Stefan of FPOA is off to Italy and sent his greetings to Iron Sleet and our followers in a form of interlude…
Crataegus Fragmentum. 994.M41
Procession Hall, Tor An Heitthe.
So it was decided. The Elder Ones had just come to a conclusion. In a fortnight Sverre Arrheniusse and a handful of his most loyal servants would leave the thorn moons together with the human on board his Rogue Trader and depart on a bio-pilgrymage to Terra. The human had brought with him the fabled palimpsest, which was one of the reasons for the Genetor Explorator Fleet to settle in Crataegus so many moons ago.
‘Find the Pilgrym’, the Elder Ones had declared in their melodic voices that seemed to flow from the deepest hollows of ancient haw trunks. ‘He holds the key to the Green Room. From Throne to Thorne…’
Sverre would from this moment on be cloaked in the cape of the Green Traveller. As he accepted the great honour bestowed upon him by the Elder Ones, he heard the high pitched sound of hissing transistors and bio-conduits from the trees around him blend together with the sorrowful lament of the Silva Chorus, which seemed to flow on the faint breeze coming from the dense canopy of Tor An Heitthe high above him. The air was moist, a dancing carpet of fog covered the floor and countless streams of dark water were running like miniature water falls down the mossy pillars and walls of the Procession Hall. The deep and hollow hum of sacred wooden instruments filled the air like great swarms of bark beetles in the Vales of Dryæthe.
For some time he savoured the intermingling sounds of the forest choir and the bio-mechanical trees that made up the world around him. He decided to keep his acceptance speech short and raised his deep voice, which emanated from the hollow recesses within his lungs and throats. Trying not to disturb the beautifully melancholic Aether surrounding him, he uttered only a few short sentences.
In a fortnight he would fill his lungs with the sour air of the thorn moons one last time before he would step on board the Anaxaegoras to depart on his own personal Bio-Pilgrymage to the heart of the Imperiumme. With a lamenting heart the Green Traveller left the Procession Hall towards his private Lucus Chambers on the western slopes of Tor An Heitthe.
The song of the Silva Chorus drifted on the breeze and disappeared into the dark and misty night that covered the forested spires…
The Crataegus Lament, composed by soundscape composer Martin B. // Jafndægur © 2016