Wooden Hand
The Wooden Hand is an item of unknown origin, ability or overall power. It was found by Agave while following a map that he had discovered in Tympi's Forest near the Expedition Base on Nurend 12, 308.
What it is capable of is unknown, however, it definitely feels like there is something magical about it. Further research is required though, perhaps a way to magically determine it's capabilities.
"It's made of a very high quality wood which has somehow refrained from being rotted by the ravages of time and moisture. In the center of the back of this hand is an etching that is incredibly familiar... a little agave plant. Rotating the hand in your own meat hands reveals a further detail on this wooden prosthetic: ingrained just outside of the etching is another agave plant made of tiny pale blue gems. Shifting it back and forth it almost looks like one of those holographic images as the gems shine at different angles until all that can be seen again is the dull engraving."
After losing his hand, Agave began using this hand as a prosthetic. It is incredibly articulate, and while it started out as a right hand it seemed to shift to be appropriate for the left instead to fit Agave's situation. The hand has also made it so that Agave doesn't have to sleep. Over time, it has begun to fuse with the rest of his arm and it is becoming more difficult to determine where the hand ends and Agave begins.
After losing his hand, Agave began using this hand as a prosthetic. It is incredibly articulate, and while it started out as a right hand it seemed to shift to be appropriate for the left instead to fit Agave's situation. The hand has also made it so that Agave doesn't have to sleep. Over time, it has begun to fuse with the rest of his arm and it is becoming more difficult to determine where the hand ends and Agave begins.
History
Memories of Another
In Agave's dreams he sometimes experiences the life of the other murid whose memories were given to him by the Chittering Spirit. These dreams feature the entire life of this murid and become difficult to separate from Agave's own, and that the murid was definitely a previous owner of the hand. A Past Life In Dreams
During your dreams, and for several minutes after you wake up, you have this sense of being someone else . The feeling still persists throughout the day, just to a lesser extent, but it is worst when you first wake up. Like your dreams and the moment between rest and being in the waking world makes your mind more vulnerable to what's going on.
The dreams you have are of a time that is clearly long before your own, though really the architecture and traditions haven't changed much. The location is definitely recognizable, especially the Blue Agave at the center of the village. It actually does your heart good to see it in such good health, but only briefly, as it is replaced with your real thoughts that something is very wrong. Whose real thoughts? Yours or perhaps yours, you aren't sure, but either way everything is going to change, and you're confused as to why you would be so happy to see this desert plant in good health... Is someone else in your head?
You focus, the visions you had last night were so surreal... a blight, a land full of spirits, and the trapped spirit of your Blue Agave needing to be freed... Something has trapped it somewhere in the Spirit World, and nobody else believes you. You'll have to do something about it yourself, you'll have to travel into that land somehow, otherwise the future you saw would come to pass. A blight, the Blue Agave slowly dying, and all the world being at risk. It's a tall order, actions must be taken, and your journey through the desert begins.
You dream within your dreams. You dream of being someone else, traveling with five (or is it 7) companions, and being on a journey much like your own...but you don't recognize any of these people. You dream of walking through the familiar desert, and guiding whoever needs it to help pay for your food and lodging wherever you happen to end up. Different villages, different Murids, but they still don't listen to your plight...nobody believes the kid with visions of the future. Not until it's too late.
Rain is a big part of your dream. You can recognize that there is a great deal of time not being in the rain, but for some reason the sound permeates everything. Heavy, heavy rain. Not the kind that hits the canopy and drizzles down the trees. No, the kind in the middle of a desert that floods and collides directly with your small frame. You almost feel like you're swimming... You dream within your dreams...and within those as well. You dream that you wake up several times, but each time it's in the "wrong" body. Almost a whole life passes by, day after day of dreams and the waking world that blend together to become a confusing lattice of another mind. The last time you wake up you're in a river. It rushes over you, it's not unlike the arroyos when the rains come, but there's only sand on one side of you... to your right you see a forest that seems to go on forever. Recognition sets in, you've seen this view before. This river, you know it...but how? Your dreams continue to get intermingled. Who remembers the river, was it a vision of the future or was it just Agave's own memories? The journey takes you deeper into the forest, and the last time you wake up you're in a tree surrounded by lights and strange moth folk. Their leader took you in to keep you safe and guide you during your time here. She had some knowledge of the Rot of Blight, she had knowledge of many things and she told you how to protect yourself against the things in the swamp. How to get into the Rotting Gate, what lies within, and what can be done to fight it... It would be helpful to stop the blight before it comes, but it would be dangerous. She also had comments about your ...vision, a vision of this world and of the trapped spirit of a Lonely Blue Agave.
During your dreams, you dreamed. But you never woke up. You fell asleep, and you dreamed, and you fell asleep again. The worst part about it all is that the lines that blurred you and this one that traveled long ago...they don't have a chance to become vulnerable. You just keep falling asleep, but you never wake up to refresh your mind. The Dream takes you so deep, and there's an immense amount of Sadness that comes with it. A ray of sunshine makes it through the canopy, and it is avoided as you bandage your left wrist. Stay in the shadows, the voice says...the light only brings pain. There's a night that you feel ...drenched.
There's a man. He's dressed in the finery of Nobles that you saw in paintings of Voldaren. His expression is one that looks as though it was never happy, and he is drenched in something deeply unpleasant. It looks like some greenish-yellow and mostly translucent ooze... and he makes you feel as though your bones ache, there's no reason to do anything, there's nothing you would really want to try to do anyways. You write about it with the pen you stole from that moth lady before you ran off. The pages don't take the ink though, they're too drenched...what is this stuff anyways? It's slimy, it's green and yellow... It makes you feel even heavier. Has that man given you something? I wish he would go away. The wrist has festered. The wound won't heal, and the hand fell off some few dreams ago. You feel pain in "your own wrist", pain that is familiar. The wooden hand fits nicely, and it works right away...the pain is going away too, but your bones and joints still feel heavy, stiff even. You finally dream that you wake up... It's dark out and the world might as well be gone for good. This is not where you fell asleep, but, when did you fall asleep? Your friends call out to you, and it is time to go... but do they really care about you? Does anybody? Why would they, it's not like you can do anything right, not with this wrist, anyways.
Rain is a big part of your dream. You can recognize that there is a great deal of time not being in the rain, but for some reason the sound permeates everything. Heavy, heavy rain. Not the kind that hits the canopy and drizzles down the trees. No, the kind in the middle of a desert that floods and collides directly with your small frame. You almost feel like you're swimming... You dream within your dreams...and within those as well. You dream that you wake up several times, but each time it's in the "wrong" body. Almost a whole life passes by, day after day of dreams and the waking world that blend together to become a confusing lattice of another mind. The last time you wake up you're in a river. It rushes over you, it's not unlike the arroyos when the rains come, but there's only sand on one side of you... to your right you see a forest that seems to go on forever. Recognition sets in, you've seen this view before. This river, you know it...but how? Your dreams continue to get intermingled. Who remembers the river, was it a vision of the future or was it just Agave's own memories? The journey takes you deeper into the forest, and the last time you wake up you're in a tree surrounded by lights and strange moth folk. Their leader took you in to keep you safe and guide you during your time here. She had some knowledge of the Rot of Blight, she had knowledge of many things and she told you how to protect yourself against the things in the swamp. How to get into the Rotting Gate, what lies within, and what can be done to fight it... It would be helpful to stop the blight before it comes, but it would be dangerous. She also had comments about your ...vision, a vision of this world and of the trapped spirit of a Lonely Blue Agave.
During your dreams, you dreamed. But you never woke up. You fell asleep, and you dreamed, and you fell asleep again. The worst part about it all is that the lines that blurred you and this one that traveled long ago...they don't have a chance to become vulnerable. You just keep falling asleep, but you never wake up to refresh your mind. The Dream takes you so deep, and there's an immense amount of Sadness that comes with it. A ray of sunshine makes it through the canopy, and it is avoided as you bandage your left wrist. Stay in the shadows, the voice says...the light only brings pain. There's a night that you feel ...drenched.
There's a man. He's dressed in the finery of Nobles that you saw in paintings of Voldaren. His expression is one that looks as though it was never happy, and he is drenched in something deeply unpleasant. It looks like some greenish-yellow and mostly translucent ooze... and he makes you feel as though your bones ache, there's no reason to do anything, there's nothing you would really want to try to do anyways. You write about it with the pen you stole from that moth lady before you ran off. The pages don't take the ink though, they're too drenched...what is this stuff anyways? It's slimy, it's green and yellow... It makes you feel even heavier. Has that man given you something? I wish he would go away. The wrist has festered. The wound won't heal, and the hand fell off some few dreams ago. You feel pain in "your own wrist", pain that is familiar. The wooden hand fits nicely, and it works right away...the pain is going away too, but your bones and joints still feel heavy, stiff even. You finally dream that you wake up... It's dark out and the world might as well be gone for good. This is not where you fell asleep, but, when did you fall asleep? Your friends call out to you, and it is time to go... but do they really care about you? Does anybody? Why would they, it's not like you can do anything right, not with this wrist, anyways.
I am writing this in hopes that some small piece of me might be found someday...perhaps as a warning, or perhaps it’s due to a fear of what is to come. I feel myself slipping further and further from who I was everyday, and the more of my mind I lose the less I notice that I am also losing my body. Soon I will be no more than a wooden doll lost somewhere in the world, or perhaps sitting on some weirdo’s shelf somewhere.
“I was once a noble in a land called Voldaren. Here I was known by many as a generous man, giving when I could, helping build homes, handing out food to the less fortunate, and hopefully standing apart from the other nobility as someone to be admired. Everyone loved me and my life was great. But I lost all of that when I went on a journey up north and became separated from my guide. I called out hoping someone would hear me, and I did receive a response.
I followed the voices, stepping through the mush of semi-melted snow, freezing as my pants and socks soaked through. I suddenly felt heavy not just with this frigid dampness, but also just...heavy. My eyelids were having trouble staying open, my arms and legs refusing to move, the day just seemed heavy on my shoulders. Progress was the last thing on my mind and had the appearance of an endless tundra that I couldn’t possibly cross. It was at this time that I saw a cabin and was able to get out of the snow and rain and into a warm bed that I would hopefully never have to leave. I had lost my hand at the same time I had lost my guide, but in this new shelter I found a wooden prosthetic. It reacted to my touch and it fit my empty wrist quite well.
Over time I eventually found the courage to step out of this place and what I found outside was shocking to say the least: The mountains were much farther away than I remember, I couldn’t see the Frozen Shore anywhere, and around me was just the tundra I had visions of in my depressed torpor. I wandered for some time, it was cold but less awful than the place I had escaped and I was feeling better after the days of rest. As I journeyed I began to feel ...different. I didn’t need to sleep or eat, I felt stronger, it was invigorating, truly! But over time these benefits became negatives. I felt detached from my humanity, and I could feel myself shrinking back, peeling away, getting smaller despite my form remaining constant. With each passing day the wood spread up my arm… and it is at this point that it has covered most of my body save the center of my abdomen.
The “me” that I am is withered, small, and feels almost as though it is dripping with some viscous fluid. The noble garb that the wooden “me” that I am not feels as rags upon my spirit, and as I recede I can tell that tomorrow morning I will be separated from my body, leaving behind a wooden doll… What will “I” be then?
Aotrom's Knowledge
Some further light was shined on the origin of this item when Agave spoke with Aotrom on Daulok 07, 308. She apparently, "Saw this hand being made by Him. He poured His sorrows, His despair, His Depression all into this one hand. It is a part of Him. I do not know what happened to it after that, but those that use it often meet a bitter end. His depression will be with you, always, but you can learn to use it to your advantage." Agave wanted to know the name of the child, but Aotrom needed more time to "meet with someone that would know." According to Aotrom, "There wasn't much to see here, just light, but a child came and began to cast shadows. She loved Him, and She kept Him safe. They built this world together, but something happened to Him and now She is alone. She cries out for Him, She screams His name and weeps. Her tears stain Her rays of light with darkness, and She cries for Vsevolodrik." These words are reminiscent of what Namina's god told her in part of her Guidance. A God's Guidance (portion)
Half cries out again for Her love is lost
This time curled up in Anguish, in Despair, Fatigued
By the Hope that is drowned, Her tears, like ink and oil
Will stain the rays of sunlight.
This time curled up in Anguish, in Despair, Fatigued
By the Hope that is drowned, Her tears, like ink and oil
Will stain the rays of sunlight.
Current Holder
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