Glimmers of Hope

((I sincerely thank my guildie for the wonderful RP! This was truly quite the treat, and I hope it comes across in the reading. If the ending seems off, rushed, and short, it's cause I lost the screenshot and had to improvise and summarize. As always, all mistakes are my own cause.))

The afternoon sun hung warm over the coastline, its light dancing across gentle waves that rolled onto the shore in a steady, familiar rhythm. A cool sea breeze tugged at Merada’s loose hair and carried with it the scent of salt and driftwood, softening the lingering heat of the day. She walked without urgency, her boots leaving shallow impressions in the damp sand as gulls wheeled lazily overhead. Every so often, she stooped, almost without thinking, to pluck a shell from the tide’s edge—a smooth spiral here, a weathered fragment there. She turned each one over in her calloused hands for only a heartbeat before slipping the prettier finds into a small pouch at her belt, as though the quiet ritual required no thought at all.

Each step came with a rotating thought; Her mate was in a coma. Her connection to the elements was stifled, causing immense pain when she forced them to comply with her will. Their fight against the Spirit-Binder was at a standstill, for every victory was another setback. So much had been given already, and so little earned. The latest incident caused another of the Expeditions to be victim to the Witch’s curse, another soul bound to her power. And where was Merada? Absent, using the ancient medicine techniques of her people to keep Dorant alive just a little while longer...

Farther down the beach, the faint crackle of a waiting brazier finally drew her attention. Merada slowed, letting out a contented breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, then settled beside the flames. The fire’s warmth mingled with the cool ocean air as she stretched her fingers out to the flames, her gaze drifting toward the endless horizon. 

For a little while, there were no expectations, no looping thoughts, or overwhelming sense of burden. Only the sound of the surf, the whisper of the wind, and the simple comfort of the sea.

Little did she know that elsewhere, on this day, at this time, and in this afternoon, an instruction was given. Go, meet with the allies of our warband. Make introductions. And so he did. 

From beyond the fire a shadow stalked, though, not hidden, not in this mid-day sunshine. As Jingorah neared, they seemed less shaded. A troll that moved slowly, less like an approaching threat, and more like some tired wanderer. He leaned heavily on the massive blades at his sides as they craved small trails in the sand ... and on nearing the fire, he would pause for a moment. Stretching to full height, he would peer his sightless eyes around and lift up his ears. “I hear by fire an’see by flame, dat dere be one ‘ere. De dragon has sent me forth t’ya’ service.” 

Merada’s head jolted up; she had been so lost in her own head that she did not see the troll in the noonday sun until she heard the voice. He was more akin to the Darkspear than the Amani, with longer limbs and tusks that jutted out like the two great ribs. “Oh.” He did not appear as a foe, and he spoke enough truth that she would not raise the alarm... yet. “You must be the one Journa spoke of...I welcome you. I am Merada. You walk within the home of the Emberheart Expedition. He mentioned that you could ... see the future?”

Jingorah smiled behind his mask and lifted up one side of his head. "Merada, Daughter of Merika, is dat what ja want? Just ta see? Or ta change? Ya gotta know dese tings aren’t set in stone....till dey are. Still, I can. Not ere’ting tho, ya give too much’a’way, and de river flows likewise. Makin sense?"

Merada tensed at the mention of her mother. She had not mentioned it many of the Expedition, only Dorant and Bazrokh, and neither of them was in a position and temperament to speak to outsiders of that nature. “I-I know. Or I think I know. It is like the lighting in the storm. You can never know which path the bolt will take, but you know that the energy must choose one.... So much of our current path is unknown. Surely it is better to know some of the stones we throw into the river, hm?”

He lowered back to his original standing position, still resting on his blade-hilts. Did he have his hands on both weapons? Yes, but it seemed more to hold himself up than anything. “Good, ya understand. Ja no ide'a how many I gotta teach dat. Or what it takes t’do what I do.” He did, however, slowly pull his right blade forward off his hip, the point of the sword tracing a large 1/2 circle in the sand as he pulled it horizontal to himself. With effort, he lifted it slightly and let it fall. When it struck the sand, it rang like a tuning fork, and his eyes seemed to widen. He put the blade back and then walked more naturally around the fire. “Has been a good long time since de wingless lizard send me out f’dis. ... Oh, right, dey ain’t wingless t’you. Probly dun wan me sayin dat aloud, heheh."

“Ha! Journa has proven his worth, even if he ... may have some room to adjust. I know I did.” Merada smiled gently, trying to be polite to someone whose help she sought. She did not know what kind of relationship Journa and this troll had, but she truly did admire and appreciate the “other” time dragon of the Expedition. “I have been listening to the Loaspeakers of the Amani. I know it is likely different from what you do, but the wisdom strikes the same to my ears.”

Jingorah scoffed a bit. “Amani .... ah. Hrm ... Amani. Hrm, nah, their Loa ain’t what we wan. N’mine’s a dead. Well, me last one anyway. New times, new principles. Ja be glad f’dat, or I’d be a lot more dangerous t’work with. We gotta deal, dat wan and I.... So, let us make wan den! What’y’wanna’wager? How much ya wan trust old me? ... Ja got de re’agents? If not, I brought me own. ... Ja do know what I need f’me spellwork right?”

“I did not know you were coming today, otherwise I would have prepared. You require bones, correct?” She paused, looking into the fire for a moment. How much did she trust him? Not as far as Iggy could throw him into the sea. But if the dragon was right... “I know what I want to know ... and I know what I am willing to trade to set it into stone.”

“Ya so trustin an eager ... oh, were m’ ol Loa still alive I’d have taken ya, soul away. Ya make it too eazy. .... Caution. In abundance, dese days is wise ya’ know? Fortunately f’you I’m in service t’Jani, and we ain’t like dat n’more. .... Also Journa got some leverage on me, so d’ere’s dat too. ... Like I said, I got de bones we need, I was nice like dat, but I am gonna need sometin from you.”

“Do not mistake my compliance with trust, troll. I speak with you only because your power earned the respect of someone who has earned mine.” Merada’s correction was sharp, the low growl of a wounded wolf bubbling over, but she did not retreat. “Name what you require of me, then.”

Jingorah seemed amused. "D'ere we go! Dat’s more like it! Now ya regard me with some trepidation, n’dat respect go a long way. Now, what I need up t’you. Better quality connection, better I can do. I need sometin from you. ... I mean dat exactly how I sound. Ya wan just spit on me spell it’ll work, not well but it will. Hair is bettah .... blood, blood is best. If ya wan trust me dat much. But ya could at least do me de honor of lookin like it’s a hard choice.”

Merada did consider the matter, but not for the honor Jingorah spoke of. If she could guarantee one thing, one stone on the shrouded path she walked, then silently, she pulled the knife at her belt, the Blade of Azier, home to an elemental of healing fire, and studied the blade in the sunlight. If she made the cut with this, then the wound would heal cleanly enough. “If blood is best, then blood is what I shall give.”

Jingorah held up his hands and waved them. “Ey-ey! I dun need a lot now y’know? Just a drop so be careful wit ... however large of a weapon I’m presumin ya pulled? ... I only know ja by echo afta-all.”....” “et me get to carvin de bone we gonna heat over de fire, den you add dat re’agent, and we’ll be all set.”

She nodded, not particularly carrying on as if he could see her do it. She was aware that those with their sight taken often had ... alternative means of vision, and not just of the prophetic kind. She wasn’t sure if he was counted among that number, but it wouldn’t surprise her. “I have pulled a blade. It is not large, a dagger, one which was reforged by one I love. By the one of whom I seek answers for. I suspect that will help, no? If connection is such a vital part of your magic. I will not cut until you are ready. Warsong blood is not wasted so easily.”

“Not wasted no ... best use of, perhaps save f’keepin ya alive. Hrm ... Blessings on you den, from Jani, Keeper of Secrets, Loa of de forgotten tings.” He made a funny little wave or gesture before taking his time to gather things together. He’d brought a few scapula bones from some sacrificial cattle and an iron bowl. “Cut with ya blade den give t’me. I shall carve de runes wit so ya essense is woven directly into de spellwork. Dat’s de best version a’dis I can do without uh ... tearin off part of ya soul. ... Less you wan do it dat way! But I tink de dragon mount m’tusks on the wall if I do dat wan.”

Merada scoffed out her amusement, “Not to mention two very dangerous vulpera, a separate dragon, and a rather large family of very determined, volatile elves.” Taking a breath, she dragged the tip of her blade across her palm, flexing her hand and watching the blood pool in her palm. “Ready.” She moved toward him, bloody hand out for him to use however he needed.

Jingorah waved his hand around theirs a little before just making a grabby hand gesture for the blade to be placed in his. Once he had it, he’d begin carving his runework into the bone ... which they may or may not be able to learn about via inspection if they tried, if they knew such things. But once the runes were carved, he’d place the bone in a bowl along with some shadowroot and a gold coin. Then he’d move to place the bowl above the fire to cook. “Now granted for sacrifice of a portion a’ya soul dis spell would be .... much much more. But let’s see if we can get what’ya want wit’out goin dat far frist at de very least ah? ... Wit me ol’Loa dead at least it’d no longer bind ya to eternal service .... though ya would lose mortal years.”

Merada watched with careful eyes, not to learn, but for trouble. “Does each Loa ask for something different from its followers? Seems more often than not they take more than they give.”

The troll paused as he watched the fire. “Yes. Because Loa are Loa of different tings. You tink de Loa of Honesty abides a Liar? De Loa of Kings a pawn? Ya tink de Loa of Blood dun wan a fat screaming sacrifice? ... Ja gotta decide who it is ya wanna work wit ‘AN why. D’ere nature is written in d’ere form. Are d’ere wicked, wicked, Loa? Oh, oh yes. .. Yes dere are. But dere be wicked people too ah? Personally I tink ya’d like Jani ... I follow because is Keeper of  Secrets, but as Loa of forgotten tings, dey also are a chief patron f’care of de orphaned. ... N’dey like garbage. Ya’can win d’ere favor wit some goblin scrap n’a leftover chicken bone.”

“Loa of the outcasts then?” Merada asked, more of herself than the troll. “Hm ... My people do not view the elements in that way. They are walking contradictions, forces of nature that ebb and flow. Come and go. A river flooding destroys as well as nurtures. Fire burns down homes and cleanses infection. Wind turns the mill, or strips the roof from a home. There is no choice with them, and yet there is always a choice, and you will never know what they want until they are ready for you to know it.”

Jingorah shook his head. “Elements are fickle fundamental forces. Loa better .... an worse. Much more like us, more like people.”  Removing the bowl from the fire once the Shadowroot was fully burned up, he would use a little tool to fish out the hot gold coin and tapped the bone, making it shatter into pieces. After tossing the pieces into the bowl, he would move farther from the fire to dump them out and inspect them. He arranged the pieces like a puzzle and pondered over it, as well as all the fragments of his original runework.

[Jingorah rolls 3d20 - 6, 18, 4 (1-20)]

Merada watched, stepping closer in her interest, though she had no idea what she was looking at. Voodoo was a different beast compared to the shamanism she practiced. She remained quiet and let the troll work. 

Consulting the bones...

Jingorah paused to look up from his work. “Okay, we are done den ... go on, tell me what ya wanted to know, an we’ll see what I can see.” 

Merada took a deep breath, “What is to be the fate of Dorant Emberscowl. Will we free him, will he live through this conflict with the Spirit-Binder?”

Jingorah narrowed his eyes. “Oh ya sweet soul ... we attuned dis t’you, not dem. Still, fear not. Is not meanin d’ere ain’t valuable knowledge ‘ere. ... N’even if we did attune t’him, dat kinda question is too much. If ya know ya succede ya dun go wary, an if ya dun go wary ya mebbe step on anotha bomb. I told ya dat when we started. Now, unfortunately, even wit my coin fortune did not favor you much. I can answer wit certainty ONE question about YOU wanna know if you die before a certain time? I can answer. You wanna know if YOU save dem? I can answer....but if someone ELSE saves dem, you’ll only know about you. We can do dis again wit HIS blood tho if ya want.”

Merada frowned. She had feared this answer, but knew she could not have proceeded without trying. There was no way she would let this stranger near the Director...yet. “Myself then ....” She considered the phrasing of the question, what she truly wanted to know before answering, “Will I one day reconnect with the elements? Do your bones hold that answer for me?”

Jingorah tilted his head. “They’re multiples in one .... Pick ... Fire, Water .... Wind .... Earth. ... Isn’t that how it was when you were young? Finding a connection with each in turn and slowly growing your connection with the world around you? Perhaps ya expect too much at once. Perhaps ya need t’be as ya were then, an pay each de devotion dey are due.”

He was not wrong. Dorant had said similar. “Water. My mother was a healer before a warrior. I followed in her footsteps ... I would like to return to that purpose.”

Jingorah looked at the bone fragments and inspected them more, turning them over before finding some pieces of interest. He took those with some reverence before gripping them tightly in his palm. He scowled and crushed these pieces of bone until they shattered with a bit of magical flare, and they cast off into the wind when he opened his hand. “You are bound by powers outside yourself. When they are broken, your connection to water should return first, but the wind comes last as this essence has drifted away from you.” He pointed to the smoke being carried off away from their person.

“So I am cursed ... I should have known.” Merada nodded, reaching into her bag for bandages so she could wrap her hand. “I will take counsel with your wisdom. I thank you and your Loa, Jingorah.”

Jingorah looked back at the bones. “Not by your ‘and. Though had ya asked dat I could have just said yes. Ja are. I can tell it’s a shadow magic, because what I did is a shadow magic too. ... Partially. I wanted to manifest your fate NOW instead of later since it was a good one, but I cannot, ya’ave a barrier, a wall around ya’self. De elements ain seein ya in de dark."

“I had suspected it already, it would have been a waste of a question,” She said, sure of her words, “I was the first to suffer the Witch’s wrath, though we had not known what that would entail until recently. I have tried several times to seek guidance, but was met with silence. I thought they were waiting for me to prove myself ... perhaps they are instead waiting for me to find a way out of the darkness that has enveloped us all.”

“De bones say wind is the most displeased by dis. Maybe de winds be in ya favor again if dey get at ya back, dey do love t’change.”

“Winds at my back, hm?” Merada’s jaw goes slack, and she chuckles, half in awe, half in consternation. Did the Loa whisper to him her plan to return to Nagrand and complete her Om’riggor? “Yes, I think you are right, and I think I know what they wish of me, and how to provide them the change they seek.”

Jingorah glanced down. “If all went well I should have been able t’answer two more questions but sadly de bones are expended ... n’no I cannot do this f’you again for some time. ... A shame ... not de best showing of m’powah. But I hope dis can suffice. ... I have one more trick I may be able t’do. Since I know dis barrier is dere, n’ya hand already cut.”

“You have given me more answers than I expected, and with them a measure of peace. A luxury for our time...” She muttered to herself, then asked, “What trick do you have in mind?”

“Bones are the Earth’s gift to our form. The source of our structure and stability." He’d pause a moment to remove one of the decorative ones hanging from his ear. With that knife he’d taken from her, he’d begin more runecarving. “In sacrifice for some of ya health .... in crisis, drive this spike through the palm of your hand .... one side to the other. So it can reach through the barrier around you and through you as well. It will allow you to channel the power of the Earth a single time, but then it will be expended and return to dust from whence it came.” He extended the bone and Azier back toward her. “....One spell. Use it wisely.”

Merada narrowed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she heard the words. “I understand.” She would take the carved bone with both hands, brushing off some of the dust as she considered where she could put it. It was small enough that she could replace one of her earrings with this. 

“De earth will surely respond to ya steadfast conviction. Not many are committed enough to maim de very hands dey need to defend demselves, no promises made after ya get out dis curse, but it’s a good conduit between de mortal and de natural. Can’t do dat wan wit fire water or air very well. Hah.”

“I will deal with what comes once I am free of the curse. For now, this is a gift I will not forget .... Speaking of debt, I imagine all this revelation comes with a cost, even though you came at the behest of another.”

Jingorah shook their head. “No, your debt is paid. If anythin ya owe de dragon. Dey gimme what I need. We ‘ave a deal. F’long time. Now, go an defeat dis enemy of ours. I ain’t wan myself be at their non-mercy neither. .... So, dis all we got den? No one else wanted t’see dey future?” 

Merada nodded. “I see. Then I will be sure to think of something to thank him.” She looked behind her to the houses on the hills off of the beach. “They may not be aware you have come. The last battle we- they fought-did not end as well as we could have. They are likely recovering still. I will send word to them that you have arrived and that your skills are to be trusted. That I think will carry some weight.”

Jingorah laughed a bit. “I suppose I am ... ah, but dat does wound me some, to be so trustworthy. M’first Loa was de Loa of Treachery. As befitting a rogue an masta’ a shadows, a spy and a shade. Tsk-Tsk-Tsk. Can’t be helped. Nah, I be all about secrets now, ya’ll never know how I do what I do, but at least I wun be stabbing ya in de back. ... I could pick ya pocket tho, Jani is Loa of Thieves too hahahah!”

Merada chuckled, “While I would enjoy seeing you pitted against our other shadows, I would counsel against trying anything. That being said ... “Merada pulled out a seashell from her bag. An abalone shell, intact and beautiful. “This was lost by the Merada creature that once lived inside it. A proper offering to a Loa of Lost Things, yes?”

Jingorah widened his eyes, and for a moment, they had color; one could say they ceased being his eyes, and his voice stopped being his as well. It was like his whole being shifted, a cunning troll turned into a creature whose greed would make a goblin blush; unbeknownst to Merada, she was witnessing a Loa take hold of a body to use as its personal avatar for a brief moment. The troll-who-was-not reached out its hands toward the shell. “Oh, what ya rich-mon lady got f’ol Jani ?... Dun pay dis old salt no mind, just givey dat 'ere and we be irie."

Merada froze. Where had the troll gone? She had just been speaking to him, but now he was obviously not present in his own body. She had never seen a Loa, even in her small time with the Amani. She was not aware that they could overtake their faithful in this manner. Disconcerted, she slowly kneeled and handed over the abalone shell like a child playing with a snack, afraid that she would be bitten but too committed to the action to stop.

Like a child, Not-Jingorah looked over the seashell with a critical eye. “Works just fine! He gun take that back t’me altah now. An since you been s’kind I give ya an extra secret. Ya wan Vaer Ming dun n dusted. Have one’a your shooty guns powder up what’s left of that urn when your clock-polisher's done wit your scrying. You give dem shards a gunpowder kick n y’all bite ’um real good now. Pleasure talkin to ya thru this wan, n’bring’me more stuff!” As the troll would take the item he was given, the change that had fallen over him dissipated, and he seemed himself once more. 

“....What...was that?” Her eyes looked him over like he had turned into a Potatoad and recited poetry in Eredun.

“Jani, de Loa, using their faithful as a mouthpiece instead’a coming all de way ‘ere demselves. Possession, tho willing. Is’a talisman I carry makes dat easy.” He rolled his shoulders. “I will go seek dey others, in mah own time... after I place dis on dey altah.” 

Merada watched in stillness as the troll got up and left without another word. She merely nodded and watched the troll leave.