Written in Stone

[Aedon Durreah]

While at first I was excited to find the first markings known to me on Avalon, as I delve deeper into what was long ago etched in stone, my heart quakes and my resolve falters.

To have a chance to bring some sense of peace to the mind of this ancient being is a compelling reason to continue on with my interpretations. But each word, each symbol seems to lead me down a path which in the end may bring profound loss.

The words which I thought at first to be a combination of Ogham and old Elvin are now clearly more Drow in origin. This explains well why Beleg could not or would not interpret Markings some years back. As a priest of the temple of Corellon Beleg could not bring himself to read words from a language of a people he detested.

Images of love and hate wind around her body in words and pictures. Entwined with these are other symbols denoting Redemption -damnation, blessing and curse. These in themselves are not new to etchings dug up from the ruins of falling civilizations. Beings everywhere have long sought to leave a mark for the future. To show those who came after that at one time, they had walked the earth.

Of more concern to me is the circle and what is inscribed on her chest. A circle unfinished speaks to a life or purpose not yet fulfilled. Did that seer long ago foretell the life Avalon would take, and what would in the end be her final purpose?

It would seem that she was destined to come on the one she calls her charge. That together, through the long years these two would walk side by side and that at the end, when all was as it should be the choice between damnation and redemption must be made.

It is in the final words etched that I find great sorrow and pain ahead for them both, or an awakening to life renewed for them both. I cannot say on what plain of existence this life will be, but I fear that it will in time mean separation from two I have come to care deeply for.

But in all this I cannot look to my own happiness, only what will best serve Avalon and Izznet.

 

[Izznet H'unar]

Once again the lives of Watcher and Charge find orbits of bodies winding around each other causing ripples through time and space. The irony of the intersections with strangers and friends gives cause to pause and admire the intricate details taken to create events and actions. What had been deemed unworthy suddenly is of high value, no explanation, merely a difference in time.

Avalon’s intricate markings etched and filled with silver have become, again, a source of curiosity. The hope would be to find some record of her past and the story that brought circumstances to a conclusion. Only a being as ancient as the mountains would have access to such knowledge, or perhaps in their library could be found scripts not yet dust that would speak to the origins.

The vast library of the Guardian of Aegis, it is hoped, will hold the knowledge and the key to that which is desired. Much was learned already, merely by the fact he is Druid. His friendship with a wide range of races offers him unique access to information otherwise kept secret. Scouring through scrolls, parchments and books should afford a glimmer into the past.

With the hind sight comes foresight. Answers bring more questions, that bring forth more questions. Fates can be fickle but truth will always win the day. Pursue with vigor the truth, regardless of how it may seem.

“Fear not, Guardian, their time is not now.”

 

[Aedon Durreah]

Shed a true tear of sorrow upon the sacred grounds as a sign of true repentance, renounce the ways of the Vampire and remove the curse upon the Soul


I have been working on the translations for the many symbols and words covering Avalon’s body. I did this not only to aid my old friend, but also because she and Skylar asked me to. At first it was interesting and a bit fun. I have always been interested in ancient languages and pictographs, and those that covered the gargoyles body were in many ways as old as the mountain herself.

Within the twists and arcs of the etchings, I can see words and pictures that speak to me of the past, and many are familiar to me from past travels. But some of the words seem at times puzzling; many bring me a deep sense of sorrow.

It is when I came across the words chiseled into her chest that I came to the full realization of what I was looking at.

All of us tell tales, and pass on to the next generation stories of past lives and noble causes. But in this instance the writings address the path and purpose of the ancient soul herself. And within the lines I can trace her path from the caves outside her village, to the point at which she met and took Izznet as her charge.

Just as I was created many years ago to wield Ahoun, Avalon was destined to care for the wounded Drow and guide her steps until the time came. Their lives connected, they traveled the roads together, the Gargoyle’s eyes ever watchful for danger. And through the years in a subtle way the watcher became much more to her charge.

It is the close bond shared by these two women now which distresses me most. More mother and child now, I cannot comprehend the pain that she would endure should the time of destiny arrive. It is one thing to chastise or punish a child when they needed it. It is another thing altogether to take the life of one dear to you with talons and horns etched in silver.

In many ways now, my life is entwined with the two. I share now the path of the watcher and the fate of the charge. And I cannot allow Avalon to destroy herself in the completion of her destiny, her final service to a gentle heart she has come to love deeply.

I will do what must be done, if I am still around when her time draws near. My life is already littered with the bodies of those whose lives I have ended. The scars upon my soul can be no deeper than they already are.

And so, as she offered to me, I will hold her in my arms, and grant her a gentle passing. I wish for her last sights to be the eyes of those who love her, and not the hater filled faces of those who have long hunted her down and tormented her.

I have designed a blade, and Llyrwech will forge it for me. Simple cold steel but lined and etched with silver. It will be of a length to allow me to pierce her heart with little effort, and a lessened degree of discomfort. The handle will be wrapped in soft suede and tied with twine woven from my own hair. On the hilt, in Gaelic I have asked that the words For Love be inscribed.

I do not look forward to this task, and know well the price it will extract of me. But for these two who are as family to me, no price is too steep to pay.