Episode 02 | Broken Soul

Windshell Activates.

EXT. VILLAGE ĤWYTHWYV, STREET – LATE EVENING

The Headchief and Raka are walking through the streets of Ĥwyþwyv, heading toward the Longhouse. Raka is slightly breathless, as the village is built on a slightly sloping ground. Even the Headchief groans a bit, due to his age rather than his lack in stamina, however.

There are a few people on the street, muttering, doing their daily business, but the village is very small (think a Viking settlement) and the houses are spread a part far enough for voices to just carry over. There are a few animals like chickens/ducks and fox-like critters about, yapping at each other.

The Windshell activates halfway through the Headchief’s sentence.

Headchief:We haven’t heard from the other side of the mountain yet, but since we’ve got our hands full with all these refugees, we haven’t been able to send anyone- What was THAT?

Raka:What was what?

Headchief:That sound. Thought it came from your chest? Are you alright?

Raka:Oh. That… might’ve been this thing. A trinket a friend gave me-

Headchief:A music shell?

Raka:Not quite…

Headchief:If that’s a music shell, then that tune was the shortest I’ve ever heard.

Raka:Don’t mind it.

Headchief:Hm. Alright then. As I was saying, we haven’t really seen any direct effect of the… this… you called it… tumbleweed?…

Raka:Tangleweave.

Headchief:Ah yes, Tangleweave. We’ve got many people seeking refuge here, most try to flee from raiding Skur. There were a few that came here because strange things happened around them, though.

Raka:What kind of strange things?

Headchief:Eh, glitter on shining objects disappearing, an entire village without sound, that kind of strange. Is this why you’re here?

Raka:Yes, those are exactly why I’m here.

Headchief:Alright, then we have a couple of those in the Longhouse. Speaking of which, anything you can tell me about this “tangleweave”? It’s hard to figure out what exactly that is, just based on the accounts of some of the refugees, and the rest of the village is growing nervous. I need to tell them something to put their minds at ease.

Raka:(sighs) It’s basically a hole.

Headchief:A hole?

Raka:Yes. In the Aetherweb. It is caused by an imbalance in the element flows. The hole lets Spirits slip into our world and manifest.

Headchief:But Spirit’s aren’t always… BAD… are they? Our mistress thinks highly of them.

Raka:Oh no, they aren’t bad at all. Their purpose is to maintain the balance of the elemental flows, that’s never a bad thing. But, you see, they feed on things that are still essential to us-

Headchief:Like what?

Raka:(small pause, annoyed by the constant interruptions) Like… temperatures, sounds or smells.

Headchief:They eat that? Is that why there’s this one village without sound?

Raka:Possibly. Spirits usually feed on things that exist in copious or excessive amounts, you see. If it was a particularly noisy village, the spirit must’ve headed straight toward it when the tangleweave happened. The aetherweb is usually so well balanced that Spirits don’t find more nourishment than is needed to sustain them. They will seize any opportunity to manifest and gorge themselves on whatever it is that sustains them, to the point where they will devour more than is good for them.

Headchief:(laughing) I can relate to that.

He drums his opulent belly.

Raka:That’s when they become dangerous.

Headchief:How is eating sounds or smells dangerous?

Raka:Well, maybe sound, is a bad example… Imagine a cold-devouring spirit manifested at the peak of the Skundr and gorged itself on all the cold in the snow. When spirits devour one thing, they fill the vacancy with its primal opposite. This spirit would replace the cold with warmth. The snow would melt and come down here in floods or avalanches.

Headchief:That would be a disaster… even more people coming to seek refuge? We already didn’t know where to put all those that sought refuge form the Skur, let alone how to feed them. We have barely enough supplies to sustain ourselves as it is!

Raka:That’s… unfortunate… Hold on a moment. I need to… speak with this thing for a moment.

Headchief:Talking into a music shell? What, do they pick up spoken word now, too? Is that some kind of newly developed shenanigans from the city?

Raka:Yes. Go on ahead, I’ll be right behind you.

Raka fumbles with her robes to take out the Windshell and bring it closer to her mouth to speak into it.

Raka:(slightly hissing and hushed) Auril, do you hear me? I’ll… just pretend that you do… Listen, the Windhsell caused me a bit of trouble at the Watergate – They thought I was trying to sabotage or copy the enchantments of the gates. You better look into changing the enchantments to be indetectible to people who feel or see the weave.

(sigh) Anyway, I was able to get here in only a day and a half thanks to the gates and the Krekou, but it cost me a fortune. I sent the escort back with papers, hoping the magistrate will consent to cover those costs for me. Not that I need someone to pay my bills for me, but… well, it is a task the magistrate assigned to me, they might as well pay for my travel expenses.

Right now I’m in a village called Ĥwyþwyv- am I saying this right, it’s Ĥwyþwyv right?

Headchief:Yea, like Calm and Wind.

Raka:Ah right, mnemonics. Anyway, It’s on the north-west-facing foot of the Skundr. It’s so small that it wasn’t even on that map. I found it when I came across a group of refugees. Asked them if they knew where the border of the Tangleweave was but they didn’t know what that was… They thought I was looking for the border of the Skur territory, which is much further up the mountain. They told me this village was a good starting point if I was looking for refugees. The person you just heard is the Headchief, the proxy of the head-mistress. He’s showing me to the longhouse, where they put the refugees. I plan to talk to some of them to get an overview on the situation, figure out who came here because of the Tangleweave and who fled from Skur. I hope that there’s at least someone who might have clues that will help discern the cause for it… I’m leaving the Windshell on for now, so you can hear any witness accounts I might get.

Headchief:Are you done? This is where we keep the refugees in.

Raka:Yes, I’m done.

Headchief:A’ight, come. Watch your-

Loud wooden tonk as Raka hits her head on the door frame.

Raka:Oww!

Headchief:Ah, figured it out yourself. We rarely get people as tall as you around here, sorry about that.

The exterior sounds die off, as the Headchief closes the door behind them.

The house is made of wood and not entirely soundproof. The top floor creeks when people walk around.

The Longhouse is separated by large sheets, stacked crates and barrels into small quarters. The make-shift walls don’t hold off the conversations in other “rooms” at all. As a result, the rooms are filled with quiet, muffled conversation, snores of people sleeping or the clanking of cutlery as they are having dinner.

Raka:Are doorframes traditionally this low in this region?

Headchief:(laughs) Don’t know about other villages, but we here are a small people.

Raka:(groaning sigh) Great.

Headchief:What race are ye anyway? I don’t recognize yer features.

Raka:My Rontar is called Miru.

Headchief:Are they all this tall?

Raka:(shrugs) Well… I might be a little larger than my Rontar’s average. Anyway, can we get on with this?

Headchief:(acknowledging scoff) Of course. We have about thirty-two people down here and… another seventeen upstairs. Most are from neighboring villages further uphill, of my Rontar. There’s also a few… other races, Faraksha and Xela, even two Almirians, but they don’t speak our language except for a few words. Do you speak their language?

Raka:I have an almirian friend, but… I never learned his language well enough to communicate with it.

Headchief:Shame. Well, and there’s also a human, who surprisingly speaks þæanæa (they-ah-ney-ah).

Raka:Really, a Human?

Headchief:Was surprised myself when she turned up here. Seems there was a human village on the other side of the Skundr. Why she didn’t just get off the mountain on her side is beyond me, but well, now she’s here.

Raka:You said her village “was” there?

Headchief:I haven’t really had the time to listen to everyone’s life story, but that’s the impression I got.

Raka:(groaning sigh) Don’t think I’ll manage more than a couple people tonight anyway, it’s getting late.

Headchief:Indeed. Also, I think our head-mistress would like to speak to you over dinner, as well.

Raka:A courtesy meeting?

Headchief:That, too. But as I say, she worships spirits, and enjoys speaking to people that believe in them enough to talk about them. Most people don’t.

Raka:(sighs) Of course. Then I’ll only talk to one group of people to get a quick overview. I will speak with the others tomorrow.

Headchief:I’ll let them know.

Raka:Any groups that came here due to strange occurrences rather than fleeing from Skur?

Headchief:Ah- yes, a group of five, a mistress and her staff. They’re all together in that curtained off room in the corner, behind the blue sheets. We tried to color code the makeshift rooms a bit, you see. She insisted on the blue sheets. You know how mistresses are.

Raka:(sighing) Of course. Right, I’ll speak to her, then.

Headchief:Sure. Let me know when you need anything.

Raka approaches the section hung with sheets. She fumbles the sheets in confusion trying to find the entrance.

Fyalfana:(she is heard talking behind the sheets before Raka enters) Look, all I’m saying is when we return and it WAS one of those wood-eating spirits and they ate our house? We won’t have a home to return to if that happens, I will lose my status in the village!

Dunir:If that happened, we will build you a new house. Barla and I are strong and we have Eragæl to trade off to another house if we need to reestablish your standing.

Fyalfana:(growls) Eragæl is too young to be traded off! We should just have stayed there, I wouldn’t NEED to reestablish my- Whose that? Barla, can you lift the sheets, I think someone is trying to find their way in.

Barla:Of course.

Barla parts the sheets and lets Raka in.

Raka:Ah, thank you.

The “room” she steps into is a small area lined off with heavy sheets, thick enough to muffle reverb, too thin to keep out conversation from adjoining rooms.

Fyalfana sits on the only available bed made out of several bales of straw. It rustles slightly as she shifts. Several crates line the walls of one side of the room. Some sheets and furs on the floor indicate that people have been sleeping there.

Fyalfana:Oh- Dunir (doo-neer), quit what you’re doing. I want my hair like her. (she points to Raka)

Dunir:What? You want Nortis Frays now? I’m almost done with your braids!

Fyalfana:(dismissive) Fine, fine, fine, another time. Who might you be?

Raka:Fæhu. My name is Raka, I am-

Fyalfana:Not the person the Headchief said he would send with food, obviously. Barla, I’m starving. Go see if you can find anything remotely close to food from the villagers.

Barla:(sighs) We’re refugees here, Fyalfana (fee-yal-fa-na), not visiting an Inn in the city.

Fyalfana:You’re the one that dragged me here. I have to stay in these make-shift accommodation, the least you can do is make sure I get treated as if I were in my own house.

Barla:(sighs resigned) Fine.

Barla leaves the room through the sheets Raka just came through.

Raka:(clears throat) As I was saying, I am the delegated Patcher that was called from Kærûn.

Fyalfana:Kærûn? Where’s that?

Dunir:(sighs) A big city in the east, Fyalfana. Your aunt’s son went to study at the university there last year, remember?

Fyalfana:Ah, I remember. And what exactly is it that Patchers do? You seemed to have a hard time figuring out those sheets that pass as doors here, you’re not here to patch those, are you? (laughs as if she just made a funny joke)

Dunir:Hold your head still, Fyalfana!

Fyalfana:Fine, fine – Fiyar’ta, where’ve you left your sense of humor, Dunir?

Raka:(slightly annoyed and with a growl in her voice) No, I’m here to patch the hole in the Aetherweb-

Fyalfana:A hole?! In what now?

Raka:Are you… familiar with what the Aetherweb is?

Dunir:The weave that makes magic possible, Fyalfana. You know, the thing that Orikan-

Fyalfana:Oh that thing he keeps raving about. Ah, yes, yes. So what happens when there’s a hole in the weave, does magic pour out?

Raka:Spirits can use the hole to escape and run awry. They can cause numerous problems to any Rontar, which was one of the reason some people came to take refuge here.

Fyalfana:Oh! Ooooh, I see! Dunir, where are your manners? Offer our guest a seat!

Dunir:(sighs) We don’t exactly have chairs, but you can sit on that crate next to the bed.

Raka:I am fine, thank you-

Fyalfana:(dismissive and condescending) The way you speak I assume you are familiar with the ways of a mistress’ household. So you will understand this is not a request. I do SO hate talking up to people.

Raka sighs and takes the offer. She sets her backpack on the ground, leaning her bow against the side of a small crate-tower that lines the edge of the makeshift room. The crate squeaks under her weight, as she shifts to arrange the quiver on her waist for a comfortable sitting position, arrows rattling within.

Raka:Fine. There.

Fyalfana:Great! So you only look wild but can be quite civilized. How can we help you?

Raka:I am looking for details on the Tangleweave-incident, and witness accounts on spirit activities.

Fyalfana:I’m not sure how much we can help you with that, but if it helps you solve the issue quickly we’ll see what we can tell you.

Raka:Do you mind if I take notes while you speak? I like to keep track of sightings in my journal.

Fyalfana:Sure, do what you must.

She rummages around in her backpack and pulls out a small journal and writing utensils.

Raka:Right. So your friend, Barla-

Fyalfana:Not my friend, my housekeeper.

Raka:Your housekeeper. You said he’s the one that made you seek refuge here. What was the reason for this?

Fyalfana:Pah, his reasons are petty at best.

Dunir:The reason is SOUND, Fyalfana, and you know it!

Fyalfana:You, focus on my braids. My condition has NOTHING to do with being especially vulnerable to spirits, as I’m sure this Patcher here can confirm.

Raka:If you give me more information on this “condition” you speak of, I can try.

Dunir:Our Mistress was born unable to walk.

Raka:She has a broken soul?

Dunir:Yes.

Fyalfana:(groans) That ought to be the silliest word anyone could’ve come up with to describe it. Call it for what it is! I’m a cripple with a disability. That’s what you people call me.

Dunir:We might not know as much about spirits as someone like you, Patcher, but we have had some dealings with people that tried to help our Mistress before. One of those that tried to help, a Spiritualist, told us that people with a broken soul are more vulnerable to spirit infestations.

Fyalfana:She even suggested I’d get a… what was it called, Dunir-

Dunir:Rune-carvings.

Fyalfana:Ah yes, a Rune-carving! Like what you have going on on your face, but on my throat and chest! Can you believe that?

Dunir:She told us that those would keep the spirits from using her as “gateway”.

Raka:Ah. Indeed.

Fyalfana:I would never get such a vile looking disfiguration on my body. Being unable to walk is bad enough! And then there was this other guy, (disgusted) eugh, promised he could “fix” my broken soul by giving me two working legs-

Raka:FIX a broken soul? I don’t know that something like that is even possible.

Fyalfana:Well, I don’t know WHAT he intended to do about that, but he had this vile stench about him. He smelled like death himself.

Raka:Yakkotius, perhaps? I have heard that he can be quite the benevolent deity, despite being the deity of death. It might’ve been worth a try.

Fyalfana:(scoffs) Oh Fiyar’ta forbid. Whatever he intended to do with my legs, I’d rather have a broken soul than take anything from someone that smelled like THAT.

Dunir:Well at any rate, her Broken Soul was the reason we dragged her out of the affected area. We thought without those rune carvings she’d be very vulnerable.

Fyalfana:And I’m by no means happy about your rash actions!

Raka:Did other mistresses from your village seek refuge here because of this?

Fyalfana:Hmp, of course not. They had more sense than my idiot household. None of them saw the spirits as a threat – They are harmless, only interested in things that GLITTER, which neither my broken soul nor my immobile legs seem to be doing!

Raka:I see.

Raka takes notes in her journal.

Barla enters the room through the curtains, stirring a thin soup in a small, cast iron kettle.

Barla:Are you at this again, Fyalfana?

Fyalfana:Ah, finally, my dinner. What did you get?

Barla:Soup and fresh flatbread… Don’t change the subject! You can hardly blame Dunir and me for being concerned about the welfare of our Mistress!

Barla sets down the kettle on a crate on the other side of Fyalfana’s makeshift bed. Fyalfana makes a dive for the bread, ripping off small pieces and popping them into her mouth, chewing while she speaks.

Fyalfana:Your concerns were unfounded!

Barla:Don’t speak with your mouth full!

Dunir:(groans) Patcher, could you please clear up this matter so we can finally settle this argument?

Raka:In fact, I can.

Fyalfana:(chewing) Let’s hear it, then.

Raka:What your Mistress says is true, if the spirits were only interested in things that glitter then she wasn’t in any danger.

Fyalfana:THANK you! Now you two can start packing up. We return to my house first thing tomorrow!

Raka:(sighs) Listen, it is, however, absolutely true what they say about broken souls. A Soul is a person’s connection to the aetherweb, and when it is broken, it has… cracks, fissures. Minor spirits can use these to… squeeze through and manifest into our world. This effect is amplified when the broken soul is subject to a tangleweave. Even larger spirits could make use of those cracks to in that case, some might even nest in your soul and constantly drain you of whatever it is that nourishes them. So you might understand why they say Broken Souls ARE more susceptible to influences from spirits. It wasn’t an unreasonable conclusion of your household to keep YOU out of all people safe. From what I could gather so far, the village you came from was situated right in the middle of a tangleweave. You’d be in constant danger of a spirit infestation, if you remained there.

Dunir:Ha! See, we were right being worried about your safety after all!

Barla:(soothing) Fyalfana, we’re just trying to keep you safe. We only lost your mother less than a year ago, we don’t want to lose you so shortly after.

Raka:It was good of your housekeepers to drag you out of the area. There are spirits that feed on immobility, and the immobility of people attracts them more than that of inanimate objects – would such a spirit turn up near you, you would be a primary target.

Fyalfana:(defeated) Alright, alright! We will stay here until the weave has been repaired.

Raka:Good! Now can I get back to questioning?

Fyalfana:(resigned) Yes, yes, go ahead. (she pops another pieces of bread into her mouth and chews)

Raka:During most tangleweaves, the inhabitants of the area are usually unaware of this happening, as well as ignorant to any spirit infestation that happens as a result. You seem keenly aware of the situation. How did you know what was going on?

Fyalfana:We have a boy with us, Orikan. An offering from this village as potential new member for my household. Apparently he can… see or hear spirits… (with a shrug) Something like that. I don’t know, I don’t quite understand him.

Barla:(sighs) He can’t see or hear them, just… sense their presence. About a week ago he woke us in the middle of the night and said something had happened to the weave and that there were spirits roaming outside the house. He was terrified, even though they didn’t do anything to harm us.

Raka:Do you know if he was awake when the severing happened?

Barla:Told me only that he woke up and had a terrible gut feeling… Didn’t know what to make of it so he went for a walk, and that is when he felt spirits nearby.

Raka:You said they were only interested in things that glitter, how did you narrow it down to that?

Dunir:A sparkling stream runs by our village, Orikan said he sensed a large amount of energy clustering near it. The next morning we noticed the sun no longer sparkled in the water.

Fyalfana:Wasn’t there another thing? Something about that necklace?

Dunir:Oh yea, the necklace… Orikan’s got this golden necklace, an heirloom as I understood. He said after a spirit passed close-by, it’d gone dull. He’s been trying to polish it, but the shine wouldn’t come back.

Raka:I see. Where is this boy now?

Fyalfana:He’s the son of this village’s head-mistress’s sister. I sent him to stay with his mother for now. If you want to speak with him, either of these two will have to get him for you.

Raka:Ah, I might meet with the head-mistress later, then.

Fyalfana:If that was all, you may leave. I finally want to have my dinner.

Raka:Of course. Enjoy your meal.

Raka closes her journal. The crate squeaks in relief as she stands up, the arrows in her quiver rattling back into position as it arranges itself on her waist. Raka picks up her backpack and hangs it on her shoulder, then grabs her bow to leave.

Fyalfana:Barla, I hope you made sure to bring me a soup without Ræwyn (ray-win, like raven) this time, you know how much I hate Ræwyn!

Barla:Of course, I asked them to specifically set aside a bowl for you before adding the Ræwyn…

The conversation fades as Raka leaves the “room” through the sheet curtains.

Headchief:Anything useful?

Raka:A bit, but not enough. I’ll have to question a few others to gather anything useful. But tomorrow.

Headchief:Alright.

Raka:Is there a place I can stay for the night? It doesn’t need to be anything elaborate, just…

Headchief:Ah, you don’t need to stay in the longhouse. Since the headmistress invited you to dinner, you can stay in a room in her guest quarters. We house a few other refugees there as well, but I’m sure we can arrange for oyu to have a bed of your own. Unless you find another you want to share it with.

Raka:It’s too soon to tell. Hold on. Auril? I’m ending the transmission.

Windshell deactivates.

Cedits

INT. – AURILS STUDY – DAY

Auril:(excited) Great, the first long-distance transmission came through flawlessly! No spirits or runes yet, but this being Raka, I’m sure she’ll come across those eventually.

(coughs, then with more seriousness) Alright, date of recording was…

He shuffles through his papers to find a calendar.

Auril:Ah, Tzanuka (TSA-nook-ah) on the 96th day of Bäkkos (BEK-kos), 5th year of the Vær (Veyr) in the 101st generation.
Vocal enchantments were woven by Kessi Riliniki, Owen McCuen, Holly Billinghurst, Philip Sacramento, Graham Rowat and Travis Vengroff.
Music-Shells provided by Fuimadane.
Audio-Enhancements by Sarah Buchynski.
Written and Produced by Kessir Riliniki.
So what’s on my to-Do list…
(writing) Make the Windshell enchantments invisible to people who can sense the aetherweb in any way…
(normal again) So it can go through the watergates undetected. I’m really not sure how their enchantments work, if anyone listening to this through the archives has any idea or experience, send a message to “Auril”, At-Rune “Trilunis” Dot-Com. Or send me a bird-chirp using the AT-Rune “Trilunis”. You can also write a message into the Book with the Face on it; just flip to the Page titled “Trilunis” and press your thumb on the seal to open it. I’ll read those eventually…