From: Doyle Wayne Ramos-Tavener (dmtavener@ev1.net)
Date: Sat 01 Apr 2000 - 20:02:55 EEST
At 01:45 PM 4/1/00 , Terra Incognita wrote:
>Switch, Shift, Change of Cultural Plains / Dimensions are method of this
>FREX RW, using Cross-links of Mythology without Any Reverence, as Roger
>Zelazny "Amber" Character.
(Snip interesting description of Heroquesting, using real world Myth.)
This was cool, and is fairly close to the way I see Heroquesting, as well,
especially as practiced by the heavy hitters such as Jar-eel and Argrath.
I wrote something similar to this when I wrote a piece on the Subtle Planes
for the Nephilim game (in Nephilim, the Subtle Planes are the loose
equivalent of the Hero Plane of Glorantha).
Here's an excerpt, for those who are interested:
The two characters who are depicted are Harmenides and Rakhos, two Nephilim
who have ascended to become Agarthans. An Agarthan is a Nephilim that is
able to travel through the Subtle Planes, also referred to as Agartha.
Harmenides is the narrator, who speaks first in the passage. Rakhos is the
second speaker, who acts as a Virgil-like figure to Harmenides' Pilgrim.
_____________________________________________________
As we left (doubt in my heart) I again queried about the nature of 'The
Road', as he had put it.
"That is a simple quest. One only needs to travel down a road, any road,
with the proper amount of ritual and intent. Then one must confront the
dangers that lie upon any road. There are three in number: brigands,
losing your way and the temptation to stray off the path. Each of these
would take form to challenge you.
If you succeed, and arrive safely at the center, you will learn a great
secret: All Roads are One. Then, you can travel to any place in the
mundane world that is connected to a road system as quickly as a stroll to
a neighbor's house".
We returned to The Road without further comment. It seemed to stretch
before us, behind and forward, into infinity. But my awe was insufficient
to stifle my continued questioning.
"Tell me, what is the nature of these texts for the Subtle Planes that are
not contiguous with the mundane world? How does one interact with them?"
"Through Ritual. You are a master of Ritual, are you not? In the same way
that ritual draws down power into the mundane world, Ritual can be used to
enter the Mythic World, the Subtle Planes".
I thought on this a moment. We used ritual in magic to make the Mundane
world conform to our will. This is made possible, because we emulate and
call upon great powers.
When I call upon Thunor to smite my enemies with his thunder, (a work of
Fire magic, which I am not adept at) I act, in a way, as Thunor
himself. Yet, it seems altogether a different thing to call upon Thunor in
order to enter Asgard. I brought this concern to Rakhos' attention.
"Imagine for a moment that you are an ancient Norseman. How would you
travel to Asgard?"
"I would die in battle".
"There is that, certainly, but are there other methods?"
"I suppose that I could get on a longship, and sail north, until I saw
Bifrost".
"Just so. Can you imagine a ritual which might bring Bifrost to you?"
"There are Air magics, governed by Mercury, that will form a rainbow. But
a rainbow is always in the distance. How does one arrive at it?"
"Summon the rainbow".
"I would need a circle, as well as my implements…"
"No, you do not. Summon the rainbow".
It was more of a command than I had heard him assume before, but I
complied. I believe, in some subtle way, that he was aiding my magic, for
Air magics do not come that easily to me. And it was the middle of the night.
Or so I had assumed. But as I intoned the ritual, The sun began to rise
above the horizon, its first rays striking the dew-laden air of the
morning. To this day, I do not know if my magic would have been necessary
for the rainbow to appear, so perfect were the conditions of the dawn.
As it appeared, we walked The Road toward it. The rainbow grew broader,
and broader, until it was the road, under our feet and we walked through a
dark void.
"All Roads are One," he said to me, "and what is Bifrost if not a bridge,
which is road over a great gulf?"
As I viewed the gulf, the void below us, I trembled.
At length we came to a great plain, dominated by… a city? I would not have
called it so. There were a great many halls, beautifully and masterfully
built. There were walls, made of huge giant-wrought stones. And there was
a guardian, bearing a sword, at a gate before us. Rakhos stepped forward
and spoke, in a language with which I was unfamiliar. He turned to me, and
said,
"Yggdrasil awaits us. We must climb to arrive at our destination".
I questioned him no more. Here, my awe was complete. On the plain, there
was a tree, whose leaves, as we approached it, seem to overrun the sky. It
was gnarled, and as we drew closer, I realized that the grooves were huge,
so that one could walk down the side of the tree as if it were a staircase.
As we descended, I found my voice, and asked, "That was Heimdall?"
"Yes, and no. I knew him as Duerin, who achieved Agartha before I had". I
suppose my shock was evident, for he continued without further
question. "He had been worshipped as Heimdall around 600. When he found
it necessary to travel here, he was…sublimated. There are many dangers for
those who make these journeys, not the least of which is being swallowed by
the texts that we ourselves helped write. You were never a god, were you?"
"No".
"I had not thought so".
By this time, we had begun to walk a great branch, instead of
descending. The branch slowly became a path, and we found ourselves in a
great coniferous forest. I cast a questioning glance at my companion.
"Alfheim. But we do not tarry here. There is another forest, more
primeval than this, and elves that are far older, that I wish you to
see. It is a simple thing to go from one place of elves to another".
He turned to me directly, and said, "You, Elf, hold the key to the place
which we which to travel to. Remember we wish to travel to a far older
forest. Show us the way".
It was a challenge, of sorts. I held no doubts that he already knew the
way. I thought for a moment.
It is a paradox that as forests grow older, they grow smaller. Only
forests of the past are great.
I reached out (again, without a circle) and sung to the trees around us,
imploring their aid, making them grow thicker, higher, making the growth
overwhelm us.
And so we walked more, the forest around us growing thicker and thicker,
until we saw a great clearing, where many Elves moved about, singing trees
into shapes, both pleasant and bittersweet. The Elves themselves seemed
both ancient and young, and though they laughed, there were shadows in
their eyes. They were Fey.
____________________________________________
Doyle Wayne Ramos-Tavener
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End of The Glorantha Digest V7 #509
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