Churnwalker Lore
Last updated
Last updated
For the Guildmaster’s eyes only:
I have emerged from within the Churn-infested volcano at the center ofShichi Shima Shotou, which we call the Seven Islands, thanks to the environmentally sealed suit that I commissioned with a considerable amount of my own wealth and in utmost secrecy. I am unharmed but for bumps and bruises and full of never-before-reported information. I have not yet stopped to rest, as my mind races with the magnanimity of what I’ve witnessed.
I traveled alone into that heart of that darkness, and I am unashamed to admit that I was terrified. Ashen, slow-moving magma cooled into igneous pathways that I followed, spiraling down wherever I could find sure footing. I soon found evidence of life: Silversword plants and green-red moss struck out from the porous rock faces with threatening beauty. The ground thickened with shrubs and ferns and then various jungle trees which grew to monstrous size the further into the volcano I ventured.
All was silent while the Churn took notice of me, stalking me like a predator, sniffing at my fear. And then, it began to speak. I heard its whispers in the small hairs on my neck, uttering a language I have never heard. When I spun to see what whispered, I saw nothing. Soon it was inside my mind, replacing my own language, so that my thoughts spooled out in these strange syllables. “Ebbet ikro ido?” it demanded, and somehow I knew to respond, aloud, with my own name.
Behind the giant leaves, I observed enormous scorpions and beetles that skittered, without sound, away from the dim light. Growth burst from every available finger-width of rich soil, vines and leaves and slithering things fighting for space, twisting around one another. A bright red frog eyed me from its perch on a tall branch; a snail wide as a dinner plate made its slow way up a thorny tree; pigeons the size of eagles sailed overhead. I snapped a flower twice the size of my head from its stalk and the flower struggled in my grip; I watched it grow a new stem that plowed deep into the volcanic soil by my feet with haughty indignance, and the whisper said,“Astek givav ikri edu buvad bebu…”
I might have wandered forever in the Churn, lost in its endless wonders, if not for the storm. As I approached the heart of the volcano, the mist grew thicker and swirled with igneous dust. I pushed forward even when I could not see, drawn to the whispers which grew louder and more insistent with every step, until the ground beneath my feet trembled. I lost my footing and was tossed away by the storm. My arms flailed in a panic; I grasped a thick palm branch, but I was flung away again by the strong wind.
In that Churnstorm I experienced a most strange phenomenon: I saw visions of myself reflected in the fog and dust all around me. I call them visions, for they could not have beenme, but they were solid as I. So disturbing were these visions that I couldn’t bear to not embody them; in this one thought I felt in my body a painful buckling, a sensation like all of my bones breaking, folding in on themselves and then unfolding again into another of the visions.
When the hurricane began to sweep me again deeper into the volcano, I willed myself to be another vision of myself, and traveled to it in the same fashion. In this way, trespassing from vision to vision, I managed to make my way toward the visible sky. As my men pulled me by the arms to safety, I heard the whisper insist,“Ikro vli ve shavod.” I am told that I responded, “Oeda vli stishad!” I do not remember this, nor do I have any understanding of this phrase.
My terrified fellow Explorers have surmised that this would be my last — indeed any human’s last — excursion of its kind. This belies nothing but an unforgivable lack of imagination. I have already begun sketching out a pulley system to be worn upon the shoulders of my sealed suit, through which would crank lengths of chain and hooks, to secure me into the ground or onto sturdy plant life for encounters with future Churnstorms. The scientific implications of Churn study cannot now be denied.
All secrets are worth knowing, Martim Walker
For the Guildmaster’s eyes only:
How strange it is to emerge into the Calm after weeks or months — time does not track the same in The Churn and without my crew I have no way of knowing for how long I have remained inside — and be surrounded again by the inane bustling of villages and cities, with their fleeting governments and their fragile people so concerned with trivialities. My vision-jumps, which I call “Trespassing,” allow me to travel quickly across Churn-infected land. On occasion I surface in a small pocket of Calm inside which thrives an insulated population with no knowledge of the outside world. What a fright I must seem, in my Churn suit and pulley system, speaking no language they know! I imagine they have drummed up terrifying stories of warning about me for their children.
I received your letter in Crescent City denying future stipends and commanding me home due to expired treaties in the Eventides and what I believe is unwarranted concern for my physical well-being. Indeed, Churnstorms are stronger the closer one comes to the wells, but I make good use of my ingenious chain and pulley system, not only for its grounding effect but for the pacification of violent Churnbeasts. Oftimes, a deep hooking and a masterly shake of the chain makes those overgrown animals whimper like lap puppies.
Your concern for my mental state could be valid — I do hear the whispers whenever the Churn is near. Perhaps it has taken on me a vengeance for my trespassing. It whispers to me things about myself which I do not know, things of which I had no conception until I delved into this great solitude. It has created a hollow core in me, in which the whisper loudly echoes — or perhaps the space that my former fears occupied has been filled by this greater wisdom.
After a night deep in the spirits with the local Islanders, I have carried onward into Les Côtes D’Olives despite your concerns. When I have sent to you my charts and findings, I am certain all will be forgiven.
All secrets are worth knowing, Martim Walker
~
Excerpt from the recovered letters of Martim Walker
For the Guildmaster’s eyes only:
Enclosed you shall find the completed charts of the wells of power on two continents, through the overrun Gythian provinces of Aurellium and Renaia; under the ocean surrounding Taizen Gate; alongLes Côtes D’Olives, where the Churn boils the sea and the coral reefs grow wild and carnivorous; over the Seven Islands andHorangee-go’t, the Tiger Peninsula; over the Ancient Wall and all through the Lost Continent; and even deep into the uncrossable desert of The Shimmer. I am sure you will see, for you_must_see, the importance of this work and of your continued patronage.
I have sent these despite the discovery that the guild has disowned me and, by association, my family, leaving them penniless and my children without professions. Is it true that some believe I am dead, and that my published work has been discarded and banned in Gythia? I can but hope that these are vicious rumors; just in case, I have donated my private collection to the House of Insight in the Glass City to ensure its preservation.
In my weeks there, I allowed myself to be examined by their physicians. In their mirrors I saw myself at last with my suit removed and found that my flesh had changed. My suit was not as sealed from the elements as I thought. This malfunction has proved correct my inoculation hypothesis. The marvelous scientists of The Shimmer concur.
All secrets are worth knowing, Martim Walker
The new Guildmaster has, after consideration of my work, refused to publish it, declaring me an obsessed madman. Stida evibez! I have also intercepted letters from my wife about our children, now grown. I recorded my departure from my little children only a few seasons past, but time flows at a different pace in the Churn. I reconciled both lunar and solar calendars and the star charts, and I have determined that I left my country some ninety years ago. I should be long dead, yet I thrive. I must make detailed notes of this anomaly, even though the Cartographers have abandoned me. I will cast no more pearls before the swine of Gythia.
The speech of my birth no longer lives on my tongue; ida gekra ivi beu idat daxdaz. Only by hand may I communicate in Gythian now, and only with great concentration. Always, too, the whisper beckons me home.
I have learned to communicate with Churnbeasts using the Churn language… hush now,_bast! Ikra dabdaz vist…though they are as likely to be commanded as the Summer Queen of Lionne, long may the stubborn old girl reign. It is to her I shall send my latest work. I have detected a well of power buried deep within the mountain from which might be siphoned energy to empower the queen’s armies. It will not be long before the greedy mage queens pacify the Eventides, and then they shall turn their eyes to the ever-weakening Gythian empire. Her triumph shall be my revenge.
All secrets are worth knowing, Martim Walker
~
And now it is rumored that I never lived at all!Ide velshibe ebbat ide vli gekre. No matter; ide vl’oede idam bastad. While the Cartographers politicked in comfort, it was I, only I, who explored the wild world and mapped the unmappable.Ide f’ijbre jid idam, one way or the other, for the Churn’s power rises through the soil, lurking beneath us all.Ikri ust edu beu idum; it islife, bequeathed to us in teaspoon sips until we step past the barrier of fear and immerse ourselves in that…hehva… ov hehva… that darkness. When we allow that power to course through our veins, when our hearts align with that dark heart of the world’s true life source, then we are free to guzzle from life’s overflowing river. No more are we slaves to society’s petty constructs of fear. Within the Churn there is no today and no… no jid’hok, and so there is no fear of death. Indeed when death does come for me, my corpse will rot smiling, feeling my life’s work well done.
All secrets are worth knowing, Martim Walker
~
What is the Churn but another…givav… what is the word in Gythian? …upon which I am the only man, save perhaps he who whispers to me there? I surfaced into the Calm this morning with my charts and diaries bundled for delivery and hiked to the nearest port having spoken and heard nothing but the Churn language for so long –buvo exi stex?– that it took some hours for my mind to decipher…world, that is the word! Anotherworld_upon which I am the only man. I have come to realize that life, as they think of it in the Calm, is… what is the word? Ve dlibu… a dream, and the creatures within that dream worthless, one misstep from the Netherworld; it is no cruelty that Churnbeasts kill creatures of the Calm with impunity, for to Churn creatures, a thing that dies with ease is not worth the air it breathes.
must make these notes before I submerge again, for I forget more and more the language of my birth; I hear the Churn whispering in and out of the Calm now. The whisper is my only companion, or perhapsikri ust beu idam; in either instance there is only one living world for me now. For I am the Churn, and the Churn is mine, and I will not stop my work, never.Ikri idat, e voda vl’ebbut.
All secrets are worth knowing, Martim Walker
~
So I am a monster they say, the world over, and perhapside ikre kiovebraka, for my name fades even from my own memory, along with my wife’s voice, the laughter of my son, the taste of my mother’s baked clams and crusty bread. Now I am a warning, in a thousand languages, to naughty children: Never, no never, wander beyond the Calm, for The Churnwalker lurks within…
I hear pieces of news, out of order and meaningless: a civil war in Gythia, the discovery of crystal mines on Tiger Peninsula, a technological revolution in the House of Insight, a young Storm Queen building her capital city atop the buried well of power on Mont Lille. Perhaps, when the time is right, I shall return to help topple the empire that discarded my life’s work, destroyed my name, and ruined my family.Ikra ov Churnwalker. If it is a monster they want, thenikri v’ahskad f’ave.
Edu drovliz ikre skiv gekradaz, The Churnwalker
Isha vavad, shobez! Which of you darlings is the guest of honor? Don’t be shy. This is a happy occasion, so smile,_like me! I have candy, and magic, and tricks to show you. Don’t you want to see my tricks? Aren’t you funny, running away, as if you could ever escape me. A Churnstorm blew me away, and it will blow all of you away too unless you stay close. And if you won’t stay, I’ll _make you stay with these fun hooks. Better to stay than be blown away, friends. Absto, ido oedo ikrad ahskadez ugui idam!
