To Professor Tor,
In the interest of discussing planer gates and their ramifications on how we perceive reality, I will recount my first experience traveling through the planes. Please keep this account in scholarly circles as it's information may trouble less enlightened folk.
Some seven years ago my family ran afoul of the ruling religious authority in our homeland Sacelea. My uncle had managed to book us passage on the ship of an old smuggling friend of his, Hondo Nygomara, to a distant land on the continent of Wosterhiem. For most of the trip we hid in the hold of Hondo's ship, avoiding the notice of various port authorities, but it soon became apparent that our movements were being tracked.
In desperation, Hondo suggested an alternative destination, and my uncle agreed. We were packed into a large crate and hauled aboard a different vessel, one that didn't pitch with the waves. Then, it happened.
At first it was a vibration throughout the ship, and we felt it keenly in our crate. We had no means of knowing what was happening, but while my sisters screamed with terror and my uncle and mother comforted them, I was entranced. I felt the resonance change and felt static wash over me. An unseen force pulled us against the sides of the crate, and suddenly there was a great discharge of energy, that crackled for a long moment. Then all was still. We sat there hearing a long silence. Then the crate was opened.
I found myself sitting on a deck where the wood was infused by some sort of opalescent tendrils, similar to how a fungus permeates a stump. Unlike a rotten stump, however, the boards seemed sturdier than most and I stepped out onto the deck. And looked around me. At first glance I thought we had rolled into a fog, but then I realised that I could see things at a distance; boulders hovering at different places, vast clouds of varying hue and density. I eluded my mothers grasp and ran to the side of the ship and looked out... into infinity. No up, no down, and no horizon.
As I gazed out into the void, I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I looked up and saw the wry smile of this ships captain, one Gilbert B. Hennessy. He spoke to me softly in his tongue that I could not understand, but I think he knew what I was experiencing. He guided me back to my family and led us to a cabin above deck.
Yes, above deck, for you see the ship had two hulls, one mirroring the other. I could go into length about how the vessel was so different, so bizarre, and yet so wonderful, but I'll leave that for another paper. For two months we voyaged in that space between all things. I listened to the crew and learned the common tongue from them. I learned a great many things from the captain, about how worlds can exist in a drop of rain, of how one merely had to look in the right places. But it was the first mate who really showed me something.
He was a strange man, his skin was a jaundiced yellow and he had barely a nose to speak of. His hair came out in thick quill-like strands and he spoke with a terse accent.
On the last day of our journey, he took me to the prow of the vessel and told me feel. "Feel inside, Quickling. Feel with spine and gut. Close your eyes and ignore your ears. If you can sense it, then it will aid you later in life." So I stood there and did as he told me. The vibration returned and I ignored it, the static returned, but I heeded it not. I felt the soles of my feet get sucked against the boards below me, but I focused. And then I felt it and understood.
When I feel for gates, as you've seen me do, you'll know that something is evident, whether it is real or some form of magic, I cannot rightly say, though I have a theory.
If I walked through a door into a room filled with a thousand candles, I would know I was somewhere luminous. If said room was filled with fire however, I would know the heat before touching the door. How far away would I have to be to sense a fundamental shift in reality? For if I lived in a place where an apple in each hand meant you had two apples, but I can sense the places nearby where that may not be truth. If gravity is different, would I not trip?
Alas, the sense is strange and elusive in nature. To date I have found two planer gates with it. Who knows how riddled with holes, our reality truly is.
Milo Frieneli
In the interest of discussing planer gates and their ramifications on how we perceive reality, I will recount my first experience traveling through the planes. Please keep this account in scholarly circles as it's information may trouble less enlightened folk.
Some seven years ago my family ran afoul of the ruling religious authority in our homeland Sacelea. My uncle had managed to book us passage on the ship of an old smuggling friend of his, Hondo Nygomara, to a distant land on the continent of Wosterhiem. For most of the trip we hid in the hold of Hondo's ship, avoiding the notice of various port authorities, but it soon became apparent that our movements were being tracked.
In desperation, Hondo suggested an alternative destination, and my uncle agreed. We were packed into a large crate and hauled aboard a different vessel, one that didn't pitch with the waves. Then, it happened.
At first it was a vibration throughout the ship, and we felt it keenly in our crate. We had no means of knowing what was happening, but while my sisters screamed with terror and my uncle and mother comforted them, I was entranced. I felt the resonance change and felt static wash over me. An unseen force pulled us against the sides of the crate, and suddenly there was a great discharge of energy, that crackled for a long moment. Then all was still. We sat there hearing a long silence. Then the crate was opened.
I found myself sitting on a deck where the wood was infused by some sort of opalescent tendrils, similar to how a fungus permeates a stump. Unlike a rotten stump, however, the boards seemed sturdier than most and I stepped out onto the deck. And looked around me. At first glance I thought we had rolled into a fog, but then I realised that I could see things at a distance; boulders hovering at different places, vast clouds of varying hue and density. I eluded my mothers grasp and ran to the side of the ship and looked out... into infinity. No up, no down, and no horizon.
As I gazed out into the void, I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I looked up and saw the wry smile of this ships captain, one Gilbert B. Hennessy. He spoke to me softly in his tongue that I could not understand, but I think he knew what I was experiencing. He guided me back to my family and led us to a cabin above deck.
Yes, above deck, for you see the ship had two hulls, one mirroring the other. I could go into length about how the vessel was so different, so bizarre, and yet so wonderful, but I'll leave that for another paper. For two months we voyaged in that space between all things. I listened to the crew and learned the common tongue from them. I learned a great many things from the captain, about how worlds can exist in a drop of rain, of how one merely had to look in the right places. But it was the first mate who really showed me something.
He was a strange man, his skin was a jaundiced yellow and he had barely a nose to speak of. His hair came out in thick quill-like strands and he spoke with a terse accent.
On the last day of our journey, he took me to the prow of the vessel and told me feel. "Feel inside, Quickling. Feel with spine and gut. Close your eyes and ignore your ears. If you can sense it, then it will aid you later in life." So I stood there and did as he told me. The vibration returned and I ignored it, the static returned, but I heeded it not. I felt the soles of my feet get sucked against the boards below me, but I focused. And then I felt it and understood.
When I feel for gates, as you've seen me do, you'll know that something is evident, whether it is real or some form of magic, I cannot rightly say, though I have a theory.
If I walked through a door into a room filled with a thousand candles, I would know I was somewhere luminous. If said room was filled with fire however, I would know the heat before touching the door. How far away would I have to be to sense a fundamental shift in reality? For if I lived in a place where an apple in each hand meant you had two apples, but I can sense the places nearby where that may not be truth. If gravity is different, would I not trip?
Alas, the sense is strange and elusive in nature. To date I have found two planer gates with it. Who knows how riddled with holes, our reality truly is.
Milo Frieneli
The ship! Nice connection!
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