The Finding Of The Phoenix
A young Shaman had recently joined the ranks of the Circle. She seemed ill at ease and unable to settle in her new home. When questioned it seemed she sensed something missing from within the Circle but had no idea what. Strange visions also troubled her. Dark storms and visions of ancient Gods.
The council, worried over her health, decided to humour her so called visions and asked that all members keep an eye out for any information on these ancient Gods. Much to the surprise of all, a scroll was found and the words on it seemed in some way to confirm the visions of the young shaman. It spoke on a legacy left for us. Could it remain unfound and awaiting the Circle?
The shaman was questioned more closely. She spoke of a key in a place of Churches and Chalkdust- an unlikely combination, but none the less it was found. A Key was there but its use none knew.
When the key was brought to the Clan, however, a strange chest appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Old, worn and locked. A faded inscription it carried. * The Word The Key The #### ## # Th##f * The last unreadable due to age.
Where from this chest? What its contents? A way had to be found to open it. The young Shaman kept mumbling nonsense about the luck of a thief and dark altars. None of the council could make any sense of her words. However, not wishing to overlook anything, word was sent to one of the Thieves of the Circle to return as they may be needed. Answering the Call, the Lady Nimue did return.
The Lady Aisling was questioned closely about the chest. She did recall a strange incident- the Lord Deliverer Shaithus wandering our halls muttering about CoF equipment in the sewers of Einar.
This place, known to be a den of thieves, was considered worth searching for the third clue on the chest. Many searched long and hard in the stink and grime. But all was in vain. Stinking, dirty and disheartened the search was abandoned with nothing found.
Many nasty looks were directed at the young shaman for sending all on such a distasteful search and we all sat around looking at this old chest that had caused so many stubbed toes. It seemed to be our curse rather than our Legacy.
Our thief feeling bored, and being a thief, played constantly with the lock while snarling at the young shaman and complaining of the grime all over her leggings from the sewers.
A pickable lock. Who would have thought of it? So the luck of a thief was the third item. We had just assumed it was for the sewers. The chest was opened. We all gathered closer as one reached into the chest and drew out Blazing in Flames the Phoenix, but this Phoenix had arisen not from the ashes but from a long forgotten legacy buried in the mists of time.
So ends the tale of how our Phoenix came to be.
- by Brachir