A Spirit from the Silver Weald

ArienArien Member Posts: 231 Expert
edited January 2015 in Event Scrolls
Arien got more than she bargained for when speaking with Elthadean about Farella Lunseer. Enjoy!

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Hollow of Transformation.
A thick copse of moonhart trees encircles a silver pillar, an effigy of strength that stands alone in this forest clearing. Although its height is immeasurable, the top of which surpasses the seemingly infinite ceiling of this section of the cavern, the pillar is fallible in make, and the earliest signs of age and decay wend their way along its length in thick vines and deep cracks. The different seasons are clearly evident in four distinct quadrants of the Hollow, the power of transformation represented in the variations of leaves between spring, summer, fall, and winter, and the palpable thrum of change pools in the storm clouds that cling to the canopy like tufts of grey cotton. A tall, slender man garbed in mooncloak butterflies stands here, a silver haze in his eyes.
You see a single exit leading southeast.

Bowing his head respectfully, Elthadean Lunseer says, "May the storms of change find you well, Avatar of the Argent Lady."

You incline your head politely to Elthadean Lunseer.

Exhaling softly, looking at his hands, Elthadean Lunseer says, "It is such a powerful blessing to be given another chance."

You smile softly.

Elthadean Lunseer smiles softly, his scholarly gaze still half lost in thought.

With a courteous bow, Elthadean Lunseer says, "How may I assist an Avatar of our Lady?"

Idly striding through the columns, before returning the courtesy, you say, "I had found you quite contemplative the other weave, I was, well, have, been meaning to inquire to you about Farella."

His jaw set gravely, Elthadean Lunseer says, "This is a tale for another time."

Exhaling softly, Elthadean Lunseer says, "And perhaps that time is now. What do you wish to know of her?"

Blinking with confusion, Elthadean Lunseer says, "Do you...do you hear that?"

You blink.

Arien cocks her head to one side, swiveling around the chamber slowly.

Walking toward the edge of the cavern, his ear leading the way, Elthadean Lunseer says, "Those...voices. You cannot hear them?"

Elthadean Lunseer departs to the southeast, his scholar's gaze taking in each detail as he passes.

A silverspun cavern.
Although forged from stone, the walls of this cavern were not created by the corrosive might of a lake or a river. Instead, tiny gouge marks have worn a smooth texture into the surface of the cavern, as if tiny insects spent their lives toiling away, transforming stone into work an expert craftsman would envy. Deep silver striations run the length and breadth of the stone floor and wind their way
along the walls, injecting the space with a natural artwork that bears a vague resemblance to the wings of a butterfly. A soft, rhythmic pulsing thrums through the cavern like a heartbeat, and a gentle presence fills the area. A tall, slender man garbed in mooncloak butterflies stands here, a silver haze in his eyes.
You see exits leading northwest and down.

Elthadean Lunseer looks around the silverspun cavern, his eyes wide.

You say, "I did not at all, Priest. It must have been the wind...It could have been, but due to the Lady's visions, who may know."

Whispering half to himself, Elthadean Lunseer says, "No, it is impossible."

Elthadean Lunseer departs to the down, his scholar's gaze taking in each detail as he passes.

A skylit gathering place.
Superimposed over this location, an ethereal forest reaches up to the sky. A large rift in the stone ceiling admits light from the moon and stars, bathing the room in soft, mutable light. As the moon progresses through the sky, the mood within the cave shifts from quiet and contemplative to cheerfully bright. Shimmering vines weave their way amongst scattered stones, carpeting the area.
Slender elms reach up to soften the cavern walls, creating an inviting forum for conversation. Among their branches bursts of silken giggles can be heard from time to time, as well as trilled fragments of ethereal birdsong. A beautiful blue nymph with Lisaera's mark paces here alertly, bearing a frosted urn in her arms. A tall, slender man garbed in mooncloak butterflies stands here, a silver
haze in his eyes.
You see exits leading north, southeast, south, southwest, and up.

Elthadean Lunseer says to an urn-bearing ice nymph, "Do you hear that?"

The nymph sets her jaw and ignores Elthadean with a dismissive wave.

Elthadean Lunseer ponders the situation.

Arien lowers her gaze, eyes sweeping about concernedly.

Shaking his head, Elthadean Lunseer says, "It must be nothing. The wind after all."

You say, "I have been feeling odd of late, though, Priest. After hearing about the visions involving Farella."

Clearing his throat, Elthadean Lunseer says, "The Lunseer family was very, very large, Lady Avatar. It spanned several generations and was, for a time, known for its strength."

'Oh?' Elthadean Lunseer exclaims quizzically at you.

You nod your head emphatically.

Tilting his head in thought, Elthadean Lunseer says, "I heard of them, as well - they showcased her as a bloodthirsty madwoman. Is this what you heard, as well?"

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

You say, "Perhaps, this may be what one first observes. But the more I examined and thought, the more I began to feel that this was not her true face."

You ponder the situation.

Her pointed ears wavering, you say, "The only reason she would lead such a crusade would be to protect what she loves...Not all of the powerful are bent on destruction as a result."

Shadows dance across the rocky walls, perpetually avoiding the available light.

Deep thoughts bubbling in his voice, Elthadean Lunseer says, "She was a powerful woman to behold, that is certain. Her staunch dedication, her persistence, her emotional drive - she was a force. Nature bent to her will, for she commanded it so."

Shaking his head, Elthadean Lunseer says, "It was a very different time. The Elder Gods were gone, the Vernal Gods did their best, and the Basin of Life was given over to strife more often than peace. She had to be strong for her people."

You nod your head emphatically.

Continuing, Elthadean Lunseer says, "She was a woman whose every muscle twitched when the word "city" was uttered, for it meant - there. That sound. That one."

Elthadean Lunseer pales visibly as he listens, his hands clutching his chest.

You blink.

Elthadean Lunseer departs to the north, his scholar's gaze taking in each detail as he passes.

Beside a quiet mere.
Superimposed over this location, an ethereal forest reaches up to the sky. Three openings in the rock structure present views of the quiet valley conclaves. A slow trickle of water flows over the lip of one of the cave mouths, emptying into a placid pond ringed with delicate willows. Shimmering leaves rustle gently in the breeze, mingling with the sound of falling water into a calming white noise. From the north side of the pool rises a sheer stone face into which are cut many even shelves that can be accessed from the bank. This serene place is ideally suited to leisurely strolls, moments of private meditation, or days spent reading beneath the trees. Up the cliff face are carved notches that could be used as steps, though their end cannot be seen from the ground. To the south, the valley opens into a small cavern. There are 2 chairs of carved marble here. A large desk of carved marble and polished maple stands unobtrusively in a nearby corner. Gleaming with an ethereal sheen, a trigonal bookcase depicting Moon's Avatars rises from the ground in the centre of the room. A black and silver gray wolf pads around the area, shimmering wings flapping gently. A beautiful blue nymph with Lisaera's mark paces here alertly, bearing a frosted urn in her arms. A tall, slender man garbed in mooncloak butterflies stands here, a silver haze in his eyes. You may use the BOOKSHELF commands here.
You see a single exit leading south.

Hinagar turns his attention towards you as his ears perk up in interest.

You say, "I.." She trails off for a moment, following. "Since the times that the Lady came to shield me from Nocht, I've felt another presence watching me, something beyond what I can already tell of the Faethorn's kin, and even resembling that first time when I saw you, when you danced up from the cocoon."

His pallour still ghostly, Elthadean Lunseer says, "A - a spiritual presence?"

Her tone of voice growing hushed, you say, "Yes, Priest. I cannot tell if it is enemy or ally."

Elthadean Lunseer tilts his head and listens again, his eyes wide.

His voice barely audible, Elthadean Lunseer says, "I think...I think it's here."

Elthadean Lunseer bows his head and whispers a prayer to Lady Lisaera. His form begins to glow with a muted silver lambency before he begins to vanish into thin air.

Elthadean Lunseer tells you, "Come, to the Weald."
 
Arien slips closer to Elthadean Lunseer, observing the surroundings. "I still cannot hear it," she utters, grasping her cudgel. Even as she turns she finds him gone.

In view of verdant cliffs.
The land rises to the west in leaps and bounds into forested cliffs at the foot of mountains. Glimpses of silver waterfalls can be seen springing down jagged dips in the legs of the mountains, cascading over cliffs dotted with natural caves and hollows. At the foot of the closest cliff, emerald vines drape over the hint of a dark opening in the luminescent rockface. To the northeast, the mountains dip into a forest of autumnal colours, while to the southeast, a frozen valley sits quiet against the darkened skies. The ever-present winds from the mountaintops rush down the cliffs in turbulent leaps, bringing with them the sharp scent of cold and freshness. A hornbeam sapling clings tenaciously to the ground here. A tall, slender man garbed in mooncloak butterflies stands here, a silver haze in his eyes.
You see exits leading northeast, southeast, and in.

Arien emerges from the land, striding close to Elthadean.

Gentle winds wrap around you, carrying upon it a cool fragrance and the sound of soft voices whispering possibilities.

Sibilant echoes dance along the Silver Weald like the faint stirrings of a fledgling breeze, their tone like a breath through rattling leaves.

You blink.

His eyes wide, Elthadean Lunseer says, "There."

You say, "I hear it now, Priest." She raises her cudgel, alert as a trickle of lightning bugs already dazzle from its surface. "What is this..."

Moonlit mists twirl around a gentle breeze that swirls around you, kissing your bare skin with its
feather-like caress and filling you with a warm sense of inspiration and hope.

The echoes grow wilder and more feral, and soon, they sound more like hundreds of voices all vying for supremacy over a single throat.

Elthadean Lunseer shivers violently.

Stepping in front of Elthadean, you intone, "If it is indeed a spirit. I demand that it reveal itself to us, it has been elusive long enough."

With the ferocity of a thousand guttural growls, one feminine voice rings out from the rest, emitting a terrible scream of confusion that ricochets across the Silver Weald.

His voice low and his body trembling, Elthadean Lunseer says, "M-m-m-maybe we should, uh, just go for now, Lady Avatar?"

Arien cocks her head to one side, her hand reaching to grasp Elthadean's own in wordless reassurance as she holds her ground. Her nose tips to the air, scenting and then lowering with a slow huff as her ears twitch responsively to the sounds. "It sounds, lost," she murmurs, her knees bent as if to spring out of precaution.

Flecks of light coalesce in the air, separate from the Argent Lady's being, and magnify the whispered voices with their presence. All around you, the guttural growling roars higher and louder, and you sense loss and terror in its timbre.

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.

You humbly drop one knee to the ground before Lisaera, genuflecting reverently in Her presence.

Lisaera's storm-coloured eyes narrow as She looks through the Weald with a hunter's keen gaze.

You say, "My Lady. Something lurks within the Silver Weald, calling out in fear...It was Elthadean that heard it first."

Holding out a hand to Elthadean with a motherly poise, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says, "I felt My Priest's torment."

A slight frown upon Her lips, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says to Elthadean Lunseer, "It knows you, My friend."

Elthadean Lunseer opens his mouth to speak, but freezes, his eyes wide with fear.

Arien rises from her position soon enough, briefly squeezing Elthadean's hand as she parts from him to stand by the Lady Lisaera.

The terrible voices roar louder and stronger at the Argent Lady's presence, fading at one heartbeat and growing in confidence the other. The feminine voice becomes more robust once more, emitting another terrible scream that rips through the Weald.

Closing Her eyes, Her head bowed slightly, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says, "This...feels familiar."

Elthadean Lunseer looks up at the Goddess and gulps.

Lifting Her hands, palms facing outward, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says, "I believe...yes, My children - this is something that I can..."

With a quavering breath, you say, "It does, and yet, it does not. But, it sounds grieving, scared."

Lisaera nods Her head at you, showing Her acceptance.

Gentle winds wrap around you, carrying upon it a cool fragrance and the sound of soft voices whispering possibilities.

As the Silver Goddess lifts Her hands, the flecks of light that manifested with the thundering growls pool together before Her, solidifying into one fluctuating orb of energy. Closing Her eyes once more, the Elder breathes one long, fluid breath outward, the sound like a gale ripping through moonhart leaves, until the spectral image blazes with a brilliant sheen of moonfire.

Holding Her arms outstretched, skeins of moonlight erupting from Her fingertips to enshroud the spectral orb, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says, "The voices are memories...if I can just hold them in My mind, perhaps..."

The guttural screams go quiet at once, replaced only by the echoing whimper of a feral animal, emanating from the shimmering orb.

Arien curiously glances to the Silver Goddesses extended palms, watching in awe as the whole of the Silver Weald quakes and moves with the breath. Stepping forward, she says, "Might I assist? My Lady?"

Holding the skeins in Her right hand, the ball of moonfire still rippling with spectral energy, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says to you, "Yes, My Spirit - I have done what I can. It falls now to you to call forth the spirit."

All around you, the presence of the Goddess Lisaera manifests itself in silvery motes of light and twirling breezes touched with mist.

Her eyes blazing with silver flames, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says to you, "Bring it forth. Use the power that I gave you to combine it with My own."

An expression of concern now melding towards determination, Arien slowly turns up her own palms, cupping them forward as she traces them with several arcanic wards. Settling her arms forward with a breath, she nods to the Silver Goddess and closes her eyes gathering focus as a brief burst of moonfire crosses her vision. As she sighs, the rippling ball of moonfire shudders with the additional power as she steps closer to Lisaera's outstretched hands. Her eyes snapping open fully in a trance-like countenance, her pale hands search around the moonfire, encouraging it to take its true form. "Let us see what you are, spirit," she whispers, her voice taking upon the distorted rise and fall of a great storm.

The ball of moonfire wavers briefly before withdrawing inward, solidifying into a speck of light no greater than a grain of sand. With a roar not unlike the unfettered winds of a hurricane, the light explodes outward in a piercing cloud of energy laced with moonlight. Grim determination in Her eyes, the Silver Goddess whips the skeins of moonlight hard, tethering the energy to the combined flow of power from Her own hands and Her Avatar's. Slowly, a creature takes shape: first two legs, then four, then a long, slender torso.

Sunlight billows across the realm, revealing the full glory of the majestic sun's luminous presence as he climbs higher into the sky.

Another pulse of energy ripples into the creature through the skeins held in the hands of the Lady and Her Avatar, yielding a single push of energy back outward, which pierces your mind. You see what the creature sees - two powerful women and a scared, frail-looking man, and then you turn, running outward into centre of the Weald. You breathe in once and then exhale, startled that breath occurred at all, and you suddenly realize that you have a body. Stunned, breathless, you stop, and then, with a flash of silver light, your vision becomes your own once more.

Exhaling softly, Her storm-coloured eyes covered in black clouds, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says, "It is manifested. We saw into its mind - do you recognize it, My Spirit? Elthadean?"

Arien twists her hands upwards and downwards, as if by instinct she begins to take the sculpting of the creature alongside the Silver Goddess. She continues in a great lull, as if her own mind was occupied elsewhere. Staggering backwards with one step, she blinks slowly several times to keep the blotches of light from overtaking her own muddled eyes.

Elthadean Lunseer opens his mouth and begins to speak, but the only sound that escapes his lips is a light stammering.

Lisaera reaches out to tenderly cup your cheek in Her hand.

Softly, a mother's gentleness in Her voice, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says, "Steady, My Spirit. You helped Me call a feral spirit back to its cycle this day. You must feel drained and confused."

Drawing breath slowly, you say, "It is an honour to assist, my Lady. I am well, and shall be more recovered soon."

Lisaera smiles and nods, the clouds leaving Her eyes.

Looking deep into the Weald, Her hand over Her eyes as if to help Her see, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says, "Well. Let us find this creature, hmm?"

[MOVEMENT]

Runed stone upon a hill.
Upon this hill rises a tall carven stone, surrounded by two concentric rings of birch trees that form a double crown of green and gold above the edifice. The stone is midnight blue in hue, its various shades melding into one another and casting shadows upon its irregular grooves. In a thin script of silver, ancient runes twine around the stone from the base to the tip, ever-shifting with the falling moonlight, shimmering with mysterious meaning. The stone stands tall like a stately woman, outlined against the silver full moon as she gazes down the hill over a misted, leaf-swirled pond. Silver script shimmering against the light of the moon, a carven stone figure stands vigil from atop the hill. A birch sapling clings tenaciously to the ground here. There is an aetherways portal here.
You see exits leading northeast, southwest, and northwest.

You ponder for a moment and say "Hrm..."

You say, "It does not seem to be with the sylphs, my Lady."

In a writhing, sinuous contortion of blurred moonfire bursting through the foliage, a pale tigress within them hurtles from the southwest.

You blink.

A pale tigress of coalesced moonbeams huddles against the ground, her eyes wide with terror.

Her voice an echo of captivation, you say, "Look..."

[look tigress]

Graceful prowess within every silent action, this feline predator appears to bear its size amiably at around nineteen hands from nose to tail, greater than any notables of her species. An aura of the changeling phases of the moon contain her vast, toned frame to a poetic degree as if the very artistry of it had been painted, the variegated prism blazing in an endless gale that never seems to
decay in vibrancy. Through such a veil of energy, her pelt is sleek and beyond repute, the velveteen fur as white and pure as newborn snow despite her sheer figure. Her markings are subtle but elegant and sweeping, in long, angular obsidian stripes imbedded with cold moonfire that contort and shift upon the blank canvas of her physical features. Her great head is planted on a swiveling, malleable neck that increases the freedoms of her fathomless sapphire irises ringed with silver. The dewdrop outlines of pitch around the curve of her brow and jowls accentuate her splendor and power to the highest degree in her visage, an air of knowing guardianship set in her expression. Her ears, nearly outshined by the flicker of the razor-sharp teeth concealed by a well-groomed set of whiskers and nose, twitch with the faintest of noises, setting her inquiring clawed paws to contract. Budding
from her powerful hindquarters is an ample tail that both defines and changes with her volatile nature in a sinuous, near ritualistic dance.
A pale tigress of coalesced moonbeams has an air of extreme strength.

Lisaera, the Silver Goddess whispers to you, "Go forward, My child - you helped Me shape this creature's present. It will recognize you for having been part of its Awakening."

Arien nods slowly, her head turning cautiously as she makes her way through one of the rings of birch trees. Her pace is slow, as not to encourage the tigress' anxiety. Only stopping to silence most of her steps when she comes across obstacles in the grass.

A pale tigress of coalesced moonbeams lifts her head cautiously and sniffs the air, her hunter's eyes fixated on every little movement, her ears held flat against her head.

A pale tigress of coalesced moonbeams slowly rises and pads toward Arien, her teeth bared in silent warning.

In a swirl of blue fire, a gentle spirit stag leaps out of the Flame of dae'Seren upon you and prances in a slow circle before fading.

Halting delicately in a lowered crouch, Arien stops, growing very still. Her fern-tinged eyes watch the tigress without allowing blinking, before she slowly descends to one knee. Extending her hand, she holds it outwards as if in invitation.

Moonlit mists twirl around a gentle breeze that swirls around you, kissing your bare skin with its feather-like caress and filling you with a warm sense of inspiration and hope.

Flecks of sparkling moondust cascade from the unwavering aura of a pale tigress, their motions suspended in a flux of time. Each silvery granule pulses and attempts to float back within the edges of the flames before cascading downwards towards the ground in a fluttering ballet of colour and fathomless light. Before reaching the ground they begin to flutter as they take clearer shapes of butterflies of mercurial and sapphire glows. But before one can truly examine them, they disappear in the blink of an eye.

A pale tigress of coalesced moonbeams stretches her neck forward slowly, calmly, and then lowers her nose to your hand. She inhales sharply once, twice, and then exhales.

As if yielding to some internal struggle, the tigress rests her head in your hand and begins purring loudly.

With a mother's gentleness, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says, "She knows you, My Spirit. I can feel her heart slowing in your presence."

Shuddering once with fear suppressed, Arien nearly pulls away her own hand from offering. But after the initial touch, her face is pinnacle of surprise. She gazes up to the Lady Lisaera, before glancing down at the beasts rumbling throat, and surprisingly damp nose.

Softly, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says to you, "Do you wish to care for this creature? Will you learn of its secrets?"

All around you, the presence of the Goddess Lisaera manifests itself in silvery motes of light and
twirling breezes touched with mist.

Caught between surprise and another fluid tone one cannot place, you say, "I...I do...My Lady." Her fingers underneath the creature's touch shifting slowly to stroke the pronounced brow. "I do."

The tigress continues purring, her eyes closed and an expression of serene contentment falling across her features.

Nodding once, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says, "Then I will leave you to discover her past. We pulled this spirit - this guardian - from her own past and have given her a new cycle. She will need to be close to you to learn what this new world holds."

Lisaera leans close to you and gently lays a kiss upon your forehead.

Shadows grow longer in anticipation for the return of their dark mistress as Father Sun's chase brings him closer to the world's edge.

Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says calling to Elthadean, "Come, My priest. They need time to get to know one another."

Lisaera peers about Herself unscrupulously.

Her nose wrinkling with puzzlement, you say, "I have never met such a being in all my life. She bears a similar signature to you somehow, and yet...It is different. Thank You, my Lady, for what we have done this weave."

Arien gives a nervous laugh.

Eyes sparkling with a maiden's mirth, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says, "Perhaps he was more afraid than I originally thought."

You say, "He stayed behind!"

Your eyes twinkle enchantingly.
Her storm-coloured eyes a muted blue, Lisaera, the Silver Goddess says, "Only sorrow can come from a rotting thought, My child, just like roots that have been drowned. You are a paragon of the wisdom I would see spread throughout the Serenwilde, but even the strongest minds must find release."
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A shimmering liquid appears in your inventory smelling sweetly of something carbonated. It vanishes in a puff of silver smoke seconds later.
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I write things
Post edited by Arien on
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