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The Ascendancy of Avurekhos Yfae'dren
Everiine
Wise Old Swordsbird / BrontaurIndianapolis, IN, USA
I didn't see this posted yet, so here's a log of the event up until the celebration following. I think I cleaned up all the extraneous stuff in between, so, I'm sorry if there are any left!
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Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter intones, "Are we ready to begin?"
Everiine nods, signaling his readiness.
Erebos nods his head emphatically.
Selenity nods her head affirmatively.
Erebos idly twitches his tail.
Arien gestures, her arms open wide to beckon the five representatives forward.
Kazel nods her head emphatically.
Everiine, covered from head to do in swirling, ritualistic tribal paint, steps forward.
Selenity steps forward as well, the skirt of her dress billowing behind her as she does.
Arien raises her hand for silence, and begins to speak.
Erebos bows his head and closes his eyes. Soft breaths carry a light intonation of words, something consisting of growls and various chuffles. Before long, he raises his gaze, stepping forward.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter intones, "We all are gathered, bearing tokens of the realm that thrives all around us, strengthened in our oaths of unity, the bonds we have cultivated as a people of Serenwilde in past, present and future."
A blazing silver beam speeds across the firmament, wreathed in ethereal mist.
Her voice soft, but powerful, Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "The names of those who lead us in the beginning are written here, united here, for our sight, and that of the Shelterfolk. Their spirits linger, our ancestors heed to us to answer their wailing calls."
Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "In this, we have come, to begin the process of binding one who shall seek to be a part of this sacred land forever, never parting from the grace of its changeable seasons, the everturning cycles of its life."
Raising his voice to be heard across the circle, you say, "In this, we do invoke the Mother Moonhart to grant us the capabilities of blessing and ritual binding, so that we all may grant strength and power, to this chosen individual whom the people and the hosts of all have selected."
Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "May the harmony and intent of our words speak with one voice, Great Spirit of the Serenwilde, we five may not be the kin of the founding ones, but by oath and bond we are kin by heart and action."
Looking at those gathered, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "Let us join hands and begin."
Everiine crooks the two staves he carries under his arms and extends his hands, taking those on either side of him.
Arien Siar'luin clasps the hands of you and Selenity, lifting her arms to begin part of the circle around the ritual bowl. Her eyes glimmer with a brief flash of silver as she stares into each individual's own returning gazes with a faint smile.
Erebos joins hands with those on either side of him, his elbows bending slightly to create a more circular form. His eyes flashing to the two, he smiles in excitement, before focusing back on the ritual bowl.
Selenity Siar'luin takes a hold of Arien and Ryboi's hand, looking to the others present, before her gaze focuses once more onto the ritual bowl.
Ryboi joins hands with thoese around him, lifting his arms to join the circle around the ritual bowl. A broad smile appears on his face.
Her voice intoning with great care, and tenderness, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "We are of the Earth, its ground, its dust and bounty. Tending the trees, the roots that grow deep beneath us, the roots that allow us to stand here now. We are but seedlings when there is nothing to nurture, we are but wanderers when there is no place that is home."
Her eyes lowering to gaze beneath the platform to the roots of the Mother Moonhart, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "Without Earth, there is nothing."
The branches of the bowl twist upwards in a welcoming gesture, the gnarled bark of each beginning to gleam with buds of newborn flora and fauna flicker in and out of sight upon them. With a heaving wind, all present feel grounded upon the platform as a connection along the air gathers with suspense. The tongues of the trees rise and flex with creaking arrays of an ancient cacophony, as if preparing for an omen to pass.
Projecting his voice for all to hear, Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "We are of the Water, giver of life, taker of the souls, nurturer of Earth, ruled by the Awakened Spirit of Mother Moon. There is no harvest without the rains of the seasons. There are no mortals without the tides, rivers, lakes and streams that rejuvenate all, and cleanse all."
Gazing at everyone around him, Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "Without Water, there is nothing."
In a delicate flourish of bursting colours, rings of moonglory petals blossom outwards from the buds, sending vines entwining about the ritual vessel that collects the plantlife's new, misted dew within its centre. Soft gasps and murmurs echo throughout the area, as the observing fae and spirits take heed to another sign of Moother Moonhart's acceptance.
Her gaze lifting and her voice nearly ethereal in quality, Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "We are of the Spirit, centre of the soul, song of the heart, voices of the children we have forgotten that were within ourselves. Life has no meaning without spirit, ruler of passions, mind, and determination, bearer of emotions, connector to the heart of each living thing. We are the voice often heard in silence, or in loud throes of comprehension."
A knowing smile coming to her lips as she speaks, Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "Without Spirit, there is nothing."
The liquid drew pulses within the low ring of the vessel, as the area around you fills with a sense of understanding and serene peace. The faintest of arias drifts through the canopy, and throughout the Serenwilde on the voices of spirits rising to ansewr the call of the people as the heavens stir above, with darkened clouds reeling. Ethereal waves of light begin to interconnect with the leaves of Mother Moonhart in the same moment, their silver strands like the hands of the spirits raised in exaltation.
Patchou the Moon Cat stares about the room with her eyes that glow an eerie silverygreen.
His voice deep, old, and full of wisdom, you say, "We are of the Fire, sturdy and strong, drive for the spirit, overseer of Earth, protector of its boundaries, destructor and creator of all things natural, in disaster or control. We are the sons and daughters of the elements, and can return to them when our time is done. Shedding blood for the cause of others, to replenish the Spirit, to renew like Water, and be a champion of Earth."
Nodding affirmatively, you say, "Without Fire, there is nothing."
A sudden strike of lightning snaps through the canopy of the Moonhart Mother Tree, causing the visible weavings of light to sizzle and crackle as smoke laurels up through the leaves. Rumbles of thunder drum closer with each passing moment, as the smell of embers and windswept leaves whips across the platform. The smoke drifts with keen direction, settling across the ritual vessel before entering the water itself.
Arien kneels and stretches her spine backwards, flaring her arms out in suit. In an instance, feathers dress her body, and you hold your breath to witness this regal, swanlike pose.
His accent thick and rolling, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "We are of the Air, brother of Water, maker of storms and clouds, meditations of the mute dead, resonations of the soul untold Breathe us in, for life, breathe us out for death. It is we in harmony that move the earth, the trees and waters, the mystery of my name and purpose within everything, every being that bears the reflections of life and nature's balance."
Continuing after a brief pause, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "Without Air, no other element would continue to change."
A hush of air surges, whirling the smoke upwards with its cleansing aura, to reveal the clearing upon the platform to be shimmering and pulsing with power. The silver of the net of lights is now arranged in a swirling dance of thrumming essence that sends small quakes down your spine.
Arien loosens her hands gently, beginning to lift the tiny moonhart nut within her hands, she holds it cradled within the shell of her palm. Her eyes shine with joy as she waits for the others to part their own linking.
Everiine separates his hands and takes up his staves once more.
Selenity releases her hands from that of those whom she had held onto.
Ryboi bows his head, separating his hands ready to impart a white lily into the ritual bowl.
Selenity bowing her head, she strums her lyre once, the spirits around her turning towards her to listen attentively.
Lifting the silvery moonhart nut between two fingers and raising it high, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "With this seed, I ask that Mother Moonhart understand that even from the smallest things can grow the wildest, the solid foundation of earth and wholeness, the wrath of many in one."
Erebos bows his head, separating his hands from those he once held so tightly. He smiles faintly at the ritual bowl, the air carrying soothing words from within his chest in but faint whispers.
Arien lifts her eyes towards the highest reaches of the Mother Moonhart Tree for a moment of contemplation before lowering the nut into its centre.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "Hear us, Beloved Spirit, impart upon us the wisdom of your ways."
Upon contact, the seed lands within the smokecrowned waters, immediately clamoring around the ritual vessel in a full revolution before settling eerily at the centre, standing upright. Layers of the mercurial strands of light hovering above begin to peel from one another, descending to knot around the grooves of the seedling.
Softly, Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "I bring the gift of life from what grows within, Mother Moonhart, may it bring joy and newness that shall rejuvenate your sapling kin that all lie beneath you."
Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "Hear us, Beloved Spirit, impart upon us the wisdom of your ways."
Ryboi squeezes the flower's water droplets across the seed, before putting it in the bowl.
With an immense shift, the canopy of the Mother Moonhart Tree stretches and parts all of her strong branches with a rustle of leaves and trunk as the Full Moon above brilliantly shatters a beam of moonlight upon the bowl. Misting with silversapphire light, the beams separate and halo about you upon the platform, bathing you in the warmth and renewal as the seed grows laden with the waters, and begins to sprout.
Erebos idly twitches his tail.
Eyes closing half way as she strums her lyre once more, Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "I sing the song of the spirits, the great ancestors that have lived within and around since your great creation." She pauses and takes a breath, a fond smile crossing her lips. "They come this day to awaken Serenwilde, and rouse from earth to bough to rejoice in unity, I give the gift of spirit incarnate."
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "Hear us, Beloved Spirit, impart upon us the wisdom of your ways."
The spirits surrounding the Keyll Arrane rise in a flurry, their voices earsplitting as they wail in many songs, all combining into one that drives the storm roiling above into pure turmoil. Passing through each of the bowl with a violent tremor, the sapling begins to take shape, its leaves and fragile twigs extending as it begins to hover through the stasis of the Moon's illumination.
Stepping forward toward the bowl, you say, "The gift of fire, I bear, pure heat and passion. Blessed with the Great Spirits of Serenwilde, I entreat you, awaken and with each token of the elements of Nature, arise and bestow what is to come."
Everiine unties the cord holding a carved bone talisman to his wrist and holds it up for all to see before placing the blessed item in the bowl.
With a resounding clatter, the bone talisman bursts into bluewhite flames as it lands within the bowl, leaving the other items surprisingly intact. Yet the platform beneath your feet hems and haws, as if Mother Moonhart is now stirring from her dreaming, yet knowing state.
His accent remaining harsh, yet calm, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "Bestowing the final gift of wind, we await your sign of acceptance, oh Spirits, ancestors of old, mighty and young, brash and wise. Rise from the final death, and bring wind!"
As the shriek of the heralding screams of a banshee, the glacial wind rushes across the Mother Moonhart tree, causing leaves and all manners of creatures to tumble from its boughs in a rough cascade. It does not wane against the strength of Her trunk, and continues to ring in your ears as the air pulls harshly at all of your garments.
Through the raging wind, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth exclaims, "Hear us, Beloved Spirit, impart upon us the wisdom of your ways!"
The gust knocks all at present to their knees, slamming into the bowl. The ingredients within all combine at once with a blip of energy as fire, water, earth, spirit meld as one. A ricocheting plume of silverwhite ash and dust jump from the centre of the ritual vessel, showering you with its many fragments onto your visage.
All at once you feel the serene calm of understanding in your mind's eye, as the visions of the founders of the Serenwilde bestow upon you the knowledge to complete the task at hand. The buffeting roar soon quiets as the Mother Moonhart settles within Her place once more.
The connective roots of Mother Moonhart begin to twist and dance as the canopy and foliage dance with joy as the awareness of the entirety of Serenwilde aligns at once.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter intones, "We all now move from this platform, to the Mother."
(movement)
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "We now move into assembly, call upon your fae and totem animals, let them be present for what comes."
"We will endure till all else is crumbled and dead." sings Niina, mournfully playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork with deep rhythmic harmonies.
Arien reaches upon her forehead, feeling the remnants of the fragments, she beckons the five representatives to a place below the canopy of Mother Moonhart, before allowing them to arrange their own guild representatives within circles, as tree rings within a trunk.
Everiine Silvermoon, covered in the dust, moves to stand next to Arien
Arien Siar'luin turns to Enyalida, smiling softly as she beckons her near.
Avurekhos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.
Enyalida approaches, lowering her hood to uncover her face, painted in stripes and whorls, with a conspicuous red circle central on her brow.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "We must share the wisdom of Mother Moonhart to all of you, leaders, pass it to those who are of your guild."
Arien Siar'luin extends her right hand, wiping her brow with smudge as the green man reflected on her features as she traces the symbol of the triple moon upon the center of her brow
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says to Enyalida, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Nodding solemnly, Enyalida Zayah says, "Nor any beyond."
Arien Siar'luin turns and begins to assist with the other guilds, walking over to Ryboi.
Jaamil follows up shortly behind Ryboi.
Enyalida Zayah turns to Anjou, bending slightly to paint a corresponding symbol on her brow.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "Please, do this all at once. We have little time to waste."
Anjou beams broadly at Enyalida.
Erebos paints a symbol upon his own brow.
Ryboi D'Varden turns to Jaamil and draws the symbol of the Triple Moon with the centre sitting between his eye brows
Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says to Jaamil, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Arien Siar'luin follows over to you, Selenity, and Erebos, retracing their own symbols.
Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Selenity Siar'luin turns to face Niina and nods to her, smiling. She paints a symbol onto Niina's head, whispering, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Avurekhos walks widdershins nine times amongst those assembled.
Arien nods her head emphatically.
Everiine approaches the group of centaur hunters and gives them a tribal salute before bowing low. He traces a triple moon in the dust on his forehead with two lines for horns. Scraping the dust from himself, he approaches each one of the centaurs and does the same, saying, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it." Once finished, he turns around and sees Adasser standing there. Grunting to himself, he approaches the elfen guard and gives him the same mark.
All around you, the spirits of nature begin to manifest in swirling lights and gusts of air. Petals and loose branches leap and spin, twisting toward the budding Ascendant.
Heir Jaamil says to Lleuke, in Elfen, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Adasser, an elfen guard gasps softly, allowing the Chief too mark his brow with the triple moon.
Nodding in conclusion of the Assembly, Arien Siar'luin Arien retakes her place amongst you and Selenity. She straightens, and begins once more.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter orates, "Within this full moon, we have seen what is to come. An oath of oaths A power rises, pleading to be harnessed by one."
Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "In her boughs, She spoke to us, imbuing nature?s trust in dust. With heart open and minds thus, we bless and bestow upon this wouldbe Ascendant the power within our earth."
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "His spirit has been found worthy, the ancestors have spoken, but they require the binding of the soul, for such power to be open."
You say, "After all is done, and each guild has concluded their part, we must return him to the last of Nature's cycle and our Mother's beating heart."
Pride in his voice, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "In unity, in strength, we shall begin."
Erebos idly twitches his tail.
Erebos steps forward, his clawed hands resting peacefully on his sheathed shofa at his sides. His eyes flash silver against the light and shadows, casting a strange contrast against the environment about him.
Raising his hands before him, palms up, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says to Avurekhos, "Avurekhos, my friend, I stand here to represent the Kui in this, a most important of matters. You have long since stood as a vanguard of the Serynwodenhillirim..."
Erebos slowly brings his hands together, and as the palms collide, thunder sounds in the distance.
Lightning quakes in the skies above, followed swiftly by a crash of thunder that fades into a low rumble. An ethereal wind picks up slightly, foliage from the trees twisting and twirling about the Wrath of the Crone.
His hands quickly move to join one another, the right clasping over the left's thumb into conjoined fists, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says to Avurekhos, "I bid the wind come, and bring with it Spirit Bull, may His Wisdom and Strength judge you, and find you worthy."
Avurekhos nods his head affirmatively at Erebos.
Erebos chants vehemently, his tones encased in an icy tone that carries many snarls and growls. Slowly, his eyes begin to slow a soft blue, his words becoming louder, until the wind completely robs him of them. This doesn't stop his chanting, though, as his maw continues to move in silence.
As if on cue, the rumbling grows into a loud clashing, as through the bushes and trees runs Spirit Bull, his form consistent of bright blues and hazy yellows, the colors combining into sparks of power as His hooves clash against the ground below him. The Spirit halts, and with Him so does the wind.
Spirit Bull glares at Avurekhos, snorting vehemently, the action causing the wind to gust with each huff, and with it His words are carried, though his snout never moves.
Spirit Bull says to Avurekhos in deep, thunderous tones, Herald of Her Storm, I see you. I judge you now, and have found you worthy of this sacred Bond. Your heart is true, and your eyes flash with the wisdom of lifetimes well spent.
Erebos suddenly loses focus in his eyes and shudders, then looks curiously refreshed.
As if to emphasize this point, the winds strengthen, bringing with them the most bitter of cold, the touch of Winter's Embrace. Spirit Bull bursts into a charge once more, His head lowering at Avurekhos as if to gore him. As the Spirit makes impact and all hope for the man seems lost, the Spirit bursts into motes of blues and yellows, leaving a bright glowing aura about Avurekhos. Reacting to this, the Moonhart shudders, and almost seems to reach out to him.
As the winds die down Erebos lowers his hands back to his sides, his mane disheveled. His gaze locks on Avurekhos, his expression grim.
His accent harsh, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says to Avurekhos, "Let it be known, now, that Spirit Bull acknowledges your worth, you have been judged. Let the Wind of Her Storm carry you to heights unimaginable."
You take some wood and light it with your tinderbox, causing it to erupt into a soothing fire.
Standing tall, his face illuminated by the flickering flames, Everiine raises the Staff of the Moon and the Staff of the Hart aloft. The flame highlights the paint covering his body, and his lips move in a feverish chant. Moments pass, then minutes, and he finally lowers his gaze back to those assembled.
You say, "The Serenguard protect the Serenwilde from all threats, those that would threaten our borders, and those within that would sunder our unity. This mandate has been passed down generations, a bond between our kin, a fierceness in our blood."
A blade glints in the flickering light, procured from a pack hidden in the grass, and Everiine holds it to his hand. Slowly, he draws it across his palm. The blood wells up in his hand and sizzles as it drips into the fire.
The fire sparks and flares suddenly. Everiine smiles as figures emerge a story unfolding within the flame and smoke as vivid as if you were all silent observers to history itself.
As the smoke from the campfire continues to rise, a vision takes form deep within the heart of the flames. A tension lies over the wood. Those that are out look constantly over their shoulders, apprehensive of something yet unknown. Where they linger in groups the laughter and talk is forced and uneasy. This is a time of war, and yet it is a tricky thing, a sinister battle between those that might be your guildmates, your friends, your family. There is little trust to be had.
There are skirmishes and fights. There are assasinations and silent deaths in the shadows, and throughout it all, there is one figure that is most prominent Grutina Oakvine. She had been a Hartstone Druid who set out to learn about the tainting of the onceGloriana, to see if she could find a way to cure it, but it maddened her, and corrupted her. Those that followed her warred with the loyal Serens, and there was little ground gained on either side. That is, until the dark Druids defiled Nintoba's tomb.
Wrath and rage, a righteous fury that spurred hoof and hand to battle. A spark leaps out from the fire, giving voice to the silence with a sizzling blast, shifting the vision into a scene of violence. The Centaurs came down upon us like a fearsome, unstoppable tide, making no discernment between those loyal to the Serenwilde and those warring against it. They fought for the desecration of their forebear's tomb, and slew all in their path. It was only when a contingency of loyal Seren were sent to them that they did stop, for, though they were quick to anger and terrible in their wrath, they were, and are, also very wise.
They called then for the forming of a warrior tribe, defenders of the Serenwilde that would protect it against all threats, including those, like Grutina, that grew from within, so that such horrible war between communemates, friends, and family would not again bathe the soil in our blood. Thus the Serenguard was born. Our first Champion was Laron Oakvine the brother, and slayer, of Grutina.
You say, "Our first cause, our reason for existence, is the same today as it was then. We protect the Serenwilde. So too does Avurekhos Yfae'dren, Ascendant candidate. His blood he sheds for the first forest, the last forest, so that it may remain as such. Let the Warrior Spirits of the Serenguard judge him."
Everiine Silvermoon beckons Avurekhos to his side. "Come, Avurekhos." He stipes his cheeks and forehead with white paint. "May they judge you worthy," he intones, just before casting a handful of fragrant, bloodied leaves into the fire.
The smoke vision flickers and fades, relieving the clearing of its portents.
Avurekhos Yfae'dren steps forward to be by your side. Standing firm for what is yet to come.
From within the flame arises an ethereal wisp of smoke, glowing a faint silver before racing down into Everiine Silvermoon's chest. The Mark of the Jaguar on his face glows brightly, and the ghostly form of the cat envelopes him before fading, leaving only glowing silver eyes. Assuming a feral posture, teeth bared, he circles Avurekhos, inspecting him.
In a deep, echoing voice, you say, "I see that you are a Demigod, having transcended your mortality. Indeed, this takes a mighty hunter, but tell me: why should I give you My approval?"
Avurekhos considers his words before breaking his silence to the voice of the Jaguar. "Like the Hunter, so too have I studied my prey, using this knowledge to act against those of the Serynwodenhillirim, learning of their weaknesses and strengths before pursuing them in full. This wisdom I would impart upon my people so that they too can learn to better hunt those that stand against us."
Heir Avurekhos Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice says, "Who would harm the Serynwodenhillirim."
Nodding, Everiine Silvermoon closes his eyes, a deep rumble in his chest before he speaks. "Very well. You have proven your worth as a hunter. Walk with My blessing." Dipping his finger into a bowl of paint at his feet, he dots Avurekhos's right cheek with a smudge of orange, covering the white paint. His eyes glaze over, the Mark of the Hunter fades, and a silvery streak exits his body to dissipate into the forest.
Everiine Silvermoon suddenly winces, and the tribal markings on his body glow and burn. His body is overlaid, for but a painful moment, with that of a large, darkfurred Wolverine, leaving his eyes glowing silver upon fading. He flaps his wings harshly and snarls at Avurekhos, assuming a predatory posture. "I see that you have given much in the defense of your home," he says in a fierce, female voice. "You have shed your blood, and that of others, for her preservation. This does make you a powerful warrior, but tell me, why should I give you My approval?"
Avurekhos furrows his brow in thought, before speaking to the voice of Spirit Wolverine. "Having tempered myself in the heat of battle, and having shed my blood for the forest, I would not turn my back on it. Rather, continue to fight for its preservation and the people, as well as the many spirits that call it home."
The ritual markings flash again, causing Everiine Silvermoon pain, but he draws in a deep breath, contemplating the answer before nodding. "You have proven your worth as a warrior. Take My blessing with you." He again stoops to dip his finger in a bowl and runs a line of vivid red over the white upon Avurekhos's left cheek. Once done, he yells as the tribal markings flash again, and a silvery presence departs without a trace into the treetops.
Smoke billows gracefully from the fire, the tendrils coalescing into an Eagle that briefly flickers over Everiine Silvermoon's form. The Mark of the Eagle, and his silver wings, glow brightly, as do his eyes glazed with silver. His sturdy gaze fixes on Avurekhos, staring into his very soul. In a calm, mellow baritone, he says, "I see that you are a leader in your guild, your commune, and your Order. Such does take great wisdom, a great seer indeed, but tell me: why should I bestow upon you my approval?"
Heir Avurekhos Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice says, "Our people look up to me, and it is by my will that I would continue to lead us upon the right path that the Great Spirits have shown to us as well as the ancestors."
Everiine Silvermoon nods gravely and sighs in contemplation. After a moment, he says, "You have proven your worth as a seer. May you fly high with My blessing." He stoops one last time to dip his finger into a bowl and covers the white paint on Avurekhos's forehead with blue. A golden glow suffuses his body and unfurls, swirling gracefully skyward before fading, without a trace, into the treetops.
Everiine Silvermoon sways for a moment, regaining his senses, as every mark and swirl on him fades to dullness. Looking up to Avurekhos, he says, "The Warrior Spirits of the Serenguard bestow upon you Their blessing, and so does my tribe." With that, he retreats from the flames, shaken, as if burdened by some weight, until he merges with the throng of observers.
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Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter intones, "Are we ready to begin?"
Everiine nods, signaling his readiness.
Erebos nods his head emphatically.
Selenity nods her head affirmatively.
Erebos idly twitches his tail.
Arien gestures, her arms open wide to beckon the five representatives forward.
Kazel nods her head emphatically.
Everiine, covered from head to do in swirling, ritualistic tribal paint, steps forward.
Selenity steps forward as well, the skirt of her dress billowing behind her as she does.
Arien raises her hand for silence, and begins to speak.
Erebos bows his head and closes his eyes. Soft breaths carry a light intonation of words, something consisting of growls and various chuffles. Before long, he raises his gaze, stepping forward.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter intones, "We all are gathered, bearing tokens of the realm that thrives all around us, strengthened in our oaths of unity, the bonds we have cultivated as a people of Serenwilde in past, present and future."
A blazing silver beam speeds across the firmament, wreathed in ethereal mist.
Her voice soft, but powerful, Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "The names of those who lead us in the beginning are written here, united here, for our sight, and that of the Shelterfolk. Their spirits linger, our ancestors heed to us to answer their wailing calls."
Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "In this, we have come, to begin the process of binding one who shall seek to be a part of this sacred land forever, never parting from the grace of its changeable seasons, the everturning cycles of its life."
Raising his voice to be heard across the circle, you say, "In this, we do invoke the Mother Moonhart to grant us the capabilities of blessing and ritual binding, so that we all may grant strength and power, to this chosen individual whom the people and the hosts of all have selected."
Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "May the harmony and intent of our words speak with one voice, Great Spirit of the Serenwilde, we five may not be the kin of the founding ones, but by oath and bond we are kin by heart and action."
Looking at those gathered, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "Let us join hands and begin."
Everiine crooks the two staves he carries under his arms and extends his hands, taking those on either side of him.
Arien Siar'luin clasps the hands of you and Selenity, lifting her arms to begin part of the circle around the ritual bowl. Her eyes glimmer with a brief flash of silver as she stares into each individual's own returning gazes with a faint smile.
Erebos joins hands with those on either side of him, his elbows bending slightly to create a more circular form. His eyes flashing to the two, he smiles in excitement, before focusing back on the ritual bowl.
Selenity Siar'luin takes a hold of Arien and Ryboi's hand, looking to the others present, before her gaze focuses once more onto the ritual bowl.
Ryboi joins hands with thoese around him, lifting his arms to join the circle around the ritual bowl. A broad smile appears on his face.
Her voice intoning with great care, and tenderness, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "We are of the Earth, its ground, its dust and bounty. Tending the trees, the roots that grow deep beneath us, the roots that allow us to stand here now. We are but seedlings when there is nothing to nurture, we are but wanderers when there is no place that is home."
Her eyes lowering to gaze beneath the platform to the roots of the Mother Moonhart, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "Without Earth, there is nothing."
The branches of the bowl twist upwards in a welcoming gesture, the gnarled bark of each beginning to gleam with buds of newborn flora and fauna flicker in and out of sight upon them. With a heaving wind, all present feel grounded upon the platform as a connection along the air gathers with suspense. The tongues of the trees rise and flex with creaking arrays of an ancient cacophony, as if preparing for an omen to pass.
Projecting his voice for all to hear, Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "We are of the Water, giver of life, taker of the souls, nurturer of Earth, ruled by the Awakened Spirit of Mother Moon. There is no harvest without the rains of the seasons. There are no mortals without the tides, rivers, lakes and streams that rejuvenate all, and cleanse all."
Gazing at everyone around him, Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "Without Water, there is nothing."
In a delicate flourish of bursting colours, rings of moonglory petals blossom outwards from the buds, sending vines entwining about the ritual vessel that collects the plantlife's new, misted dew within its centre. Soft gasps and murmurs echo throughout the area, as the observing fae and spirits take heed to another sign of Moother Moonhart's acceptance.
Her gaze lifting and her voice nearly ethereal in quality, Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "We are of the Spirit, centre of the soul, song of the heart, voices of the children we have forgotten that were within ourselves. Life has no meaning without spirit, ruler of passions, mind, and determination, bearer of emotions, connector to the heart of each living thing. We are the voice often heard in silence, or in loud throes of comprehension."
A knowing smile coming to her lips as she speaks, Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "Without Spirit, there is nothing."
The liquid drew pulses within the low ring of the vessel, as the area around you fills with a sense of understanding and serene peace. The faintest of arias drifts through the canopy, and throughout the Serenwilde on the voices of spirits rising to ansewr the call of the people as the heavens stir above, with darkened clouds reeling. Ethereal waves of light begin to interconnect with the leaves of Mother Moonhart in the same moment, their silver strands like the hands of the spirits raised in exaltation.
Patchou the Moon Cat stares about the room with her eyes that glow an eerie silverygreen.
His voice deep, old, and full of wisdom, you say, "We are of the Fire, sturdy and strong, drive for the spirit, overseer of Earth, protector of its boundaries, destructor and creator of all things natural, in disaster or control. We are the sons and daughters of the elements, and can return to them when our time is done. Shedding blood for the cause of others, to replenish the Spirit, to renew like Water, and be a champion of Earth."
Nodding affirmatively, you say, "Without Fire, there is nothing."
A sudden strike of lightning snaps through the canopy of the Moonhart Mother Tree, causing the visible weavings of light to sizzle and crackle as smoke laurels up through the leaves. Rumbles of thunder drum closer with each passing moment, as the smell of embers and windswept leaves whips across the platform. The smoke drifts with keen direction, settling across the ritual vessel before entering the water itself.
Arien kneels and stretches her spine backwards, flaring her arms out in suit. In an instance, feathers dress her body, and you hold your breath to witness this regal, swanlike pose.
His accent thick and rolling, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "We are of the Air, brother of Water, maker of storms and clouds, meditations of the mute dead, resonations of the soul untold Breathe us in, for life, breathe us out for death. It is we in harmony that move the earth, the trees and waters, the mystery of my name and purpose within everything, every being that bears the reflections of life and nature's balance."
Continuing after a brief pause, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "Without Air, no other element would continue to change."
A hush of air surges, whirling the smoke upwards with its cleansing aura, to reveal the clearing upon the platform to be shimmering and pulsing with power. The silver of the net of lights is now arranged in a swirling dance of thrumming essence that sends small quakes down your spine.
Arien loosens her hands gently, beginning to lift the tiny moonhart nut within her hands, she holds it cradled within the shell of her palm. Her eyes shine with joy as she waits for the others to part their own linking.
Everiine separates his hands and takes up his staves once more.
Selenity releases her hands from that of those whom she had held onto.
Ryboi bows his head, separating his hands ready to impart a white lily into the ritual bowl.
Selenity bowing her head, she strums her lyre once, the spirits around her turning towards her to listen attentively.
Lifting the silvery moonhart nut between two fingers and raising it high, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "With this seed, I ask that Mother Moonhart understand that even from the smallest things can grow the wildest, the solid foundation of earth and wholeness, the wrath of many in one."
Erebos bows his head, separating his hands from those he once held so tightly. He smiles faintly at the ritual bowl, the air carrying soothing words from within his chest in but faint whispers.
Arien lifts her eyes towards the highest reaches of the Mother Moonhart Tree for a moment of contemplation before lowering the nut into its centre.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "Hear us, Beloved Spirit, impart upon us the wisdom of your ways."
Upon contact, the seed lands within the smokecrowned waters, immediately clamoring around the ritual vessel in a full revolution before settling eerily at the centre, standing upright. Layers of the mercurial strands of light hovering above begin to peel from one another, descending to knot around the grooves of the seedling.
Softly, Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "I bring the gift of life from what grows within, Mother Moonhart, may it bring joy and newness that shall rejuvenate your sapling kin that all lie beneath you."
Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "Hear us, Beloved Spirit, impart upon us the wisdom of your ways."
Ryboi squeezes the flower's water droplets across the seed, before putting it in the bowl.
With an immense shift, the canopy of the Mother Moonhart Tree stretches and parts all of her strong branches with a rustle of leaves and trunk as the Full Moon above brilliantly shatters a beam of moonlight upon the bowl. Misting with silversapphire light, the beams separate and halo about you upon the platform, bathing you in the warmth and renewal as the seed grows laden with the waters, and begins to sprout.
Erebos idly twitches his tail.
Eyes closing half way as she strums her lyre once more, Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "I sing the song of the spirits, the great ancestors that have lived within and around since your great creation." She pauses and takes a breath, a fond smile crossing her lips. "They come this day to awaken Serenwilde, and rouse from earth to bough to rejoice in unity, I give the gift of spirit incarnate."
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "Hear us, Beloved Spirit, impart upon us the wisdom of your ways."
The spirits surrounding the Keyll Arrane rise in a flurry, their voices earsplitting as they wail in many songs, all combining into one that drives the storm roiling above into pure turmoil. Passing through each of the bowl with a violent tremor, the sapling begins to take shape, its leaves and fragile twigs extending as it begins to hover through the stasis of the Moon's illumination.
Stepping forward toward the bowl, you say, "The gift of fire, I bear, pure heat and passion. Blessed with the Great Spirits of Serenwilde, I entreat you, awaken and with each token of the elements of Nature, arise and bestow what is to come."
Everiine unties the cord holding a carved bone talisman to his wrist and holds it up for all to see before placing the blessed item in the bowl.
With a resounding clatter, the bone talisman bursts into bluewhite flames as it lands within the bowl, leaving the other items surprisingly intact. Yet the platform beneath your feet hems and haws, as if Mother Moonhart is now stirring from her dreaming, yet knowing state.
His accent remaining harsh, yet calm, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "Bestowing the final gift of wind, we await your sign of acceptance, oh Spirits, ancestors of old, mighty and young, brash and wise. Rise from the final death, and bring wind!"
As the shriek of the heralding screams of a banshee, the glacial wind rushes across the Mother Moonhart tree, causing leaves and all manners of creatures to tumble from its boughs in a rough cascade. It does not wane against the strength of Her trunk, and continues to ring in your ears as the air pulls harshly at all of your garments.
Through the raging wind, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth exclaims, "Hear us, Beloved Spirit, impart upon us the wisdom of your ways!"
The gust knocks all at present to their knees, slamming into the bowl. The ingredients within all combine at once with a blip of energy as fire, water, earth, spirit meld as one. A ricocheting plume of silverwhite ash and dust jump from the centre of the ritual vessel, showering you with its many fragments onto your visage.
All at once you feel the serene calm of understanding in your mind's eye, as the visions of the founders of the Serenwilde bestow upon you the knowledge to complete the task at hand. The buffeting roar soon quiets as the Mother Moonhart settles within Her place once more.
The connective roots of Mother Moonhart begin to twist and dance as the canopy and foliage dance with joy as the awareness of the entirety of Serenwilde aligns at once.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter intones, "We all now move from this platform, to the Mother."
(movement)
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "We now move into assembly, call upon your fae and totem animals, let them be present for what comes."
"We will endure till all else is crumbled and dead." sings Niina, mournfully playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork with deep rhythmic harmonies.
Arien reaches upon her forehead, feeling the remnants of the fragments, she beckons the five representatives to a place below the canopy of Mother Moonhart, before allowing them to arrange their own guild representatives within circles, as tree rings within a trunk.
Everiine Silvermoon, covered in the dust, moves to stand next to Arien
Arien Siar'luin turns to Enyalida, smiling softly as she beckons her near.
Avurekhos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.
Enyalida approaches, lowering her hood to uncover her face, painted in stripes and whorls, with a conspicuous red circle central on her brow.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "We must share the wisdom of Mother Moonhart to all of you, leaders, pass it to those who are of your guild."
Arien Siar'luin extends her right hand, wiping her brow with smudge as the green man reflected on her features as she traces the symbol of the triple moon upon the center of her brow
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says to Enyalida, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Nodding solemnly, Enyalida Zayah says, "Nor any beyond."
Arien Siar'luin turns and begins to assist with the other guilds, walking over to Ryboi.
Jaamil follows up shortly behind Ryboi.
Enyalida Zayah turns to Anjou, bending slightly to paint a corresponding symbol on her brow.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "Please, do this all at once. We have little time to waste."
Anjou beams broadly at Enyalida.
Erebos paints a symbol upon his own brow.
Ryboi D'Varden turns to Jaamil and draws the symbol of the Triple Moon with the centre sitting between his eye brows
Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says to Jaamil, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Arien Siar'luin follows over to you, Selenity, and Erebos, retracing their own symbols.
Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Selenity Siar'luin turns to face Niina and nods to her, smiling. She paints a symbol onto Niina's head, whispering, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Avurekhos walks widdershins nine times amongst those assembled.
Arien nods her head emphatically.
Everiine approaches the group of centaur hunters and gives them a tribal salute before bowing low. He traces a triple moon in the dust on his forehead with two lines for horns. Scraping the dust from himself, he approaches each one of the centaurs and does the same, saying, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it." Once finished, he turns around and sees Adasser standing there. Grunting to himself, he approaches the elfen guard and gives him the same mark.
All around you, the spirits of nature begin to manifest in swirling lights and gusts of air. Petals and loose branches leap and spin, twisting toward the budding Ascendant.
Heir Jaamil says to Lleuke, in Elfen, "We have been given the wisdom of binding, no power within this earth shall break it."
Adasser, an elfen guard gasps softly, allowing the Chief too mark his brow with the triple moon.
Nodding in conclusion of the Assembly, Arien Siar'luin Arien retakes her place amongst you and Selenity. She straightens, and begins once more.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter orates, "Within this full moon, we have seen what is to come. An oath of oaths A power rises, pleading to be harnessed by one."
Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "In her boughs, She spoke to us, imbuing nature?s trust in dust. With heart open and minds thus, we bless and bestow upon this wouldbe Ascendant the power within our earth."
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "His spirit has been found worthy, the ancestors have spoken, but they require the binding of the soul, for such power to be open."
You say, "After all is done, and each guild has concluded their part, we must return him to the last of Nature's cycle and our Mother's beating heart."
Pride in his voice, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says, "In unity, in strength, we shall begin."
Erebos idly twitches his tail.
Erebos steps forward, his clawed hands resting peacefully on his sheathed shofa at his sides. His eyes flash silver against the light and shadows, casting a strange contrast against the environment about him.
Raising his hands before him, palms up, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says to Avurekhos, "Avurekhos, my friend, I stand here to represent the Kui in this, a most important of matters. You have long since stood as a vanguard of the Serynwodenhillirim..."
Erebos slowly brings his hands together, and as the palms collide, thunder sounds in the distance.
Lightning quakes in the skies above, followed swiftly by a crash of thunder that fades into a low rumble. An ethereal wind picks up slightly, foliage from the trees twisting and twirling about the Wrath of the Crone.
His hands quickly move to join one another, the right clasping over the left's thumb into conjoined fists, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says to Avurekhos, "I bid the wind come, and bring with it Spirit Bull, may His Wisdom and Strength judge you, and find you worthy."
Avurekhos nods his head affirmatively at Erebos.
Erebos chants vehemently, his tones encased in an icy tone that carries many snarls and growls. Slowly, his eyes begin to slow a soft blue, his words becoming louder, until the wind completely robs him of them. This doesn't stop his chanting, though, as his maw continues to move in silence.
As if on cue, the rumbling grows into a loud clashing, as through the bushes and trees runs Spirit Bull, his form consistent of bright blues and hazy yellows, the colors combining into sparks of power as His hooves clash against the ground below him. The Spirit halts, and with Him so does the wind.
Spirit Bull glares at Avurekhos, snorting vehemently, the action causing the wind to gust with each huff, and with it His words are carried, though his snout never moves.
Spirit Bull says to Avurekhos in deep, thunderous tones, Herald of Her Storm, I see you. I judge you now, and have found you worthy of this sacred Bond. Your heart is true, and your eyes flash with the wisdom of lifetimes well spent.
Erebos suddenly loses focus in his eyes and shudders, then looks curiously refreshed.
As if to emphasize this point, the winds strengthen, bringing with them the most bitter of cold, the touch of Winter's Embrace. Spirit Bull bursts into a charge once more, His head lowering at Avurekhos as if to gore him. As the Spirit makes impact and all hope for the man seems lost, the Spirit bursts into motes of blues and yellows, leaving a bright glowing aura about Avurekhos. Reacting to this, the Moonhart shudders, and almost seems to reach out to him.
As the winds die down Erebos lowers his hands back to his sides, his mane disheveled. His gaze locks on Avurekhos, his expression grim.
His accent harsh, Sigira Erebos Siar'luin, Winter's Teeth says to Avurekhos, "Let it be known, now, that Spirit Bull acknowledges your worth, you have been judged. Let the Wind of Her Storm carry you to heights unimaginable."
You take some wood and light it with your tinderbox, causing it to erupt into a soothing fire.
Standing tall, his face illuminated by the flickering flames, Everiine raises the Staff of the Moon and the Staff of the Hart aloft. The flame highlights the paint covering his body, and his lips move in a feverish chant. Moments pass, then minutes, and he finally lowers his gaze back to those assembled.
You say, "The Serenguard protect the Serenwilde from all threats, those that would threaten our borders, and those within that would sunder our unity. This mandate has been passed down generations, a bond between our kin, a fierceness in our blood."
A blade glints in the flickering light, procured from a pack hidden in the grass, and Everiine holds it to his hand. Slowly, he draws it across his palm. The blood wells up in his hand and sizzles as it drips into the fire.
The fire sparks and flares suddenly. Everiine smiles as figures emerge a story unfolding within the flame and smoke as vivid as if you were all silent observers to history itself.
As the smoke from the campfire continues to rise, a vision takes form deep within the heart of the flames. A tension lies over the wood. Those that are out look constantly over their shoulders, apprehensive of something yet unknown. Where they linger in groups the laughter and talk is forced and uneasy. This is a time of war, and yet it is a tricky thing, a sinister battle between those that might be your guildmates, your friends, your family. There is little trust to be had.
There are skirmishes and fights. There are assasinations and silent deaths in the shadows, and throughout it all, there is one figure that is most prominent Grutina Oakvine. She had been a Hartstone Druid who set out to learn about the tainting of the onceGloriana, to see if she could find a way to cure it, but it maddened her, and corrupted her. Those that followed her warred with the loyal Serens, and there was little ground gained on either side. That is, until the dark Druids defiled Nintoba's tomb.
Wrath and rage, a righteous fury that spurred hoof and hand to battle. A spark leaps out from the fire, giving voice to the silence with a sizzling blast, shifting the vision into a scene of violence. The Centaurs came down upon us like a fearsome, unstoppable tide, making no discernment between those loyal to the Serenwilde and those warring against it. They fought for the desecration of their forebear's tomb, and slew all in their path. It was only when a contingency of loyal Seren were sent to them that they did stop, for, though they were quick to anger and terrible in their wrath, they were, and are, also very wise.
They called then for the forming of a warrior tribe, defenders of the Serenwilde that would protect it against all threats, including those, like Grutina, that grew from within, so that such horrible war between communemates, friends, and family would not again bathe the soil in our blood. Thus the Serenguard was born. Our first Champion was Laron Oakvine the brother, and slayer, of Grutina.
You say, "Our first cause, our reason for existence, is the same today as it was then. We protect the Serenwilde. So too does Avurekhos Yfae'dren, Ascendant candidate. His blood he sheds for the first forest, the last forest, so that it may remain as such. Let the Warrior Spirits of the Serenguard judge him."
Everiine Silvermoon beckons Avurekhos to his side. "Come, Avurekhos." He stipes his cheeks and forehead with white paint. "May they judge you worthy," he intones, just before casting a handful of fragrant, bloodied leaves into the fire.
The smoke vision flickers and fades, relieving the clearing of its portents.
Avurekhos Yfae'dren steps forward to be by your side. Standing firm for what is yet to come.
From within the flame arises an ethereal wisp of smoke, glowing a faint silver before racing down into Everiine Silvermoon's chest. The Mark of the Jaguar on his face glows brightly, and the ghostly form of the cat envelopes him before fading, leaving only glowing silver eyes. Assuming a feral posture, teeth bared, he circles Avurekhos, inspecting him.
In a deep, echoing voice, you say, "I see that you are a Demigod, having transcended your mortality. Indeed, this takes a mighty hunter, but tell me: why should I give you My approval?"
Avurekhos considers his words before breaking his silence to the voice of the Jaguar. "Like the Hunter, so too have I studied my prey, using this knowledge to act against those of the Serynwodenhillirim, learning of their weaknesses and strengths before pursuing them in full. This wisdom I would impart upon my people so that they too can learn to better hunt those that stand against us."
Heir Avurekhos Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice says, "Who would harm the Serynwodenhillirim."
Nodding, Everiine Silvermoon closes his eyes, a deep rumble in his chest before he speaks. "Very well. You have proven your worth as a hunter. Walk with My blessing." Dipping his finger into a bowl of paint at his feet, he dots Avurekhos's right cheek with a smudge of orange, covering the white paint. His eyes glaze over, the Mark of the Hunter fades, and a silvery streak exits his body to dissipate into the forest.
Everiine Silvermoon suddenly winces, and the tribal markings on his body glow and burn. His body is overlaid, for but a painful moment, with that of a large, darkfurred Wolverine, leaving his eyes glowing silver upon fading. He flaps his wings harshly and snarls at Avurekhos, assuming a predatory posture. "I see that you have given much in the defense of your home," he says in a fierce, female voice. "You have shed your blood, and that of others, for her preservation. This does make you a powerful warrior, but tell me, why should I give you My approval?"
Avurekhos furrows his brow in thought, before speaking to the voice of Spirit Wolverine. "Having tempered myself in the heat of battle, and having shed my blood for the forest, I would not turn my back on it. Rather, continue to fight for its preservation and the people, as well as the many spirits that call it home."
The ritual markings flash again, causing Everiine Silvermoon pain, but he draws in a deep breath, contemplating the answer before nodding. "You have proven your worth as a warrior. Take My blessing with you." He again stoops to dip his finger in a bowl and runs a line of vivid red over the white upon Avurekhos's left cheek. Once done, he yells as the tribal markings flash again, and a silvery presence departs without a trace into the treetops.
Smoke billows gracefully from the fire, the tendrils coalescing into an Eagle that briefly flickers over Everiine Silvermoon's form. The Mark of the Eagle, and his silver wings, glow brightly, as do his eyes glazed with silver. His sturdy gaze fixes on Avurekhos, staring into his very soul. In a calm, mellow baritone, he says, "I see that you are a leader in your guild, your commune, and your Order. Such does take great wisdom, a great seer indeed, but tell me: why should I bestow upon you my approval?"
Heir Avurekhos Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice says, "Our people look up to me, and it is by my will that I would continue to lead us upon the right path that the Great Spirits have shown to us as well as the ancestors."
Everiine Silvermoon nods gravely and sighs in contemplation. After a moment, he says, "You have proven your worth as a seer. May you fly high with My blessing." He stoops one last time to dip his finger into a bowl and covers the white paint on Avurekhos's forehead with blue. A golden glow suffuses his body and unfurls, swirling gracefully skyward before fading, without a trace, into the treetops.
Everiine Silvermoon sways for a moment, regaining his senses, as every mark and swirl on him fades to dullness. Looking up to Avurekhos, he says, "The Warrior Spirits of the Serenguard bestow upon you Their blessing, and so does my tribe." With that, he retreats from the flames, shaken, as if burdened by some weight, until he merges with the throng of observers.
Everiine is a man, and is very manly. This MAN before you is so manly you might as well just gender bend right now, cause he's the manliest man that you ever did see. His manly shape has spurned many women and girlyer men to boughs of fainting. He stands before you in a manly manerific typical man-like outfit which is covered in his manly motto: "I am a man!"
Daraius said: You gotta risk it for the biscuit.
Pony power all the way, yo. The more Brontaurs the better.
4
(c) Iron Realms Entertainment 2012.
Comments
"Sapling and elder alike recognise," sings Niina, playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork.
"The fierceness with which your heart chimes," sings Selenity, playing an ethereal cordate lyre of the Serenwilde.
Selenity looks up into the air for divine inspiration.
Sondayga coughs softly.
Sondayga hums a sharp pitch, harmonizing his group with the Great Song.
"The Forest sings of your growth and time," sings Sondayga, as ancient harmonies rise from an etched cherry wood mandolin.
"Sapling and elder alike recognise," sings Niina, playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork.
"The fierceness with which your heart chimes," sings Selenity, playing an ethereal cordate lyre of the Serenwilde.
Arrey Sondayga Zayah, Ben Ullee Ryddimagh sings, "O, sings the woods, o!"
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane sings, "O, sings the woods, o!"
Wilde Seneschal Niina Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice sings, "O, sings the woods, O!"
"If dedication had wings with which to fly," sings Sondayga, while an etched cherry wood mandolin plays shimmering harmonies.
"You'd soar beneath a Full Moon's sky," sings Niina, playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork.
"The trees yours above, below, to climb," sings Selenity, playing an ethereal cordate lyre of the Serenwilde.
Arrey Sondayga Zayah, Ben Ullee Ryddimagh sings, "O, sings the woods, o!"
Wilde Seneschal Niina Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice sings, "O, sings the woods, O!"
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane sings, "O, sings the woods, o!"
Sunlit Bard Renion Siar'luin, Winter's Fugue sings, "O, sings the woods, o!"
"A song rises from the roots of each plant and tree," sings Sondayga, playing an etched cherry wood mandolin with fresh new tunes.
"Slowly pulsing through the air," sings Niina, playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork.
"And echoing across the canopy," sings Selenity, playing an ethereal cordate lyre of the Serenwilde.
Arrey Sondayga Zayah, Ben Ullee Ryddimagh sings, "O, sings the ancestors, o!"
Wilde Seneschal Niina Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice sings, "O, sings the ancestors, O!"
Sunlit Bard Renion Siar'luin, Winter's Fugue sings, "O, sings the ancestors, o!"
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane sings, "O, sings the ancestors, o!"
"From before your birth, it was known," sings Sondayga, thumping a lively rhythm on an etched cherry wood mandolin.
"By those who walked the ancient paths true," sings Niina, playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork.
"That one day, this would be you," sings Selenity, playing an ethereal cordate lyre of the Serenwilde.
Arrey Sondayga Zayah, Ben Ullee Ryddimagh sings, "O, sings the ancestors, o!"
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane sings, "O, sings the ancestors, o!"
Wilde Seneschal Niina Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice sings, "O, sings the ancestors, O!"
Sunlit Bard Renion Siar'luin, Winter's Fugue sings, "O, sings the ancestors, o!"
"A wise soul," sings Sondayga, as an etched cherry wood mandolin sounds with a galloping beat.
"A patient soul," sings Niina, playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork.
"A fierce soul," sings Selenity, playing an ethereal cordate lyre of the Serenwilde.
Arrey Sondayga Zayah, Ben Ullee Ryddimagh sings, "O, sings the ancestors, o!"
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane sings, "O, sings the ancestors, o!"
Wilde Seneschal Niina Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice sings, "O, sings the ancestors, O!"
"Those of the past have cleared the way," sings Sondayga, as joyous sounds ring out of an etched cherry wood mandolin.
Sunlit Bard Renion Siar'luin, Winter's Fugue sings, "O, sings the ancestors, o!"
"And beckon you, o Wilde one," sings Niina, playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork.
"For you to accept your calling," sings Selenity, playing an ethereal cordate lyre of the Serenwilde.
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane sings, "O, sings the ancestors, o!"
Arrey Sondayga Zayah, Ben Ullee Ryddimagh sings, "O, sings the ancestors, o!"
Wilde Seneschal Niina Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice sings, "O, sings the ancestors, O!"
"You will serve the forest forever," sings Sondayga, as the rhythmic melodies of the seasons ring from an etched cherry wood mandolin.
"Through the good times, the peaceful times," sings Niina, playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork.
"Through the bad times, the rough times," sings Selenity, playing an ethereal cordate lyre of the Serenwilde.
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane sings, "O, sings the Serenwilde, o!"
Wilde Seneschal Niina Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice sings, "O, sings the Serenwilde, O!"
Arrey Sondayga Zayah, Ben Ullee Ryddimagh sings, "O, sings the Serenwilde, o!"
"Through all of this, you have grown," sings Sondayga, playing a rousing march on an etched cherry wood mandolin.
"Through all of this, you have faded away," sings Niina, playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork.
"You are to emerge from the cocoon of your old self, anew," sings Selenity, playing an ethereal cordate lyre of the Serenwilde.
Arrey Sondayga Zayah, Ben Ullee Ryddimagh sings, "O, sings the Serenwilde, o!"
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane sings, "O, sings the Serenwilde, o!"
Wilde Seneschal Niina Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice sings, "O, sings the Serenwilde, O!"
"For the forest has sung of it!" sings Sondayga, playing an etched cherry wood mandolin with a glorious harmony.
"For the ancestors have sung of it!" sings Niina, playing a lustrous glass violin traced with silver scrollwork.
"For all of Serenwilde has called for it!" sings Selenity, playing an ethereal cordate lyre of the Serenwilde.
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane sings, "O, sings the Serenwilde, o!"
Wilde Seneschal Niina Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice sings, "O, sings the Serenwilde, O!"
Sondayga nods his head emphatically.
Arrey Sondayga Zayah, Ben Ullee Ryddimagh sings, "May the heart of the Serenwilde bless you!"
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane sings, "May the heart of the Serenwilde bless you!"
Wilde Seneschal Niina Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice sings, "May the heart of the Serenwilde bless you!"
With a graceful step back and a sweeping bow, Sondayga plays a complex sequence of notes. Pale images of ancient spirits surround Avurekhos briefly, their voices harmonizing with the song.
With a graceful step back and a sweeping bow, Selenity plays a complex sequence of notes. Pale images of ancient spirits surround Avurekhos briefly, their voices harmonizing with the song.
With a graceful step back and a sweeping bow, Niina plays a complex sequence of notes. Pale images of ancient spirits surround Avurekhos briefly, their voices harmonizing with the song.
Jaamil draws out a large pentagram complete with an eightpointed star representing each of the moon cycles and three large elfen script on the outside of the pentagram on each side except the southern part of the circle, that represents the Avatars of Moon. Next, he takes his broom and proceeds to sweep the the sacred pentagram clean of any evil spirits.
Sondayga hustles back in line behind Niina.
The song of the Spiritsingers drifts throughout the Serenwilde forest, motes of silver moonlight flickering like errant leaves.
Jaamil walks to the center of the pentagram as if gliding toward it without his legs moving, and comteplates Avurekhos a moment before moving to the Waxing crescend side of the pentagram and motions for him to join him there.
Avurekhos Yfae'dren steps forward to stand within the Waxing Crescent side of the pentagram with Jaamil
In a slow and chantlike baritone pitch, Heir Jaamil says, "You represent the Crone of Mother Moon, but you are bestowed as well of Luna, the First of Maidens. Within you, there is youthful energy, that of the Waxing crescent, first quarter and gibbous. Let that youthful and fullness of life within you to remain ever new and never extinguished in your duty to Serenwilde."
Jaamil takes his athame dagger with a strong grip upon the handle with the blade facing down, Jaamil extends his arm out towards his face. Jaamil mutters an inaudible chant in elfen as he swiftly slashes the air in front of Avurekhos with the grip of the handle still facing down before returning to rest in front of his face. Henceforth a brownie, sprite and a leprechaun hears Jaamil's faesong and comes to his calling. He then proceeds to order them to follow Avurekhos.
A brownie begins to follow Avurekhos.
A sprite begins to follow Avurekhos.
A leprechaun begins to follow Avurekhos.
Heir Jaamil chants, "By the power of the avatar of Luna, we charge you blessed of new beginnings and a new day upon you in this era for Serenwilde. Let the power of Luna fill your spirit."
Jaamil walks over to the full moon side of the sacred pentagram and motions Avurekhos to face him. Jaamil slowly inhales and exhales the earthy scent of the Moonhart Tree a few times before beginning.
A powerful ethereal wind blows in from the north and causes the branches of the Mother Moonhart Tree to sway gently to the south, picking up leaves and petals as it does so. The detached flora swirls and drifts through the air, casting its earthy aroma across the Basin of Life. The trees that stand near the Moonhart Mother Tree bend and bow toward Jaamil and Avurekhos, their branches creaking audibly as if in demonstration of their approval.
In a slow and chantlike baritone pitch, Heir Jaamil says, "Like the Mother, Selene, you represent life, but the seed you plant from whence you were a seed in the ground shall bloom in the Summer and be vibrant in the prime of your life. May you become fatherly and be a teacher to all who seek your wisdom and willingly you seek out to teach. Also, your loyalty and companionship to the true forest can only be matched by few."
The song that Selenity was performing fades away.
A wood nymph begins to follow Avurekhos.
A sylph begins to follow Avurekhos.
A willowisp begins to follow Avurekhos.
Heir Jaamil chants, "By the power of the avatar of Selene, we charge you with the fullest of energy as is the coven's power is strongest in this phase, in your will to aid and protect the forest from those that seek to harm it. You shall be a guiding force and a patient father and teacher to those who come after you with guidance and our duty to nature."
Jaamil swiftly walks toward the waning phases of the moon upon the last quarter point and motions Avurekhos to face him there. Jaamil whispers a final time inaudibly in elfen of the faesong and calls forth the banshee pooka and the pigwidgeon to follow Avurekhos.
A banshee begins to follow Avurekhos.
A pooka begins to follow Avurekhos.
A pigwidgeon begins to follow Avurekhos.
In a slow and chantlike baritone pitch, Heir Jaamil says, "As you represent the symbolic Avatar of Crone, you are of wisdom, the vengeance and fury that shall overthrow the enemy in rage. You know and understand that all things must come to an end of the cycle of life in nature. You have overcame many obstacles and of fierce joy. May your enemies and enemies of nature tremble in your wrathful vengeance."
Jaamil places one hand upon his shoulder and motions him and Jaamil to face the Mother Moonhart tree. Jaamil clasps his hands and bow a few times while whispering in elfen to bless Avurekhos in his sacrifice to Serenwilde and the Moonhart tree.
The voice of the forest echoes freely upon the ethereal wind, celebrating in a tongue you do not understand. All around you, the trees bow low under Mother Moon's power just as a column of moonfire erupts in the centre of the gathering. The voice of the forest is joined by the myriad voices of fae of the Ethereal Realm, whose curious faces stare out from the pillar of light. In a flash, the column fades, leaving behind a rippling circle of moonfire that encircles Avurekhos' feet.
Heir Jaamil says to Avurekhos, "The blessing from Moondancers is now complete, may you do us proud and represent the coven and forest."
Jaamil's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.
Avurekhos smiles softly at Jaamil.
Arien Siar'luin steps forward from the crowd of Hartstone druids behind her, the winds rising with the rush of leaves of the many trees speaking in gentle, murmuring tongues. Her eyes flash amongst the shade of the canopy as she assesses Avurekhos, absorbing in that moment his appearance and stature. A faint smile tugs at her lips, but it is soon repressed by her harshly accented voice that carries across the assembled gathering.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter orates, "The Hartstone are of the past, present and future, everchanging, dying, growing and thriving. Our blood is infused within the roots the trees, our heartbeats within the howling wind and the rush of lifegiving waters, and our knowledge within the sprouting of the seeds we nurture and trees we tend. Though we have many other connections, we are all kin of the White Hart."
Miakoda, Maiden of the Moonhart says, "The White Hart is our guardian and can never truly die."
Her eyes resting upon Avurekhos sternly, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "And as kin, we have come to sanctify the mortal coil of Avurekhos Yfae'dren, and bind it further to this soil."
Arien raises her cudgel upwards with a flourish, and a bursting of lightning bugs scorch into view, each buzzing complacently as they are directed to the pyre.
In a huge, shocking sound, the creatures explode with rampant wild strikes of electricity sending static power across the vulnerable arrangement. The pyre of lightning bugs bursts into higher sinuous twists of flame that consume the entire height upon contact, the bugs surging up to hover above.
The heat of pyre washes across the air as Arien circles around it to throw salt and sulfur within, each addition raising the whorls of orange and scarlet higher and higher until your face burns with the illumination it brings.
Arien Siar'luin nods once, and motions for Enyalida to come forward as the smoke rushes ominously around the Moonhart Mother Tree.
Visibily trying to keep composure and losing the battle, Enyalida shuffles forwards, leaves and blossoms sprouting and withering in her hair as roots begin to wiggle outwards from her feet to press into the loamy earth, her form blending Elfen and Wildewood.
The Great Moonhart Mother Tree continues to awaken her great roots and limbs, as they stir and rustle in acknowledgement of a bond beginning to establish.
With the darkness of a storm brewing within her eyes, Arien throws her arms upwards in a loud, bonechilling cry as both of her hands trace along the smoke, as she utters the trees to course with both life and bane.
The dark, ashen smoke begins to churn in unusual, striking shapes that mold into the forms of the aspects of the White Hart, their hooves pounding in your ears as they canter around Auvrekhos with a wild jump of hind legs.
Coming forward as she bites her thumb, Enyalida Zayah says to Avurekhos, "Our ancestors acknowledge and honor you, and bind you to our past."
Enyalida Zayah continues to paint a red circle on Avurekhos's forehead as she speaks
Finishing the rune of unity, Enyalida Zayah says to Avurekhos, "Our people trust and put faith in you, thusly binding you to this present!"
Her figure hazy through the endless rise and fall of smoke, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "Our hearts and blood are bonded to the very roots of what you are to this mortal world, Heir of Glinshari. I shall warn you, that from this point on, you are doomed from timeeternal, should desecrate what has been given to you. The curses of our people are swift, and forgiveness is a road that is as long and deep as the relationship with this sacred earth we share."
Avurekhos bows his head reverently, acknowledging the words of the druids before him.
Raising her arms in an immense, sweeping gesticulation, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "The future heralds now!"
The pyre snaps loudly as the aspects meld into one central figure, whose bellow is heard within the roaring of the pyre. Whitehot searing flames billow higher until the mien is revealed as the White Hart, standing highest amongst the Great Spirits.
Her voice hushed, but eerily resonant and echoing with the call of the forest, Enyalida Zayah intones, "The Hart rides within us, anahatemsha vru'dir!"
You see Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter yell, "The Hart rides within us, anahatemsha vru'dir!"
The invocation of the two druids reverberates loudly amongst the crackling of flames as the White Harts stately visage burns with pure, silver light, its aura sweeping from the pyre to wrap around Avurekhos, consuming him completely in its gleaming embrace.
Barely touching the tones of a whisper, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "May He judge the true of heart."
Knowingly, the misted vision of the White Hart turns, the brief connection broken from Avurekhos, leaving his body to be revealed upon the ground. Runes of charcoal have been wreathed about every limb and digit, his eyes flickering with the remnants of the Harts presence within him.
The merciless heat from the pelt of the White Hart dissipates as He returns to the depths of the pyre, his antlers triumphantly raised in accordance.
Her voice ringing in great accord, her hands thrown to the sky through the smoke, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "The Hart rides within him, Hari'te parehbha!"
Eyes fogging over, turning white as if they have rolled back in her head, Enyalida Zayah says, "The Hart rides within him, Hari'te parehbha!"
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says to Avurekhos, "May the Hart charge forever victorious in your blood and heart."
All trees bow low as the Mother Moonhart reaches higher than before, Her boughs grasping at the strands of the heavens in the glorious silvercrowned Full Moon. Many new leaves burst with life upon the Great Tree, their verdant and moontouched colours visible even within the relative darkness of waning night. Vines, boughs and branches shudder as Her branches shift, extending outwards to encircle Avurekhos in a firm, yet gentle grip.
Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter intones, "We now commit his mortal body to return to the earth, so that his spirit binds with the Mother Moonhart Tree."
Enyalida's legs firmly root her to the earth as she stands in silence, eyes upturned to witness the rest of the rituals.
Ryboi D'Varden, High Priest of the Moon says, "There is no true death, but rebirth, into the symbol of our forests awakening. This blood and water shall bind you eternal, this changeable snare ever turning."
Pretty Guardian Selenity Siar'luin of the Arrey Arrane says, "Accept unto yourself the burden and grace of the will of Nature, let it surround and encompass your spirit for as long as you shall roam within these trees."
Stepping forward and pulling himself tall again, you say, "Let it be finished. So that your bones and that of the trees are of the same likeness."
Speaking with her son's voice, Hierophant Arien Siar'luin, Chalice of Winter says, "Let it be finished. For a new beginning, full of movement, growth and change."
Heir Avurekhos Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice says, "Let my blood be as one with the soil of the Serynwodenhillirim."
Shouting out to the heavens, Avurekhos releases his lifeforce, allowing the emerald aura of health and wellbeing to leave him for his allies.
The last of Avurekhos's lifeforce seeps from his body as he slips peacefully into death.
Himself has been slain by Avurekhos.
Having been too much for the mortal threads of Avurekhos, he screams in agony as flames engulf his body and burn it to a crisp.
The lifeless corpse of Avurekhos is brought against the wide trunk of the Moonhart Mother Tree with Her loving vines, encompassing his chest. With no aid, Mother Moonhart lifts the body and embraces it fully to Her bark in a tender gesture that presses them together.
The corpse begins to fades into nothingness as its silver essence draws upwards into the core of the Tree, along with the full composition of Avurekhos' spirit in Her grasp. An implosion of light and essence shoots through Mother Moonhart?s roots, as the air shimmers with immense power.
Lleuke smiles softly.
Jaamil sniffles softly.
Selenity smiles happily.
Avurekhos steps towards the Moonhart Mother Tree and places his hands on it, sending a shower of silvery leaves cascading around him as the branches grow brittle and dry from the strain. Pale silvery moonlight swirls around him and the air fills with the thrumming of power. The shimmering, ethereal forms of the Great Spirits briefly fill the air around the Moonhart Mother Tree, chief among them Mother Moon and the White Hart, as Avurekhos is suffused by incredible powers, and rises as a Vernal Ascendant!
A new Ascendant rises! By decree of Seneschal Niina and with full support of the Moonhart Circle, let it be known that the Free Collective of Serenwilde has this day imbued Avurekhos with the energies of the Moonhart Mother Tree, raising a Vernal Ascendant!
Tears fill Arien's eyes and begin to slowly run down her face.
Jaamil cheers wildly!
Dyagho beams broadly.
Lleuke cheers wildly!
Dyagho claps his hands together merrily.
Heir Jaamil says, "So beautiful."
Ryboi smiles and offers his congratulations.
Ryboi looks about himself suspiciously.
Glevich smiles and offers his congratulations.
With a graceful step back and a sweeping bow, Selenity plays a complex sequence of notes. Pale images of ancient spirits fill the air briefly, their voices harmonizing with the song.
Arien drops one knee to the ground, genuflecting in sheer reverence.
Gossamer winds whip around you suddenly as the voice of Lisaera, the Silver Goddess reverberates, "Rise and be a paragon of the Pure Forest's power, Avurekhos, My Wrath!"
The howling cry of an ethereal wind evanesces from nothing, blooming into a blaze of cold moonfire. The flames shift and expand, solidifying into the form of Lisaera, the Silver Goddess.
Ryboi raises the Silver Crown of Ellindel overhead with a ceremonial flourish, concluding the guild rite.
Ryboi kneels before Lisaera, swearing his allegiance to Her.
Dyagho kneels before Lisaera, swearing his allegiance to Her.
Jaamil falls to his knees and begins to worship Lisaera.
Taking a hold of the skirt of her dress, Selenity Siar'luin dips into an elegant curtsey before Lisaera.
Kazel curtseys gracefully before Lisaera.
Glevich kneels before Lisaera, swearing his allegiance to Her.
Enyalida smiles triumphantly, her eyes focusing as she shrinks, returning to her Elfen form in quick reverse of her previous flowering outpouring.
Renion kneels before Lisaera, swearing his allegiance to Her.
Lisaera looks upon the scene with Her stormcoloured eyes, a single silver tear falling down Her cheek.
The body of Heir Avurekhos Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice shimmers briefly and returns to life.
Everiine Silvermoon pulls himself up again and, uncharacteristically, gives Avurekhos a tribal salute, pounding his fist against his painted chest.
Ryboi smiles and shakes Avurekhos's hand, offering his congratulations.
Avurekhos stands straight with taut shoulders, a paragon for all to admire.
Niina beams broadly at Avurekhos.
Heir Jaamil says to Avurekhos, "How does it feel?"
Glevich bows respectfully to Avurekhos.
Arien pride echoing within her features, her tears trickling down across her painted cheeks.
Lisaera embraces Avurekhos with great ardour.
Heir Avurekhos Yfae'dren, Bearer of the Silver Chalice says, "Different...I am as one with the Serynwodenhillirim now."
I was nervous conducting the rite on behalf of the Moondancers actually. But Lisaera was pleased. So I am comforted by it all.
You recall that 2014/12/06 00:40:58 - Lisaera said:
"And yours, Moondancers - beautifully written. My Daughter is proud of your work."
call the curse of the toad down upon his head. You watch in satisfaction as warts break out over his
skin which then turns green and slimy. Finally, he shrinks and transforms into a large, ugly toad!
With a telepathic sigh, a pooka tells you that he has lost control of Arcanis's actions.
In order to put the pathetic life of a warty toad out of its misery, you lift a foot and bring it
down mightily on its bloated green body.
A warty toad's back breaks under the weight of a heavy foot, its innards spilling out and leaving a
messy stain on the ground.
You have slain a warty toad.
A warty toad wobbles about uncertainly and turns a pale shade of green before suddenly stretching
and transforming into a demigod. Shaking his head, Arcanis stands before you where once there was a
toad, looking slightly disoriented and perplexed with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.
Arcanis drops the corpse of a pixie.
Arcanis drops the corpse of a pixie.
Arcanis drops the corpse of a pooka.
Arcanis drops a stalk of faeleaf.
Having been too much for the mortal threads of Arcanis, he screams in agony as flames engulf his
body and burn it to a crisp.
You tell Lord Fist Arcanis De'Unnero, Chosen of Wrath, "By the by, let that be a lesson in manners.
I don't need friends to kill some of you one on one."
I worked pretty hard on the Shofangi ritual, still feel it is subpar, but everyone was happy with it, so like @Jaamil said, it is comforting.
call the curse of the toad down upon his head. You watch in satisfaction as warts break out over his
skin which then turns green and slimy. Finally, he shrinks and transforms into a large, ugly toad!
With a telepathic sigh, a pooka tells you that he has lost control of Arcanis's actions.
In order to put the pathetic life of a warty toad out of its misery, you lift a foot and bring it
down mightily on its bloated green body.
A warty toad's back breaks under the weight of a heavy foot, its innards spilling out and leaving a
messy stain on the ground.
You have slain a warty toad.
A warty toad wobbles about uncertainly and turns a pale shade of green before suddenly stretching
and transforming into a demigod. Shaking his head, Arcanis stands before you where once there was a
toad, looking slightly disoriented and perplexed with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.
Arcanis drops the corpse of a pixie.
Arcanis drops the corpse of a pixie.
Arcanis drops the corpse of a pooka.
Arcanis drops a stalk of faeleaf.
Having been too much for the mortal threads of Arcanis, he screams in agony as flames engulf his
body and burn it to a crisp.
You tell Lord Fist Arcanis De'Unnero, Chosen of Wrath, "By the by, let that be a lesson in manners.
I don't need friends to kill some of you one on one."
-
A shimmering liquid appears in your inventory smelling sweetly of something carbonated. It vanishes in a puff of silver smoke seconds later.
-
I write things