Entry #7178 - Säuï, Säuï, Säuï...

4th of Cylus 720

Once an isolated and dying township, an influx of academics, adventurers and thrill seekers have made Scalvoris Town their home. From scholars' tea shops to a new satellite campus for Viden Academy, this is an exciting place to visit or make your home!

Moderators: Pegasus Pug!!!, Avalon

User avatar
Approved Character
Posts: 29
Joined: Mon Mar 16, 2020 8:58 pm
Race: Aukari
Renown: 0
Character Sheet
Wealth Tier: Tier 5



Entry #7178 - Säuï, Säuï, Säuï...

4th Cylus, 720

It was a soft murmur of a whisper, so faint and distant Zekuseeyros was in awe as to how he had managed to hear it. Skeptical at first, the man stood by the well and looked in its depths so long even he, an aukari, felt the cylus cold creeping in. There it was still; a soft coo resembling an innocent protest of a child. It was not wind blowing in his helmet, nor anyone trying to pull a prank on a giant with a gigantic sword. It came from the well, and Zekuseeyros had lost all doubt about it.

First he’d try to persuade someone else to listen to it. He stopped three couples, one robed male that was in a hurry, two children and a bunch of women. Most of them looked at him funny, as usual, because of his appearance, his height, his sword, or just his general insistence there was something trapped in the well. The rest of them looked at him afraid. All of them, with no exception, said they heard nothing - not even when he forced them to listen. It was the last child he asked that he’d grab by the ankle and dangle inside the well’s blackness, ordering him, with a yell, to listen carefully. The child listened to nothing but his own incessant, screeching screaming. How a boy could sound so much like a squealing pig truly baffled him. After this last attempt, Zekuseeyros was quick to make a tactical retreat lest the child (he was filthy enough to be a vagrant) alerted the guards of his presence.

Many things he did on that day. He ate, he slept, he trained, then he slept again. All he did, however, could not numb the feeling that somoene was trapped in that well. Could it be a child that had fallen down? That coo haunted him so much, in fact, there was no way to stand still. In his third twenty-bit nap of the trial, Zekuseeyros’s dream revolved around the well - only this time it was him trapped at the bottom, but his voice was not powerful and deep as it was but was, instead, reduced to the same coo he had heard. When he woke up in sweat, he knew his conscience demanded him take action. And so he did.

Lacking any other clothing, Zekuseeyros once again dressed in armor. The equipment was so poorly kept that even moss had begun to form in some of its nooks and crannies. Good! If he had to go down the well the moss could grow to be seaweed. Traveling the neverending night of cylus made the aukari feel a felon, looking for a poor soul to relief his dark sentiments. Had he such idea in mind, his oversized body would help him remain ever detected - no amount of stealth could conceal such a behemoth. Then again, being a behemoth drew curious glances from the patrols, who more often than not tried to stop him and question him as if he was sent by some Immortal to cull the inhabitants. When they didn’t stop him, they marvelled at him, but most often they’d try to imbue their tongues with limited wit.

Nobody stopped him tonight; everyone seemed fast asleep and well covered by double blankets. It was so cold Zekuseeyros refused to piss in a corner under the very obvious fear of getting a frostbitten manhandle. The prospect of a bite was already terrifying, but making it cold turned it evil. When he reached the well, he was alone with the wind and the cloud that followed three feet over him. Not a thrill after he had reachde it, he heard that cooing again.
“Who’s there?” he asked into the darkness of the well.
He heard the cooing again.
“Can you hear me?”
“Did you fall down?”
More pause.

He was not insane, Zekuseeyros reassured himself. He was too stubborn to be insane. Insanity was just severe confusion, and he knew exactly what to do at all times. Right now, the aukari took the bucket used to draw from the well and tossed it - tossed it, not lowered nor gently let down, but tossed - it inside the darkness. It seemed so loaded with force and weight it failed to strike the stone walls, and in due time, a harsh impact and a large splash was heard faintly through the darkness. Only then did the brute realize that the bucket could’ve killed the child his conscience worried so much about. He waited, and heard nothing.
“Grab the rope and I’ll pull you up!”
No reply. No coo this time.
“Are you there?” Zekuseeyros yanked the rope up and down, waiting to see if its weight would increase.

He hadn’t killed it, had it? If he had, he wouldn’t have heard a big splash. Right?


He kept yanking at the rope to see if this supposed child would climb in and get this over with, but it kept being a bucket full of water. No surprise weight on there. Not about to dive in for what could be a hallucination (a bit of drinking was involved in the equation), Zekuseeyros sat down on the ledge and waited for a while. Then instead of waiting he began drinking from his wineskin using his metallic straw. The wineskin needed a rinse: Ziell only knows how many liquids had mingled into a low-shelf cocktail. There was wine (being a wineskin, it was obvious) and what Zekuseeyros judged to be leftover mead and rum and some whiskey - all watered down with that foul-tasting water from the ship. One day, he promised, he’d have a waterskin and a wineskin both, although the promise was forgotten as soon as it was made.

Sipping after a while, when the cold began to creep up the aukari once again faced the endless void of the well.
“Are you alive?”
“Grab the bucket!” The knight exclaimed with urgency. He didn’t wait a thrill before violently yanking the rope and, once again, feeling the bucket as full of water as it was.

Maybe the child couldn’t quite see where the bucket was. Surely not much light reached the bottom of the well, and so now he yanked with a purpose, churning and splashing the waters below with such insistence even from up there he could hear thumping in the water.
“G R A B T H E B U C K E T!”

But the bucket remained a bucket and the water remained water, and the well was well so he might as well desist. He was no saviour; if someone refused to get help then death was not something they must fear. Hells, his own time was more worth than the life of some useless, cooing child, was it not? The child could barely do a thing except eat and nag, and if it was dumb enough to not reach out for a bucket, then fare thee well my well-dwelling jewel.
“I’m going,” he warned, leaving the bucket still for just another thrill, and another, and another, until he had waited a whole bit.

Now he turned the crank and pulled that bucket back up. It took a while, despite Zekuseeyros cranking like a possessed man. His impatience had won the war against his conscience. Let the child drown if it so wanted to - his attempt had been fair and well done.

At last the bucket came, full to the brim with water. He’d put it on the ledge and, then, he’d see he had caught something. A golden fish, shining and gleaming with such radiance it seemed Qylios’ champion. So shiny it was, in fact, the aukari had to squint to look at it properly. Even the water was illuminated by its presence. Other than the obvious fact the fish was made of pure gold (or so it seemed, at least), the fish was nothing special. It was small bream - again, save for the fact that it was golden, and it seemed content with circling that bucket in a loop so small the aukari would go dizzy. Then, the fish would surface, and he’d produce the quintessential coo before diving back into the water. He was a lucky man! The Immortals had sent him a sign of goodwill, and the golden fish could’ve only come from Faldrun himself. Praised be the Father! Hundreds and thousands of silent prayers went out in thought to Faldrun, who had deemed a cursed man like Zekuseeyros worthy of a worthwhile gift. The warrior almost bounced in joy, impatient to reach home and write it all about it in his grimoire.

About to claim his prize, the knight dove his hand in the ice-cold water, a faint mist escaping due to his abnormally high body temperature and the almost sub-zero temperature of the water. The golden fish did not fight this, and the aukari’s hand gripped the fish. It was truly, truly made out of gold, for it had the same texture and consistency as an ingot of gold - not that he had touched one, per se, but he had touched iron and steel. Lords, it sure was heavy, much more so than an ingot. What a fortune he could make with it! Pulling it out of the water, the fish remained as still as it would on a fishmarket’s stall, calmly claiming it wished to be captured. It lived to be captured, and he had chosen Zekuseeyros as his captor.
“You’re mine,” he’d tell it, the fish gently moving its tail like a nod or a salute.

To end it all, Zekuseeyros was swift to grab the tail and loft the fish high up in the air, immediately going to slam the creature against the well’s ledge with force - surely enough to not only kill the fish but also to churn its insides into soup. He even grunted from the effort. What, he wasn’t going to carry a live fish around, was he? The hit was so good that it ended up being too good, for the fish was made of gold, and when metal strikes stone, the vibrations are both extremely uncomfortable and quite painful. Such is what happened: the fish was slammed (it made a sad coo just before impact), the vibration traveled to the aukari, and his grip loosened, and so the dead fish slipped back into the darkness of the well.
NO!” yelled Zekuseeyros, quickly jumping to the ledge just in time to witness that golden, radiant, almost light-generating fish being swallowed by the endless void. He reached out with his hand into the darkness and begged. “Come back...!”

Then silence.

Then a loud splash.
word count: 1819

Zekuseeyros is followed by a small cloud whenever he goes. It hovers two feet over him and gives him personalized weather. This means it could rain in a clear day, be sunny in a rainy day, or even show the stars in broad daylight. Part magic and part illusion, he has no control over it as it reacts in opposition to his emotions.

In thread it will often be called 'curse', 'scourge', 'bane' or something of that nature.

Return to “Scalvoris Town”