A Vila's Re-Awakening

Phulbelishi

Setting: Manteekan's Fulcrux. Called by @Manteekan to prepare for a re-awakening of one of His Children, whose creation is also owed to @Drocilla. Very shade, much omitted.

Bored with His inspection of His nails, His attention returned to those gathered, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Interesting. She appears to have gathered Hers. I expect She shall make Herself known soon enough."

You see Manteekan, the Nightmare shout, "Come Drocilla, let Us move beyond Our mortal tools. Surely You will speak with Me?"

You snicker softly to yourself.

A distorted laughter escapes Manteekan's throat, the forced amusement sending a shudder of discomfort rippling down your spine.

Seryn's eyes twinkle enchantingly.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Surely that shall catch Her attention."

You smile impishly and say, "It is a step up from the forementioned tea and cookies, if nothing else."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "That shall be My next attempt."

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across your lips as you glance at Manteekan.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "And more of Hers gather. I fear we shall be outnumbered, children."

You see Manteekan, the Nightmare shout, "Surely You do not still hold My imprisonment against Me?"

You say, "Yet quantity should never outweigh quality. I find little concern in this."

Seryn Ysav'rai, Maestro of the Lament says, "It only takes one insidious thought to bring forth ruin."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "How very true, child."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Both of you."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Perhaps once My attentions are less... distracted, we can work on expanding our influence in the Wyrden woods."

Ethereal violet suffuses the firmament as the lilting, smoky voice of Drocilla, the Enchantress croons, "No, it was entertaining. Very well, let Us speak."

You say, "Ahh..."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "It appears the Enchantress calls. Let us go to Her."

- moving to the other fulcrux -

A haunting melody tugs at the edges of your mind, beckoning you to the pool. As you step forward, an immaculate being of gold emerges, smiling warmly at you. Taking you into its arms, you both sink into the depths of the pool and a beatific nocturne bombards your hearing. Sight, smell, taste, touch... all your senses are heightened as you swim within the warm liquid, pleasure dominating your consciousness. As you succumb to the thrill of the song, a beautiful, but discordant melody pierces through the opus and you open your eyes, finding yourself within the Fulcrux of Drocilla.

The Fulcrux of Drocilla.
The corrosiveness of the taint sickens the land. In the far wall of the alcove rests an immense dais of pure black marble, upon which rests a roiling, undulating portal into effulgent emptiness. A large, circular portal of molten gold swells in smooth waves that ripple out from its centre. In the shape of an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here. A supple lavender squonkabonk stands here amidst a pool of bloody tears, pus-filled pustules protruding out from the many flesh folds along her back. Countess Nikkakorra, Sohei of Eternal Deception is here, shrouded. She wields a jakari of iron spikes and skulls with both hands. Cacophonistic Conductor, Rawth d'Murani, the Terrible is here. He wields a midnight black tear stained violin in his left hand. Manteekan, the Nightmare hangs here hazily, His presence nothing more than a chilled mist that drifts hauntingly through the air. Drocilla, the Enchantress dominates Her surroundings with regal poise, impossibly radiant and beautiful. Solange frowns deeply, lines creasing her forehead. She wields a graceful elfen bone violin fitted with razor-sharp strings in her left hand. Lady Salome Nightshade, the White Weaver is here. She wields a golden whip of the pious in her left hand and an athame dagger in her right. Apodictic Zarialle d'Murani, Dissonant Ingenue is here. She wields a baroque violin of wine red rosewood in her left hand. Lord Enginseer Ventidius De'Unnero, Iron Father is here, sprawled on the ground. He wields a magnum blastworks in his left hand. Seryn Ysav'rai, Maestro of the Lament is here. He wields a wyrden shield with the image of a drum in his left hand and an elegant jet black viola in his right.
You see a single exit leading through a mysterious portal.

She is a radiant immortal and is breathtaking to behold, radiating a painfully sublime and gentle beauty that inexplicably drains the vibrancy and colour from all else in the room. Shimmering with an eerie effulgence, Her almond-shaped eyes are a cruel, sharp lavender; sculpted with grey and violent shadows, they draw the onlooker with their mystical allure. Her tawny skin is creamy and flawless - the visage of utter beauty, elegance and perfection - and Her high cheekbones are touched by the gentle shade of a rose. The glossy scarlet red of Her lips stands out against these soft hues with a generous fullness that makes them deliriously tempting. Every subtle movement of Her perfectly poised figure exudes a raw confidence that dominates Her surroundings, Her superlatively shaped jawline held with regal posture. Intoxicating and addictive, an entrancing scent drifts in Her wake like a cloak of perfumed silk. She is wearing an august gown of liquid, pale gold ribbons, a pair of knuckle rings, each bearing a dangerous talon that extends past Her fingertips, extravagant sandal heels of black wyvern-skin and a baroque vermeil choker aflame with evening tanzanites.
Her silken hair, a hundred shades of burnished gold, is pinned like a crown of molten gold atop a visage of utter perfection. The thick, detailed braids wrap about the head with nary a disobedient wisp in a polished updo that wreathes Her face in a smouldering halo.

Begrudingly inclining Her head, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Rudeness is for the True Traitors."

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across Solange's lips.

Phulbelishi eyes Drocilla warily before dipping into a low, altogether awkward bow.

Meeting Her gaze with His pale, icy eyes, Manteekan, the Nightmare says to Drocilla, "Too true, unfortunately."

Seryn furls his leathery wings behind his back.

Salome inclines her head politely to Drocilla.

A note of anger to Her lilting voice, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Why now?"

Gliding idly towards the Goddess, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "You knew it would come eventually, My Dear. I have My... needs, and which better to provide a more graceful touch?"

(Clan): You say, "Giggity."

Solange's cold gaze follows the Nightmare as He moves closer to Her Lady.

Drocilla begins to glide across the antechamber, fragrant smoke billowing from the censers dancing about Her form as She passes. "Understandable," She admits, "But now? I have been thinking about her too."

Slightly startled by the response, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Have You, now, Drocilla? And what use have You for Our child?"

The ethereal notes of a quiet, lyrical nocturne summoned from the strings of a viola drift upon the air, evocative of eventide marvels.

Zarialle tilts her head and listens intently.

Salome Nightshade idly twirls several ringlets through her fingers at the nape of her neck, lingering with one hip jutting lazily out as she stands beside Seryn and the Lord Nightmare. Her face remains pleasant, her features the picture of warmth, yet her eyes hold calculation.

Drocilla continues to circle the antechamber, golden gown trailing in Her wake as She muses, "Needs a Mother a reason to see Her child?"

A distorted laughter escapes Manteekan's throat, the forced amusement sending a shudder of discomfort rippling down your spine.

Amusement hinting His harshly hissed words, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Yes, Your Motherly instincts were always so... bountiful."

Drocilla flashes Manteekan a wicked ruby smile from behind a coquettish shoulder as She passes Him by, the scent of musk wafting upon the air.

Amused, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "As bountiful as Yours."

Solange's pale brows rise slightly, gaze flicking momentarily to her Lady as She passes.

Hovering slowly back and forth before Her, Manteekan, the Nightmare says to Drocilla, "So they are, then. But, reason aside, will You assist Me?"

Drocilla pauses by Solange, taloned fingertips caressing wisps of hair away from Solange's neck. She exhales softly, a curtain of eyelashes hiding Her eyes as She finally assents, "On a condition."

Glancing briefly at the viscanti before returning His attention to the Goddess, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Oh, I eagerly await this. What is your condition, Drocilla?"

Drocilla looks up, lavender eyes shimmering with incandescent motes as they focus upon Manteekan. "A moment alone with her," She finally murmurs, "That is all I ask, before she is yours."

Manteekan erupts into a horrendous cackle, the shrill laughter sending a slow chill down your spine as it peals into the distance.

Drocilla runs a fingertip along Solange's ear with a ruby smile, "A Mother's wish if you will, to hold Her child before she is all yours."

Flecks of lavender effulgence living and dying in her eyes, Solange expresses a hint of puzzlement, attention drifting to the chilling form of the Nightmare as His laughter fades.

Glancing over the Enchantress, suspicion gleaming within His eyes, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "A moment alone with My... Our child? So be it. But know this, Drocilla, should You harm her in any way, I will know."

Drocilla's smile widens and She vanishes from behind Solange and appears before Manteekan in a blink of an eye, all gold and perfection.

Her voice a lilting melody, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Where is she?"

The corner of His lip curling in a faint smile, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "I was wondering when You would ask. They hid Her rather close to home. She is in the Icewynd, deep within the mists of a cavern inhabited by those who follow the "Forsaken"."

Placing His hand atop the Enchantress's, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "We go, then."

The incorporeal form of Manteekan, the Nightmare, dissolves into a cool mist which creeps hauntingly away into the distance, leaving behind naught but an eerie silence and an unsettling chill.

Drocilla gives Salome a pointed look, notes of amusement glistening in Her eyes before She too vanishes behind Manteekan.

A dark and seductive voice murmurs in your ear enticingly as Drocilla dissipates into a velvety indigo mist, leaving in Her wake a sense of unrestrained longing.

(The Haze): Manteekan says, "Those of the Enchantress have made their way here. Join us, My children."

- because lazy -

You tug upon the aether strands around you, searching for one that connects to Rawth.

You teleport along the aether strands to Rawth.

A mystic chamber shaded in jade.
Superimposed over this location, an ethereal forest reaches up to the sky. The motionless form of a shrouded mystic lies here in a pool of blood. A vicious, white crow flies here with soiled wings spread. A spectral pegasus presides here, clockwork wings flaring as she gazes about herself imperiously. Lord Enginseer Ventidius De'Unnero, Iron Father is here. He wields a magnum blastworks in his left hand. Drocilla, the Enchantress dominates Her surroundings with regal poise, impossibly radiant and beautiful. Apodictic Zarialle d'Murani, Dissonant Ingenue is here. She wields a baroque violin of wine red rosewood in her left hand. Cacophonistic Conductor, Rawth d'Murani, the Terrible is here. He wields a midnight black tear stained violin in his left hand. Solange is here, smiling faintly. She wields a graceful elfen bone violin fitted with razor-sharp strings in her left hand. Manteekan, the Nightmare hangs here hazily, His presence nothing more than a chilled mist that drifts hauntingly through the air. Prophet of the Rager, Arcanis De'Unnero, Avatar of Vengeance is here, shrouded. There is a burning illusory eye floating darkly over him. He wields a magnum blastworks in his left hand and a tombstone shield in his right.
You see a single exit leading southwest.

You lift your eyebrow as you tilt your head at the corpse of a Forsaken mystic clad in jade, offering a deeply curious expression.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says to Drocilla, "They think the Forsaken had a hand in this! How amusing!"

A shrill ringing fills the air as Manteekan bursts into a fit of deranged laughter.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says to Arcanis, "This is far older than your Forsaken, child."

Cacophonistic Conductor, Rawth d'Murani, the Terrible says, "No child should be kept from their family."

Cacophonistic Conductor, Rawth d'Murani, the Terrible says, "No matter the consequences."

Prophet of the Rager, Arcanis De'Unnero, Avatar of Vengeance says, "Yet their great sage lies dead, having been in the way. Surely they are now involved."

Using her tongue and the roof of her mouth, Solange makes a quiet clicking noise.

Rawth smiles softly at Zarialle.

Drocilla looks away from Arcanis, dismissing the notion. "What is Ours remains Ours, the Forsaken may move aside or tint the snows red," She observes coolly.

Head bowed, Prophet of the Rager, Arcanis De'Unnero, Avatar of Vengeance says, "As you wish."

Turning His back to the mortals gathered, Manteekan, the Nightmare says to Drocilla, "How fortunate that so many have joined Us. This may prove to be a rather... difficult undertaking."

Arcanis peers about himself unscrupulously.

Drocilla, the Enchantress says to Manteekan, "This lucky We thought to bring tools."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says to Drocilla, "She has been put into a deep slumber within the mists here. I shall need an anchor. A link back to this Plane, if You would."

Glancing briefly over those gathered, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "They shall do rather nicely, indeed."

Vetala tilts her head curiously at Manteekan.

Cacophonistic Conductor, Rawth d'Murani, the Terrible says to Manteekan, "We do our best, Lord Nightmare."

Lord Enginseer Ventidius De'Unnero, Iron Father says, "To be used by our Lady is the greatest gift we can recieve."

Drocilla nods curtly as She glides closer to Manteekan, ribbons of the wintry cloak wrapping Her form dragging behind on the cavern floor.

Arcanis takes a few steps back, his expression looking threatened and wary.

(Clan): You say, "The hell she even had accessories to throw on for this. I LOVE HER SO MUCH."

You look at a winter cloak of trailing snowy ribbons that Drocilla is wearing:
Worn to cover the body from throat to ankles this sleeveless, form-fitting garment is made of hundreds of ribbons that flow from a high collar, made of burnished white gold polished to a reflective sheen, the upper lip embellished with a small line of ice blue sapphire that gleams faintly. The rest of the garment is a soft, snowy white, each individual ribbon without blemish or imperfection. Uninterrupted, they fall in perfect lines to ankle level in an impenetrable curtain, A hood of the soft snowy leather hangs around the very back of the collar, large enough that when raised, it will cover the majority of the collar and the top half of the wearer's face.

Eying the gathering, Countess Nikkakorra, Sohei of Eternal Deception mutters, "S... .f us better th.. oth...."

Cacophonistic Conductor, Rawth d'Murani, the Terrible says to Arcanis, "You are the Avatar of Vengeance, yet you shy away at the chance to give this poor child what it sorely deserves? You would keep her bound?"

Prophet of the Rager, Arcanis De'Unnero, Avatar of Vengeance says, "That is not the same thing."

Locking Arcanis in an uncomfortable stare, you slowly blink one eye and then the other.

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across Solange's lips.

Salome raises a slender brow, her phlox eyes gleaming with maleficence.

Cacophonistic Conductor, Rawth d'Murani, the Terrible says to Arcanis, "It is the same thing. The child was forced into slumber. No child should be kept from their family. Ever."

Manteekan reaches out and grasps Drocilla's hands tightly as the air grows thick about the pair.

Drocilla, the Enchantress says to Manteekan, "Let us begin, perhaps We could use the talkative ones as an anchor?"

Arcanis blinks.

Arcanis takes a few more steps back, before dashing away.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "The more talkative, the more disposable? I rather like the way You think."

With a flap of his soiled wings, a vicious, white crow flies off to the southwest.

Solange smirks.

Lady Salome Nightshade, the White Weaver says, "I willingly step forward as an anchor, Lady Enchantress."

Cacophonistic Conductor, Rawth d'Murani, the Terrible says, "As do I."

Nocturness Solange n'Lochli says to Drocilla, "As always, I am at Your service, my Sovereign."

Zarialle kneels before Drocilla, swearing her allegiance to Her.

Flashing a ruby smile, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Excellent."

A stirring breeze caresses your exposed skin, sending shivers through your body.

Drocilla nods Her head at Manteekan.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Let us begin."

The mists that fill the air grow thicker as the temperature plummets, the haze snaking through the air as it slowly solidifies into icy limbs that stretch away from Manteekan, each reaching outward toward another gathered. Your eyes grow wide as one of the appendages whips through the air towards you, sending all about you into a blanket of white fog.

Drocilla slowly tilts Her head back, the emerald glow of the fire pit dancing with dim jade shadows upon Her tawny skin. The air thrums with anticipation as She spreads Her arms to the sides and slowly lifts them upwards, ribbons of the snowy cloak parting to revealing the gold bedecking Her beneath.

Wisps of indigo fog creep slowly into the cavern, blanketing the ground underfoot and pooling about your ankles. The rich indigo flows into the icy white fog like liquid silk, mingling and caressing as it forms entrancing patterns with the play of colours until the two become one and you are swimming in an ever-increasing whirlwind of milky lavender.

Incantations chanted in an undecipherable mellifluous tongue pierce through the haze, their source Drocilla as She stands poised opposite the spectral form of Manteekan, Her golden visage the only source of light in the chill storm that rages about the cavern.

You feel the air escape your lungs as the tendril of mist wraps about your wrist. The haze about you begins to fade from vision as your mind opens, your senses expanding far beyond mortal means. Throbbing fills your head as you sense your connection to the Elders before you strengthen, Their clutch the only anchor preventing you from slipping into utter madness.

Rawth falls to his knees and begins to worship Drocilla.

Solange murmurs softly to herself.

You feel a sharp tugging deep within your gut as Manteekan slips into the cloud of fog before you. As He slowly fades away into the mists, the link between you and the Elder grows weaker, yet the pain grows more unbearable, your eyes bulging as your vision begins to flicker in agony.

Nikkakorra whips out the end of her chain, to lash around a cavern stalagmite.

A distant, panicked whisper escapes from amidst the haze, the voice but a murmur, which calls out to the Enchantress, "Drocilla, they are slipping. Do whatever is needed to secure the link."

Ventidius twitches as his body groans to a rest, decaying joints working quickly as steam bursts out.

Salome closes her eyes, her head tilting back as she grits her teeth in determination.

Drocilla begins to sing a lulling and enthralling song which warps and distorts your vision in a dizzying fashion as it raises to higher pitches.

Nikkakorra whispers soft praises to the Enchantress, her eyes glowing violet.

The enthralling song washes over you, overcoming your mind with panicked thoughts of naught but survival, yet rooting you in place unable to break the bewitching spell.

As you feel yourself slipping into the enchanting notes of the song, the pain begins to slowly slip away. Digging your toes into the ground, you feel the link begin to strengthen once more, and the mists that churn through the air grow thicker.

Singing prayers beneath her breath, Solange bows her head, long fingers extending to the Enchantress.

A layer of frost forms upon your skin as you feel the mists slowly creep over your flesh. Haze suddenly fills your mind, and within the fog, you catch a glimpse of a figure curled up upon the ground. You wrap the figure in your embrace as the land about you shifts and stirs.

Ventidius shakes his head once and goes down on his knees, hands digging into the ground to send all he has.

Your attention is suddenly forced back upon the link between you and the Elders as a fading whisper calls out, "Drocilla, the song. She has fallen too deep into slumber. You must sing the song!"

The milky and lavender prison swirling about those gathered gains momentum, becoming almost an incandescent blur in its bewildering dance as the haunting song drifts through the cavern, entrancing in its dark, chaotic beauty even as it pulls at your soul with a stab of unbearable pain, causing you to clutch at your racing heart.

The song swells to a crescendo, Drocilla's head tilted back, eyes closed, golden hair floating about Her and wreathing Her form in an aurulent halo amidst the frigid storm.

Panicked, you try to draw in a breath but your lungs refuse to listen - the song is in complete and utter control of your body, whispering in the back of your being to surrender also your mind.

Eyes wide and tearless, though filled with emotion, Solange jerks her head upward.

Salome dips her hands into the surging shadows around her, which ripple up her arms.

You feel a hunger rise deep within your gut as the miasma of fog whips furiously through the air about you, pulsating rhythmically to the haunting melody escaping the Goddess's throat.

Cacophonistic Conductor, Rawth d'Murani, the Terrible says, "Do not give in. Give Them everything you have."

A pillar of icy haze rockets towards the sky far to the north, blasts of frigid air rippling away from the mist as it rises high above the Icewynd.

An eerie, writhing shadow stretches high around the figure of Salome as beetles from their ornamented nests from an infested diadem of living briar crawl deftly upon her shrouded visage. Her eyes roll back disturbingly as if snared within a trance as the shadow's long, clawed fingers trace along her thin cheeks as it bends to whisper in her ear.

Ventidius is surrounded by a brown glow of the earth as he uses his connection to it to boost the power.

An enthralling song echoes from the frigid depths of the Icewynd as an aurora of ethereal violet shimmers across the northern sky.

Flitting just at the edge of perception, the harsh whispers of the Nightmare reach your mind from deep within the fog, the soft murmurs carrying with them an oddly powerful tone, "She is waking! Mortals, concentrate upon the mists. Feel their embrace as they glide over your skin. Connect with the energy that flows through them. Anchor My child to our link!"

Slipping her arms through the mist, caressing the very air around her, Solange croons softly.

Zarialle crouches low to the ground, holding tight, but allowing the energies to flow through her.

Ventidius pulls himself up and breathes in, joints and limbs soaking in the mist and absorbing it. Some pours out of his mouth and ears.

Rawth breathes the mist in deeply, raising his voice in a low steady hum.

Salome raises her hands upwards, allowing most of the strange glamour of the shadows about her to disintegrate into the mists. Her dark form, growing harsh and harrowing in appearance.

Your knees quake and your eyes water as the connection to the Elder is yanked, jolting you forward into the mists as He slips deeper into the hazy prison.

Vetala digs her fingers into her cosmic symbol, cutting them on the sharpened edges. The soft pattering sound of blood escaping her grasp starts, and ceases just as abruptly, as the crimson fluid pools instead around the demonic ikon.

All about you suddenly stills as you sense an energy returning to the mists. Your eyes grow wide as you stare into the haze and a gentle hand urges you forward. A soft voice whispers into your ear as you feel yourself cradled within fragile arms. "You are Ravila," it insists, and you sink deeper into the figure's embrace.

Voice an eerie echo, Nocturness Solange n'Lochli whispers, "Ravila."

Through ragged breaths, Cacophonistic Conductor, Rawth d'Murani, the Terrible says, "An exquisite name."

Her voice barely heard above the mists, Lady Salome Nightshade, the White Weaver murmurs, "Ravila, ravila..."

Her lilting voice echoing in the sudden stillness, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "More... We need more, brace yourselves, mortals."

Cacophonistic Conductor, Rawth d'Murani, the Terrible says, "It is Yours to take my Goddess."

Zarialle nods in determination and stands ready at Her Lady's bidding.

Agonizing pain shoots through your being as you feel your life slowly slip away, your soul clinging to your physical body merely by what remains of the link between you and the Elders. As the pain slowly fades and conciousness returns, you find the mists beginning to slowly dissipate and an imposing figure gliding in from deep within the fog.

A flash of blinding white drowns out the flickering green within the cavern, all about you engulfed by its overwhelming presence. As it slowly dulls, you find Manteekan before you once more, a shrivelled, trembling figure cradled within His arms.

Lowering the creature so she hovers just above the ground, Manteekan, the Nightmare says to Drocilla, "It is done. Our child has been returned from her slumber."

A mystic chamber shaded in jade.
A ghostly vila hovers in the air, her alluring voice stirring the air about her.

"ravila173764"                          Ravila, of the Mists

Rising from a spray of mist is the beautiful form of this graceful vila, her ghostly form hued with soft, muted colours. Pale blue eyes and full lips tinted a soft pink stand prominent upon her face, the colour a stark contrast to the faint peach of her skin. Golden locks fall down from upon the crown of her head, twisting about her slender frame as they stretch downward to her feet. Gossamer silks woven from the hazy droplets that surround her hug each curve of her lithe body, the gown trailing behind her caught in the gusts of wind that constantly swirl about her form.
Ravila, of the Mists has an air of extreme strength.
She weighs about 31 pounds.
She has a slight resistance to cutting damage.
She has a slight weakness to magic damage.
She has a moderate resistance to poison damage.
She has a moderate resistance to excorable damage.
She has a moderate weakness to divinus damage.
You cannot see what Ravila, of the Mists is holding.
It has the following aliases: ravila, vila.

Ruby lips curving into a wicked smile, Drocilla looks over the creature victoriously and with pride beaming in Her lavender eyes.

Rawth's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.

Locking Ravila, of the Mists in an uncomfortable stare, you slowly blink one eye and then the other.

Zarialle blinks in awe of the events that have taken place.

Solange n'Lochli exhales a long-held breath as she sags momentarily against Rawth.

Ravila, of the Mists stirs and slowly props herself up upon the ground, supported by a pillow of mist that swirls weakly beneath her.

Salome Nightshade drops to one knee, but fights to remain at a stand as her eyes roll back and forth to see the Lord appear. She bends forward, and kisses the hem of His ghostly robe, silently withdrawing behind you.

Countess Nikkakorra, Sohei of Eternal Deception whispers, "A vila."

Ravila, of the Mists says, "Father. Mother. You have returned for me."

Ventidius pulls his hands out of the ground and looks disoriented.

Rawth d'Murani wraps an arm around Solange, steadying her

Helping the fae to her feet, Manteekan, the Nightmare says to Ravila, of the Mists, "Yes, My child. I have need for you once more."

Taking Manteekan's hand in her own as she rises from the ground, Ravila, of the Mists says, "Yes, Father. I am here to assist."

Cutting in, Drocilla, the Enchantress says to Manteekan, "As per Our agreement, I would speak to her alone first."

Eyeing Drocilla, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "As You wish. Do be quick."

Drocilla glides away to the side of the cavern with a charming smile, the little vila and snowy ribbons of the cloak trailing behind Her.

Solange's lashes lower, rendering her gaze thin slits of shifting indigo.

The mists thicken about the Enchantress and the vila, shrouding them both from view and you can only discern that She has bent down to caress the creature's face.

With a sigh of relief, Vetala lets her grip relax, the sound of the blood pooled around her symbol hitting the floor echoing shortly thereafter.

Ventidius straightens up to stretch his body with the whirring of gears and the screeching of metal. Extending his arms out, steam erupts from his joints as his body seems to stiffen and become still, expression strained. A ticking noise lasts for a few moments before his body seems to move again, his stretching finished.

The followers of the Enchantress clutch at their heads, their eyes glowing with lavender motes as they stare behind their Sovereign transfixed.

Manteekan glances sternly towards the Enchantress, His features strained as He makes an attempt as listening to the muffled conversation.

A glimmer of lavender light pierces through the haze and there is movement but no sounds reach your ears.

Drocilla walks out of the mists, an unreadable expression on Her face, eyes guarded as She shephards the vila gently back to Manteekan.

Digging His fingers into Ravila's shoulders, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Do know this, Drocilla. I shall know if she has been... altered in any way."

Mockingly but Her voice is strained, Drocilla, the Enchantress says to Manteekan, "I have told her to behave, to be a well-mannered lady, to destroy her enemies mercilessly, and all those other things Mothers teach their children."

A sadistic chuckling rises from within Manteekan's throat, the estranged laughter escaping in both loud bellows and hushed whispers.

His pale eyes flickering with amusement, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "And You think Me a fool. You have Your reasons. Let Us just hope they do not interfere with My own."

Zarialle ponders the moment with a sadly curious expression.

Drocilla flashes a charming smile that never touches Her eyes.

Sweetly, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "Time will tell, dear."

Vetala's ears perk up as her attention turns towards Drocilla.

Relaxing His grip upon the vila slightly, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "How true that is."

Matter of factly, Drocilla, the Enchantress says, "We are done then?"

Placing a single, icy kiss upon the Goddess's cheek, Manteekan, the Nightmare says to Drocilla, "Now, Our child needs rest. If You have no further need for Her, We should see to Her well-being."

(The Haze): Manteekan says, "You may not know it, but you have done well, child."

Phulbelishi says nothing to those gathered, but instead offers the slightest inclination of his head - perhaps in silent thanks? He strides to stand beside his Lord, eyeing the vila with hungry, unabashed intrigue all the while.

(The Haze): Manteekan says, "Had one of My own not been here... I fear for what could have come."

Solange moves to her Lady's side, gaze impassive as she looks upon the rest of Their audience.

Drocilla exhales as if mock bothered by the pleasantries but rests a hand upon Manteekan's spectral arm and nods softly once.

Taking Drocilla's hand in His own, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Let Us go, then."

(The Haze): You say, "I shall always be at hand when You are most in need, Lord. It is my duty, and my oath."

The incorporeal form of Manteekan, the Nightmare, dissolves into a cool mist which creeps hauntingly away into the distance, leaving behind naught but an eerie silence and an unsettling chill.

Vetala D'Cente tilts her head curiously, sidewise gaze never leaving Drocilla.

A dark and seductive voice murmurs in your ear enticingly as Drocilla dissipates into a velvety indigo mist, leaving in Her wake a sense of unrestrained longing.

Ravila, of the Mists turns and fades away into the mists behind Manteekan.

Solange

Very fun mini event, thanks @Drocilla and @Manteekan! 

Salome

Absolutely wonderful material, thank You Guys!

Qistrel

Nikka now detests @Salome, for only showing up after Nikka had done the hard work convincing her Lady to show up, risking Her rather scary wrath, and then acting all superior with lengthy emotes involving crowns.

This was my show damnit.

But thanks @Manteekan and @Drocilla for putting up with all my snark and not killing Nikka.

Qistrel

Maniacal whispers come in bursts as a hazy mist chills the air with its cool embrace. Amidst the frigid fog, two pale eyes glow as the incorporeal form of Manteekan, the Nightmare slowly coalesces within.

You have emoted: Clasping her oversized hands together, Nikkakorra bows respectfully.

The Fulcrux of Manteekan.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. A massive arch of roughly hewn stone rises from the ground, a ghostly haze drifting lazily in its centre that coats the rock in a thin layer of frost. A tomb of icy stone rises within the centre of the room, statues of innumerable twisted fae poxing its sides. Manteekan, the Nightmare hangs here hazily, His presence nothing more than a chilled mist that drifts hauntingly through the air.
You see a single exit leading through a frosted stone arch filled with haze.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Hello, child. Mine tells Me that you are one of the Enchantress's?"

You say, "Yes, my Lord Nightmare."

The air growing chill, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "And does your Mistress think My urgings empty? Have you told Her that Our child must be re-Awakened?"

You say, "I have only the slightest touch of her redolence. Ventidius is currently trying to contact the Lady. He is one of Hers as well."

(Market): Salome says, "AD 391. Searching for curio parts."

You twitch your snout and scent the air, sensing through a scaled fink nose upon your face the faint traces of others in the surrounding area.
You make out the scent of Ventidius coming from The Fulcrux of Drocilla.

Lowering His gaze to glance sternly over you, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "I see, child."

You say, "Not that I could in any way replace Her, but...is there anything I could do to...help?"

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "You mortals shall have your place, surely, but first I require the Enchantress's assistance."

You have emoted: Nikkakorra clasps her hands together nervously, her musky smell wafting around her.

You say, "Well, I'm not sure what more can be done. Seryn and Ventidius have both sent Her prayers...have You spoken to Her?"

A churning mist coalesces above Avechna's Peak as haunting whispers glide away from the mountainside.

Placing a hand upon your cheek, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "If I had spoken with your mistress, would I be asking now to speak with Her?"

Standing very still, you say, "Oh, no. Of course not."

(In my defense, we had heard voices arguing earlier, and I thought perhaps it was Manteekan and Drocilla arguing, and She was purposely avoiding Him.)

Leaning in closely, His words mouthed slowly and carefully, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "She is rather... difficult to reach lately. Although I fear if one of Fininkora is passing along My message, it may never reach Her." (Maaan, I’m a fink, not an idiot)

A discontent murmur reaches your ears as an exotic scent tickles your nostrils. The argument continues and indecisiveness is clear between the intelligible snippets of the conversation conducted by the same voice. (There we go, argumentative voices again)

You say, "Did you hear that?"

Amused laughter trailing His words, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "I did not, child, but it seems your Mistress stirs after all."

Somewat proudly, you say, "And I am not stupid. I am the Sohei of the Eternal Deception, the first fink to step though the Portal of Fate."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "I did not call you stupid, child. Clumsy, slow, perhaps."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Although perhaps Her progeny will prove useful where She did not."

Manteekan erupts into a horrendous cackle, the shrill laughter sending a slow chill down your spine as it peals into the distance.

You have emoted: Nikkakorra flinches, but still stands as tall as she can.

You say, "Do You...know what...was intended with Her?"

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "A story for another time, child. Perhaps if you prove useful this day, it would motivate Me to tell it sooner."

You say, "What do you wish of me?"

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "I wish for you to ask your Mistress to pay Me a visit, child. I seek Her assistance."

You say, "I will try. But She did not respond to the others."

You crease your brow in a frown.

Relaxing His hold upon you, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Perhaps you should try asking more nicely."

Solange

I think the crown was an atmospheric thing? Curious to see what you find out about Finnykins!

Qistrel

@Manteekan is trolling me. I just know it.

Salome

Solange said:

I think the crown was an atmospheric thing? Curious to see what you find out about Finnykins!

Crown is an atmospheric thing, you're right. All Glomdoring women act superior, and a bit aloof. If you want to summon our gods to do some things, get ready for people other than your org to come and see what's going on.

Qistrel

Hey, I didn't summon your god. I was looking for my one. Your god rocked up and was all 'do this for me'.

Salome

Just expect people to show!

Tremula

Phulbelishi said:

Drocilla nods curtly as She glides closer to Manteekan, ribbons of the wintry cloak wrapping Her form dragging behind on the cavern floor.

(Clan): You say, "The hell she even had accessories to throw on for this. I LOVE HER SO MUCH."

You look at a winter cloak of trailing snowy ribbons that Drocilla is wearing:
Worn to cover the body from throat to ankles this sleeveless, form-fitting garment is made of hundreds of ribbons that flow from a high collar, made of burnished white gold polished to a reflective sheen, the upper lip embellished with a small line of ice blue sapphire that gleams faintly. The rest of the garment is a soft, snowy white, each individual ribbon without blemish or imperfection. Uninterrupted, they fall in perfect lines to ankle level in an impenetrable curtain, A hood of the soft snowy leather hangs around the very back of the collar, large enough that when raised, it will cover the majority of the collar and the top half of the wearer's face.

@Drocilla

Drocilla

@Tremula Shame on you for not being there to see it.

Shame!

[ding ding]

Shame!

[ding ding]

Tremula

Drocilla said:

@Tremula Shame on you for not being there to see it.

Shame!

[ding ding]

Shame!

[ding ding]

Trem's poor heart gave out when she found out.

Nikkakorra picks at her cloak of many colours.

You tilt your head curiously at Nikkakorra.

Countess Nikkakorra, Sohei of Eternal Deception says, "I need a cool winter cloak like Lady Drocilla's."

You blink.

You say, "Come again?"

Countess Nikkakorra, Sohei of Eternal Deception says, "For when I got to Icewynd again."

You say, "A...winter cloak? Sleeveless?"

Countess Nikkakorra, Sohei of Eternal Deception says, "She had this nice wintery white cloak."

Nikkakorra nods her head emphatically.

You say, "Made of ribbons, similar to Her golden one?"

Countess Nikkakorra, Sohei of Eternal Deception says, "Yeah."

Excitedly, you exclaim, "A hood that covers most of the face?!"

Countess Nikkakorra, Sohei of Eternal Deception says, "I think so."

You exclaim, "SHE WORE IT!"

With grim, final resolve you gather the mental strength to slay yourself and as a tear drops from your eye, you end your time on this mortal coil by stopping your heart in an instant.

Arix

If you think a bunch of people and gods gathering in a Fulcrux won't attract outsiders and possibly Arixes, you are sadly mistaken

Qistrel

It's not that. I knew that would happen. I just was annoyed that she was making incredibly long emotes that had nothing to do with anything at all. Showing off. Didn't realise it was an ambient thing, not an emote. It has been explained now.

Salome

Qistrel said:

It's not that. I knew that would happen. I just was annoyed that she was making incredibly long emotes that had nothing to do with anything at all. Showing off. Didn't realise it was an ambient thing, not an emote. It has been explained now.

If I was showing off, you'd know it. Nightshades are that way. ^-^