{"id":829,"date":"2005-04-27T15:58:59","date_gmt":"2005-04-27T14:58:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.franchouille.fr\/shadowrun\/?page_id=829"},"modified":"2005-04-27T15:58:59","modified_gmt":"2005-04-27T14:58:59","slug":"voices-of-the-past","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/www.franchouille.fr\/testsr\/sr-inspi\/nouvelles\/voices-of-the-past\/","title":{"rendered":"Voices of the Past"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div>\n

Voices From The Past<\/cite> est la nouvelle \u00e9crite par Tom Dowd comme prologue pour la campagne Harlequin\u2019s Back<\/cite>, en 1993.<\/p>\n

Harlequin sat alone in a quiet room lit only by the sinking flames of a dying fire. His face was unpainted, and he wore a plain long robe woven with golden and burgundy threads. The firelight caught the metallic threads of his robe and the intricate metal filigree on the walls behind him and made them sparkle. Harlequin didn\u2019t even notice. He was drunk and his drink was his only concern.<\/p>\n

\"Harlequin The liquid swirled in the glass, impelled by the gentle motion of his wrist. He watched the magical blending and bleeding of colors as the liquid hovered on the edge of solidifying, maintaining its liquid state only by the energy from his moving hand. The colors changed dramatically as he changed the direction of its motion. Firelight danced along the edges of the fine crystal goblet that held the drink.<\/p>\n

Harlequin drank from the goblet, barely sipping, and let the drink\u2019s deep fire run through him. He nearly laughed with the pleasure, but, as always, the cold aftertaste caught him by surprise.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You have fallen far,\u00a0\u00bb spoke a long-dead voice.<\/p>\n

Harlequin turned slowly from the fire and looked across the long expanse of the room. In the center of the room, caught in the flickering firelight, stood a figure. Its robes were black, torn, covered in the dirt of a thousand roads. Dark, gnarled hands hung limply from the sleeves of the robe, but no face appeared within the raised hood. In its place, he could see only smoke churning slightly.<\/p>\n

Harlequin raised an eyebrow, snorted once, and turned back to his drink, raising it to his lips. \u00ab\u00a0Oh, please,\u00a0\u00bb he muttered.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You cannot ignore me,\u00a0\u00bb said the robed figure.<\/p>\n

Harlequin snorted again, spraying a few drops of liquid from his mouth. \u00ab\u00a0I can do as I please,\u00a0\u00bb he said.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You are drunk.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin laughed. \u00ab\u00a0And you, sir, are a feeble attempt to frighten me with an image so common that it would not frighten a child.\u00a0\u00bb He looked into the fire. \u00ab\u00a0Lewis Carroll must be spinning in his grave.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Indeed he must,\u00a0\u00bb agreed the figure. \u00ab\u00a0You are drunk and confused. A Christmas Carol was written by Charles Dickens.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You fog your mind so you cannot see the truth.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin stood abruptly and hurled the glass toward the robed figure. The missile fell just short, exploding into fragments of brilliant, flashing crystal and a spray of liquid color. The figure did not move.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Begone, foul spirit,\u00a0\u00bb Harlequin cried. \u00ab\u00a0I summoned you not into my home and I banish you hence.\u00a0\u00bb He flung his hand out toward the robed figure, spreading his fingers as if throwing dust. A hint of power danced there.<\/p>\n

The figure did not move. \u00ab\u00a0You cannot,\u00a0\u00bb it said.<\/p>\n

Harlequin\u2019s face grew wild. \u00ab\u00a0I can and I do!\u00a0\u00bb he cried again, and thrust his arms out to his sides. \u00ab\u00a0M\u2019aela j-taarm querm talar!\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

The room darkened suddenly, and pockets of moisture sealed in the firewood burning at Harlequin\u2019s back burst, throwing showers of sparks into the air. They rained down up him, ignored, until a cool wind rushed back at him and damped them into embers. He brushed the char from his shoulders.<\/p>\n

The figure did not move. \u00ab\u00a0It has been a long time since those words were last spoken, Har\u2019lea\u2019quinn. It is not the first time you have used them against me.\u00a0\u00bb The figure\u2019s robes rustled slightly. \u00ab\u00a0And they did not aid you then.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin paled. \u00ab\u00a0No. . .\u00a0\u00bb he breathed, and stumbled back to his chair. \u00ab\u00a0You are gone. . .forgotten. . .\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Forgotten, perhaps, but never gone. How could we ever be truly gone?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin turned away, covering his eyes with his forearm. \u00ab\u00a0You are the past. Your place is there only,\u00a0\u00bb he moaned. \u00ab\u00a0That world is gone.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Perhaps,\u00a0\u00bb replied the figure, \u00ab\u00a0but as long as you remember. . .\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Yes. That is the key, isn\u2019t it?\u00a0\u00bb Harlequin said, standing and dropping his arm to his side. He faced the robed figure again. \u00ab\u00a0My mind. You are right, whatever you are. I am drunk, and that is a bad state for one such as me.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Then I am a figment of your imagination?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin shrugged. \u00ab\u00a0Were you ever anything more?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

The robes moved as if the figure laughed, but Harlequin heard no sound. \u00ab\u00a0That borders on blasphemy. You once were more devout.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Never for you.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0I understood you too well.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin thrust his hands into the pockets of his robe. \u00ab\u00a0Or vice versa.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

The figure bowed slightly. \u00ab\u00a0Perhaps. Madness can bring wisdom.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin sneered. \u00ab\u00a0You are the Master of the Twisted Path. The only wisdom you teach is avoidance.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0And yet I am here.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Alamestra,\u00a0\u00bb said Harlequin, pointing to the now-motionless, solid globs of color around the figure\u2019s feet, \u00ab\u00a0is not an indulgence known for gifting wisdom.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Then what of me?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0What of you?\u00a0\u00bb replied Harlequin.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0If I exist only as a creature of your mind, why am I here?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin shrugged again. \u00ab\u00a0It matters not. Your words are lies and your deeds treachery. Your inspiration is betrayal. I care not why you are here and will not listen to you.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0And yet you say you summoned me.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0I am, was, drunk.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0If I am of no consequence or concern, then why did your dispelling not work?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin stared at him.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You have cleared your mind. The fog is lifted, yet I remain.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You are a hangover incarnate, nothing more.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

The figure\u2019s robes shifted again. \u00ab\u00a0You lie to yourself.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0No,\u00a0\u00bb said Harlequin, \u00ab\u00a0you lie to me.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0As I said.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin tensed. \u00ab\u00a0This is foolishness. You are a shadow of the dead past conjured by my drunken mind to vex me.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Why me?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0I do not care.\u00a0\u00bb Harlequin told the figure, turning back to the near-dead fire.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You lie to yourself.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You repeat yourself, bland spirit.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

The figure slowly raised one arm and pointed at Harlequin. \u00ab\u00a0I am Deceit. I am Deception. I am Treachery. I am Betrayal. I am the passions that bring men to lie to others, and themselves.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin turned and stared, his eyes growing slightly wider. \u00ab\u00a0As you say,\u00a0\u00bb he said.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0As you do, now.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Your words can never be believed,\u00a0\u00bb said Harlequin.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0I am not words, Har\u2019lea\u2019quinn. I am emotion, I am passion, I am what you feel.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin was silent.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0And you feel them, do you not?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0I feel nothing.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You can taste them in the air.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0I taste nothing.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Smell them on the wind.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0The air is still.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Hear them laughing in the silence, calling for their due.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0I hear only your maddening voice.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

The figure lowered its arm. \u00ab\u00a0You lie to yourself.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin rushed toward the figure. \u00ab\u00a0I do not!\u00a0\u00bb he howled, his hands clenched into sweaty fists. He shook them at the robed figure. \u00ab\u00a0It is too soon!\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0They are coming.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin spun away, then rounded back on his antagonist. \u00ab\u00a0It is too soon! They cannot be coming!\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You lie to yourself.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0It is you who lies to me!\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0As I have said.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin turned again and stumbled back toward the fire. \u00ab\u00a0It is too soon. . .\u00a0\u00bb he mumbled. \u00ab\u00a0Nothing is right. . .I cannot understand. . .\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You do not wish to understand. The humans play with things they do not comprehend because no one teaches them.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin whirled back to face the figure. \u00ab\u00a0And telling them would stop them? I think not.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

The figure shifted. \u00ab\u00a0The humans have danced their little dance, Har\u2019lea\u2019quinn. They shook this world, and the others. Now they pay the price.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin grasped his head and shook it. \u00ab\u00a0No. . .It is too soon. . .\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You will still be saying that when they tear the fingers from your hands and blind you with them. Have you fallen so far, Har\u2019lea\u2019quinn? Have you forgotten the horror?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0I can\u2019t. . .\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Nor can I.\u00a0\u00bb The figure stared at Harlequin. \u00ab\u00a0I expected more from the last Knight of the Crying Spire.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin stared back at the figure. \u00ab\u00a0The Northern Islands are gone. Forgotten dust of a forgotten world.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0As all shall be, Har\u2019lea\u2019quinn, as all shall be.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0What would you have me do?\u00a0\u00bb Harlequin cried.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Destroy the bridge.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin blanched. \u00ab\u00a0That cannot be done. . .How. . .\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Thayla\u2019s Voice.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin sat abruptly. \u00ab\u00a0No. . .\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0You know where she roams. Her song will shatter the bridge and cast them back from the chasm. It will take them time to find it again.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin stared off into the darkness and nodded. \u00ab\u00a0Yes. . .\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Travel lightly. Some already wander the netherworlds. It will not be safe. They will smell you coming.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin continued to nod. \u00ab\u00a0I understand. . .\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

The figure moved forward, walking past Harlequin toward the dying embers of the fire. \u00ab\u00a0Move quickly, Laughing One; they have experience in building their bridge.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin did not answer but stared off into the darkness of the room, still nodding.<\/p>\n

The figure shook its head and stepped into the fire. The embers flared and kindled, but no heat warmed Harlequin. At last he looked up and saw his growing shadow on the wall, and turned. He saw only the last swirls of burning cloth as the heat from the now-raging fire danced them higher and higher.<\/p>\n

He stared at the fire. The large, ornate doors at the far end of the room swung open and Harlequin stood quickly. A young woman entered, her long, white hair falling in waves over the black satin dressing gown she clutched to her body with one hand. The other hand held a heavy-barreled chrome pistol. \u00ab\u00a0Did you. . .\u00a0\u00bb she stammered. \u00ab\u00a0I felt. . .\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin nodded and walked toward her. \u00ab\u00a0Indeed you did. Prepare yourself; it is time to see how much you have learned.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

She stared at him. As he moved past her he turned and continued walking, backward.<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0The netherworlds. . .\u00a0\u00bb he paused, and smiled. \u00ab\u00a0Pardon my anachronism. The metaplanes will ring with the sounds of battle and songs long unsung.\u00a0\u00bb He walked backward out of the room and down the hall.<\/p>\n

She followed quickly. \u00ab\u00a0I don\u2019t. . .What happened?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Call up your files, dear Jane, and find us some heroes.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

She snorted. \u00ab\u00a0Yeah, right.\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

Harlequin grinned broadly. \u00ab\u00a0Yes, times have changed.\u00a0\u00bb His path arced across the large hall they\u2019d entered and he began ascending the staircase. She stopped at its foot and yelled up after him. \u00ab\u00a0Will you tell me what the frag is going on?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\u00ab\u00a0Why, my dear,\u00a0\u00bb he said, turning away from her, \u00ab\u00a0Harlequin\u2019s back. Can\u2019t you tell?\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n

\n

L\u2019auteur lui-m\u00eame a plusieurs fois pr\u00e9cis\u00e9 que la vision d\u2019Harlequin pouvait tr\u00e8s bien provenir de l\u2019alcool, comme elle pouvait \u00eatre r\u00e9elle. N\u00e9anmoins la plupart des joueurs consid\u00e8rent que la vision est celle d\u2019une Passion, en l\u2019occurence Vestrial, qu\u2019Harlequin a autrefois suivi. On voit donc que les Passions du 4e<\/sup> \u00e2ge sont toujours pr\u00e9sentes bien qu\u2019oubli\u00e9es, nettement moins puissantes mais toujours actives. Elles prennent la forme d\u2019un esprit (ou sont un), puisque visiblement Harlequin essaie de la bannir.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\n

Document cr\u00e9\u00e9 \u00e0 l’origine par Tom Dowd<\/strong> et publi\u00e9 sur shadowrun.fr<\/a> le lundi 25 avril 2005 par J\u00e9r\u00e9mie Bouillon<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

Article mis \u00e0 disposition sous licence Copyright FASA<\/em>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Voices From The Past est la nouvelle \u00e9crite par Tom Dowd comme prologue pour la campagne Harlequin\u2019s Back, en 1993. Harlequin sat alone in a quiet room lit only by the sinking flames of a dying fire. His face was unpainted, and he wore a plain long robe woven with golden and burgundy threads. The […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":198,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-829","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.franchouille.fr\/testsr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/829","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.franchouille.fr\/testsr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.franchouille.fr\/testsr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.franchouille.fr\/testsr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.franchouille.fr\/testsr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=829"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.franchouille.fr\/testsr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/829\/revisions"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.franchouille.fr\/testsr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/198"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.franchouille.fr\/testsr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=829"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}