The clothes were loose, baggy but sinched well at the ankles just above the bone. A fabric of something close to linen or flax. My tunic was the same stitch and weave but I had, around my shoulders, a ruana adjacent cloak that covered me well. It wrapped around my head, hooded with extra loose fabric that could be fastened around my throat to keep the wind at bay. I carried my backpack as usual and traversed long and sprawling paths that wove through tundra grasslands. The heathers were waist high and aromatic like lemon and tangy like copper when the breeze swept through. It would smell nice but the aroma was acrid and it burned the throat a little as you inhaled. Breathing through the nose was the better option, for breathing deeply through the throat irritated like inhaling a spice too strong. I would cover my nose and mouth with the cloth when I felt a breeze coming in to reduce the inhalation. I had been wise enough to pack water and drank to alleviate the increasing irritation as I climbed the expanse of a large bluff. I had caught the scent of something sweet and like umami. Woodsmoke carried the scent to me and I was intrigued by it immensely.
The narrow footpath was etched like a migratory pattern into the rocks and along the grasses. Where people had regularly traversed this road it was made clear through the pillars of stacked stones and lain rocks that served as markers down the somewhat steep decline down to the valley below. Nestled just in the breast of this place it extended out towards the sea in the far distance. But in the erstwhile there seemed to have been a traveling people. I could see their vague silhouettes moving about and I made my way down to them. They noticed my approach and came to meet me before I could get too close. Four of them came, tall though what seemed to be hunched over figures wearing strange masks of a wood but with cloth draped over the eyes and mouths of which there six eyes and three mouths, kept steady by rings of silver that the cloth wove through and was then strung to be made heavy with glass beads that made it resemble a beard or similar facial hair. They wore robes of cloth that were draped loosely around them but beneath I caught glimpses of dark brown fabrics that must have been their clothes.
I had held both my hands up for a moment and then pressed them to my chest for a moment to try and communicate that I was harmless and just travelling. The language that they spoke was unusual to my ears but it was familiar enough that I tried to speak back a tongue that I felt was adjacent or otherwise similar.
‘Are you a (pilgrim)?’
‘No, I am travelling elsewhere. Are you (your people) pilgrims to somewhere?’ I had asked.
‘Yes.’ A pause from the one speaking with me. Slightly shorter than the rest. Breath came in and out through the fabric upon the mouths of the mask. Hesitancy rippled between the four of them. Gentle clacking came and I was made aware that one held tightly in four hands, a long of beads and had been running its thumbs along the beads as if in counting - the ends dangled and pleasantly butted against one another as they swayed with the movements.
‘If I am trespassing,’ I had added, ‘I will find another path around you (your people).’
‘All Roads are One Road,’ it had said, ‘We are coming for the Festival of Lope. At the Peaks of Kl’ph Thrar.’
‘I know of the Sanctuary of Kl’ph Thrar,’ I had replied and pulled my backpack from my back. I crouched, digging through its contents hurriedly before grasping a small ornate and black box to which I opened it to them. ‘(Tokens) gifts from the Sanctuary. I am well and one with the High Crocral. Is that of what you speak?’
‘The Sanctuary is no more. It is a Temple in the name of the Great Emissary. It must have been some time since you had been. The High Crocral may not be the one which you remember.’
I put away the box and folded my bag back up as I questioned them. Between the four of them, they explained that the fall of the Sanctuary, some several “centuries” ago, was met with a great force that destroyed all but the pillars of sanctuary. Around which they built from Stones of the Maw of Obleg. I had brought my book out and began to write all of this down, scrawling the information down. Knowing how much time had passed would be good. As I was finishing up writing, they asked of me: ‘You are not a pilgrim to return for the Festival of Lope. You are on a dream quest. You are a dreamer. Is it to return a (Token) gift?’
‘That was my intent, yes. How did you know I was a dreamer?’
‘Another like you passed through here some days ago. For much less gentle hospitality.’
‘I can be on my way,’ I assured. ‘I did not anticipate finding anyone else out here.’
‘Will you join us?’ It suddenly asked and four thin, desiccated hands wearing elegant and beautiful black-gold metal I recognised as a mineral that comes from the temples of Nyarlathotep. They shimmered gently in the light and were just as black as the flesh.
‘I’ve only two,’ I laughed softly, but held it back a little, unsure of how laughter would be taken to these people; instead I made it sound like a nervous sound as I hesitantly took the topmost set of hands. They were corpse-like but felt firm and sturdy and fleshier than I anticipated and very rather warm like a body left out in the sun. I was grasped firmly and it walked backwards for a moment before pulling me gently alongside it.
‘We will be gentle with you. We herald good hospitality and would not take advantage of a crippled thing.’
I allowed them to lead me along to their people and their tents. They were polygonal panels made from a material I could not place but still fluttered against the wind as it came and went. I covered my face once more and took steady and even breaths as I was lead to the tent at the very furthest end along the road.
‘You may desire a mask,’ it had told me and I realised as it has spoken that the other three had gone separate ways. ‘Filter the lungs from it (pollen). It will make you unwell in body. Not good for the eyes or inside your body.’
‘I may be able to fashion something.’ I had replied loosely. Though faltered on my word usage and stumbled on what to call “make or fabricate”.
The entrance was a flap door, something that peeled away and looked stiff like tanned flesh but then secured well back into place as I was welcomed inside the small space. The middle had a ember-like stone that glowed and was warm the closer I got to it. Surrounding it was a cluster of deep blue cushions with rug-like blankets thrown over them. I did not move immediately so as to not trespass on any customs.
‘Be Welcomed.’ it finally spoke and I sat on one of the cushions. It began to undress some, pulling the robes free. It unwinded the fabric from its body like a massive sheet and I began to do the same, exposing my clothes as what seemed to be more customary. Once the large swath of cloth was removed I realised that it was not, actually, a being that was hunched in nature but its own bag had been upon its back and was set carefully beside it. It then undid some fastening from the mask and pulled it from its face. The gaunt and hallowed features of it were just as desiccated in appearance as the rest of its body. Like a creature pulled limb from limb, the clothing it wore was a darker brown almost golden tone compared to the taupe of my tunic but was similar in style though bore no sleeves and simply was tied at its sides with beautiful threads that glimmered almost metal-like. It had long dread-like hair in thin and beautifully braided strands that cascaded down its back and down its chest, freed by whatever it had used to tie the mask back. Six obsidian eyes reflected the red glow of the stone. When it spoke, its mouth opened and the way that the clicks and hums of the language came from it were accentuated or adjusted to the second mouth that hid behind the thin and rather non-existent lips that its face had. There was not much of a nose at all, really, but a slight mound where nasal passages would be and slits like a serpent.
It did not blink.
I crossed my legs carefully, sitting peacefully there and watching it with as much restraint as I could with my expressions. To me, this individual was rather handsome. I could feel myself grow a bit warm and did my best to be as good as a guest as I could. It produced a clay pot from its bag and set it upon the ember like stone between us. Water was added. And then it produced a terracotta like sphere similar to that of an egg upon which it was cracked like an egg and out poured a strange viscous liquid with large sheets of chunks within it. ‘You drink tea?’
‘Yes. Yes I do indeed. Thank you,’ I had answered, eager for a warm drink.
It took a ladle-like tool and began to stir the pot slowly with one hand. With the other, it adjusted its ‘hair’, pulling it back behind the shoulders it had - boney things with the skin pulled taut against whatever could be bones for it. I could see the ripple of its skeleton (given I assumed it had one to begin with), and did my best to not stare disrespectfully.
‘You are unusual. Unlike the dreamer that came to us some time ago,’ it spoke a bit quietly. ‘It was shorter. Than you. And seemed afraid of us. You do not seem afraid of us.’
‘I have met many peoples that are different.’
‘I as well. But it traded and wanted nothing more to do with us. Though it slept nearby. With it, though, it did have a mask to protect from the pollen,’ it paused in stirring, ‘I will give to you one (mask). It no longer is suitable for me.’
I slowly reached for my bag and it watched me with slight caution, ‘I have many things from my travels,’ I had explained, careful, ‘Equal for Equal?’
‘I would not mind seeing what you may have if it entices me,’ it made a purring sound as it spoke, a sound of thrill and excitement. ‘Else if you must be fair to trade we may negotiate another arrangement to share. It is not good Faith to leave a one like you (disabled) to pilgrimage without it.’
I rummaged, sorting through the things I knew I would not be likely to need nor care if I departed with. From a blade that was gifted, to some medicinal herbs I had collected. I produced a cloth blanket of sorts and some navigation stones, of which I was hesitant but still offered. I also offered some salts and incenses, some chalks and large sack of ash I had been carrying around. I was hesitant with the ash as well, for it was the most valuable of the items I had procured.
It took a look at everything, fascinate and intrigued by them. We spoke off and on about the different objects and it took great interest in the navigational stones but expressed that mine were beautiful but it had its own Navigation Stones to work with. However, it may be inclined to trade mine for its. I was fascinated by the prospect and agreed, setting them aside for a potential exchange later.
Ultimately, it did not feel any strong pull either way towards what I had offered but appreciated the offer. ‘You may travel with us, if you are on the same foot as we.’ It had begun to offer up the tea, using the ladle to spoon two clay cups with many grooves along the sides. The tea was a pale yellow and smelt sweet like how watermelon is sweet but tasted like sun dried tomatoes and parsley.
Before I drank, it brought its cup over the stone, holding it with all four hands, cupping it tenderly. I did the same and it gently touched its cup to mine with something akin to a smile. It let out a breathy gesture, a vibration that I was not sure of but the feeling that came to me was warm and pleasant. ‘Your laugh is nice,’ I spoke.
‘Do you laugh?’
‘Yes. I laugh,’ and I laughed at the idea of it. Pleased. I sipped and it did as well; I watched the ripple effect of it parting its lips, tilting the cup and then from the depths of its mouth a new mouth opened up and swallowed it down, a tongue slipping forwards and rolling the liquid to the back of its throat.
‘I would like to ask you questions,’ It inquired, sitting similarly to me. Though its boney legs protruded from the things that would be trousers, leaving bare the ebony flesh of its narrow legs which were slightly reminiscent of that of an insect to me, though really were just as dissected as the rest of it.
‘What questions?’ I drank my tea slowly.
‘About you,’ its voice was rumbling deep in its chest. ‘I do not see many dreamers. Like where you come from.’
‘I come from The Crossroads. But I hail from Shaag as you but from Aep é Nar’thaquá.’
The look of surprise was strangely human. I was not ready for it and it startled me. ‘You are far from many (your) homes,’ it clicked and whispered.
‘I am. I am comfortable on these journeys. It brings me peace and joy. I find pleasure in the Path.’
‘The Path brings many to harmony. Or to despair.’
‘Harmony. It is with much joy I meet others. To sit here with (you) and to meet others (people) from across Shaag (Dreamlands) is the Path for me.’ Was my reply to its inquiry.
‘Will you join us to our pilgrimage?’ It poured us both more tea from the pot, steam rising gently from it like an incense.
‘Yes.’ I was quick to answer. ‘If you will carry me.’
‘I must ask another question. You have but two arms and eyes.’ It was polite. Bowing its head and pressing two of its hands together with each question. As it spoke it opened its palms up to me like a book as if receiving and receptive to an answer.
‘It is all this form affords. I may adopt another at the Temple of 'Ygiroth through Communion. This one works.’
‘It looks soft.’
‘It is soft. But durable enough. Yours is… interesting.’
‘It frightened the other Dreamer.’ The vibration and warmth came again. And I smiled.
‘I do not find it so. I find it with the Allure of the Emissary.’
It made a sound that was startling to me but its body went rigid with surprise. Its unblinking eyes felt wholly focused on me and for a moment I considered I had offended it. ‘You honour me with your words of Faith.’
I was smiling at that, hiding my face as I drank the last of my tea and cupped my hands around the clay vessel to offer it as I watched it grasp the ladle once more. It served me more tea. ‘Tell me why the pollen is a hazard?’
It made a deep throaty sound and both mouths opened wide. A breathy exhale coming from it. ‘The pollen,’ it closed the both of them, ‘It is a song. To twist the mind of its grasps. The traveller will become lost and succumb to its will within the fields where it will feed the flowers.’
‘I did not know. I gladly thank you for offering me the mask. I must ask. Why three mouths? You’ve six eyes.’
It displayed both mouths within one another, and then waved its hands as if putting itself on display for me to see. ‘I would show. If I do not skitter you.’
‘I am fascinated by you.’
It pulled its tunic up, rolling it mindfully until its chest bore a slit like structure that opened up wide revealing a toothy maw of neatly rowed teeth and black tissue down a throat. It barely was raised on its flesh in any way and ran vertically along its front. It then twisted in an unnatural way to reveal another upon its back between bony protrusions that would be shoulder blades, flexing a little as it gaped and clenched, opening and closing.
‘You have four mouths?’ I inquired.
‘Yes. Though the mask bears three to represent the Faces of the Messenger God.’
‘Not exactly feasible to make a mouth hole within the mouth hole, I wager,’ I teased and it made that gentle warm vibration and breath again.
‘I suppose it is not. Does my tea please?’
I nodded, swallowing down another drink, ‘Mmm…’ I pressed my lips together. nodding as I worked it down my throat and I swallowed. It was a thick liquid. But its body made me feel full. ‘It does. Your hospitality has been kind to me. I did not realise how fatigued I had become.’
‘You may rest in my nook (tent). We will travel tomorrow. It will be good to have a face (person) unknown to us on our journey. I may ask upon you to let me touch you.’
‘If you will take that as payment for the mask, I am pleased to allow such a thing,’ I used a teasing tone but it was not an inflection that worked in this dialect.
‘To wear it outside the nook is important. It will keep you safe.’ It stood, slow and languid and I watched the flesh stretch on its body as it did so. Tight and lean. From the tent it arranged things, pulling a thick mat-like blanket and unrolling it in a corner. ‘For your body.’
I thanked it and it bowed gently towards me, leaning like a tree. ‘I will tell ours (people/community) and return. I am eager for our night together.’
The following day I had packed my things and was shown how to wear the mask. Their faces were much longer than mine but it worked well and I wrapped my cloak about my head and tightened it to ensure the mask’s effectiveness. They, too, packed, piling their things onto a sledge-like wagon that was hauled by two tri-coloured creatures that resembled great yaks or similar bovine - though with horns like that of an elk. I walked beside it, and learned its name to be Klth’yct. We spoke a lot about my travels and its travels as we walked.
Before we had departed the encampment, it had adjusted my clothing and my cloak as to cover my bag and most parts of me much better. Klth’yct had told me that it was to ‘reduce the cling of the pollen’ though it struggled to cling to smoother surfaces like the cloak. But it would settled upon wrinkles and crevasses. Movement kept it from settling heavily on the body and it dusted off finely so there was little concern nor risk. But to keep my bag covered would help to reduce the pollen.
I had gotten to speak to several others whom were fascinated by my “paler flesh” and my two arms. They had been interested in touching me and feeling me and were fascinated by how “fleshy” I felt and also had offered to carry my things so I was not struggling. I had assured them I was quite well and could see and move well enough but if I were to struggle I would let them know.
Klth’yct was patient through this, allowing me to handle my presence myself. It seemed I was a welcomed travelling companion. We travelled for three days with rests quite frequently but did not stop properly and set up encampment until the third night.
I had settled down into Klth’yct’s nook, to which it had come to sit beside me, offering tea. We drank and spoke and when it came to rest, I was offered a band of its braided hair that was fastened around my wrist. I thanked it and had gone to bed.
