The Spirit of Winter
Summary
"Long ago, there was a beautiful maiden of unquestionable virtue. A hunter's daughter, she was. Having grown tired of her life in Pinewatch, she set out to find a husband. 'Ere long, she set her eyes upon a strapping young lad that had built a cottage in The Green Teeth as he fished along the banks of Lake Cainlin. So struck by his appearance was she, his rugged features and sturdy composition, love was instantaneous.
Having no wife and no companion in his cottage, the boy took her in. They shared many years together, tilling the forest floor and hunting for deer. Then, as often is the case, she found she was with child. Upon hearing this news, the boy, now a man, began a grand undertaking. Deciding that he wanted more for his child than a drafty cottage in the woods, he set his mind to building a grand tower.
Letting his ambition and pride guide his arm, he quarried stone from the feet of the nearby mountains. In no time at all, the tower craned above the trees though it was not to his liking. Deciding that such a grand home would need a grand belfry, he hefted not one bell, nor two, but three bells as large as a giant's eye to the pinnacle. Having affixed two bells, he prepared to secure the third.
Laughter rang out in the valley, reverberating off the mountains and cresting over the small waves lapping at the shore. Black Bess had come for the youth in his hour of triumph and fulfillment. A misplaced hand-hold, a slipshod approach, followed by a terrible fall. Hurtling through the air, plummeting toward the waters below, he screamed, arms flailing wildly, trying to catch some unseen salvation.
With a great splash, he broke the water's surface. Not having yet fallen victim to Lady Doom's vile machinations, he fought the currents below. As he neared the crisp morning air above the water, a black shape made itself apparent...from above. The bell. The bell that was to ring on the hour of his child's birth had come to claim him in the name of Beshaba.
The silence of the morning was broken by the loud gong of irony colliding with fate. The bell, having struck the water with it's metallic maw facing downward into the cresting waves encircled the man. Borne below in his iron tomb, he was left with a small pocket of air; one last twist of the knife by the hand of misfortune. As the bell settled on the bottom of the lake, his ears perked at the sound of a wailing babe. It was then that he realized his intent had been fulfilled; that the bell had rang on the hour of his child's birth.
Though the maiden loved her partner dearly, she shed not a tear. She had to remain strong for her daughter. Through the years, she maintained her steel resolve, warning her daughter against angering the gods.
While her daughter was as beautiful as her mother, in time she came to be as strong and sturdy as her father. Learning of the fate her father had suffered, she had long been determined to defy the Goddess of Misfortune and rescue her father from his watery prison. Swimming down into the murky blackness, her lungs ached in protest. Her hands felt blindly for some sign of her goal. There! An old, rusty chain through the apex loop of a bell!
Setting her feet against the lake bed and her will against fate, she pushed, pulled, and hefted...but to no avail. The bell had not budged. Remembering the sadness she had seen behind her mother's eyes, spurred on greater feats of strength and determination. With one last push, the lip of the bell rose from the muck. There, floating in the inky blackness was a man, bloated, and waterlogged...her father. Her goal in sight, she reached for the corpse.
One misplaced hand-hold, a slipshod approach, followed by a terrible fall. Her legs slid from under her, causing her to lose her balance. She fell into the yawning mouth of her father's tomb as the lip, the door sealing her damnation, fell behind her. Once again in the valley, there resounded a loud gong.
Knowing instantly, as mothers are wont to do, what had befallen her daughter, the woman wept. Her sobs wracked her body as grief overtook her. The shaking of her body and the vibrations of the bell unsettled the foundations of the tower. It, like all she had loved, sank beneath the waves.
Now, the woman's spirit haunts the lake. Some say she's a harbinger of death. Others say she is a tender ghost looking to shield the souls of the living against the fickle love of the gods. Me? I think just wants her family back, but you won't catch me pissing in the face of Beshaba to help her."
Having no wife and no companion in his cottage, the boy took her in. They shared many years together, tilling the forest floor and hunting for deer. Then, as often is the case, she found she was with child. Upon hearing this news, the boy, now a man, began a grand undertaking. Deciding that he wanted more for his child than a drafty cottage in the woods, he set his mind to building a grand tower.
Letting his ambition and pride guide his arm, he quarried stone from the feet of the nearby mountains. In no time at all, the tower craned above the trees though it was not to his liking. Deciding that such a grand home would need a grand belfry, he hefted not one bell, nor two, but three bells as large as a giant's eye to the pinnacle. Having affixed two bells, he prepared to secure the third.
Laughter rang out in the valley, reverberating off the mountains and cresting over the small waves lapping at the shore. Black Bess had come for the youth in his hour of triumph and fulfillment. A misplaced hand-hold, a slipshod approach, followed by a terrible fall. Hurtling through the air, plummeting toward the waters below, he screamed, arms flailing wildly, trying to catch some unseen salvation.
With a great splash, he broke the water's surface. Not having yet fallen victim to Lady Doom's vile machinations, he fought the currents below. As he neared the crisp morning air above the water, a black shape made itself apparent...from above. The bell. The bell that was to ring on the hour of his child's birth had come to claim him in the name of Beshaba.
The silence of the morning was broken by the loud gong of irony colliding with fate. The bell, having struck the water with it's metallic maw facing downward into the cresting waves encircled the man. Borne below in his iron tomb, he was left with a small pocket of air; one last twist of the knife by the hand of misfortune. As the bell settled on the bottom of the lake, his ears perked at the sound of a wailing babe. It was then that he realized his intent had been fulfilled; that the bell had rang on the hour of his child's birth.
Though the maiden loved her partner dearly, she shed not a tear. She had to remain strong for her daughter. Through the years, she maintained her steel resolve, warning her daughter against angering the gods.
While her daughter was as beautiful as her mother, in time she came to be as strong and sturdy as her father. Learning of the fate her father had suffered, she had long been determined to defy the Goddess of Misfortune and rescue her father from his watery prison. Swimming down into the murky blackness, her lungs ached in protest. Her hands felt blindly for some sign of her goal. There! An old, rusty chain through the apex loop of a bell!
Setting her feet against the lake bed and her will against fate, she pushed, pulled, and hefted...but to no avail. The bell had not budged. Remembering the sadness she had seen behind her mother's eyes, spurred on greater feats of strength and determination. With one last push, the lip of the bell rose from the muck. There, floating in the inky blackness was a man, bloated, and waterlogged...her father. Her goal in sight, she reached for the corpse.
One misplaced hand-hold, a slipshod approach, followed by a terrible fall. Her legs slid from under her, causing her to lose her balance. She fell into the yawning mouth of her father's tomb as the lip, the door sealing her damnation, fell behind her. Once again in the valley, there resounded a loud gong.
Knowing instantly, as mothers are wont to do, what had befallen her daughter, the woman wept. Her sobs wracked her body as grief overtook her. The shaking of her body and the vibrations of the bell unsettled the foundations of the tower. It, like all she had loved, sank beneath the waves.
Now, the woman's spirit haunts the lake. Some say she's a harbinger of death. Others say she is a tender ghost looking to shield the souls of the living against the fickle love of the gods. Me? I think just wants her family back, but you won't catch me pissing in the face of Beshaba to help her."
Spread
All within Auridon have heard of the Water Witch or The Winter Spirit.
Date of First Recording
Year 104
Date of Setting
Ongoing
Related Locations
"The Spirit of Winter"
Once upon a night I wandered
Along the lakeside banks
The air frigid and stars alight
The distant tower sank
Among the stones and icy floes
A ghostly figure beckons
Sunken sockets and wasted cheeks
An end she surely reckons
Lank of limb and long of gait
I hurried myself away
Into my home, the latch pulled shut
And here I long shall stay
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