Νόστοι
To speak of the Greek word Νόστοι is to speak of returning. In the most prosaic sense, it is the tale of what happens after the journey from the familiar A to the foreign B: the journey home. But in a deeper sense, Νόστοι is the integral human desire to return to the way things were. From time out of memory, people have believed that they were living in a declining age; Heroditus wrote during his time about his age, the bronze age; that the ages of gold and silver had come and gone. We always believe that things were better before, and when we attempt to reclaim the past our hubris greets us with a vengeance.
I don’t know why it took so long to recognize the strange feel of Rastenfeld. I’m not referring to the zombies. As I’ve said before, there is something wrong with the magic here. I’ve only casted a handful of spells (continual light before leaving through the enchantment; flamestrike; a stone wall) and my mana hasn’t recharged. Those mages, druids, and even surgeons know the danger of running out of mana. For those trained primarily with the sword/staff/dagger, imagine chopping off both of your arms and you’ll be closer to understanding how useful a mage is without his mana.
On Legend, the moment you cast a spell, even when you’ve given everything you can, the mana flows back into you like water into a bone dry sponge. In Rastenfeld, and I think even with the Wampanoag, there is nothing.
I have my resources: a satchel filled to full with scrolls, vials, spelltools, and wands, though these won’t last forever, so I have to use them and my mana wisely. I have allowed myself one small indulgence, an hourglass tweeked to tell me when the enchantment expires and exact date and time for my Νόστοι. This way I'll always know close my goal is.
I can’t camp out here in Rastenfeld and save my mana, the food for one wouldn’t last, neither would the water. The enchantment isn’t dependable enough to warp me when I need to, so that leaves the necromancer.
I’ve seen him from the second floor window while the villagers downstairs are being proselytized by the priest. He won’t walk among the dead in the town square where I can single him out. Instead he prowls in the darkness between the buildings. He wears a long robe and black cowl that shrouds his face, and I think he knows I can see him. Between he and I, a sea of undead.
Recently Lime has told me that MoiraGwyn was seen on Legend. Maybe it was hubris that drove me to this adventure and I was a fool to solve with magic what patience would have given me, but now I have more of a reason then ever to come back to her.
One thing is for certain, this week I escape from Rastenfeld.
[[note to self: clopping at Rowane, bad.]]
Posted by
Zillah |
5:28 AM
[[what Zillah noted.]]
Damn it, Row. Get out of there, and get out of there fast.
That's not a request, it's a friend telling you to do it.
Posted by
Nadia Ravenswick |
3:03 PM
do you want me to write her a letter? perhaps I'll tell her of your dire need. But only if you want me to.
Posted by
Lime |
4:02 PM