Muse of the Currents

Part I

Late one eve, as the hour approached the new day, I left my modest chambers to walk upon the docks of Rucesion; as is my habit after a long night of eldritch studies. ‘Twas a fine clear evening with but a whisper of a breeze blowing in from the shoals and I was engrossed in thoughts of my latest discoveries. Of a sudden I was disturbed from my reverie by a near imperceptible sound, a low groaning of sorts. Puzzled, I glanced about to see where it might have arisen from, seeing naught but mine own shadow cast by the lamps of the city I continued. Then I heard it again, slightly louder this time, it seemed to me to be emanating from the very waters lapping ‘gainst the pilings. Most intrigued was I by this strange occurrence and turned my steps towards the wharf to investigate.

After a time of peering into the dark below the docks my eyes discerned a dim shape huddled under the planks. Long did I peer into the depths of the shadows to identify what it might be as I was hesitant to enter the darkness, fearing dubhaim treachery. At last my trepidation could no longer contain my thirst for discovery and I ventured closer. At my approach the figure raised a haggard limb and weakly bade me closer. Reaching the form I found to my dismay that it was an elderly man, drenched to the bone from the salt sea and ragged from being tossed about on the rocks. He was near unto death. Gently did I bid him to have no fear and that he was now safe from his hazards, gazing into my eyes he nodded and drifted into unconsciousness.

With much labor I extricated him from his location and brought him unto my home. Many days I watched over his feverish struggle for life, all the while administering what meager medicines I knew of and praying to the Gods that his strength might return and I would mayhap discover what peril had brought him to our fair shores. Finally he roused and spoke in a voice so faint that I felt sure it must be that of a ghost. His words confounded me as he spake most strangely, using words I had never heard before, unusual words such as "thee" and "thou" and his accent was so thickly foreign that I knew he must indeed be of a distant land. He spoke of how he was known as a poet and bard amongst his people and was charged with the keeping of their cherished lore of their history and heroes deeds. He told a tale of a terrible storm at sea which had mercilessly swept the small craft he had been embarked upon underneath the seething waves and how he had clung frantically to wreckage to finally be cast upon our sands. I attempted to calm him and begged him to speak no more and conserve his strength but he would have none of it. With much ferverance he gestured to a satchel which hung about his neck and told me of its contents. "These are my tales, the tales of my people and their glory, life will soon leave me and I entrust these unto thee that thou mayest safeguard them and let them be known unto the world." Then with a most horrid groaning and shuddering he let his life ebb from its mortal frame to join whatever Gods he was a child of.

I reverently opened the bag he had entrusted to my care and removed a large tome of rich vellum, bound in the finest of calfskin ‘twas and most noble to behold. Opening it I thrilled to the lyric genius of this native artisan. Despite the strangeness of the dialect my heart soared to read the mastery of his pen. With much care I washed and bound his limbs in fine muslin and transported his body to the shores where I embarked it upon a small craft I had purchased. Entrusting his remains to the seas I sent it adrift with thoughts that mayhap ‘twould drift back unto the distant lands of his birth where his people could give him a proper burial in whatever ceremonies were their customs. Owing true to my bond to him I pored over his book and deciphered his works into a form intelligible to me and now with the greatest of care shalt I, unworthy though I am to relay such great works, impart them now to ye. Here is the first of the great works found within the lost bard’s tome. More shalt I share with ye as my sadly insufficient talents laboriously transcribe them. ‘Tis my sincere hope that ye may find as much wonder in them as I and that in some manner by their sharing, I may honor that poor lost soul and give his spirit ease in its respite.

So pray ye lend an eye to these most worthy of tales and let the wonder of it fill ye as it has me.

Humbly yours,

Veneficus of Rucesion

The Wee Wompin Wimpy Wizzy

The Unknown Poet

As transcribed by

Veneficus of Rucesion