Ikwezi, the Spirit Doctor

*The stories on this page are those told around the campfires in the moredain lands. As with all spoken tales, they are prone to embellishment and change over time.*

## Backstory

### **Early Years**

Born under an auspicious falling star, his parents abandoned him beneath a

lone acacia tree bearing red leaves deep in the eastern savannah. His death all but assured, a pair of hunting dogs found and nurtured him. He later came to know them as Umama and Ubaba. From them he learned the ways of the savannah,how to hunt and track, to find waterholes, the plants that nourished and those that harmed,  they taught him the language of the earth and of the people. With time he grew into a strong and cunning child. As he began to mature the sight awakened within him. Umama showed him the secret routes into the earth, tunnels and burrows to the places where the ancestors rested. Ubaba showed him the skies, the positions of the stars and how they affected his gift. It was not until early manhood that he left his foster parents and had his first contact with the Moredain tribes, but as a seer he was quickly accepted despite his strange nature.

His skill and potential was evident but there was only so much he could learn without visiting the Elder Seers at the House of the Rising Sun.

### **The House**

Indlu-yelanga-elikhulayo, the House of the Rising Sun, so named as it’s top was the first thing in the savannah to greet the morning sun’s rays. When the first peoples had settled the savannah it was built as a seat of power for the greatest of the chieftains at the time, Shoka. He had managed to unite a number of tribes in their lands further north and led them to the savannah. Soon after many other tribes began to move south and claim lands there, but these did not pledge allegiance to Shoka and many remained isolated, contacting only their closest neighbors. Toward the end of his life Shoka became obsessed with holding onto power.

The other tribes were rife with conflict but those under his rule had been relatively stable and peaceful, however as age crept upon him all he saw in the faces of the other chieftains were enemies seeking to depose him. Upon his deathbed he named his older son successor and also placed a curse upon his throne swearing to the Great Lion that any not of his blood that sat upon it would die.

But Shoka had two sons, and his younger son was not willing to give the throne to his brother so easily despite his fathers wishes. As the elder brother sat upon the throne and was about to be named high chieftain, the younger along with two dozen men loyal to him stormed the throne room. A bloody conflict ensued resulting in the younger brother plunging a dagger into the elders heart still upon the throne. The blood stains could never be removed and are still there to this day.

His rule was short, the other chieftains did not wish to serve a usurper and many broke off ties completely with others rebelling. After a year of non-stop conflict the younger brother fell in battle.

His successors name has been forgotten, for not even a day did he rule. As he celebrated his Ascension with a great feast he began choking on a yam, and died. The rest of the chieftains present were in agreement, the curse of Shoka had claimed him and would kill any other who sat upon the throne. And so the Palace of Shoka was abandoned. Not selecting a new high chieftain the tribes went back to their petty rivalries and self rule, drifting apart over time as they spread further across the savannah claiming new lands.

It was hundreds of years later that the local tribal shamans came to an agreement to repair and preserve the ancient monument,  considering it as a powerful foci for communicating with spirits due to it’s bloody past. With each new generation children gifted with the sight were sent to the House to train under the elder shamans.

And so Ikwezi trained and learned for many years at the House until he was of middle age learning all there was to know until the elders had no more to teach him.

### **T'chaxau's Awakening**

For all his years working to aid the Moredain people, Ikwezi had communed with many spirits, and while some could be difficult and may ask for tasks to be completed before helping he had not yet met one with sinister intent. That was until he met T’chaxau.

The sun had barely grazed the temple atop the House, a stillness persevered across the savannah. The beasts had not yet awoken , no birdsong filled the air as it usually did at this time of morning. Ikwezi looked out across the palacial gardens below when the silence of the day was broken suddenly by a screaming woman running frantically up the main path. She had a bundle of rags in her arms that Ikwezi soon realized was a swaddled child, perhaps a year old at most. He pounced down from his perch atop an acacia tree, grabbed his herb pouch and staff that were resting at it’s roots and ran swiftly bounding forth with great strides, his arms swinging wildly at his side. He ran into the distressed woman at the foot of the ziggurat’s stairs and almost crashed right into her.

“*My child! By the Great Lion what ails you so?*” as Ikwezi spoke his hands acted out the words with great enthusiasm.

“*It is my boy! Kanu, he has not yet seen his first year, and I fear he never will!*”

“*A demon has taken ahold of him, it has stolen his soul! Please sangoma I have walked for days to bring him here, I fear it may be too late…*”

Her words came out weary and tremulous, the journey had obviously taken it’s toll on her and it seemed as if she had not slept or eaten for it’s entirety. Not a moment after her final words came out she collapsed forward, Ikwezi launched his arms out and grabbed the child in one hand and gently lowered her to the ground with the other. For the first time he looked down upon Kanu and a flash of bright light filled his vision.

He stood amid a whirling vortex of ash and dust, There was no light yet he could see. All at once an immense guttural voice resonated around him:

“***From deep forests, I awaken.***

***From Kanu, his soul taken.***

***Holster your pride, and bow.***

***To the mighty T’chaxau.***”

Ikwezi blinked and the vision was gone as soon as it came, before him the face of the infant Kanu, gazing blankly into his eyes.

The mother died soon after of exhaustion and Kanu was adopted by Ikwezi and the other shamans. Despite the best efforts of the oldest and wisest of them none could decipher what was wrong with the child. Powders and Poultices, Medicines of all kinds, incantations to the Great Lion, Nothing seemed to help. The child never left the trance he had been in since he arrived. They had to force feed him as he would not move of his own accord, neither did he sleep. Day in day out he did nothing, as if a doll not a real child. Ikwezi could not forget the vision presented to him however, and when there was no other solution he finally agreed with the elders to travel south into the jungles of the Tauredain in the hope someone there knew who this T’chaxau was and how the child's soul could be saved...

### **Into Darkness**

Ikwezi reached the edges of the great jungle in a few days ride,he dismounted and cut his zebra free, his shoulders slumped as he reached out and placed a hand on his trusty steeds forehead.

*“Umzalwana go free, your labours are done, there is no path ahead that you can ride…”* The zebra stared him in the eyes for a few seconds as if considering his words before slowly turning around and walking back into the Savannah. Before him stood an immense wall of trees stretching three stories high.From within he could see no light,and the calls of various exotic animals echoed ominously out of the darkness.

Staring down at his rhino horn dagger, Ikwezi began to feel very under equipped.Every step further the Undergrowth seemed to close in around him. It was not long before the sight of the Savannah was gone and there was nothing but trees and plants in every direction. The Moredain were not on the friendliest terms with most Tauredain tribes  which did not fill Ikwezi with any great comfort, there was one tribe on the western edge of the jungle that had done some trade in the past with the shamans of the house and who, according to the elders, could be trusted as much as one could trust a jungle rat.Days passed with nothing but the mosquitoes and scorpions to keep him company, the humidity of the jungles was so intense Ikwezi had to take constant breaks, carefully savoring his remaining rations.After a week of traveling and not coming across another living soul, he began to believe the Tauredain tribes were a lie, just another fireside story, he had entered this deathtrap for nothing and surely would face his death soon. The faint whistling as the dart shot towards his neck was the last thing that passed through his mind as he slumped to the jungle floor…

He awoke to many eyes staring down at him. A circle of spears hastily rose upon realization he was coming to.He heard voices but his head was still spinning and he could not make out what they were saying.

*“Li.. I…tau…ai…la…”*

Ikwezi’s vision pulsated as his head thumped.

*“Wh… tri..ry…thi…”*

Slowly the words began to sound clearer.

*“Speak or die!”*

Ikwezi’s gaze finally came to focus on the speaker, a young Tauredain man , his muscular chest on display, bearing tattoos of war and conquest.

*“Well Mudman! What say you? Explain yourself fast else find yourself carved open upon an altar!”* The young warrior exclaimed with furious passion.

Ikwezi explained the tale of Kanu and why he had come to the jungles, and asked to speak to a shaman who may be able to help him. The Tauredain warriors took some convincing and still would not allow him to visit the shaman without an accompanying guard.The shamans hut was on the very edge of the village, nestled into a quiet nook at the edge of the jungle. Vines had grown across it, blocking most light from it’s small windows but Ikwezi could still see the faint flickering of a flame coming from within. He nervously stepped over the threshold when signaled ducking under the low doorway as he did. Instantly his nostrils were alight with the chaotic mix of hundreds of herbs,plants, and remedies. While some of the scents were familiar too him there were many that were as alien as the jungles themselves.

*“Come in Ikwezi, I had thought you would arrive sooner…”*

 The voice came from an old woman sat hunched in the far corner of the room busy mashing some strange oily green mixture in a mortar. Ikwezi cautiously made his way across the hut tiptoeing around various ingredients scattered across the floor and gently perched himself on a log next to her.

*“How do you know my…”*

The woman held up a finger to silence Ikwezi.

*“You have come to save the boy yes? You wish me to tell you how to free him from T’chaxau’s grasp?”*

*“You have your tricks sangoma and we have ours”* ,a wry smile spread from the corner of her lips as she pulled her hood forward as if to hide it.

*“Yes… that is why I am here… Do you have the knowledge I seek?”* ,Ikwezi did not trust the shaman but he had no other options right now and surely disrespecting her would inter a swift response from his guard.

*“Let me show you what you seek Ikwezi, born of the Blood tree, Child of Yavanna…”*

Ikwezi was given a room that night, and the next morning he set off into the jungle with two trackers, who had been given orders by the shaman to guide him.

All he knew was it was an ancient structure that was connected to T’chaxau somehow and inside he would find the answers to his questions. He had tried to press the shaman for more information but she spoke then only in riddles, a seemingly common trait among the Tauredain he thought.

The ruin was not far from the village, although without the trackers help sent along with him, it would have taken Ikwezi a few days to reach. With the Tauredain skill navigating the jungle they reached it’s base within the day while the sun still graced the tree tops.The trackers bid Ikwezi goodbye handed him a small vial of remedy and a small amulet they said would bring luck. As the trackers disappeared back into the undergrowth, Ikwezi gazed up at the great pyramid before him. It was ancient beyond measure and the plants of the jungle seemed now just as much a part of it’s construction as stone was.

He hauled himself up it’s steps to the peak where he found the entrance the trackers had told him of, a small rectangular stairway descending into it’s depths.

Striking a flint he lit up a torch and entered.The tunnels had been designed to be purposely confusing, with everything looking alike. Ikwezi relied on the differing patterns of moss and vines that grew within to remember the different paths.

*Trespasser…*

Many hours seemed to pass ,but eventually Ikwezi descended further through the maze, and past a variety of traps hidden away in alcoves of the tunnels. Finally he arrived at a central room at what felt like the base of the pyramid.

*Thief…*

A path encircled it behind a row of columns that barely looked strong enough to hold up the roof. In the centre of the room was a raised platform, with a small pedestal at it’s centre. On it an object shimmered in the darkness, but Ikwezi could not make out what it was from this distance. A dense black fog surrounded the platform, the way it twisted and swirled gave it an unnatural ominosity.

*False Prophet…*

Ikwezi reached a hand out to the fog , and to his surprise a ghostly hand formed and reached back. His arm snapped back instinctively in terror.

***A golden crown, upon his head.***

***I melted it down, when he was dead.***

***A mask I forged, a just reward.***

***…***

Ikwezi began to realize he heard no sound, in fact he had been surrounded by nothing but silence for hours and yet these words, these thoughts were not his.

Part of his training had been practicing avoiding subconscious manipulation, a trick many spirits may try to get the living to agree with their wishes. This foe was deadly indeed to get the better of him for hours, or perhaps this place had caused him to let down his mental guard. He gazed again across the room, and the shining object became clearer now, it was a mask of gold indeed. This was it. This was the answer he was looking for ,that the shaman spoke of. He knew what he now had to do, take the mask back to The House and with it he was sure he could cure Kanu. It was a vessel, a portion of T’chaxau’s power likely resided within and Kanu’s soul must be trapped there too. Ikwezi cast away his fear and strode across the room, the fog began grasping at him like a mass of writhing serpents but he ignored it and continued on. Reaching the pedestal he grabbed the mask, preparing himself for a trap.

*Click*

*Clank*

*Groooannn*

A small doorway began grinding open on the other side of the room , and the fog began to clear. Unease filled Ikwezi’s stomach, this felt… too easy. Carefully he began moving towards the door, light streaming down from the outside. Upon leaving the pyramid Ikwezi spun around to make sure no final trap, caught him unawares, there was none. Finally free of that accursed place, he looked down at the object he held. It was a death mask of solid gold, emblazoned with rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. It’s eyes were forged of some strange red volcanic glass and it seemed to grin up at him with a menacing look, as if this had all been apart of it’s plan…

### **The Union of Souls**

Ikwezi arrived back home just as the morning sun was rising, the sight filled him with hope and joy. The journey had taken him just over six months and by now the young Kanu would be almost four years old, if he still lived…

Ikwezi quickly gathered the elders and called the rest of the shamans to Kanu’s room. The boy was still alive, but his state had not changed, as predicted. After quickly explaining his journey Ikwezi held up the Mask of T’chaxau for all to see. A hushed silence fell over the room soon replaced by quiet muttering as various discussions were had about what to do with the object and how it’s power could be utilized. Placing the mask down on a table, Ikwezi held his hands up to gain the others attention.

*“Brothers, we all feel the power emanating from the vessel, that much is there for all to see. But how do we use it to free the child? This is still a mystery. But I assure you this object is the key…”*

Ikwezi was so distracted he did not notice Kanu rise from his bed, seize the mask, and put it on…

 The three elders stood nearby suddenly lurched and spasmed, collapsing to the ground writhing in pain. Screams echoed from outside replaced quickly with grotesque gurgling sounds and then followed with silence. Tendrils of midnight black fog began seeping out the walls forming grasping hands that ikwezi remembered from the pyramid. The eyes of the mask upon Kanu’s face began to glow with an unearthly crimson red flame as the child rigidly walked forwards, his gaze set unmovingly upon Ikwezi. He felt his throat tighten as if an invisible serpent had coiled around it and was intent on ripping the air from his lungs. He phased in and out of consciousness as the edges of his vision began to blacken. With his last ounce of strength he reached out in desperation and wrestled the mask from the young Kanu. Having form had made T’chaxau’s magic potent but physically he was still as weak as a four year old child. Tensing up he raised the ancient golden mask up to his face and put it on…

Once again he stood in the vortex from his vision, what felt like so long ago. But unlike before he could make out shapes behind the wall of dust. Buildings seemed to be emerging from the storm. Soon it began clearing and Ikwezi saw clearly, he was standing on the main road of an ancient Tauredain city, a great pyramid lay at it’s end not too different from the one he found the mask in. People walked up and down the road, carts hauled goods to market stands, the air was filled with the hustle and bustle of a prospering trade centre. Those that walked passed were dressed in outfits Ikwezi did not recognize. By their skin and tattoos they looked to be Tauredain but he had seen no such wealth or splendor in his short time in the jungle. Could this be the old empire? Was he seeing into the past?

***“Golden splendor, Blinded by greed.***

***As Sauron bid, I planted the seed.***

***Puppet on the throne, Guess whose pulling the strings?***

***An empire fallen, to the power of the ring.”***

T’chaxau’s voice brought back the utter dread Ikwezi felt before, always speaking in riddles and rhyme, the trickster would not outsmart him this time. Within an instant the vision changed, the buildings began to crumble, fires erupted off in the distance, and the populace ran panicked through the streets. Distant sounds of conflict filled the air along with plumes of black smoke.

***“We are one now Ikwezi, Two souls one form.***

***While I walk in your flesh, you will cower in this storm.***

***Here you will remain, in this prison of the mind.***

***Awake to the cruelty, of the spirit that you bind.”***

*“Foul spirit you think you are the stronger? You think you can defeat me within my own mind? I brought you here, to the one place I may defeat you! You are nothing more that a puppet yourself T’chaxau, serving a far greater master. And I will bind you, by the Great Lion this is the end of you!”*

 Rage boiled up within Ikwezi as he remembered the image of the shamans, his adopted family dying before him. He rose his staff high into the air and struck it down with tremendous force. Smoke bellowing from burning buildings in the distance began to coalesce towards Ikwezi. From within it stepped forth a tall dark skinned man with Ancient writings scarred onto his body. Ikwezi instinctively swung his staff at the mans head. Smoke swirled forth and formed into a blade of pure obsidian deflecting the blow. In retaliation the Tauredain lunged forth with speed Ikwezi did not expect from a man his size. He only just managed to leap out the way in time, feeling the breeze of the blade on his face. Stumbling to his feet another blow stuck forth. And another. And another. Perhaps it was instinct from years of training, or the hatred he felt for the spirit, or some other force guiding his hand; but every time the blade came down upon him Ikwezi’s staff was there to meet it. With a mighty roar Ikwezi swung his staff in an overhead arc, cutting straight through the man before him revealing nothing but a cloud of smoke in it’s wake. A terrible wail seemed to echo around the city before the vision began to fade back into darkness. Awaking once more the scenes of chaos and devastation T’chaxau had caused were still there, he had not dreamed that…

*“I can never let you free to cause havoc to my people again T’chaxau, so you will remain within me, always a part of the dark corner of my mind. But I will be vigilant and do what I must. Much greatness has been lost here this day, The Great Lion weeps, but we shall rebuild what was lost and you shall see all your evil undone through my eyes.”*

Out of the blood soaked room, Ikwezi noticed movement in the corner of his eye. He rushed over and hauled the corpse of an elder to one side. Beneath it was the child. He was still, could this really be it? The spirit defeated and now the child lies dead? But then there was movement once more. Kanu’s eyes blinked open, wearily gazing around as if seeing the world for the first time. He looked up at Ikwezi’s concerned face, reached out, and gently pawed at his cheeks giggling with soulful happiness.

## Related Builds

**Indlu-yelanga-elikhulayo** (*House of the Rising Sun*) - The oldest building in the savannah's built by the chieftain who led the ancestors of the Moredain to the savannah. It is a multi level ziggurat containing the cursed throne and a shrine to the sun at it's peak. Gardens surround it tended to by the shamans who still live there.Located directly at the Eastern Plains WP.