Rogue Lineage, Tales of Gaia - Voices from the Deep

~Voices From The Deep - A Rogue Lineage Tale~

"Keepers of Sky,

Wild and Free,

Keep watch of our lands,

Down to the deep blue sea."

 - Ballad of Keepers of Sky, Stanza 1

Slowly, I blink the fatigue away from my eyes. A numbness webs throughout my entire body and mind. I feel no joy nor pain, yet a single faded tear line feels present on my cheek. I feel my face for burn marks that I know should be there, but to my relief, none are present. Rapidly, the numbness dominating my body leaves, being replaced by a burning sensation of tiredness and dread.

I hoist my limp body up from the ivory itchy carpet that laid beneath me, ignoring my body's warnings. I adjust to the plane I've found myself in, as a low mellow tune plays into my ears, a feeling of a disgraced welcome flows from the chords of the ever present melody, as it scrapes the tune to a continuous messy beat. 

Something feels missing inside of me, like a shallow beach has found its way into my gut. As I grow accustomed to my surroundings. I am welcomed by a room made of dark ebony wood, littered with meaningless decor, trinkets and artifacts of unimaginable rarity, while other objects seemed to be taxidermy of beings that lived in the past. 

A painting behind me pictures a headless man in a skyblue button-up, with a bouquet of various flowers stemming from his neck. My stomach aches at the sight of the disturbing painting so I tilt my head towards the right. A pale thin man stands leant up against a piece of the wall. His clothes resemble that of a noble or higher class, a top hat sits along the rim of his skull. I glance upon the stoic-looking man, as he also tilts his head and hat up.

"Your soul lacks strength, but I can see the premonitions of something greater." He whispers loudly through his teeth. I ignore the stranger's remark, and let his comment fade into the background. A crimson glint catches my eye, sitting upon a shelf decked in gray tones next to the man. Tentatively, my head turns toward it. There, a red rock lays, overpowering the drab colors of the shelf. The jar seems to barely contain it. I can sense its pulsations, as it pounds against its confinement. Its glow screams of unimaginable archaic power and greed, like strings and tendrils of magic trying to pull me toward it. Slowly, I feel my weight leave me. Realizing the danger, I snap out of the trance, and my legs instinctively draw me back. 

A dull stab makes its way to my back, I turn around to see an avian sculpture of some undetailed bird, every feature of the statue telling of its unimagined design. I peer away from the marble piece to another painting of a shore, in the picture it is depicted as a gray rainy day, with a small shattered row boat docked into the sand mounds. As I turn around, a wide maroon couch comes into view, I take steps towards it to sit down into the confines of the leather. 

A brush of relaxation hits me, as if my body had been in a constant exhausted run for decades on end. I take a light inhale, but no smells enter through my nose, just nothing. A large fireplace illuminates the half portion of the room I'm currently in, and staring into the flames, I notice their color. Bleached and drained of color, flickering upon harsh ink colored wood, though they don't seem to erode, but instead keeping the embers standing on thin air. The cozy yet enigmatic lounge surrounding me seems to want me out, as if screeching at me to leave. 

Before I raise myself from the couch, an aged book accompanied by two candles catches my eye. Though it appears to be far more menacing than to be worth opening as of now. I instead loom upon another shelf located to the far right of the room, up on the top there is another jar, but with a completely obsidian covered amulet, with a purple glowing gemstone in the center, a sense of displacement emanates from the trinket. Instead I glance behind me, a glowing feather hovers above a small plate, it seems intriguing, so I walk over to it and inspect it closer. It looks like a sort of relic, forgotten by time, and even space to some extent, still in the memories of many.

Beside the orange feather, a small construct of a tower stands tall on a small pedestal, the building seemed inspired by some sort of place situated in the mountain, with a mythical sort of aura surrounding the keep. Losing interest in the artifacts and trinkets presented on the shelving and tables, I sink back into the comfort of the couch, and look at a small clockwork beside the fireplace, swinging back and forth, Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock… 

There doesn't seem to be a way to tell time with it. What is this place anyway, it feels so familiar yet foreign. The walls feel almost haunting with the curves and layers upon the rims and decor running along the sides. Looking to the right of me I notice another part of the room, I hadn't noticed until now. Standing up from the couch I walked into the room and through the small archway separating the rooms. In the room a telescope was peeking outside the tinted window, though it doesn't seem like anything is out beyond the window panes, just an empty abyss

And a man, standing behind a wooden desk, all dressed up in a fine black suit and gloves, and under a white shirt. Along with his luxurious attire, sits a small jagged red crystal on top of his robust desk. Along the side protrudes an outshot wall, where a peculiar red horned person leans, he seems near comfortable in this place, and looking into his gem like tattered eyes, it speaks of multiple lifetimes of experience, looking back to the table, I also notice the man's disturbing eyes seemed to stare directly into my very soul without even as much as looking at me. As I inspect closer to him, I notice he had been paying attention to a rustic gray book, writing intently. He turned more pages than I could count but the book appeared to have no less or more pages on either side. In a flash he smacked his book shut, and unlocks his stare into the book's pages. As he opens his mouth with a ghastly tone.

"All those lives snuffed out, was it worth it in the end?" Suddenly, as if my mind had been punctured, all my memories came flooding back, and I relived everything from the beginning of my life in seconds. I stand in front of this man, nearly fainting over his words. 

"Struggling to stand?" The man gestured to a seat in a chair in front of his small wooden desk. 

"Disoriented are you? Sit down, I'd like to hear your answer." Taking a seat, my headache vanished, and I responded to the strange man.

"Yes…" I take a long deep breath to collect my thoughts on why I am here, in this enigmatic lounge. And as quickly as the memories of my life had appeared as a flash in my mind, they were resting, steadily in the bottom of my skull.

"All of my actions caused nothing but pain and misery. The dozens of souls I tore apart for my own gain were used in vain." The man looked intrigued, but as he was about to open his mouth, the horned man steps in, standing behind the desk.

"If your memory serves you well, could you please tell me your life's tale?" The man says, as the imp steps to the side, opening up their own notebook.

"I'll be taking notes over here, I have to remember details somehow." He says as he descends into the shadows, leaving me with just the man in front of me. The man at the table also seemed genuinely interested in the events that transpired up until now, so I agreed. 

"I don't mind, but shouldn't you tell me your name first?" I ask the frightening man as he begins a deeply unsettling smile. 

"I am the Ferryman, My purpose is to help pass souls that have perished into their next life, and as you have ended up here, in the House of Purgatory. I must help you find your way into your next life. To continue your lineage." His answer would usually put anyone in disbelief, but I believed him.

"Now, kind planeswalker, what is your preferred name?" 

"...Well, my name is Judari…"