithne and Lucian at this point - But..I need to gather myself a little more - he sees Urwin and Dannika begin to bring food - Let's just go on with the dinner, all right? Thanks, guys, really. I 'm lucky to have you.
(OOC: Now Chara enters, dinner is served and we resume talking about the mission and Lady Wachter).
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Bran's deception: 16
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
(OOC: lol. I thought so, that's why I assumed Chara was still upstairs. ;) Looks like its figured out though. EDITED: to compensate for Bran's last post, which must have been posted while I was writing this one.)
Lucian glances back and forth from Bran to Eithne, finding himself confused without really knowing why. After a moment he fixes his attention on Bran and says, "I... was it because I brought up the... the... um.." He trails off, realizing that Bran is trying to keep quiet about the ring. Lucian feels a little bad about that, and realizes how silly it likely is to keep the ring a secret .He glances at Eithne, realizing he should probably fill her in on what they were talking about, but not really knowing if that's necessary at this moment. Up until now he'd figured he'd bring it up if he ever felt like they were getting close to the hags. He didn't want to distract from their current mission. Swallowing he says, "You think the hags at Old Bonegrinder were behind...well...putting you in that coffin? You...you're sure? Oh... I... well, I don't know what to say... All I knew about them was the name...I didn't know they were so powerful..." He shakes his head, "We'll figure out what happened. I'm sure we will." His heart sinks a little, wondering what this meant for Bran's family. Could they still be alive? They have to be, they just have to...
"If those hags killed his wife and daughter..." Lucian thinks, clenching his fists. "I don't care if they have the ring or not, I'll beat the answer out of them and kill them when I'm done..." Suddenly realizing his train of thought, he flinches and shakes his head. He can't afford anger. All it would do is serve as a foothold for the beast. Violence is what the wolf wants, he can't afford to fall into such thinking willingly. Besides... it isn't as if he can really do much on his own... More then likely Lenn will be the one doing the beating. Probably Eithne too for that matter.
"We'll find out what happened," he says quietly, his voice a little shaky as he once more grasps his pocket watch. For now, he'll stay quiet about the ring. The ring is his problem after all, and in the light of what is going on with Bran, it seems a small one in comparison. Besides, now Bran can safely ask Urwin and Blinsky about the hags without bringing Lucian into the mix. Once they are well on their way, Lucian will tell everyone else about the ring. After all, it would be as much of a help to them as it would be to him. They wouldn't have to worry about him transforming without warning anymore. Plus... he realizes its a little foolish to keep quiet about something like this. He'll never find it on his own, especially if he doesn't ask questions.
Fairlthilien :) ...
That's fine. He really just doesn't want Urwin and Blinsky to find out. He's going to have to tell everyone else sometime if he really wants to find it, but he's glad that Bran's giving him the option to keep it quiet.
Bran shakes his head when when Lucian asks if he's sure that the Old Bonegrinder hags are behind his being buried alive in the coffin.
- Truth is I'm not sure about anything. They (well, or just other hags!) did something. But to what point ...no, I can't say I'm sure. They are just another piece in this puzzle... - he lets out a tired sigh, and smiles when also the monk assures that they'll figure it out.
After joining the dinner table, when they finish talking about the mission, the estimated time of arrival to the winery and back and even the possibility of magic being used in the making of the precious beverage, Bran says that he'll be practicing with the lute. At that point he's feeling almost completely recovered, but he wouldn't be surprised if his music doesn't sound as always that night, taking into account the terror that overcame him and has left all his muscles strained. In any case, and although the presence of Pom is always imposing, he thinks that loosing himself a little to the music may help him relax a little. At least, he hopes that is what will happen.
In any case, it's not as if he has any choice. He not only feels the urge to play, he also knows that there are questions he wants to ask his tutor. He cannot afford not asking. Not anymore.
When Lucian asks if he can watch, Bran is almost ready to say no. Old habits die hard, and in his "past life" with Elia and Cassie he always kept those training sessions to himself. To protect them, he thought. But had that been the true reason? Was it to protect them, or to protect himself from having to explain anything? He hated the term "past life" as it implied it wouldn't come back. But the had to face that possibility, and also, the fact that he was not the same man as before. Now he had opened up and that implied letting people in. And also ... that he could count on them.
So he nodded at Lucian and displayed a grateful look in his eyes. That night, he wouldn't be playing alone and he would have Lucian's back in case something weird happened. And who knew, could Lucian perhaps be interested in learning to play? It would surely be a nice distraction in their journeys.
- I'm not used to practice with anybody else near, but I'd say ... let's try, yes. I'll be grateful to have you near. Though I have to say this: I'll probably loose myself a little and I don't think I'll be able to pay a lot of attention to what's happening "outside". I apologize in advance if that's what happens, Lucian.
Before leaving the common room to start the practice, Bran approaches Urwin in a moment he's alone.
- Master Urwin, I need to ask. Do I look as inexperienced compared to the rest of the group for you to recognize me as new to the party? When we should all be new to you? Especially when Cole is the newest member? - he laughs nervously - What gave me away? The fact that I was the only one to give my name when we met you for the first time?
Independently of how (or if) he answers, Bran asks what's really critical to him right now:
-I don't know If you can give me any information on this. But if you at least could relay this question to Blinsky - along with the information on Lady Wachter we told you about - I would be grateful. Do you happen to know anything about hags? Especially, the Old Bonegrinder hags? Where are they? What are they? Can they be ...hurt? I'm interested in this because they could be related to the fact that my family - and part of my memories - is missing.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Eithne would have gladly attended Bran's practice session too, but something had kept her from asking... Pom, this figure who up to now had only manifested herself in Bran... she wouldn't want the presence of witnesses to make decide the mysterious mentor not to show up! It is clear that Bran needs to consult with him...
Not even hearing Lucian asking to attend and receiving an assent changes her mind — there will be other times to be in good company. Once she has gathered as much information about the winery as possible, the last of the dusk elf maidens return to her room. Not to sleep... in fact, she spends the rest of the night, without even realizing it, between games with Juhowly or simple moments of watch, with the senses alert to pick up any suspicious noises. She doesn't really expect someone to come and attack them in the inn, but... but she doesn't want to sleep anyway. By focusing on her surroundings, she at least can distract herself from the voices that sometimes undermine her own awareness of who she is. And also from the thought of Bran. The hope that something can still be done for him - and the fear that instead it is already too late and that there is only pain and disappointment waiting for them, that their history has already been written... by an author different from them and probably a sadist.
'Even if it were, you're going to make this end...' the voices in her head point out. 'You're going to make Barovia a better place!'
'You'll avenge us all! And make the Devil Stradh pay for all his evil!'
'When Barovia is no longer ruled by evil, everyone's life will be better, Eithne…'
'Yeah, sure' thinks the last of the dusk elf maidens. 'Everyone's, you say. And Bran and I are included, among those 'everyone'?'
Lucian grins, seemingly back to his usual self, "Okay. Uh... I can keep my distance if that makes anything better." He's not entirely sure what Bran means when he says he might 'lose himself', does it have something to do with Pom? Or is it like... meditating? Like...blocking out the world so that he can focus?
In any case, he doesn't know how long Bran plans to play, but Lucian is sure he can manage to get some meditating in tonight as well. He doesn't need much rest, but he knows better then to skip resting entirely. If they plan to leave in the morning, then he'd best be up to full strength.
Urwin raises an eyebrow at Bran's questions. "Our mutual friend told me of the others coming, but he did not mention you. I don't know why he didn't mention you, but the other's obviously trust you so I chose not to question. Flexibility is required in all this."
After Bran asks about the hags and his family, Urwin blanches. "Those old witches are no longer human. They are, instead, some twisted creature part magic and part of this twisted land. They take others and either consume them or shape them into things equally ugly. I wouldn't have suspected that they are active as far west as Kreszk, but I don't know much of their movements. I could have them watched, if you like. Last I heard, they have been peddling something called dream pies to the most unfortunate among us. I wouldn't eat or touch anything offer by those things, but despair and desperation can guide us into poor choices. I'll talk to our friend about the Lady Wachter and these creatures as well"
Bran and Lucian
When you get to your room to retire for the evening, you find Nikolai already on a bed, snoring softly. Resolving to practice, but practice quietly, Bran takes out his lute and tunes it. When ready, he stretches his fingers and hands and then begins to play one of the exercises Pom taught him to help develop proper form. As he does, a figure seems to form from the air at the foot of Bran's bed, sitting and watching Bran perform. Lucian can see the figure, which looks like an old man in moth-eaten robes with a long beard, but he is translucent and without color, whereas when Bran sees him, he looks like a normal person.
The figure, Pom, ignores Lucian and after a few moments of listening, tsks loudly and waves his hand to stop Bran from playing. "How long has it been since you last practiced?" Pom demands.
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
Lucian sits quietly on either the floor or the bed closest to where Bran is practicing. He sits cross-legged, and watches with wide eyes as the bard begins playing. He's never really been close enough to watch a musicians fingers dance across an instrument before, and finds it rather mesmerizing. Though... sometimes he does find that the higher pitched sounds a little to... well, high. Stupid wolf senses. Even when he isn't tapping into them, he's found that they tend to still surface from time to time, though they aren't as powerful as when he (on rare occasions) actively uses them. He quickly blocks out those noises, but it is difficult as always.
When Pom appears at the foot of the bed, Lucian gives a start and glances at Bran. When Pom speaks, his demanding tone causes Lucian to flinch again and wonder how Bran puts up with this weird ghostly fellow. At that moment, he has the strange desire to throw something at Pom...just to see if it would hit him or just sail harmlessly through. He keeps that impulse at bay...partly because he doesn't have anything to throw readily available aside from a copper coin, which he would be better off keeping since it was part of his life's savings after all. So, he just sits there and waits to see what happens.
Bran just nods after Urwin's response to his first question and shares a worried look with him regarding the second. Everything sounded awful. And ... dream pies? He silently prayed neither him not Elia (not to mention their child) had fallen for that. Elia had been acting a little off "lately" (whatever that word meant in their timeline), could she have...? No, impossible. Bran knew her wife, why would have she turned to that? She didn't have any reason, did she? They where good, weren't they? The bard was perfectly ready to blame himself instead. Did he made that mistake? What if he had had a particularly bad practice session and had eaten one of those pies in his desperation...?
Many questions, many doubts, and he had answers of none of them. So he just said to Urwin:
- That sounds ... bad, real bad. I'll try to think on it. Who knows, maybe I can get more memories back. Meanwhile, yes, please, if you can keep an eye on those creatures and send word to our friend I will be most grateful - he exhales deeply and tries to smile - Let's hope that when we return from the winery we all have good news for each other.
Lucian / DM:
Upon entering their room, Bran says in whispers:
- ... I would have never taken Nikolai for a snorer...!
At this point it's beginning to be obvious for Lucian that the bard turns to humor when he's feeling nervous. And no matter how many times he had already done it, practicing with Pom always made him nervous.
Before the practice starts, the bard takes the paper sheets Blinksy gave him and scribbles for a short while. Writing, thinking, writing again, humming, crossing out here, fixing something there... When he finishes he simply puts the papers in an ordered pile in his bed before grabbing the lute to start playing. He'll just store them back in his backpack when he finishes, or tomorrow before leaving.
(OOC: If anyone takes a peek at his papers un any point, I'll add post what Bran has written so far).
When he starts with his warm up exercises, Bran starts feeling the typical anxiousnes that overcomes him prior to any training. But he's done this a thousand times before, at home with Elia and Cassie, and has already mastered how to hide that. So all Lucian sees is the bard exhaling deeply, as if he was just concentrating on the task at hand.
When the familiar shape of Pom appears and shows his displeasure, and he's not really surprised. Even if he had been practicing within regular schedule, it would have required the bard to be a piece of cold ice to play to the best of his abilities after the hag flashback experience. But that didn't mean that he could take his comments easily. Not then, not now. That specific part, he had not mastered at all. But... this time ... instead of just critizising himself even harder that Pom did and just retrying again, he mustered every strenght the had and asked:
- Well, Pom, I was just wishing you could answer that for me. You see, something happened. Something bad. And that has prevented me from practicing. Among other things.
He pauses, still surprised by his forthrightness when he has never been able to speak like that to his tutor.
- In my mind, I have only missed two days training. But as I'm lacking memories, I'm starting to believe it could be more. Much more. Wouldn't you happen to have the slightest knowledge regarding this?
He waits for him to answer, but adds another question:
- May I choose the next song to perform. Please?
(OOC: DM, this is just to add some flavour. Not critical. Can add it later in the game)
From Lucian's point of view, Bran hasn't said a word and is just looking directly at Pom and doing nothing else. Old habits die hard, and when he practiced at home with Elia and Cassie around, these conversations always happened in his mind, and his mouth uttered no words at all beyond those of a song 's lyrics he could have been playing during these sessions.
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Pom sneers, “Oh? Something bad happened? Did you lose a hand? Your tongue? I’ve told you to practice daily; without practice you won’t be perfect. Nothing is more important. Look how your third finger is placed! Like an amateur. Form slips when it isn’t reinforced. You must practice!”
Pom looks at Bran and, seeing something in his face, his eyes soften. “Well boy, you are obviously going to whine about it until you get it off your chest. What was so important that you had to skip practice?”
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
As Pom doesn't say no to his question regarding the next song to choose, Bran just follows through with what he has in mind. After all this years, he's perfectly capable of playing a tune with no lyrics and still keep a conversation with him in his mind. So he chooses the first piece he ever wrote, shortly after becoming bound to Pom. It was a beautiful and soft melody who could fill the unknowing listener with pleasing and calming sensation, but had yet another meaning from Bran.
The night he was bound to Pom had not only meant the beginning of this strange and obscure relationship. This had happened long before Bran met his wife, in a moment where his only living family was his father. That was also the night Ned Kenning died. On his death bed, he gave his son the pan pipes necklace, and when Bran put it he blacked out to wake up later to find Ned already dead and Pom looking at him, expectant.
And so, Bran had been robbed of the possibility of saying a proper goodbye to the man he had looked up to all his life. The person that had cared for him and had taught Bran the kind of person he was to become.
Writing and playing this song had been a response to that loss and a way to cry his heart out for everything that had happened.
Bran Kenning had been robbed again. Of his life, of his memories, of his wife and child. And he was not going to allow it this time. Not if he could do anything about it. So he played, and he answered Pom.
"Father" by Olivier Deriviere. From "A Plague Tale: Innocence"
https://store.steampowered.com/app/752590/A_Plague_Tale_Innocence
https://www.asobostudio.com/games
- Have you ever heard of a musician being able to play while he's inside a coffin? I may be a bit good at playing, and you may be an exceptional teacher, but I don't think our skills combined can overcome that. I woke up just like that but two days ago. It's a miracle that I'm here talking to you and playing. And even though you don't really need to care about it, the truth is I've lost everything that gave me the will to live. I've lost my family, Pom. And you can think and call me whatever you like, but they were my inspiration. If you think that a perfect form of hands and a matching tongue is everything a musician needs, then let me tell you that you are sorely mistaken, master. At least, that's how I am. How the person you are bound to is, Pom.
He waits a little and then adds.
- I have never asked for anything. I have never asked what your intentions towards me are. I don't expect they are only that you teach and I try to play to meet your standards. Well ... the tables have turned and the Bran that didn't ask for anything does not exist anymore. So I want two things, Pom. The first, to do whatever is in my hand to get my family back. So again I ask, if you have the slightest information that could help me, then please share it, as it will benefit us both. I don't even know how much time I spent in that coffin. Was it two days? Two weeks? Two years? You know me well enough, and you have a vast knowledge. What does your expertise tell you? How long do you think I've been without practicing? Also, I know I was buried alive magically. I need to know if you happen to know anything about it.
Secondly, I want to know what this relationship of ours is really about. What do you really want from me in the long term, Pom? It can't be only that I reach perfection through your teachings. What's your gain in this? Mine is obvious. What's yours? Specially since ...well... you don't seem happy at all with my performance through all these years.
So, the part of Bran talking is still inaudible for Lucian. I have revolved everything around the fact that I wanted that song to play while I speak to him, and in my head that doesn't match Bran actually talking aloud. But my guess is than Lucian mostly knows beforehand what Bran wants to know, and also since he can hear Pom's answers, I believe he can follow the conversation more or less?
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Lucian shoots a confused glance to Bran, wondering why he isn't...well, saying anything. However, when Pom responds to...something, it becomes fairly clear that Bran is communicating somehow even if Lucian can't hear it. So... why can he hear Pom? Maybe the ghostly fellow was to used to being alone and out of sight. ...Why can Lucian see him for that matter?
When Pom further insists on Bran being 'perfect' Lucian really feels the urge to throw something at him. This guy might be the 'master' here, but Lucian can't see anything wrong with Bran's playing. Sure, Lucian doesn't know anything about playing an instrument, but whatever Bran is playing sure sounds professional. However, the last thing he wants is to make this guy leave right now, not when Bran needs to get answers out of him. So he once more surpasses that impulse.
Out of curiosity, he creeps forward and closer to where Bran is, scooting along on his knees and wondering if Pom will take notice of him or if the ghost can only see Bran. ...that would be weird... However, he comes up short, deciding to wait and see if Pom answers Bran's unheard questions. He doesn't want to make the ghost angry or something. So he sinks back into a crosslegged position and watches the situation unfold--for now anyways.
'Pom…' finds herself thinking, at one point in the night, Eithne 'Another magical or supernatural figure. I don't trust magic... but since he's supposed to be a living creature... and he taught Bran music... who knows, maybe he'll be reliable enough. Maybe he will come, as Bran hopes. And maybe he'll be able to tell him something about what happened to him. Maybe'.
'But why so much distrust of magic, Eithne?' the voices in her head retort.
'Magic is inherent in us elves...'
'It is by no means unreliable, if learned diligently and practiced sensibly'.
'Yes, I know, I remember…' the savage stranger replies mentally, as she strokes Juhowly that has fallen asleep 'I remember it's supposed to be like this. I'm an elf too, one of you, as you so love to tell me. But I don't know what to say... It must be something that happened to me before... having you'
'And you still don't remember anything, poor thing...' one of her voices seems to pity her sincerely.
'If magic is involved, it could also have altered or removed her memories…'
'But even if a spell did that, that would be no reason to despise all magic, Eithne! After all, our presence here with you is also the result of magic or is it in any case a supernatural event...'
'Oh, right!' thinks the last of the dusk elf maidens, sarcastically 'So now I have a very much higher opinion of magic...'
Bran and Lucian:
(My son loves the music for both Plague Tale games)
Pom looks startled, both at your anger and at the revelation of waking up in a coffin. He is clearly taken aback by your words and visibly takes a few moments to compose himself. When he looks at you, his expression is still shifting, somewhere between worry, fear, and...relief. Eventually he nods and begins to tell you a story.
"My name is not Pom, although that is what I have been called for two millennia now. My name is Abu Malik ibn Saweed. I was once a being of great power, a djinn on the Elemental plane of Air. I had 100 wives and a 1000 slaves. I oversaw commerce and led my men in battle. I saw the world and thought myself wise. But I was a fool. One of my sons and one of my wives fell in love. I had them both killed of course. I was distraught, for both had been among my favorites. The boy's mother came to me, I thought to comfort my sorrow. But I was blind and easily deceived. She took my hair, my blood, and more and used it to bind me to that amulet you wear. I was to serve whoever wore it. My power was ripped away. I had nothing; I could barely summon a gust of wind. She told me that every night since I arranged the execution, she had sung a song of mourning. A song of pain. And that I had not heard her. That I could not feel the suffering I'd caused. And so I must learn. She told me that I had to teach someone to sing her song, to sing the sorrow that I had caused the world. And, until I had done that, I would be bound and diminished."
"Then she threw my prison into the Material plane. I was passed from one disappointed bearer to another. No-one wanted to learn the song and, to be frank, I could not teach it if someone did. For I knew nothing of music. Most who possessed that damned bauble only asked me for advice and that only when they ascertained I had no power beyond listening and speaking my mind. Some grew wealthy, others grew powerful. Most were careless, releasing me unsupervised for short periods, where I looked for an found bards. I had to learn music to escape. Over 500 years, I gathered snippets of instruction and began to understand how to play, why people played. I began to understand my wife's words. But still, the great and powerful who acquired me had no interest in some song. Then, in a battle I believe, I fell into the hands of one of your ancestors. Low in status, but great in talent. The first, named Sander, 400 years ago, listened to my story and, although he too hoped to grow in power and wealth, decided to attempt to learn the song for my sake. He was a kind-hearted man; he would have been better to leave my chamber in the dirt. For studying the song, brings the sorrows. The only path to my escape is to curse those who would help me. For one hundred years, I taught your family the song as I remembered it and for one hundred years my advice invariably turned sour. I have killed your great-grandparents, murdered your great uncles and aunts, not by my hand, but because I tried to help them. After a time, I stopped teaching the song, but they still sought instruction in music. Some became bards, others simply played for themselves and for their families. I also stopped giving advice, for I feared the effects of my own wisdom. I am diminished; He who was once Abu Malik the Great is now Pom, the humble servant."
"You are the first true bard of your family line in 500 years. I am hard on you because your technique and your heart must be perfect to play the song. I saw your family and your happiness. I thought, 'Here is one who has escaped my curse, a great talent! Perhaps I should teach him the song." And so I started, an exercise here, a chord there, bits and pieces. I thought that, if I didn't teach you the song directly, no harm would come of it. But I see now, that I was wrong. My wife's curse follows me and I am a cancer to another good man."
"Time works differently in the amulet. If I am not present in your world, the time I am there could be two hours or two decades. I do not know what happened to you, although I am sure it is the fault of my curse. I said that you are the first true bard of your family in 500 years and I know this is true because no-one in your family has spoken to me like that in 500 years. Your words carry power unlike that of ordinary men or minstrels. Although you have no reason to trust me, and it likely would be better for you to throw me into a lake, I ask that you give me a chance to help you. To find your family, to find your destiny, to become the man you would be. This curse that has ruined me came of my selfishness, of my self-centeredness. Perhaps it is in your service that I will finally break free."
Lucian, you can hear Pom, but the voice is thin and whispery. If Nikolai was snoring just a bit louder, you wouldn't be able to understand what he was saying at all. You wouldn't even hear him. It is like he is less present for you than he is for Bran.
Eithne:
In the dark of night, you are not meditating. You cannot meditate. You are not sure exactly what it is that you are doing. It is not sleep. But you seem to have...a dream?...a vision? Perhaps a memory.
You are seated at a table with your brother Kasimir and your sister Patrina. Your sister is dancing around the little hut, uncharacteristically happy. Kasimir and you are poking fun. "Do you have a beloved, Patrina?" "Have you fallen for a troll?" Patrina sneers at both of you and dances out of the room, while you and Kasimir giggle together.
Chara:
Your patron says, "I know your heart is in the right place, child. Perhaps I am too harsh. Even the lowliest may be exalted, just as the highest may fall. But I worry about the little imp's influence. I shall work a spell for you to help him guide you aright. Now sleep, child. The morning will most likely bring you some peace."
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd
"Kasimir... Patrina... Finally I remember something too!" wonders Eithne, after the sudden reminiscence of that scene "Could it have been Bran's proximity that unblocked me? Did the fact that he could remember lead me to remember something too? Patrina... That Patrina... she was my sister! So I too am a Velikov. Eithne Velikovna. Kasimir and Patrina, my siblings, were the leaders of the dusk elves... and Patrina... Patrina fell indeed in love, but with the very wrong type!" she shudders "Count Strahd von Zarovich! She was consorting with the Devil Strahd! This led my people to kill her. And the Devil Strahd to respond with that cruel and ruthless retaliation".
The memory of all that pain makes the savage stranger dissolve in tears, even if she tries to weep in silence so as not to wake up Juhowly, in the solitude of their room. But there is no solitude in her head at all, where the voices have been unleashed like a chorus of banshees, all crying out their pain, now that the sudden memory of their host has made them relive their horrible end.
After the last of the dusk elf maidens has exhausted her tears, even the voices in her head have now given way and she dares to think: 'Perhaps I should have better not remembered...'
'Don't worry, Eithne,' one of her voices in her head tells her, 'what happened was awful, but it wasn't your fault'.
'It was Patrina's fault! What she was thinking?! With the Devil Strahd...'
'It was Kasimir and the other dusk elves' fault! Killing Patrina like that... stoning her! If they hadn't, the Devil Strahd wouldn't have come upon us!'
'Maybe, if I had talked to her...' thinks Eithne 'But why didn't I? And why wasn't I killed like you all? Ah, I still can't remember that... If at least... Patrina? Are you in my head too? Do you remember something?'
'Of course she isn't here, Eithne!' the voices in her head all react fervently 'After what she did, she wasn't one of us anymore!'
'We certainly wouldn't keep her here with us!'
'Perhaps she was claimed by the Devil Strahd...'
"All right, all right..." the savage stranger switches, without realizing it, from thinking to murmuring "Perhaps I've already recovered enough memories for tonight".
The last of the dusk elf maidens takes out a pomegranate and starts eating it slowly.
Lucian / DM:
After the the one he used to call Pom is finished, Bran is left speechless. His first reaction is to gaze wide-eyed look at Lucian, and then back to Pom. He leaves the lute in the bed, stands up and begins walking from one side of the room to the other, and then back again. Silent, thinking, passing a hand through his hair while processing everything he has just heard.
If his otherworldly tutor had just slapped him in response for his direct words, he would have been much less stunned - and even hurt - than he currently was. He couldn't just easily process that such a terrible act made by Pom so long ago could have rippled that far, to the point of reaching him and so many ancestors before him. He did know that his father, and his grandfather before him, had had some relationship to music. But to think that it went that far back ... and to such degree.
"The first true bard in my family line in 500 years...?"
Never had anyone spoken such profound words about Bran. And Pom had been the one to say them. That was almost unbelievable for Bran, who didn't know how to react. It was gratifying. But overwhelming and humbling, too.
And also ... to think that Elia, Cassandra and Bran himself had been affected by someone's decission to respond to newfound love with murder two milennia ago... He wanted to scream, to cry, to use his very hands to cause violence as opposed to his usual intention of performing good deeds.
But then again, when had a violent reaction been helpful in his or anyone's life? Had that not been the cause that his ancestors, his tutor and now Bran himself where in this mess to begin with?
He looked again at his tutor and thought of saying something harsh. But instead he turned back, sat on the floor and grabbed his silver locket pendant. Upon opening it, he saw the familiar lock of Elia's dark hair and Cassie's blonde one. The little one had taken most of her father's features. She was such a lovely child...! Blonde haired, green eyed and keen on showing a smiling face most of the time, same as Bran. Though the bard had always been very sure that she would grow up to be as beautiful, proud and intelligent as her mother.
(OOC: Leaving here a couple of images I found that looked nice for Bran's wife and kid)
Still clutching the locket he drew a deep breath, made a decission and this time he spoke with his tongue and not with his mind, so Lucian would hear it too.
- I'll do it. I'll learn that song - but shakes his head, correcting himself - No. I will master it. And it will be so perfectly performed, so beautifully done, that it will end this curse once and for all, so that no one else has to suffer because of it.
After saying this, he looks directly at Lucian, anticipating a possible protest:
- I was already thinking of asking some of you to do something about all of this ... if something were to happen to me and this would provoke that the amulet end up in my daughter's neck. And I say this because I still hope to find her alive and well. And I will not believe otherwise until I see her - or Elia's, for that matter - dead body with my own eyes - he pales a little at the weight of this words. But though he did have hope, still he had to be realistic. And finding them alive seemed more difficult to him with each passing day.
Bran pauses, before stating:
- No child of mine will have to carry on with this curse.
And so, he goes back to his tutor and extends his hand to stretch his:
- We will end this together, Abu Malik.
(OOC: Now I have a question. Can I perhaps call on the djinn out of practice sessions to maybe help me somehow? I ask this taking into account Aroc's suggestion - which I liked a lot - by which only the persons that know of his existence will be able to see / hear him. Those would be, if I'm not mistaken, the current party, Van Richten and Blinsky).
Peindre l'amour, peindre la vie, pleurer en couleur ♫
Auriel | Shenua | Arren | Lyra
Chara sighs gently in her sleep, cuddling up a little bit closer with Lydl.
DM:
"Thank you, Master," Chara says to her patron, bowing to the majestic being with reverence. "Um, before you go... can I ask you one question? Do... do you know what happened to Onika?"
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Bran and DM:
At first, Lucian doesn't know what to think. One hundred wives? He had his son and wife killed for falling in love? He inflicts misfortune on anyone who tries to learn the song? He decides that he doesn't much like this Pom...er...Abu Malik, at all.
He gives a bit of a start when Bran addresses him, having grown used to being nothing more than an observer here. Plus, after having to strain in order to hear Pom's words, Bran's voice sounds unnaturally loud at first.
"Uh..." He shakes his head, "We... I... won't let that happen. I'll chuck it off a cliff, or... bury it in that grave... anything to keep out of anyone's reach. But... why bother learning the song? Can't you just get rid of it? Or... is it bound so that you can't reject it? Cause... well... if I were you I'd be trying to smash it to pieces at this point."
After a moment he moves to stand in front of, or next to, Pom. He eyes the old man's face before tentatively waving a hand to see if his arm goes through him. Either way, he flinches and takes a step backwards before saying, "I'm not one to wish curses on people, but from your story... well you kind of deserve it." He crosses his arms, "I'm surprised this Sander guy wanted to help you at all." After he says this, he diverts his eyes, backing up and sitting down again, looking a little ashamed. "I guess I shouldn't judge. If you've really learned your lesson... well, I guess I shouldn't judge. But..." He gives the ghostly fellow a sharp look, "You should have told Bran earlier. You should have asked before trying to experiment with teaching him the song. Now he's suffering for it and its your fault. I hope he can master the song, not for your sake, but for his."
Bran and Lucian:
At Bran's response, Pom smiles. "Thank you, my friend. You would have likely been justified in throwing my prison off a high cliff. If you change your mind, I would not blame you. Also, please call me Pom. It has been my name for generations now; Abu Malik has long ceased to exist, which is for the best."
When Lucian attempts to put a hand through Pom, as he starts he encounters very light resistance, like sticking his hand through falling water, but as he attempts to push further, his hands receives a shock. Both Lucian and Pom gasps in pain and Lucian pulls his hand back quickly. Turning to Lucian, Pom says, "I can't say that I care for your manners, but you are right. I should have warned Bran before beginning to teach him the song. But I thought I could just teach him parts without causing harm and he hadn't really talked to me in more than a dozen years. I assumed he was still scared of me. It seemed impossible to make a request."
Chara:
"My precious child," says the angel, "your purity is demonstrated in the care you show for your fellows. I'm afraid that I don't know what happened to your companion, but I believe that she is now corrupted and beyond anyone's ability to save. Don't let her fate distress you. It was, we can assume, intended all along."
In the morning, you are woken by the sound of Ichabod screaming. As you open your eyes, you can see the little imp, but he has been changed. His horns are gone, replaced by a halo. His batwings have been given feathers. And he is currently struggling to remove a white robe that has apparently been wrapped around his body. Seeing that Chara is awake, he flies over to her, landing on her chest. He looks her straight in the eyes and says, "What did you do?"
Tamryn - lvl 4 Wood Elf Rogue - Circle of Light Campaign || Drusilla - lvl 1 Half-Elf Ranger - Sleeping Gods || Grrzark - lvl 1 Goblin Barbarian - Danger at Darkshelf Quarry || DM - LTG - Curse of Strahd