The Tufhaatan

A weekly ‘Hi!’ to all of you out there, I hope you guys are doing well!  In Hillcrest, South Africa, it feels like Spring got ambushed by Winter, and it still has a grey cloud pillowcase over it’s head while Winter keeps smacking it with a heavy baton!  To while away the rain and storm clouds, here’s some more from Methuselah Jackson…

“The meaty old mage pushed his sleeves up, clearly warming to the topic. He leant forward, one eyebrow raised, his deep voice trembling into a heavy baritone as he rolled on forward with his explanation… 

“Akhti Shakthuri was the foremost clairvoyant of our age.  Some, say ever.  He had a sense of vision that was unparalleled, and used it to clearly navigate the mists of time, the confusion of creation’s underbelly, and give us a glimpse of the past like none has ever done.  Yes, of course, there have been others, from Asthenes the renegade elven scholar, to Aristotle – and they all contributed to our body of knowledge, but none in scope and general accuracy like the tome of Shakthuri.

For reasons unbeknownst to us, the Tufaahatan ended up with us.  We can be assured that there are other worlds, other dimensions and other times, but what we do know is that it is here, with us.  We cannot tell you why, or how it got here, suffice to say that it is here, and we believe that it has been central to a number of major conflicts throughout the ages, most prominent amongst those, the very fall of the great civilisation Atlantis, and more recently, many of the major conflicts around the globe since the middle ages. It is indeed a noteworthy prize according to some, justifying almost any effort to secure it.”

The grey-bearded mage looked to the camera, adjusted a sleeve again and after a brief, theatrical display showing that he was holding no clandestine contrivances, had nothing secreted away or behind his back, he displayed an empty set of hands to the camera. He muttered some mumbling, arcane phrases, and held his hands together as though gently protecting a small fallen bird, and then blew into his cupped palms, spreading them open theatrically.

His hands opened to reveal a floating black cube, a hologram projected from some unseen light source.

“Behold!”  He said, in a deep, sonorous voice, “The font of creation, the sink of all sinks, the omphalos of all time, the embryo of our investiture – The Tufaahatan!” ”


Thanks Methuselah, dramatic old codger that you are! More to follow next week…


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