Sweats, Treats and Tentacles at the Templeo of Oghma

[freezn]

The hallow halls of Oghma’s temple was not so silent as was its placid nature. This eve the flutter of parchment was accompanied with an otherwordly ‘squelch’. A lethargic ‘slop’ or ‘thud’ that sounded against cold stone rung with irregular intervals. The tinkling sound of liquid that dripped into a puddle.

A single curious soul dared to venture forth, through the bookshelves filled with knowledge and lore, to the secluded corner from whence these sounds emanated. A boy no older than ten summers of age, who’s sandy colored hair hung down to his eyes peered around the corner. His childish fingers wrapped around the grey stone edge. Brown eyes not quite confident enough to get a clear view.

A lady sat in a comfortable looking chair. Her chestnut hair was pulled up and out of her face. From his perspective the young lad could see a faint glow coming from her eyes. And there was something… off about her, but he couldn’t concentrate upon that. No, what had his direct attention was the slimy, thick, sea green mass that lay upon the enchanter’s table. It seemed to writhe before his eyes. No animating force was behind the movement as far as he could tell. He would have sworn on his third toe it was alive.

Suddenly it ‘schlepped’ in his direction, nearly squirming off the table. The woman turned her head to lock eyes with his. They were alien and offsetting just as the squirming mass upon the table was. They sparked and crackled with an eerie emerald glow. Her lips pursed outwards and he was certain she was to turn him into a frog as her arm extended out in his direction. A miniature billowing cloud of black smoke roiled up from her palm. When it drifted away a sweet looking muffin top rested in her gloved hand.

Timidly, the young boy crept closer. Every story of crones offering sweets to children only to lure them in and eat them running though his mind. Still, he ventured forth. Nothing could happen here inside the temple of a god. Could it? His fingers slowly, cupped around the sponge like sweet and he drew it back close to his body. She did not grow fangs, nor did the thing upon the table lunge for him. “Now run along child. And do not think to bother me again.” For some unknown reason, the young boy’s blood ran cold as a sweat broke out all over his body. His little feet slapped against the stone tile all the way out of the temple.

When Meesha returned her gaze to the staff upon the enchanter’s table she couldn’t help but shiver. She could still feel its slime, thick and oily upon her hands despite the gloves she wore. It never seemed to come off. No matter how much she scrubbed. She could never get clean. That road was closed now. No amount of rationalization could fight back the emotions. Like her notes, which lay scattered and disorganized about her, it was useless. It left her feeling ill. It made focusing difficult. More so than it had been in years.