"Hoo"

Not entirely sure why he woke that night with the tale in his head,

Percival the barn owl thought of the stories passed down through his

family for more years than he could remember. Tales of a wondrous

Seeress hidden deep in the Lothrian woods, a journey of fantasy really.

It was said that she could hear your needs, manifest your wishes and

solve your problems with a simple nod of her head.

Percival chuckles softly to himself, not the sort of owl to hie off to places

unknown on a whim and a myth. But then, the barn of his choice had

recently been destroyed in a storm and he really wasn't a fan of living in the

woods. Barns tend to be far comfier and a lot safer in general. So maybe a

little travel wouldn't be such a bad thing.

He stretches beautiful wings, takes a few practice flaps and then dives

off the branch that was his resting place swooping into a graceful arc and

travelling with silent stealth at speeds that would be dangerous if one

wasn't a night owl.

He blinks as light filters through the forest canopy high overhead

through the beautiful forest of Lothrian. The sounds of songbirds chirping

heightens the peaceful atmosphere and wonder of nature. He tilts his head

at a low rustling in the brush far below, his great wings silent, himself

unafraid. Imperceptibly, his path changes slightly in this direction. The

forest seems to thicken, and less light drifts down from above. The

wilderness sounds are muted, as though in respect for the dignity of these

ancient boreals. Having heard rumors of the great Seeress living deep in

the heart of an ancient wood he is thankful at least that the light has

dimmed. It definitely makes his journey more pleasant and easier on his

eyes to see the ancient remains of the path of man in the ground cover

beneath his flight.

The pathway narrows till it is no more than an animal trail through the

woods. The trees have grown together overhead, forming a bower of living

greenery, alive with the whistles and chirps of nature's feathered

singers. The music flows past him though he is quite unaccustomed to

the sounds of daytime creatures. Rotating his head he notes that though

there are sounds, all is hushed as if in reverence to the ancient

peoples who once walked these paths.

The path continues, though now the sounds of nature are much more

diminished. The silence is not uncomfortable, rather it has a calming

influence. The growth of the forest floor has definitely thinned and a slight

mist has settled as a blanket on the earth.

Abruptly, through the now thicker mists, he begins to make out a vast

mountain range directly ahead. It feels almost on top of him, magnificent

in its primordial age; ancient growth from eons past existing untouched by

mortal men, and there are no words to describe the wondrous feeling of

awe inspired by the discovery of this glorious panorama of nature.

A cave-like opening, somewhat obscured by vegetation, is noticeable at

the end of a treacherous pathway which leads up to the craggy outcropping

of black rock on the mountainside. The path appears not to have been used

in centuries as evidence of rock-slides litter the way. He banks his flight

and alights gently with barely a puff of wind. The cold mist and

mountainside rock are somewhat uncomfortable on his feet, used to the

living branches of trees or the warmth of the barns he frequented up until

this point.

By sweeping aside some of the vines and branches at the entrance with

his beak he carefully enters what appears to be a naturally formed cave in

the mountainside. Peering through the gloom, he is well able to make out

evidence of some hewn stonework, suggesting that people once worked

here; though it had to have been in ages past.

The darkness enfolds him, his eyes thankfully and easily adjusting to the

much darker interior, bringing with it a sense of calm, not despair. The

cavern is large and he tests the height of it with a few flaps, making a soft

sound in his throat of satisfaction as he realizes both height and width

enable him to fly, rather than walk, if he's careful.

The passageway wanders off in every direction from here, smooth stone

walls echoing with the almost silent wings of the handsome owl. Unused to

being under the ground he trembles slightly with trepidation imagining

others flying through in the soft reverberations of sound. Dark

rivulets of water drip down the sides of the tunnel, leaving pools of

liquid luminescence glittering mysteriously in the very dim light. Realizing

it isn't completely dark he hunts for the source, finding softly glowing

fungus.

The tunnel continues into the heart of the mountain. Light from the

outside world becomes dim, goes gray, and finally disappears altogether

leaving only the strange fungus light. There continues to be a maze-like

expanse of branches to this passage but he follows the faint scent of fresh

air ahead of his careful flight.

Stalactites and stalagmites now grow in abundance from the rocky floor

and ceiling. The steady drip of condensing mist echoes with mindless

precision throughout the cavernous maze and he lands carefully, flight

becoming much more hazardous with the spikes of limestone jutting up

and down randomly. Here and there the odd fungus-like growth casts an

ethereal series of shadows across the tunnel walls.

A noticeable change in the level of the floor and a lessening of the

constant drip of moisture is obvious now. He waddles uncomfortably

along, still nervous about attempting flight with the obstacle course

provided by nature.

Along the walls niches carved by unknown hands from millenia past hold

burnt torch stubs. The floor runs slightly uphill and a layer of dust ahead

shows no sign of mortal passage, while behind his feet leave strange prints

in passing.

At last, some evidence of true workmanship lies ahead and a long

stairway, carefully hewn from the solid rock, climbs upwards into the

heart of the mountain. Here there is no sign of dust, and the torch

sconces are of polished brass. A low humming noise vibrates through the

very stone at his feet, seeming to emanate from the ancient stairs

themselves, and he cocks his head, pupils adjusting, narrowing. The

strange

pulsing whisper of sound under his feet makes him shift uncomfortably.

Tilting his head up a dim glow becomes evident far up into the darkness above. The murmur

vibrating throughout the stone also becomes more intense as he flaps and hops, continuing

up the stairs. Though the polished stonework is free of dust, small

amounts of debris - rock chips, bits of fungus - are lying about the

stairs, telling their own sad tale of abandonment. He flaps in place for a moment

between each step like a giant hummingbird trying to alight in clear areas

to ease his aching feet.

Just ahead, the glow seen from below becomes almost painful in its

intensity and his pupils narrow to pinpoints. Finally, it seems as if he is

almost to the top of this marvelous, if long, stairway. The walls glitter, seemingly with

a life of their own; though upon closer examination one can see it is a

reflection of the light ahead creating prisms of light in the small chips

of quartz and what may be valuable metals or gems within the sculpted stone.

An amazing archway carved of what looks like a solid block of glistening

white marble tops the stairs here. It glows with a radiant blue light,

casting a warm brilliance throughout the room. The throbbing, soothing hum

resonating through the rock his sore feet also seems to come from this

almost magical gateway. A glistening bowl mounted on a polished silver

stand holds clear water untouched by dust or mildew standing just to the

right of the entry arch. Hopping forward onto the surprisingly warm tile

he tilts his head and tastes the clear water, thankful but

confused that it appears untarnished. Polished stone gives way to

intricate tiles inlaid in colorful mosaic patterns of blue and silver, and

a long hall stretches out before before him.

Mosaic patterns of blue and silver continue to decorate the floor of

this magnificent hall. He lifts into flight again, much easier than his

ungraceful walk. Wondrous tapestries depicting mythological figures

in majestic settings line the walls, their colors bathed in the glow of

the archway to the south. The light is far brighter than he would like

for comfort but he feels excited and hopeful that the end of his journey

seems to be within his taloned grasp.

The beautiful hall continues for what seems like forever. It's width is

sufficient that he can turn easily in lazy circles to view the intricate

designs and beautiful undamaged tapestries along it's length. Periodically

he hoots softly, just to hear his own voice in the lonely warmth of

the decorated cavern within the mountain. The sound doesn't echo back

to him but seems to seep into the strange warmth of the inanimate stone.

With a soft squawk he settles to the ground and closes his eyes, the light

too bright, needing a break. Even as he thinks how nice it would be for the

creators of this magnificent place to have lowered their lights he squints

and peers past his eyelids to discover the luminous hall has dimmed

significantly. His beautiful head turns slowly, eyes widening, then turns

the other way, unsure of what he's seeing. Closing his eyes once more he

thinks of the blessed darkness of the forest and cautiously opens one eye

to....darkness.

A soft “hoo” escapes his beak and he shuffles his feet in confusion, his

eye shuts and thinking about not opening either one again for the

foreseeable future. The ache in his feet suddenly pops into his head again

and he wishes for a nice comfy branch to sit on and rest for a few hours

before he continues down this path he set himself upon. With slow caution

he opens one eye.

“Oh boy” comes out as “hoo!” again as both eyes widen seeing the small

tree with thick branches growing up out of the tiled floor like it's been there

the whole time.

If an owl can blink slowly, owlishly even, he definitely does so, tilting

his head and walking around the tree, poking it with his beak and

murmuring to himself that he is assuredly not crazy.

Alright, that decision made, he flaps up and settles carefully on the

branch. Wiggling his fluffy bottom he settles and shrugs. Wouldn't be the

first time he's fallen off of a branch. He dozes lightly and keeps one ear

open for the next wondrous occurrence in this forgotten world.

Feathers ruffling, his wings stretching nonchalantly, he opens his eyes

and wonders if the magic that is here can produce a nice fat mouse.

Looking around hopefully and seeing nothing his tree suddenly fades away

dropping him the foot or so to the tiled floor rather unceremoniously.

"Hoo" he sighs and with a disgruntled gaze at the now missing tree the

barn owl lifts off, a quick flap of wings and he's lazily flying down the same

hall as the day before. Seemingly endless, repetitive, he notices that the

tapestries and stonework are definitely not repeating yet the room just goes

on and on.

After what feels like hours, if owls could tell time, there is an end in

sight. A beautiful gold veined marble throne sits upon a dais against the

end wall. The room simply stops. In his momentary confusion he lands

awkwardly and slides into the step of the dais with a soft “oof” sound,

winding up on his belly with feathers ruffled.

Finding it terribly unwieldy to get to his feet on the slippery floor he

takes a deep sigh and scrambles to stand with some semblance of grace.

Surely that spectacle and the noise his talons made on the smooth floor

should have brought the famed Seeress to light?

Waddling about the throne and peering around corners he finds nothing

but emptiness. He hops up onto one of the water basins for a drink and is

startled to find it dry. Rather than go to another he tilts his head almost

upside down and looks up into the aperture in the marble where the water

must flow from. Forgetting that his thoughts seem to create in this strange

place he wishes the bowl were full.

Sputtering and spitting water, suddenly rather soggy, he sits up quickly

and gives a shake, feathers ruffling out giving him a very agitated

appearance. This place was too much.

Percivel flies over to the soft lavishly embroidered cushion on the throne

and wiggles down into it, drying his feathers with an owly smile.

“Hoo!” he says, loudly, basically thinking “Seeress get your magical self

out here” and wondering why he hadn't thought of thinking before. He

quits moving and sits, listening intently. Nothing but the drip of water

from his feathers to the tiles can be heard in the room.

What a wasted trip. Sore feet, embarassment, probably a headache from

shifting light levels.

One last wish to be able to connect with something living as he hops

from the now damp cushion using his wings to balance so he lands with

more stability. Shaking more water from his wings and lifting off he takes

one last glance over his shoulder to the throne and flies into the nearest

wall when he sees the ghostly figure of a beautiful woman where there

was nothing before.

Percival grunts and slides to the floor in a comic book style, wings splayed.

Yep, this place should be called "hoo" the Hall of Awkwardness. Keeping

his back to the apparition he works at placing his feet carefully and stands,

turning slowly.

“Hoo?” he says, almost jumping out of his feathers when the woman

answers “Yes, I am she....or was.”

Scrambled thoughts rattle through his mind and he watches the spirit

smile. Knowing somehow that she is hearing what he's thinking he makes

great effort to compose himself. All he was wanting was a bit of an

adventure, a journey, perhaps a tale to tell when he goes back home to find

a new barn to live out his life in.

“How about a new life, for the wisest of birds?” the soft voice asks.

Her form fades out of sight and wavers back in for a moment.

“I can give you what I have had for millenia.” she states, quietly.

Suddenly his head is filled with thoughts, fantasies, myths and

knowledge. He sees he can travel, leave as he pleases, discover new things,

but be called home to this fantastic place if someone should come knocking

for a wish. He waddles over to her and can't resist a quick poke with his

beak, his whole head passing through her leg and bonking himself on the

throne once again.

With a soft chuckle the Seeress waves her delicate hand over him, his

feathers barely moving with the slight wash of air she causes. She knows

his answer before he does and as she fades away into obscurity he is filled

with the wisdom of the ages. Percy the barn owl with no barn, the new Seer

of Lothrian Forest.

With a blink the slippery tiled dais becomes a bed of forest mulch and

the throne a gilded tree. The water basin that tried to drown him fills with

delicious bites of meat.

“Hoo.”