Grey in the Standing Stones

Everiine

Preface: Yes, I'm an idiot. I kept saying 'Sevitt' instead of 'Seniit'. And I still get Xarriv and Delosidir mixed up (mostly because I was at first convinced that Xarriv was what Delosidir ended up being). I apologize to the poor admin who had to figure out what the hell I was talking about . Also, way to make me happy cry. Jerk .

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The mist becomes thicker, and the howling is filled with a wild barking. It is as loud as can be, deafening. You cannot hear yourself think.

The sound becomes quieter, almost more distant. This is somehow disquieting to you. You fear your heart beating faster.

Everiine holds his head and stumbles.

As the howling and yipping grows more distant, you feel fear flood you. Fear of death, fear of the unknown. The urge to run fills you. Something is coming. You don't know what, but you know something is coming. It is growing quieter. And it is coming for you.

Everiine cries out like a fierce hawk and leaps into the sky.

You begin to flap your wings powerfully and rise quickly up into the firmament.

Flying above grasses beside Moon River.
A few light wisps of cloud are spread high in the sky. This small area of grass leads from the Alabaster Road down to the banks of the Moon River. The road to the south is a line of white stone, threading beneath the tall trees that crowd around it. Moon River to the northwest, however, is a wide expanse of water, a massive river that cuts a path through the trees and forces them apart. Gravel lines the banks as they slope down to meet the river's edge.
You see a single exit leading northwest.

The sound is almost inaudible now. The mist begins to weigh upon you. Your wings become heavy, unable to maintain the weight of the water upon them. They are coming. You are prey.

You begin to descend, the wind whistling past you as the earth draws ever closer. You land easily, back on the ground again.

Pounding fills your ears as a group of misty white hounds rush in and grab you by your ankles. Quickly, a misty hole in the ground opens up, and you are dragged into it by the hounds, finding yourself elsewhere.

The highest temple tier.
Vines of oaken bark lace the solid stone walls of this spacious hall, no marks of tool or handwork visible upon her divinely carved surface. The latticework forms a massive mural, scenes of glory, triumph, and defeat hewn in the single, living mass. Scars trace the entire scene, a pale yellow, crystalline sap emitting a prismatic luminescence which fills the entire hall with shifting colour, akin to the light of pixies floating in an ever-frolicking ballet. The vast, open temple descends in tiers in a southerly course, this being the highest vantage from which to observe the mesmerising patterns traced by the oak-vines. From this distance, the far southern end of the temple appears as little more than a browning, tangled thicket. Three tiers are distinguishable in this tall standing stone, illuminated by its own soft, pulsing glow.
You see exits leading southeast, south, and southwest.

Everiine lands in a heap on the floor, momentarily stunned by the fall. Slowly, he pulls himself up, rubbing his head and waiting for the ringing in his ears to stop. Opening his eyes, and once his vision blurs, he gazes at his surroundings.

Formed of three uneven, vertical sections marked by narrowings in the pillar, cracks and citrine-hued mosses cover the majority of this standing stone's surface. Upon the middle, lopsided tier, a symbol of angular marks is carved into the stone, nestled in the midst of elaborate knotwork. A soft glow emanates from the rock, bathing it in its own wan illumination.
It weighs about 1000 pounds.
It has the following aliases: stone, standing, standingstone.

You reach out and touch a tiered standing stone.

To himself, you say, "Where am I..."

(Serenwilde): You say, "Can anyone hear me?"

(Serenwilde): Arien says, "I can, Landspeaker."

(Serenwilde): Minkahmet says, "Aye."

Continuing to speak out loud, you say, "That is a relief."

Everiine walks around the stone, examining it from all sides.

s
The taupe and dusty midway.
Oaken vines converge in the centre of the temple, creeping forth from every corner of the temple to meet in a tangled blanket of layered lattices. The bark of the vines is pale brown, bleached by the sunlight streaming in from an oculus in the temple roof overarching above and nearly indistinguishable from the long bones strewn amongst them. A fine film of dust covers the tumultuous array, drifting down from above and clouding the air, swirls and whorls formed as breezes wander through the temple. In the midst of the living morass, an emblem lays nearly hidden, pressed into the ground seemingly without the use of tools - a wheel formed of branches, bone and sinew, the skull of a deer nestled within its centre.
You see exits leading north, northeast, southeast, south, southwest, and northwest.

s
A bracken-clutched hollow of hoarfrost.
Dead and sombre, a thicket of lifeless bracken engulfs the southernmost alcove of the bright temple, the light wan here, subdued and grey as it filters through twisted and tangled branches. Hoarfrost covers everything in a powder-like layer, cloaking the chaparral in dull paleness. The oaken vines still manage to break through the brambles, cloaking the rounded walls and joining at the southern apex to form a single scene: a stag fallen to its fore-knees, the proud animal speared with a shaft through its narrow chest. Amber copal resin designates the buck's blood, already forming a pool below which seeps onto the hollow's ground, frozen in viscous trails. A chunk of rough stone lays at the base of this tall, thin rock, clearly broken off of the stone's crown. The husk of a cloven bramble-throne looms here, little more than a throng of brittle, dry brier surrounded by the scent of blood. Leaning upon his throne, Grey rests here, a massive greatsword in one hand and his wound clutched in the other.
You see exits leading north, northeast, and northwest.

Grey inclines his head politely to you.

Everiine puts a hand over his heart and bows, folding his wings to his back to lessen his profile. "Greetings," he says, rising again.

look grey
He is a towering man and carries the air of a once-proud man reduced to a weathered, gaunt figure existing only as a shadow of what he once was. Alongside a slightly hunched posture, his gait is stiff, the man limping and favouring his left leg; the creases and weathering crossing his walnut-hued, angular countenance fail to mask the subtle expression of pain upon it, his emerald eyes dim and empty. Further alluding to his age, his beard is long and greying, a wild mane of ash-and-ebon hair pulled back against his scalp and bound into a matted, horse-like tail. He wears nothing but a tattered and bloodstained loincloth and worn leather sandals, the bare flesh of his muscle-rippled form covered in smeared blue woad-paint illustrating the remnants of faded tribal patterns broken by slashes, bruises and other wounds. The faintest aura of immanidivinus energy surrounds the marred man, subdued and at times seeming only to be a trick of the senses as laboured breathing moves his chest in and out. Tiredly, he clutches his abdomen with a scarred hand, partially covering the deep gash from which thick blood still seeps, soaking his waist with a deep ruddiness.
Grey almost glows with nearly god-like power.

(Serenwilde): Arien says, "Are you alright...?"

(Serenwilde): You say, "That remains to be seen."

You feel a slight tug within your chest and the air around you sparkles with motes of bright light.

Among the sparkling motes of light, a translucent figure appears in the air and then quickly solidifies as Arien, riding a pale tigress of coalesced moonbeams, comes into view.

Grey smiles gently at his guest, before speaking. "I would offer you a seat, but there is none to be had. Though I will tell you to..." His head turns to the unwelcome guest.

As Everiine subtly looks over the man, he startles. "Wode," he says, pointing to the blue paint.

You feel a strong tug within your chest and the air comes alive with swirling, multicoloured light.

A bright, tiny star forms in the air, then elongates into a strand of bright light. Finally, it impossibly unfolds into the form of Minkahmet.

"Where!?" Minkahmet exclaims suddenly, his eyes brimming with excitement.

Minkahmet mutters discontentedly.

Grey says, "I invited neither of you."

Everiine unfolds his wings again, revealing the black, green, and yellow stripes.

Delicate cherry blossom petals burst into a joyous flurry and envelop Minkahmet before swirling away to the north.

Grey says, "Leave."

Minkahmet tells you, "..all ok there?"

Waldgeist Arien Myeras, Shepherdess of Hart says, "I see." She turns to Everiine questioningly. "You will be alright?"

You tell Waykeeper Minkahmet, Dancer upon the Triple Moon, "I do not yet know."

You nod your head at Arien.

Arien inclines her head politely to those around her.

Arien, riding a pale tigress of coalesced moonbeams, holds the Flame of dae'Seren aloft and an emerald light shines forth, revealing a hazy hallway of ancient trees. As Arien, riding a pale tigress of coalesced moonbeams, walks through the hallway, the trees close around her and disappear.

Minkahmet tells you, "Hm.. give a yell if you do, I'll be on standby."

Everiine's posture now suggests a certain reverence for the gaunt man; his wings hang loosely, unmoving , his feathered crest lies flat against his head, and his head dips.

Grey smiles once more. "Now, before we were so rudely interrupted. I apologise for the conditions of my court, but things have fallen into disarray as of late. There are no other chairs to offer, and I am too weak to offer my own."

Grey says, "I also would apologise for the method in which I invited you here. The hounds are quite... ambitious to say the least."

You say, "It is not the way I would have preferred to be invited, no. Nevertheless, need drives modes of action, and I sense the need was great."

Grey says, "There are many needs. There are many wants. These do not matter."

Grey says, "What do you know of duty?"

The blood catches Everiine's eyes and he steps forward. "You are hurt!" he exclaims. But he pauses, struck by the question. "Duty? I know much of it." He runs a hand through his feathered crest--not to smooth it, but out of habit. "I served for centuries in what is now the Lost Tribe. Great Chieftain, High Chief, Storyteller, Chief--these are titles I bore in my service to the end. Once, I led the new Allied Tribes of the Wodewoses; now, I serve as Landspeaker, my duty to the tribes and to the Verdant Land itself binding me for all of my days to its care."

Grey smiles slightly as he responds, "We all have our duties. Some bear titles, some do not. I have shed my titles for this one, for they bear many burdens. I will ask, what is your highest duty?" He adjusts himself in his throne, blood seeping from the open wound in his abdomen as he does so, but still he does not wince. Still, the knuckles are white upon his greatsword.

Everiine glances again at the wound for the briefest moment, but decides not to mention it again. "My highest duty is to the care of the Verdant Land. I am bound by no oath, no promise. Once, I was bound to the people; now, I am bound to the Land itself, the living spirit of the woods that gives life to all who live on it."

Grey nods slightly. He smiles, speaking with a hoarse rasp and interlaced breaths every few words, "What do you make of current events?"

Everiine hesitates before the stranger who, as yet, has given him no real reason to trust him. But the paint, the hounds, the apparent battle between the mists... the old swordsbird straightens up, sighs, and begins to speak. "I do not understand much of them. What I think I understand frightens me. I taught the legend of the Foolish Warrior to my kin; and when Xarriv appeared in the ... flesh? ... it was nightmare given form. We paid dearly at his hands..." The words trail off, and a deep sadness swirls in his eyes. "So to have another of his half-formed kin, Seviit, arrive... well, it terrifies me. I want him to be different. He has a more innocent nature about him. But that makes him even more dangerous."

Grey says, "Compassion is never a crime. It is a virtue if anything, and if this Seviit has not harmed you, there is no reason to harm him. But you know his potential as well, and it frightens you if he were to."

You say, "Overvigilance is the price paid for past undervigilance."

Grey says, "Indeed. Serenwilde paid the price for undervigilance with Delosidir in the very recent past."

Grey says, "Not to say this is not a different situation, as it is."

You say, "You know more than I, I assume."

Grey says, "I have doubts. You were one of the ones who lived it. I only watched."

Grey says, "Were you not one of the ones who attempted to rescue Eurytus in his final moments?"

Everiine's feathered crest flares, then falls back again, the beaded and feathered charms clinking together noisily. "Attempted. And failed." The words are like ice, bereft of emotion that has long been buried.

With a smile, Grey says, "He does not blame you for that."

Grey says, "Your attempt was enough."

Grey says, "You are true Serenguard. And he does not regret the life he lived."

Grey says, "Nor does he regret the students he left behind."

A curious tilt of the head and blinking eyes give Everiine the appearance of a puzzled bird. "You have spoken with my brother?" he asks. "Do you too speak to the ancestors?"

Grey says, "From time to time."

Everiine is either about to cry, or about to jump into the air and flap his wings. Or maybe, just stand there, struck with awe.

Grey says, "If it makes you feel any better, his one regret is regarding Kota. He wishes the colt did not have to suffer the actions he committed. Eurytus is... was a good one. But you need not blame yourself."

Everiine's wings droop until his feathers brush the floor. "One day, I will find him and bring him home . And he will know that he need not blame himself, either."

Grey says, "Consider such your duty then."

Off in the distance, one of the standing stones flashes an amber colour.

Everiine accepts the duty with a solemn nod. "And your duty? What is it?"

Grey rests his greatsword against his throne and gestures simply to the standing stone behind him, silently, before replacing his grip upon the hilt.

probe stone
Jagged carvings spread over this towering rock's worn granite, severed where the stone's crown has been cloven. The large shard now rests at the natural pillar's base, partially overtaken by long grass. Mere inches below where the stone was broken, a curious symbol of a circle intersected with a straight line and four, curving angled lines is etched. Small, amber-petaled wildflowers growing around the fallen rock are dimly lit by the gentle glow surrounding the rock, rendering their bright hues all the more vivid.
It weighs about 1000 pounds.
It has the following aliases: stone, standing, standingstone.

Everiine leans over to the side and peers at the stone. "What is it?"

Grey says, "As one? As a whole?"

Grey says, "Or as an object?"

Grey says, "It is simply a stone, but the meaning behind it is much more."

"... aye?" Everiine reponds, not quite sure how to answer. "It is not the only standing stone here. What do they mean? What are they for? What is this place?" He opens his mouth to continue, but shuts it again before too many questions fly out at once.

Grey says, "Too many answers will reveal too many burdens. For now, I will just give you two words. Duty and sacrifice. You know we are each bound by a duty."

Grey says, "So let me ask you. Are you willing to sacrifice everything for yours, Everiine Silvermoon, Landspeaker, Protector of the Verdant Land, Serenguard?"

Only a fool would answer without thought, without taking into account what such a charge might mean. For a while, Everiine stands with his arms crossed, staring down at the floor. When he stirs and looks up, the steel in his eyes, sharper than the blades in his scabbards, speaks just as confidently as his voice. "To protect the Verdant Land and keep it safe: aye. I would sacrifice all that I have, all that I am--my life."

Grey says, "Then I will offer you one piece of parting advice."

Grey says, "Do not open a divide between yourself and the Serenwilde. You will need the assistance of your brothers and sisters in your duty soon. You cannot do this alone."

Grey says, "None of you can. None of us can."

Everiine's pride takes a bit of a dent, but he nods his head. "I understand."

Grey smiles softly as he watches you. His eyes focused on you, he asks, "Do you have any parting words? We will not speak for some time yet."

The four lines on the stone behind Grey begin to glow a bright verdant hum.

You say, "Only a promise. I do not know where our paths will lead us. But in the end, just as my brother was not forgotten by you, so too will you not be forgotten."

Grey nods slightly. He offers a simple raspy "Forgive me this."

Grey stands from his throne and raises his greatsword high in the air. Bringing it high above his head, the white mist coalesces around it, and he brings it down upon your head. The world fades.
You have been slain by Grey.
A swirling force begins to tug at your soul and the world spins around you.

The wound begins to heal upon Grey's abdomen.

Your soul is flung back to the prime material plane. Slowly, a skeleton forms from the aether, and muscles appear upon the bones, bubbling up in a frothy spray of blood. Finally, new skin stretches out and covers your new body, and you step out from the Moonhart Mother Tree.

Minkahmet

I'm apauled you left out the part where I stumbled into your RP event unawares! -hands on hip- 
Scrolled past it hahaha

Everiine

Wait, it's in there, isn't it? Or are you talking about something else?