-Ship Journal Log-

Programmer Name Khaliss

Solar Year

I have been aboard nearly 13 passings on since the nine hells. All manner of beast and monster sought to take my life and will to carry on.

Some gruesome many eyed fiends, others appearing as human but deceiving and leading me astray.

Finally I have found my place among the heavens. This body given to me by God serves me well. I feel stronger and more cunning than ever.

Here I will make an accounting of my deeds and the changes I will make to the thing God calls the Construct. I have already sought to return to the lands of my people and the tales I have give

∈Wild Woodlands, The Vestern Corridor∋

15 Passings Ago...

The travelpack dug into Scant's shoulder as he crested another of the endless wooded hills. His brother Mehnta and the guide were first to the top. Mehnta's mouth hung open as he peered off toward the setting sun. Cresting the hill Scant stopped suddenly, shifting uncomfortably in the setting sunlight. The sun was half sunk into the black expanse that consumed the horizon of the world.

It streched wide and deep filling the horizon. He felt it encircling all that ever was, ever will be, and all in Earth and Heaven. Scants breath quickened and felt the cold sweat bead on his temple, he wanted to run, get out, escape. He felt like the feral animals locked in a cage at the street markets back home. It was gone as quick as it had come like a flickering piece of a remembered dream. All that remaned was the thin line of black cutting through the forested hills, beyond which lay more darkness, darkness as far as he could imagine.

The guide meanderings during their journey came back to him now.

"The Amuni people call it the Nuun, meaning chaotic waters from which all forms emerge. The place Amun-Ra pulled the world from, or so the Amuni Enlightened texts say." Finger tapping his nose knowingly.

"The Nornic people call it the Gap, shortened from Genungegap. The endless void that Mimir was born into before Ordin killed him and carved the world from his corpse. Or so the Nornic Epic Poems proclaim." Finger tapping his nose knowingly.

"Khaliss and his followers call the dark edge of the world 'The Nine Hells'. The same Hells the Savior Khaliss waded into, sacrificing himself to save the very soul of all mankind. For his mortal sacrifice he was reborn the true and final God, creator of earth pulled forth from the Nine Hells by his divine command." This time no finger came to his nose.

"Most folk simply call it the Edge of the World." Scant had replied, careful not to push the mans Kahlisstic sensabilities.

Scant knew that it just kept going, explorers had long ago walked the entirety of black edge that surrounded them, modern people's all knew that they were surrounded by impassable blackness, though many disagreed on its mythological origins. There were some philosophers long ago who believed the dark to only be a local manifestation of some small Gods will.

"Surely," they posited, "if it is seen here and not elsewhere we must concur that the land is finite as the One True Gods creation must be. Therefore there must be ways to the infinite realms beyond from wich our ancestors came to this world."

But they had been wrong.

A shiver brought him from his musings, the strange dizzying sensation was creeping up his back and into his head. The guide had warned them of this. Turning to look eastward, toward Lountal, helped the disorientation pass. As it subsided he turned back to gaze at the edge of everything.

Growing up back in Mareechi the edge was a common topic among the over excited youth of his home village. They'd boast of their desires to join the Sacred Guardians, concocting fanciful stories of how they would become heros themselves one day. The Sacred Guardians were the martial order of protectors who traveled the Edge of the World scouting for demons that spilled out of the pit. They slew any demon that dared travel too close to the villages of the outer kingdoms that shared borders with the Gateway to Hell. One Amuni boy had moved to their small mining town during the Emuniah Conquest. He was unique among Scant's peers as he treated the Edge with reverence rather than the healthy fear that sane folk had. Often abstaining from the games of Knights and Demons the boys would play to pass the days in the quiet mining village. He'd once heard the Amuni boy call the Nine Hells the Hallowed Dark whispering the words with a sense of respectful reverence, almost like a prayer. It had confused him as a child; Hell, a place to be reverantly worshiped? Even prayed to? The idea was ludicrous even now, even as he hiked through the wooded hills to see Hell for himself. As a boy he'd brought his concerns to their village priest Father Phejorn.

"The gates to the Nine Hells are all around us my boy. Did you know that Amuni Scholars from the Academy of Chiros have measured the height of the Gateway? They found it measured 13 feet in height, and as you know 13 is the number of the betrayer. He sends his demons after the faithful people of the Kingdoms to test their faith in the Savior, for he seeks to undo the goodness of his words and all they do for the people of Amunarr. The Holy Guardians are a manifestation of Khaliss and his divine will, they stand as a bulwark between us and the very hordes of Deths Hell my boy." Father Phejorn had said.

It was around that time that he'd decided, one day he would see the Gates of Hell for himself. Something within him pushed him, driving him to see the places that many only whispered of around campfires to scare timid children. Scant wanted to see the deep dark corners of the world for himself, it seemed to him the only way to conqer the fear that he felt when confronted by things he didn't understand. To leave a mystery alone and ignore it growing old in the same small village safe behind its walls and guards felt wrong to him somehow.

Now, for the first time since Scant and his brother Mehnta had been indentured, he had a chance to see the Gates for himself. They had been forced into the indenture when they came of age, soley due to their fathers dunken outbursts and disrespect of Mareechi law when they were young. Their father had eventually fled the village leaving them to serve the Lord in his stead. Their 7 Passings of indenture had been much more of a blessings than young boys of 13 could ever have imagined. With their strong work ethics, learned from their mothers teaching and fathers disgrace, they had gained favor with Lord Ket'rihn.

Once they had reached their 20th Passing Lord Ket'rihn had used his connections to apprentice them with a Master Tradsmen. It had been Scant and his brothers dream, forged over those 7 passings working in the mines. To one day build their own caravan, trading among the Kingdoms, bringing wealth and prosperity to their small mining village. After fulfilling the Lords service with his blessing and a hefty endowment for their dedication, the brothers were free. It had taken some work to convince Mehnta to go with him to see the Gates of Hell. Ultimatly it had been the words of their Master Tradesman, Luthar, that convinced him to go, not my own.

"I think its good for every aspiring Trader to see the shape of the world for himself. Far too many men get in their minds a sense of safety and security that they do not deserve. Seeing the edge of the world is the best way I have found to keep that complacent attitude at bay." Their Master had said.

Their traveling took them a week outside of Lountal, the last of the major cities before the Vestern Corridor opened up to the Norn Expanse in the northwest. Here the Gates of Hell worked as a barrier to the west making a small corridor into the Nornic Expanse with the Vesternal Mountain range lining the corridor to the east. It was perfectly suited for a few travelers to stop off and see the Gates without straying too far from civilization and the security of its fortified walls. Their guide said the city of Lountal was the namesake of Val Jorden Lough, the Last of the Makers. Scant passed many statues of the heroic figure built throughout the city. Looked like any other Norn to Scant, but all Norns looked alike to him. Thick wavey hair, probably blonde like most Norns. Strong muscular builds with towering statures their infamous tattoos lionizing their prefered gods in the Nornic Mythos on the arms, necks, and faces of most adult Norns.

The depictions of him always had he Channels of Power etched into the statues. They infused them with real Nectar, Nectar that was normally used by living channelers to perform the feats of magic that the Gods had blessed them with. The gold beads of light pulsed as they moved along the etched lines in the stone statue. It seemed an expenisve waste of the precious Nectar but he had to admit, it inspired a deep sense of wonder when he saw it light up the statue in the night. Scant had never paid much attention to the histories of the Kingdoms, growing up indentured to the Lord of a mining town meant there was little time for study and always more work to be done. He had heard the stories, and everyone knew about the prophecies. The phropheciesthat had come directly from the mouths of the Gods, handed down from their First Children over 5,000 Passings ago.

Among them one who can make will be found, he will commune with Gods, he will dwell among the stars, and he will bring newfound lands to his people.

Scant learned from their guide about the many interpretations of the prophecy. In fact many of the First Children raised by the Gods themselves had dissented over its interpretation accoring to the Scholars. A few generations of record keepers had walked with the Gods before Their Ascension conversing with them to try learning the secrets of creation directly from those who had made them and their world. Still to this day, 5 Millenia later, no faith could agree with another on one proper interpretation of the prophecies. They couldn't even find one cohesive story of the creation from that time and so the various religious sects of Amunarr continued to grow apart fueling various Imperial wars across the Kingdoms.

Starring into the Pit of Hell itself helped him grow more accustomed to the strange disorientation that filled his mind. They sat there quietly looking at the Blackness as the sun sunk lower in the sky. He now understood how the Amuni could consider the Gates of Hell something sacred. The sheer awe he felt looking at it was something very close to sacred. Feeling so small and insignificant, trapped in the center of something so vast and unknown, the knowledge of an ever present darkness encompassing all he knew. Yes he could understand why the Amuni boy from his childhood had called it the Hallowed Dark. Their guide had took off his pack preparing their camp for the night.

"We must get a good nights rest, young masters. If we want to visit the Gap and retreat a safe distance before night fall we will need the rest." The Guide said. Scant and Mehnta set out to gather some wood for the fire while the guide cleared the ground for sleeping.

"Do you think it worth the coin now?" Scant asked his brother as they kicked around in the underbrush looking for dry wood.

"I didn't expect it to be so... big." Mehnta said picking up a stick and adding it to the bundle in his arms. "Yes, I would say this trip is well worth the coin. I am already starting to feel different."

"Yeah, Master Luthar was right. I don't think I can see the world as it was after this." he said. 

Before long they were back at the small campsite on the wooded hilltop. Unloading the scavanged branches they set to making the fire and soon had dinner bubbling over the flames as the sun dipped low in the sky approaching the black void beneath. Poking at the coals the Guide managed the cooking fire letting Scant and Mehnta watch the approaching sunset.

"Look there," the guide said "with a keen eye you may see the tongues of black flame that rise from the Gap. See how it plays with the sunlight."

Closing one eye Scant peered at the sun trying to pickout the black flames the guide spoke of. Holding up his thumb to block the majority of the sun he could see little tendrils, the smoke of the burning pit, reaching upward. Where they passed in front of the sun no light came through, it was a sight to behold. Scant only turned away from the beautiful sunset to fill his bowl with stew before returning to watch the sun sink into the inky black lake before them. When it had finally passed from view only the faint glow of the sun remained lighting the clouds, making the horizon glow with the fading orange light. Scant heard Mehnta whisper a prayer of safe return to Khaliss as the sun passed from view.

"Ah you are most blessed young masters, look there." the guide said pointing to the pink clouds above them. "On special nights when Surturs path is just right you can see the tendrils of the Gap cast shadows on the sky." Scants mouth dropped as he saw the pink retreat from the clouds as black shadows flickered across the clouds. It reminded Scant of watching a campfire at night, how the tips of the flame would reach and strech seeking out for something to burn. He shivered as he felt the temperature fall from the suns retreat beyond the horizon.

The sun passed and night fell as they nestled into their bedrolls and huddled up against the coals of the fire before drifting off to sleep. Scant was nervous to sleep, the guide had warned them about strange dreams in the night during their journey. All of Scants life the only dreams he had were quite normal. Like the dreams of anyone else he would visit memories of his past, reenacting moments of his life long gone with fine detail. When the dreams came this night it was nothing like his normal dreams, this was something new, not the simple memories he was accustomed. They felt unnatural from the moment he closed his eyes.

He stood there before the Gates of Hell, it ungulated before him, mere feet from him. It was reaching out to him, calling to him. Was that a figure he saw moving within the darkness? That couldn't be right, nothing could enter the Nine Hells and survive not without being a God like Khaliss, not even the beasts that emerged from it. Suddenly hands jutted forth from the darkness, he lurched back falling to the ground before awakening in the early morning light of the next day. His heart was racing, his surroundings seemed unreal for a brief moment, like a shadow of the real world. Where was he? What was... Thats right. He looked around to see Mehnta already awake. He sat on the ground his head resting on his knees the soft words of a prayer to Khaliss on his lips.

"How did the dreams treat you young masters?" Their guide said as he rolled up his bed and lashed it to his pack. He wore a jovial smile and seemed well rested. The man seemed to enjoy their discomfort like a young boy who enjoys frightening his parents with creeping insects.

"You said that we would have strange dreams," Scant said "but I have never had a dream like that..."

"Yes yes, I would not worry. They pass with time and distance. They are quite frightening at first but they grow on you. My own have become much more interesting as I have spent more and more time near the Gap."

They hurridly packed away camp setting off through the wooded hills toward their destination. The guide made it very clear that he would not be staying at the Gap past midday, he would get a safe distance from it before nightfall and reccomended they stay close and do the same if they wished to stay alive. Nighttime, he said, was the time the wall was most active, most dangerous. Quickening their pace Scant lead the small band, he hoped to have as much time as possible inspecting the darkness up close.

They made decent time only stopping once for dried fruit and hard sausage, resting their tired feet as they chewed. Sweat dripped from Scants face soaking clear through his linen shirt darkening it at the pits and chest. The woods closed in around them as he reached the bottom of the last hill, it was strange to see an inky blackness instead of more trees and sky throught the treeline. It brought on a bout of disorientation again not as strong as the first but it was still there.

Walking slowly he crossed into a clearing within the forest. The dark wall ran through the middle of the clearing churning silently, quiet as the grave. He could see whisps of blackness trailing off the top like a slow flame. It was easily 13 feet tall, maybe more, there didn't seem to be a definite line where the wall of darkness ended, it rose and fell with the whisps of darkness. Scant approached getting as close as he dared, his heart thundered probably from the hastened march through the woodland. The guide decided to sit, resting at the edge of the little clearing, his back up against a tree as he drank deeply from his water skin.

Scant knelt down grabbing a stone tossing it into the darkness. It passed through it without a sound, vanishing into the black substance. How interesting, he didn't even hear the stone land on the ground, assuming there was ground in Hell. He found a long stick on the ground and picked it up getting closer to the massive dark.

"Do you have to Scant?" Mehnta said, his body tense "I don't think you should go poking at Hell. What if something comes out? What if something grabs you? What if your pride awakens Deth himself? What if he posses you like he did Jaedus the betrayer?" The questions cascaded, one after another, built up over the course of their week long hike. It seemed a damn holding back the worry within Mehnta had finally given way. Scant shook his head looking back at his brother trying hard to look more calm than he felt.

"Jaedus allowed his posseson by Deth when he turned Khaliss over to the Grand Viziers in Chiros, not because he poked a stick at Hell. If a demon comes out we run, like the guide said, the demons mostly emerge at night as it is. I will be fine brother, stand back and hide if you wish. I want to know what happens for myself." Scant steeled himself, he could still feel his heart thudding in his chest so he took a few breaths calming hilself before raising the stick again.

He slowly pushed the stick into the blackness, he felt... Nothing. Nothing at all, it was as if he was holding the stick and nothing had changed. Pulling back the stick he noticed that any part that had sunk into the darkness did not return. He examined the end of the stick closely. It looked like it had been sheered off with expert precision. The end of the stick was smooth to the touch as if it had been cut using a saw with other-worldly sharpness, held by a the perfectly steady hand of a God.

"Mehnta! Look at this!" He exclaimed, bubbling with excitement. Turning to see his brother who stood next to the Guide at the edge of the clearing. He'd taken his pack off and was just standing there, too skittish to come any closer to the Edge of the World. After all the time and money they had spent it seemed a waste for him to just sit there. The man was mere feet away from a sight that many people lived, loved, and passed on without ever getting a glimpse of. This had always been his brothers way, Scant called him scared but Mehnta was cautious, overly reserved for one so young. Scant had always relied on his brother which is probably why Mehnta was so reserved. As the older of the two Mehnta always acted with more care and forethought, probably to protect his foolish and headstrong little brother safe. Scant walked over holding the stick.

"Look," he said again, "its like the branch was sheered off as cleanly as any cut I have ever seen. I think I felt the stick lighten when I pulled it back. I need to try with something bigger." Scant felt alive, more invigorated than he'd felt in a couple passing when he'd shown Lord Ket'rihn his idea for a new pully system to haul ore from the mines. Even after the fast pace hike and the sleepless night he still felt more alert than he had the enitre trip. Searching the grass of the clearing he found a much larger branch, tossing the first stick aside he picked up the branch.

It was half as thick as his wrist and the imbalanced length of it required him to hold it with both hands to keep it up and level. He walked to the Edge, this close enough to see shifting patterns in the darkness. Almost like a smoke or mist, but it moved much more slowly than either. Hefting the branch he sunk it into the dark wall and again he felt... nothing. Nothing changed until the moment he removed the branch, suddenly feeling the weight shift. All of the branch that had passed into the wall was gone, leaving nothing but another smoothed surface. It felt smoother than some tables he had eaten at and it puzzled him. What was sheering off the wood? His mind conconcted the image of a giant Tuskman similar to depictions from campfire stories. It stood just beyond the wall with a saw bitting into the wood as soon as he pulled it out.

Scant willed away the hours gleefully tossing various rocks and branches into the darkness, he eventually decided to relieve himself on the thing. Partly just to see what happened, but also as a sign of defiance against the Hellish dark that was a symbol of evil to me. His mind conjured an image of father Phejorn's face when the man learned he had pissed on the gates of hell, it nearly made him wet his own leg as he burst with laughter. Try as he might he couldn't convince Mehnta to come any closer than the clearings treeline. 

"I have seen what I came to see brother, you enjoy yourself." He said. It seemed like such a wast but Scant wouldn't waste the precious hours he had left at the edge of the world.

He had decided to put rocks through the dark, pulling them back partway through. He found the same errily smooth surface returning everytime. The ground was soon scattered with larger stones that he'd carefully rolled up to the edge before tipping them into the blackness then letting them fall back out revealing the smooths sheered stone. One stone had a beautiful crystaline structure inside so he packed it away as a momento of their adventure.

Adjusting the packs contents he made sure to properly stow his newfound treasure. While he knelt there in the grass, the errie black a few feet away, he heard a soft whisper on the wind. Turing to look at Mehnta and their Guide he saw they were cooking lunch. Steam was rising from the small cooking pot that hung over the fire. He called out to them.

"Did you say something?" he said. Mehnta perking up looked at him with a curious expresson before shaking his head.

"No, we didn't say anything." He said his brow furrowed. Then he heard it again, it was coming from behind him now. It was coming from Hell... His heart began to thunder in his ears. Maybe its just the wind, he told himself, but a small voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him, trying to get him to run. Run as far and fast as you can it seemed to say. Steeling his nerves he turned his ear leaning closer to the dark wall. He helf his breath faintly hearing a low thrumming noise, oddly it reminded him of the Alchari throat singers, they used strange warbbling tones made by tightening their throats to sing musical tones. Then he heard it a soft whisper that penetrated the low thrum.

"come... awaken... shape me..."

Scant lurched back screaming as he scurried away from the Maw of Hell. Mehnta pulled his dagger from his belt holding it at the ready and the Guide readied his walking staff searching for something to strike.

"What is it!" the guide barked. Scant jumped over the fire knocking the pot of stew to the ground, he crouched behind the guide looking out toward the wall. Nothing stirred but the leaves in wind, the crackling of the small cooking fire was the only sound.

"Th-there was something, it whispered through the Gate." he said. Standing there they held still their bodies tense, a bead of sweat ran down Scants brow and he wiped away in a quick motion.

"We should go. Now." the guide commanded. Kicking out the fire he slung his pack over his shoulders before grabbing the spilled cooking pots handle with his staff. He was walking back into the woods, nearly sprinting as he picked up speed, not even look back to see if they were following.

"Wait!" Scant yelled, turing to eye his pack sitting mere feet from Hell. Mehnta had his pack on and was already hurrying to keep up with the guide. He looked back at Scant.

"Come on Scant!" Hurry up!" he shouted. Scant breathed a few quick breaths and sprinted toward his pack, every fiber of his being was telling him to look at the blackness next to him but he resisted. Snatching up the bag, refusing to look up, he sprinted out of the clearing. As soon as he turned his back to the dark he felt something. It felt as if something was reaching for him, he felt it watching him, something deep within the dark, watching him like a Hawk stalking a rodent. Shivering his hair stood on end. The feeling chased him as he ran but he refused to look back until he reached the others, they were already sweating as they jogged uphill with their packs. There was nothing behind him that he could see.

After an hour of quiet hard marching though the wood, they finally slowed taking some breaths, resting their haggered bodies. Mehnta began laughing, it startled Scant, the Guide cracked a wan smile. The tension broke within Scant as his brothers deep laugh washed over him, he joined in. How could he have been so silly, the superstitions of his upbringing had surely played on his mind, it made perfect sense. The guide chucked saying that noone ever heard voices come from the Gap. They all told themselves it must've been in Scants mind, he must've panicked, and that panic had in turn infected them. Still Scant couldn't let go of what he'd heard.

"come... awaken... shape me..."

That night they awoke to the sounds like the roaring thunder traveling overhead. Bright orange lights arced across the night sky. Scant had never seen the formation himself but he knew who they were from the stories, every boy back in his home town dreamed of being one of those men. Gliding across the sky using the Channels of Power and the Gods Nectar to magically propell them though the air.

"Guardian Channelers." The guide said as he huddled next to the fire. "They must be patrolling the Gap, watching for what emerges."

Scant and Mehnta did not sleep well on the trip back to Lountal, the dreams followed for a few weeks slowly fading from his mind as they gained more distance. The trip back was a blur of sleepless exhaustion punctuated with endless walking.

Even now many Passings later he could still hear the words in his mind as clear as the memory of that bright afternoon where he'd played with the powers of Hell.

"come... awaken... shape me..."

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