Mt. Sensan-Ghi

Act One - The Foot Of The Mountain

It was a warm evening as the sun was setting while the temple keeper sat outside accompanied only by the fire that always knew when to be lit, and the presence and pressure of the mountain dwellers far from the temple at the foot of the mountain.

The fire had told him, by lighting itself, that a visitor was to arrive shortly. It was the task of the temple keepers to tell the story the travellers needed to hear. The current temple keeper did not feel strongly either way concerning his duty, at least not like some of his predecessors, so he'd heard. Sadly for the keepers there would only ever be one on duty at a time, this was preordained in the times of the young soil, when the mountain Sensan-Ghi was but a hill. The fire indicated there was little time, so the keeper hung the kettle that had always waited by the fire above it, feeling assured that when the traveller was close enough, the whistle of the kettle would lead him here.

As predicted the kettle began to whistle intensely and a rustling of the leaves followed soon after. It drew closer till at last a figure emerged from darkness, outlined by the fire some distance away. The keeper took the kettle off the fire and poured its contents into two clay cups.

"Welcome traveller, to the foot of Sensan-Ghi. Please sit and enjoy this tea that was prepared specially for you."

The traveller did not approach, and got slightly defensive, slowly leaning one​ hand towards a weapon he was carrying.

"My name is Bolfog, or at least it was when I stood where you stand, many years ago."

The traveller seemed intrigued and made no sudden movements.

"If you seek the treasure atop this mountain, I will not stop you. My task is to make sure you leave here prepared, tomorrow morning. I am the keeper of this temple, where all who seek Sensan-Ghi may prepare for the journey ahead."

The traveller moved closer and sat, his face was now visible, and it was clear now this man was quite young. The keeper nodded to himself, in a sort of melancholic agreement.

"Traveller, you need not tell me your name, but will you indulge me with the story of where you heard of this place?" The keeper vocalised as he handed over one of the two cups to the stranger.

The traveller accepted the cup of tea and took a sip.

"My name is Estavir, I have come here haunted by dreams. I have heard tales of treasure, horror, glory and mystery about this place, yet have come in search of none of that."

"Many have come here," the keeper started, filling a pensive pause Estavir was having, "in search of those things and some have succeeded while many have failed."

The keeper took a satisfied sip of his own tea and moved forward so the fire lit up his wrinkles like mountains defined by deep valleys, giving his old face a far more textured look.

"So young traveller, what have you come in search of?"

The traveller shied away, but felt compelled after a while to reveal something he was sure to be mocked for.

"For as long as I can remember, from time to time I would experience a very vivid dream, always the same dream, a dream in which I could control everything."

He paused expecting to be told that it is rather common to be in control of your dreams once you are aware that it is a dream. But the old man before him waited patiently for him to continue.

Not being interrupted at this point threw Estavir off his story, so the keeper interjected when the silence continued longer than it should.

"But they have changed recently have they not?" postulated the keeper, knowing full well he was right.