Campaign of the Month: June 2012
Coatl's Journal Entry 1
“I truly hope that you shall choose the path of the light. Anger will lead only to your own destruction.”
The bright flames dancing within its eyes were intoxicatingly beautiful. If you could avoid looking at them, the rest of the creature was twice as magnificent in beauty and splendor. The length of the serpentine form was gilded with scales that were of the quality of gold that carats simply couldn’t count — it was as if the idea of gold itself had formed when this thing molted, if it ever did. The creature’s wings were feathered, sprayed with a rainbow of color that seemed to shift phase as the creature danced lithely through the air in circular patterns. Its head forever seemed to chase its tail, but the creature’s gaze was rigidly fixed upon Coatl.
Coatl felt himself falling. The ground rushed up to meet him, then hurled him back violently at the heavens. His mind came preciously close to madness as his perception of the universe folded upon itself like a reckless child learning to make origami.
And then he was awake. There was an old woman sitting beside him, stirring incessantly at some concoction within the largest wrought iron cauldron Coatl had ever seen. She smiled toothlessly at him, then forced a wooden bowl at him, into which she ladled some of the foul-smelling liquid. The pungent aroma of an unknown fungus rushed to meet the senses, as Coatl reluctantly accepted this strange gift from a strange old woman. She turned away and grabbed some furry creature that was skittering along the edges of the room.
The room itself was rather mundane. Coatl briefly surmised that he was inside the lamp, as there was no evidence of any of his companions. However, his previous visits to the lamp had been significantly different. His previous lampifications consisted of lots of lounging around in a very exquisite and luxurious setting that closely resembled some sort of room at an inn. If this was an inn, it certainly wasn’t going to win any awards for cleanliness.
Coatl watched the old haggard woman shuffle around in parts of the room that the candlelight did not touch. The aroma from the bowl in his hands seemed to turn from pungent to sweet, and although this was unnerving, he did not sense any ill motive from either the woman or the liquid.
He took the vessel to his lips and timidly sipped. The broth was refreshing but hardly remarkable. It was something like stale swamp water, Coatl thought, bemused.
The old woman returned from working away at whatever it was she was working away at in the shadows. Two beady eyes accompanied her in the form of a badger that she seemed fond of. She gave him another toothy grin.
“I had to keep your friend… confined,” she said in a remarkably non-haggard voice. Her voice resembled that of youth, which made Coatl’s brain hurt even more than reflections on recently prior events. He knew that she was referring to his boa. It was wise that she alerted him that the boa was safe before he had the opportunity to notice it missing. She indicated toward a box near his feet.
Coatl nodded. He settled himself more upright on the cot that he had — apparently — been spending some unknown amount of time on.
The woman handed Coatl a piece of parchment and a quill feather. She considered him thoughtfully.
“Perhaps it’s best that you rest and…” she trailed off hesitantly. “Practice your new skill,” she concluded.
Coatl took the writing implement into his hand, amazed that it seemed so natural and familiar. The vision of the dancing serpent fluttered against his consciousness, then the pen began to dance in a similar fashion across the page.
Today I have seen the face of Creation. I am forever changed. I realize now that this anger that I have held toward every living creature is unwarranted. I must now atone.
This journey of self-discovery, which I shall continue with my adventuring companions, may well outlast my feeble frame, but I now understand that I must no longer feel alone. I must find a way to restore the glory of my noble people.
It is my duty to ensure the Ouroboros remains unbroken.
Coatl concluded the journal entry with a sigil of the winged serpent that had taught him knowledge of things he couldn’t previously have fathomed. He reclined back onto the cot to reflect, and soon found himself returning to the land of dreams.