The border of the Pashan Whispers. |
Memories in a dust storm |
The
name becomes apparent when the wind is strong enough to shift the
dunes. As the rainbow sands tumble over one another, they unleash the
susurrus of voices stored beneath these ancient hills. Sanity appears
to be an impediment to understanding the language, the anatomy of the
throat a disability to speaking it.
For
those mad enough to understand them, the whispers speak of: glories
past, heroic myths, and epic poems that stretch the very fabric of
comprehension. In her Suma
Manialogica,
the prophetess Lyssa of the Stillborn Chorus chronicled her several
months, or possibly lifetimes, among the prismatic dunes of the
Whispers. In her poetic prophecies, she described the narratives of
the sands' past as a form of logic that transcends all previous modes
of thought. Lyssa wrote, 'The wisdom of the sand makes all other
philosophies like the chirping of crickets, without meaning aside
from the logic of noise without purpose.'
The storms are the ghosts of times past, rainbow recreations of
exotic glories long expired. Twisting hues of the sand filled wind
form ghostly imagines made within depths of the storm.
Shifting storm images: ghosts of titan-spiders dancing to unheard
symphonies, cities flowing through valleys like rivers of flesh
and crystal, processions of children crying into the sand and wind,
and so many more events that blur the boundaries between the foreign
and the commonplace. These memories of sand and wind could be gates
to a fabled past, or merely a land reminiscing over a youth long
since dissipated.
A chair brought back from a recent expedition. |
The
ruins of the long departed Pasha are as peculiar as the desert that
surrounds and obscures them. The dessicated chitin of fantastically
colored, terrestrial hermit crabs form the foundations of Pashan
structures. Towers, libraries, castles, and homes are formed from the
calcified shells of these acre sized crabs. Helical spires and
nautiloid domes are but a few of the architectural forms found in the
strange Pashan ascetic. Singing columns, animated mosaics, twisting
domes, crawling statues, and so many more horrible and wondrous
things can be found in these dead places.
Within the abandoned places of the Pasha, are the last remnants of
their culture. Many of these items still function, owing their
continued utility to the mastery of their makers. Their furniture is
constructed of materials both common and exotic. Beds of black dust
and spider-silk, chairs formed of glass thread atop sculpted iridium
arachnids, tables of bone whose tops shift to present unreadable
script, are just a few of the wonders that can be found. Broken
armoires might contain bottles of armored mists that protect the user from harm. Locked chests might contain projectile
weapons shaped like the spindly limbs of insects, their pointed tips
expelling spectral fleas that burn and sicken their unfortunate
target. Perhaps, overlooked by previous looters, one might find a
sword whose blade is a black mass of winding and shifting thread that
never knots; the edges so sharp as to cut the bond
between friends and lovers without physical harm. In the sand choked
wine cellars, bottles of restorative vintages might be hidden
beneath dust and bone. Bottles filled with liquid silver, lightning
bound mist, or sand that quenches thirst like water. These drafts can
close wounds, expand the mind, or enhance a single second of time
into a euphoric eternity. The presented oddities are but a few mysteries one might
take back to familiar lands, if one does not get lost in the rainbow
sands of the desert.
The next post will focus on a set of tables and rules for the
Pashan Whispers. Tables of: the kinds of buildings uncovered, the
sights seen within the sands, the heard within the whispers of the
sands, weird stuff found in abandoned places, and so much more. Table
mania!!!
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