My father came into Ranmhya, as it began to grow thanks to the scholars settling in.

I saw
this city grow, from a couple of well kept hut on top of the many steep hills to the cathedral
inspired city that it is. The Ghilbedanol Cathedral was the first building to be finished,
alongside with it's surrounding facilities. There, the distribution of what is called Medium took
place, but didn't take long for lesser imitations to spread. "Pope" Runecale, officially Vicar,
was an outstanding person. Always leading the prayers and personally gave the medium at
the end of those. Selfless, he always pushed for an accessible version of the medium. The
minority of the scholars stayed by the Lunalake, where at times, the moon would fill the lake
completely, in the cares of Master Melliw in Ghermynterb. Wise and harsh, he took no
dumbfollery in his grounds. There, they researched. What exactly, they never told outsiders,
but, rumors said that was linked to excavations they did on the genesis of our town.
As the years passed, a mild but infectious disease grew in our community, taking my
parents, leaving me and my siblings alone, when I was 17, and leaving a section of the town
in permanent quarantine,with Djura, a paladin of the church, and his men in charge of that.
My older brother continued the chandelier business, while my sisters and I decided to pursue
a career in the Church. Eventually, after a decade of trying, I finally got in, the only one that
did. At first, I wanted to go right into the manipulation of the medium, but ended up using the
next 40 years of my life in the morgue. My life was full, a strict but light routine,a loving
family, friendly colleagues, I even had time to study the medium. It was strange to live like
this. The things I accomplished from there were linked to my out ranking of my mentor Priest
Clement in the administration of the morgue. A dwarf, he had an overwhelming caution in
handling every thing about the Scourge. With his tutoring and, sequentially, his assistance,
we unravel a thread that unnaturally connected so many accidents and natural deaths. After
all these years, we looked, but didn't understand. The report on the close friends and family
had a common theme, "not well", "started medication late", "mild symptoms before". Some
didn't have the scourge at all, only sickness that had the same visual effects. After a year of
our private investigations, he insisted that we delivered our case to better hands.
Surprisingly, it was taken for further investigation. They saw it too.
After some months,it was discovered that a sect born from our Church, decided that it was
better to seek the disease BEFORE it got into it's spreading fase, causing all those
accidents.The ones that were prosecuted were metally ill individuals, which explained why
they did it, but were permanently lost lost due to the stress from killing the innocents.
Our names would never appear on the investigation, not until it was complete. But, my
family, my colleagues, they knew. And that was enough. I hoped, every night that I received
silence from the clergy, that I could finally acquire my own laboratory for the study on the
properties of the Medium, to truly advance our community, to end the scourge. After 6
months of waiting, I became Head of the Psychiatric Ward for Minors, while Clement took my
place in the morgue. An easy job, compared to dissecting scourge filled bodies. My family,
my colleagues and others were proud, glad even. But every day, that fullness only grew. For
a while, I just stayed that way. Not alone, of course. I couple with Deacon Adeline, a fair
elven lady, who apparently had connections with the Chorale, our highest rank for scholars,
rivaled only by the Pilgrims of Nismes, from Ghermynterb, in prestige. With her, all was dealt
with peace and tranquility, deadlines were expected to be met, but compared with my
mentor, she was peace incarnated. Especially when it came to handling our higher risk
patients.
. All of them would make these abominable sounds, non stop, until we administered a
sedative that originates from Ghermynterb, given to us by the Chorale. I never understood
why when those kids died, they weren't dissected by us, having to be transferred away and
why we had little to no say about the dosage and mixture of the sedative. After almost a
year, I was becoming insane with those sounds that they make, even though I didn't have to
be there, personally, in therapy sessions. Adeline, perceiving my frustration, started to use
some unorthodox methods to communicate with them, via the use of surrealist painting, or
rather, crayons with them, as they wouldn't follow much stricter rules and wouldn't fatally
wound themselves with crayons. On the night of my 71 birthday, my great grandniece,
Violine, saw a glimpse of those drawings in my modest office, and started to fill them with
less incomprehensible pictures. I was fascinated, while I shouldn't allow her, and the rest of
the family, for that matter, to see the drawings, the way she was compelled to fill them,
humming disconnected sounds together, morphing them as she drew, was fascinating, to an
unhealthy degree. I started to study the reports, and even request reacounts of them, as my
memories of the ones I witnessed were unfocused and lacking detail. It didn't take long, as I
was not secret about my fixation, for Adeline to inquire with me. Different from me, she
would perfectly recreate the sessions. Knowing the fact that she didn't hear the sounds that
Violine made, made my shock stroger. Even the most incoherent mixture of sounds and
pictures was remarkably similar to Violine's. But to take the meaning from them, was another
nightmare. After weeks of failure, I opted into a more direct approach. As a surprise, I visited
Viola's house, Violine's mother. She apologized immensely, as her daughter didn't stop the
quiet humming and drawing to direct her attention to me. But looking at the paints in her
home, I saw what I needed. Violine's routine only occurred fully under a painting of our family
on the beach or under a painting of Ghermynterb under the moonlight's reflection on
Lunalake. I couldn't go there. I decided, out of the blue, to take a vacation. To the sea. For
days I walked the beach alone, searching, listening.
Until I found myself lost in a salt swamp. There, a body. I couldn't fathan what it was, so, I
asked it.
"Ghermynterb...Ghermynterb...Blasphemous murderers...Blood-crazed necrophiles".
What did they do?
"Growth lacking courage will be the damnation of our kin"
When I came back, all the severely ill younglings, and Violine, where transferred to the cares
of Yurie of the Chorale, Adeline became solo administrator of the Ward and I was promoted
to Head of the Psychiatric Ward for Elders. Once more, all my research, halted and taken
into someone else's hands. I, for the first time in my life, desired something, truly desired, not
a mild interest like in the Medium, I desired Insight. And I wouldn’t find it in Ranmhya, at
least, not on this side of the border. I attempted contact with old Djura, via the people that
would receive reports from him, as he his history shared similarities with mine, when closely
looked. But he found me first. Not just some paladin of his, but the man itself. I was flattered,
until I remembered the taste of such honor coming from Ghilbedanol. I shared what I knew.
He pondered for a few hours and said “You are to meet an acquaintance of mine and his
team on an Island less than a kilometer off the northern coast of the Storm Region,
barely in the bay looked over by the town Kreshyr. If you seek an Insight, start there.”