Scene starts off somewhere in a forest.
Far off in the distance, the sound of the Aetherweb tearing is heard.
Malaki is sleeping in the underbrush, nested on a heap of foliage and curled up in his fur-cloak. He is gently snoring.
After a while, the ambience around him shifts and is filled with the ominous whispers of Spirits.
Spirit: (chuckles, then triumphantly) Ah… there you are.
Spirit: (laughs) Sharp little mortal. You are Malaki, the bane of Vær, aren’t you?
Malaki: You… You’re a Spirit!
Spirit: (chuckles) Well observed.
Malaki: I… I can’t hear spirits!
Spirit: But you can hear me, can’t you?
Malaki: Tell me the reason I can hear you!
Spirit: I manifested. It comes in handy for a little chat, doesn’t it?
Malaki: Manifested! Spirits can’t manifest on their own!
Spirit: That would be true, if the weave were unbroken.
Malaki: (surprised) It… broke! A hole in the weave!
Spirit: (chuckles) Indeed. Tell me, bane of Vær. Was it you, who tore the hole?
Malaki: No! I’m not stupid! A hole in the weave lets pesky Vær like you into this world!
Spirit: (chuckles) Yes, Vær like me who begrudge you the banishing of our brethren!
Malaki: Tell me the reason you come after me!
Spirit: (laughs) After what you have done to my brethren, you have the audacity to pretend you don’t know?
Malaki: (growls) You pesky-
Spirit: Ah… did I scare you, little Værbane? (chuckles) A Skur that choses flight. Coward! (laughs in amusement)
Malaki: (breathing heavily from a short sprint, then grumbling under his breath) Not a coward- (hushed, muttering to himself) No, no no… no words, no words. No sound.
Spirit: It doesn’t matter if you use words or not. I will find you. (laughs)
Spirit: (chuckles) You can’t hide, little mortal… I am in your steps. I am in your tail brushing against the underbrush. I am in the twitching of your ears, yes… I am in your eyes, darting left and right, seeking my rune.
Malaki: (hushed) You are in the air.
Spirit: (amused scoff) No.
Malaki: (hushed) You are on my breath.
Spirit: In that vile breath that reeks of rotten flesh and congealed blood? (laughs) I’d rather not. No, not on your breath… But on your lips and tongue that move when you form words.
Malaki: (hushed) You are in movement.
Spirit: Motion. My nourishment.
Malaki: On things I can touch.
Malaki: (mumbling to himself) Physicality…
Spirit: You mortals can’t help but be physical, no matter how much you try to deny it. And all things that are physical fall victim to motion, one way or the other.
Malaki: (chuckles) That is your weakness, Vær.
Spirit: Weakness? Don’t put me on the same level of the other Vær you have banished, bane of Vær…
Malaki: (with a malicious grin) You are weak. I could banish you right now, prove it. Or you could tell me something I want to know. Something other Vær have not been able to answer.
Spirit: Ah. A good challenge. A Skur through and through. Fine. A challenge it is, then. Ask your question. If it is worth answering, I will… allow you to go free. If it is truly as preposterous as my brethren think it to be… I will tear you apart.
Malaki: I seek someone.
Spirit: You seek another mortal.
Spirit: Aaah, Azeri… a friend of the old Kselka. I have heard that someone in this region has been seeking another Mortal by that name for almost a decade.
Malaki: You don’t know where Azeri is.
Spirit: Truly a preposterous question to ask, bane of Vær – albeit your words were not truly questions.
Malaki: (growls) Tell me where Azeri is.
Spirit: The whereabouts of other mortals is not yours to know.
Malaki: Then you are useless to me.
Spirit: And you truly are a bane onto my brethren. But I will change that today- tonight.
Malaki: You think you can grasp me. You think you know the Bane of Vær. You don’t know enough, then.
Malaki: Spirit of Motion! You can’t grasp me. I AM the wind!
Malaki: Tharan! (Wind Rune: Thunder)
Yseïr! (Wind Rune: Ferocious wind)
Vodyïa! (Wind Rune: Blow away)
Spirit: No! No! NOOOO!
Malaki: (breathless, then chuckles) That’s what you get, pesky Vær…
(slightly remorseful) I will find you, Azeri…
(angry, shouting into the vale) I will find you! If I have to banish every spirit on Skaudr’s horn!
Sál Svar starts playing.
Leave the feeble balance undisturbed, Threadling! Lest your words rend the weave asunder.
Counterbalance. A high fantasy audiodrama about broken souls, growled Runes, gluttonous spirits, torn magic weaves, and three people attempting to fix this mess. Coming soon…
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