For this week, I’m not going to do any fashion post. This week, I’m writing about the Maskav. Think of it like… an early Halloween—my favorite holiday. This post is just a figure of my imagination. It would be cool if it existed.
The Maskav are a group of people, their number uncertain, who can be anywhere, but also nowhere at all. You can’t find them, you must summon them.
Don’t try this because you live on Earth, unfortunately, and not on Tarune.
Go to a dark room with no windows, light a single white candle with a blue flame, set it atop a white mask and burn it in the direct center of the room. Once the wax starts dripping down into the nose of the mask, you bow, sit on the ground and start your chant. The timing must be right, for you can only chant when you can see the full blood moon of the Feasttide.
“Candle , sviečka , ako spálite . Privolať mi lovca , aby sa ďalšie rodinu smútiť . Nebudem platiť v bartrovej alebo peniaze, ale dušu zbierate . Choď , a kradnúť život, ktorý som túžba byť preč .”
In English, it translates to:
“Candle, candle, how you burn. Summon me a hunter to make another’s family mourn. I will not pay in barter or money, but by the soul you collect. Go now, and steal the life of the one I desire to be gone.”
The language is descended from Slovak, on Earth, and even though it’s tricky to say, it pays off because no one, NO ONE, can escape the Maskav.
The Necromancers don’t even know about it, and they know just about everything. Let’s keep it our secret.