Short Seren Encounters

AramelAramel Member Posts: 298 Mythical
A place to keep all the shorter logs of people being accosted for RP in Serenwilde. I debated a while on whether to post these, but I'm hoping this will draw more people to post their own logs!

1. Tristanna and the Avatars

You have emoted: Aramel tilts her head back, gazing at the midnight sky. "Quiet 
night," she offers in observation. "At least we are past the time of the New Moon,

Tristanna nods her head sagely.

Tristanna Myeras says, "Hey, I was up on Ethereal with Remm and Kendra, 
introducing them to the avatars..."

Tristanna Myeras says, "Speaking of new moon, and Luna seems to be more new 
moonie now than waxing. I thought it was odd."

You have emoted: Aramel tilts her head as she emerges from her momentary reverie. 
"Oh?" she asks. "What do you mean when you say Luna is the New Moon?"

Tristanna beckons you to her.

A stand of fruit trees between spring and summer.
Jagged arcs of vivid red light pierce the air, cast from a war shrine of Maylea 
nearby. Thick dreamy cotton clouds are spread across the firmament. Luna, the 
First of the Maidens kneels on the ground and plays with a squirrel. There are 2 
Ladies of the Sterling Light here. A birch sapling clings tenaciously to the 
ground here. Garbed in a shroud of shifting moonfire, a Ward of the Silver 
Trinity stands guard, eyes blackened with storm clouds.
You see exits leading northeast, south, and northwest.

You curtsey gracefully before Luna, the First of the Maidens.
Luna, the First of the Maidens cackles hellishly.

With long, black hair woven with flowers, Luna is a young elfen just entering 
womanhood. Thin and petite, she is dressed in a simple yellow shift that sparkles.
She is barefoot, and upon her brow are two silver crescents on either side of a 
circle that glows with a bright silver light. Luna is an aspect of Moon Spirit 
herself and encompasses all the youth and freshness of the new moon. Flowers 
bloom at her feet, birds flock around her and all of nature rejoices in her 
Luna, the First of the Maidens exudes an aura of overwhelming power.

Comprehension flashes across your face.

Tristanna Myeras says to you, "When I look at her, I get a sense of the new moon, 
I could have sworn it used to be waxing."

You say to Tristanna, "I do not recall, in truth, but the new moon and the waxing 
are not so different. A mere sliver of silver in the night sky is all that 
separates them."

Tristanna nods her head at you.

Lightly, you ask, "What's in a name, after all?"

Tristanna Myeras says, "I remember, not long after I cam through the portal of 
fate, Ryylaet and Lleuke had a big discussion about Albion being as fierce as the 
dark moon instead of waning."

You say, "And yet, you know that my belief has always been that Albion is both 
the strongest and weakest of the three."

You have emoted: A faint smile crosses Aramel's face as she says, "Luna is the 
Maiden, who brings growth and renewal, and nothing changes her nature. And Selene 
is the Mother, who teaches the young and keeps our history, and she too is 
unchangeable. But without the Maiden and Mother to defend, Albion turns into only 
destruction instead of protection."

Tristanna Myeras says, "I'm just concerned that mother night is gaining in power.

You have emoted: Aramel regards Tristanna for a long moment, her grey eyes 
seeking yours. "So we all fear," she murmurs, "Especially in times when our 
enemies walk emboldened among these woods and strike at us with our blades." She 
looks away from you then, up at the crescent moon in the sky. "I used to be 
terrified of the New Moon, when I was a novice," she says, in a seeming non-

Tristanna tilts her head towards you, "You're not terrified now? What happened?"

You have emoted: Aramel ponders for a moment, and says, "The new moon is the one 
night when Mother Night reigns - or so I thought. But does that not also mean 
that for all the other days of the month, Mother Moon shines in the sky? By 
thirty to one she prevails against the darkness. And every new moon we know that 
soon the morning and evening will come again, and there, in a bright sliver, the 
moon will rise."

Tristanna smiles softly, "What was old, is made new. Everything comes due again."

You have emoted: Aramel smiles at you, her gaze steady. "As it is above, so it is 
below," she says quietly, looking around at the verdant green of the forest in 
the morning light. "So it is with you and I, who hold this forest in our keeping. 
As long as we still live here and do not abandon these woods, they cannot prevail.
All else is just details."

Tristanna glances at the sun and the passage of time, "Alas, I need to return my 
rest. Will likely be a quiet month for me."
(clan): Falmiis says, "Aramelise, verb, 1. adorn with many flowers."


  • AramelAramel Member Posts: 298 Mythical
    2. Sylari and the Serenguard

    Burial mounds.
    It is quite cool. A cairn has been raised here amongst the burial mounds. 
    Reaching up as high as the eye can see looms the awesome presence of a living 
    totem. A mature birch tree stands proudly here. A purple, elegant pony with 
    feathered wings stands here quietly. First Blood Sylari is here, shrouded.
    You see exits leading northeast, south, and northwest.

    Sylari smiles softly at you.

    You lay a hand on the forehead of Sylari, who glows with a sparkling silver light.

    Turning more fully from her totem, Sylari cants her head slightly to one side, 
    her flaxen tresses falling over her shoulder. "Thank you, Aramel," she offers. 
    "Was I unwell?"

    You have emoted: Aramel's face softens into a smile as she looks at Sylari. She 
    shakes her head, though the soft silver aura still sparks around her fingers. 
    "Much of our powers of healing ourselves have been lost to us of late," she 
    murmurs, "but it is good to know I can still heal another."

    Sylari lets her antlered head bob, relaxing slightly. "Well then," she says with 
    a small laugh, "it's good to know I've not developed quite that level of 
    tolerance to pain just yet."

    She is a graceful elfen lady with antlers and is a small, fey woman whose willowy 
    build lends a nimble grace to many of her movements. Piles of flaxen hair soften 
    her milky complexion, tumbling partway down her back in artfully mussed tresses 
    cut through by twin upswept ears. More round than they are narrow, her large, 
    teal green eyes sparkle with vitality, flecks of grassy motes brightening the 
    pools of her gaze. Delicate cheeks swiped with bone white warpaint and a button 
    nose lend her an aura of fragility belied by the smile which never seems too far 
    from her plump and rosy lips. Hanging from her neck on a leather thong, an othala 
    rune can often be glimpsed. Her face is painted with an image of the greenman and 
    red stripes. She is wearing a lovely green dress of gold-stemmed roses, a golden 
    oak tree brooch, a braided leather anklet, bulbous oaken prayer beads redolent 
    with elderflowers, a thick cloak of forestal hues, a cavorting wooden dreamer's 
    fetch earring through her left ear and a cavorting wooden dreamer's fetch earring 
    through her right ear.

    You have emoted: Aramel looks Sylari up and down, taking in the warpaint on 
    Sylari's face. "Do the Serenguard then train their young with true blades?" she 
    laughs. She quietens a little before saying, "I had not thought that would be the 
    life for you, in truth."

    Laughter quieting, Sylari's cheeks flush with reddened colour, and her teal gaze 
    lowers. "That's part of why I joined," she admits, one hand lifting to rest on 
    the pommel of her secured rapier. "Everyone tells me it's fine to occupy myself 
    with little things. To never worry. That others will protect me." Her shoulders 
    inch upward - not quite a shrug, but nearing it enough. "I didn't fit in with the 
    Spiritsingers at all. The Serenguard are like a family to me."

    You have emoted: Aramel's gaze holds only the smallest hint of reproach as she 
    says, "Song and story are important too. They tell us why we fight." She looks 
    away, rueful amusement on her face. "Then again, perhaps that is myself being a 
    storyteller at heart." A small lull ensues, before she looks sidelong at Sylari, 
    a teasing smile on her lips. "Only -like- a family, hmm? And there is no one 
    person who is more like family than the others?"

    "Of course they're important," Sylari says firmly, her gaze darting up once more, 
    very nearly interrupting your second question with her insistence. "But one can 
    be part of the tribe and still keep stories. High Chief Everiine does." Her lips 
    press together, and she knits an uncertain frown across her painted, rain-
    streaked brow. "If you refer to Neftarys," she ventures as an afterthought, "our 
    attachment to one another's no secret at this point. As to everyone else in the 
    tribe, we are all Brothers and Sisters." Her hand releases the pommel of the 
    rapier, spreading outward with the words for emphasis, revealing a rather freshly-
    healed scar upon the palm.

    You have emoted: "I don't mean to suggest that you don't," Aramel says, "Simply 
    that I have felt the call to the bards, if nothing else. But the Coven has its 
    stories also, hidden high in the chambers of the Tower." She turns to the north, 
    seeking the white tower atop the cliffs. "As for Neftarys," she continues wryly, 
    "You might recall that it was never a secret to me, from the very beginning." She 
    quietens a moment, inspecting the scar on your hand. Her fingers still spark with 
    faint silver light, but seeing the obviously intentional nature of the wound, she 
    does not offer to heal it.

    Sylari nods slightly, her teeth finding her bottom lip. As she turns away from 
    you once more to study her totem's many engraved faces. Her hand lifts, shifting 
    over the grooves and bumps which comprise them, and she returns their watchful 
    stare in quiet for some time. "I'm glad things have turned out the way they have,
    " she quietly admits. And then she hesitates a moment longer, before adding with 
    a slight smile, "I should really meditate now. Thank you for visiting me, Aramel.

    You have emoted: Aramel nods slightly. "Certainly," she says. The barest hint of 
    a pause, before she continues, "I may do so again, if that is amenable to you."

    Sylari bobs her antlered head brightly in agreement, before she bows it forward 
    and allows her eyes to drift shut.

    Sylari grows still and her lips begin to move silently.
    (clan): Falmiis says, "Aramelise, verb, 1. adorn with many flowers."
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