Echoes of Creation (30k/Exalted)

Colchis - 830.M30 (Two Weeks before Lorgar's Arrival)

---

You wake up in your tent, feeling disoriented and groggy. As you sit up, you realize that you've rolled out of your sleeping mat and are lying on the cold sand. Rubbing your eyes, you try to shake off the remnants of sleep and recall the dream that feels like it was just within your grasp.

It was something important, you're sure of it. The memory lingers tantalizingly at the edge of your consciousness, but no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to grasp it. It had to do with an endless desert and... what was it? 999,997 crystal spheres?

Frustrated, you run your hands through your hair and take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. The dream had felt so vivid, so real. You could almost feel the warmth of the desert sun on your skin, and the sight of those shimmering spheres had been breathtaking. But now, it's slipping away from you, like grains of sand slipping through your fingers.

You step out of your tent and into the cool Coldfall air, hoping that the change of scenery will jog your memory. As you walk out, the chill hits you like a physical force. The desert, which had been scorching hot during the day, now seemed intent on freezing you to the bone. Your breath comes out in puffs of mist as you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, desperate for warmth.

The camp is quiet, the other members of your party still asleep. You walk a few paces, gazing out at the surrounding landscape. The desert stretches out before you, vast and empty, the sun nowhere in the sky, signaling the start of High Night.

As you stand there, the memory of the dream begins to fade even further, slipping away like a mirage. You close your eyes and try to recall any detail, any fragment that might give you a clue. But it's no use. The dream is gone, lost to the recesses of your mind.

With a sigh, you turn back towards your tent, resigned to the fact that some dreams are meant to remain just that: dreams. But deep down, you can't shake the feeling that there was something important, something profound, about that dream. Something that you were meant to remember, to understand.

As you walk back into your tent and to settle back onto your sleeping mat, you can't help but wonder what secrets the desert and those crystal spheres might have held. And although the dream may be lost to you now, you can't shake the feeling that it has somehow changed you, leaving an indelible mark on your soul.

As you enter your tent, you scan the area, your eyes searching for any sign of comfort. Your gaze falls on the last jug of water, sitting in the corner. It's a small comfort, but one you're grateful for. You stumble over to it, your movements sluggish from exhaustion and cold.

As you unscrew the cap and take a sip of the cool water, you feel a momentary reprieve from the harshness of the desert night. But as you swallow, an idea begins to form in your mind.

In the depths of the desert, surrounded by the shifting sands and the whispering winds, you find yourself driven by a force you cannot explain. Ancient memories, long buried within your soul, rise to the surface, urging you to perform a feat of sorcery beyond anything you've ever attempted before.

You sit cross-legged in the tent, the cold hitting you to the bone, but you feel no discomfort. Your mind is focused, your thoughts clear and sharp. You close your eyes, reaching out with your senses, feeling the magic that lies dormant within you.

As you delve deeper into your memories, you begin to see images, flashes of a time long past. You see yourself standing in a vast desert, surrounded by towering dunes and endless sky. You see the ancient ruins of a city, its spires reaching towards the heavens, now buried beneath the sands.

With a sudden clarity, you understand. This city, this ancient civilization, was once a place of great sorcery. And you, in a past life, were one of its most powerful sorcerers.

Remembering the ancient teachings, you set out to gather three reagents that will help you store and conserve water.

The first reagent you seek is a large hollowed-out gourd, for its ability to hold water. You remember seeing one near a cluster of desert cacti, so you head in that direction. After a short walk, you find the gourd and carefully cut it open, ensuring it is clean and free of debris.

Next, you search for a length of sturdy, flexible vine. This will serve as a makeshift rope to tie off the gourd and carry it with you. After some time searching, you find a suitable vine and carefully cut off a section, making sure it is long enough to serve your needs.

Finally, you search for a flat stone that can be used to cover the opening of the gourd, sealing in the precious water.

Then, you rummage through your belongings, searching for two specific items: a clay pot, and a glass vial.

These are the vessels you will use in the ritual, each symbolizing an aspect of your need for water.

The clay pot represents the earth, grounding and stability. You fill it with the last of your water, knowing it will be absorbed by the parched soil, a sacrifice to the land that sustains you.

The glass vial symbolizes clarity and vision. You fill it with water, watching as the liquid reflects the dim light of your tent, a reminder of the clarity you seek in your quest for survival.

Lastly, the gourd signifies protection and resilience. You fill it with water, knowing that it will sustain you through the trials ahead, a talisman against the desert's relentless assault.

With the vessels filled, you arrange them in a sacred pattern, focusing your intent on the ancient words of power that echo in your mind. As you are about to begin the ritual, the air around you seems to shimmer with unseen energy, and you feel a surge of power unlike anything you've ever experienced.

You then sit in solemn meditation. The night is alive with a symphony of whispers, the desert spirits murmuring ancient secrets in a language as old as time itself. Around you, the dunes stretch endlessly, their sandy curves like the rolling waves of a forgotten ocean.

You begin the ritual by drawing a circle in the sand, marking the boundary between the mundane world and the realm of the spirits. With each stroke of your hand, you feel a connection to the earth, to the very soul of the desert itself. The spirits are watching, their presence a tangible weight in the air.

Drawing lines, connecting the clay pot, glass vial, and gourd at the cardinal points of the circle, you imbue each with a specific intention.

In the center of the circle, you place the large earthen jug, its emptiness a void waiting to be filled. This jug represents the focal point of the ritual, the vessel through which the spirits will manifest their power.

Closing your eyes, you begin to chant, the words flowing from your lips like a river of sound. A language you instinctively know is Old Realm, though how and why, you can't say. The desert spirits respond, their voices joining yours in a haunting melody. You can feel their energy swirling around you, a gentle caress against your skin.

As you chant, you visualize the jug filling with water, the liquid rising higher and higher until it overflows, cascading down the sides in a shimmering waterfall. The spirits lend their power to your intention, their energy mingling with yours to create a potent force of magic.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the jug begins to glow with a soft, ethereal light. The air around you crackles with energy, and you can sense the spirits' approval. Opening your eyes, you see that the jug is indeed filling with water, the liquid appearing as if from nowhere.

As you sit in the glow of the moon, surrounded by the spirits of the desert, you know that you have achieved something truly remarkable.

With a deep breath, you reached out and picked up the jug, feeling its coolness against your skin. Bringing it to your lips, you took a long, deep drink, savoring the taste of the pure, fresh water. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before, revitalizing and invigorating.

Setting the jug down, you watched closely as the water level slowly began to rise. It was a subtle change at first, barely noticeable, but as the minutes turned into hours, the jug began to fill before your eyes.

Hour after hour passed, and still, the jug continued to fill itself. It was a mesmerizing sight, the water rising inch by inch until finally, after eight long hours, it reached the cap and stopped.

You sat back, amazed by what you had witnessed. The jug had indeed replenished itself, just as the ritual had promised.

Exhausted but hopeful, you settle down to rest, knowing that the ritual has set in motion forces beyond your understanding. You drift off to sleep, the sound of the desert wind lulling you into dreams of water and life.

---

GAIN:
Jug of Everlasting water (1 Dot Artifact)
An earthen jug that constantly replenishes itself. It takes 8 hours for it to be fully filled with water.


CHOOSE 1 CECELYNE CHARM

CHOOSE 1 SHLiHN CHARM