A Summons to the Moor

Aishia

I hate doing this. BE NICE PLOX. Excerpt Excerpt.

Elder Oranis, Shaman of the Praadi tells you, "The High Keeper has requested the presence
of an elder amongst the Shaman."

You tell Elder Oranis, Shaman of the Praadi, "Well, very well then!"

Dash, dash, dash.

Within a vast chamber of statues. (lost) (Alcelian Moor.) (21920)
Twelve great statues encircle the walls of the stone chamber here. Dark vines and wildlife
have pushed past the stone, wrapping delicate tendrils around the statues. Standing within
their alcoves, great creatures and beasts of Dendara stare out with dead eyes at all
around them. One statue has fallen into disrepair, leaving a mass of rubble and torn vine
within the alcove. Milky blue water pools around the edge of the chamber, coming to fill a
great pool in the center. Lurid colours flicker in the depths, hinting to something
beneath the tepid water.
Huffing noisily as he sniffs at the air, Rhulvok, the Warden is here. Kree-sa, the
Broodmother lurks here, her mandibles working in a constant, threatening motion. A
gargantuan spectral snake is coiled here, menacing and silent. A massive, spectral cougar
prowls here, calm and utterly focused. An imposing, spectral wyvern looms here. Gaze
intense and jaw set, Spiritwalker Kyrav keeps vigil here. A large, blood-splattered totem
has been erected here, formed of obsidian, ivory and red-wood. Facing outwards and
surrounding the totem are a large ivory bear, an obsidian raven and a red-wood serpent.
The High Keeper Anjali stands vigil here, her gnarled quarterstaff wreathed in a crackling
aura of the storm. A gathered group of shamanic priests wanders about the statues here,
the smell of incense and blood trailing in their wake. A sigil in the shape of a small,
rectangular monolith is on the ground.  The gathered forces of Duiran throng the ruins of
the great temple, bristling with weaponry and prepared for battle. Amongst the gathered
forces, the bloody hand of the Kindred rises emblazoned over the heads of the gathered
warriors.
You see exits leading south and out.

A Tsol'aa in her prime, the High Keeper Anjali stands tall amongst her kin. Her wiry dark
hair, shot through with striations of grey and white, has been elegantly woven with bone
ornamentation with stray strands tucked tight behind her pointed ears. Skin weathered and
worn by the elements, Anjali's scarred visage is a testament to her time as a leader
amongst the clans of the Kindred. Her lithe form is clad in the tooled leathers and furs,
with a heavy cloak that is drawn tightly about her thin shoulders. Within her hands, she
grasps a gnarled quarterstaff of blackened wood.
High Keeper Anjali is not one to be trifled with.

High Keeper Anjali gives a stiff nod to you, her eyes focusing intently upon you.

You have emoted: Aishia slips in quickly, her eyes darting first to the towering forms of
the spirits, respectfully passing her gaze over them, raising her staff in salute, and
then, again as she nears Anjali, causing her fetishes to clatter softly. She clears her
throat slightly, then, lowering her staff, nods in return, dipping her head. "Greetings."
She says, meeting her gaze.

"Hear the cry of the Fury! Takaros rises on wings of fire and all is beneath him!" A
feminine voice rings out from the gathering, her voice a roar. "WE ARE UNBROKEN FOR AGES
UNTOLD!" A cacophony erupts from the priesthood as voice fights for voice amongst the
gathering before they finally move onward to the next statue in their dark procession.

High Keeper Anjali gathers her cloak about herself, knuckles whitening as she clutches the
hide with a furrowed brow worrying her features. "I wish to speak to you on the nature of
your brethren, Elder. Indeed, I am not entirely certain that they understand the gravity
of our return to these lands," she speaks in a low voice, terse and cold. "Indeed, I am
uncertain as to if they understand the gravity of what lies in the Prophet's Hollow."

A brief moment of complete silence drowns the area in an eerie melancholy.

You have emoted: Aishia swallows slightly, and moves closer, her voice coming lower, as if
confidentially, and catching slightly. "A great threat, then?" She asks, as her eyes lead
to the south warily. They snap back to the woman, and she bites at her bottom lip, and
tense, searches a moment, before repeating, "Nature of my brethren." a bit wrly.

You hear the sound of a nocturnal animal prowling nearby.

High Keeper Anjali gives a slight incline of her head. "In a sense, yes. One that has
already been crushed by Dendara and made weak."

Valingar arrives from the out.

The corners of Valingar's mouth turn up as he grins mischievously.

Valingar leans in close and lightly kisses his lips to yours.

Valingar nods his head emphatically.

Valingar leaves to the out.

High Keeper Anjali gives a sniff, her eyes following Valingar's departure.

You have emoted: Aishia seems to do her best to not allow her chain of thought to be
interrupted, going so far as to swing a punch at the man, but he's off and away too
quickly. She uses the hand to worry at her hair, clawing at her scalp as she considers
High Keeper Anjali's words. "I feel I know nothing of this." She admits.

"And the Warden remains. Amidst the terrible dark of this terrible night, with skies
shattered and stars gone, with the seas churning to meet the heavens, the Warden remains,"
a single voice calls out from the gathered throng, young and cracking. "Your burden shall
not be forgotten, o great Rhulvok." Voices rise to meet the child's, lifting upward in a
single chant that continues for several minutes: "Rhulvok."

Raising her gaze to the spirits briefly, High Keeper Anjali says, "Prophet's Hollow is the
site of a terrible heresy that has plagued Dendara long before your Hunter walked amongst
us as a guardian. There is a gnawing hunger that lies in the bellies of all whom catch a
glimpse the strength of the spirits. They look upon eternity when they look into the heart
of Dendara and see unbound power."

"And so the Broodmother's belly fills. We am willing. We am willing," the shaman intone,
hands upraised to the twisted statue of the great spider as they speak as one. "Let her
feast be eternal and her spawn unending. Kree-sa." Their litany at an end, the priests
raise their hands to brush the statue as they pass on to the next in eerie silence.

You have emoted: Aishia's expression seems as much one of confusion, as dawning unease,
her jaw tightening slightly, and her feet shuffling in the dirt. She turns to gaze to the
south again. "So, something has..." She seems unable to find words, as she trails off,
swallowing a mouthful of spit, shaking off a dreamy fog that threatens her eyes as she
contemplates the words.

High Keeper Anjali says, "I speak of their greatest folly, Elder. I speak of their hubris.
"
You have emoted: Aishia simply nods, and turns her gaze intently back to Anjali. "So what
exactly lies in wait?" She asks, quietly.

High Keeper Anjali raises her head, a smirk working across her weathered features. "The
remains of a dead god and the priest who strove to once serve him. Two of your kindred
have been enslaved to his nightmarish whims and dreams."

You have emoted: Aishia pales slightly, and stares unblinking inhaling, then exhaling very
slowly. She swallows again, gulping dry-mouthed. "So..." She seems to reach first for
explanation, then, tensing, she seems to draw up, steeling once more, and forcing a rather
comical grimace across her face. "What must be done then? That is... Something nearly
beyond my reckoning or knowledge." She says, almost hoarsely.

High Keeper Anjali reaches a hand outward to you, chuckling softly. "What do you think
should be done, Elder? Dendara herself has risen to blot out this monstrosity. Indeed,
Dendara entrapped them in a place removed from the bonds of time."

You have emoted: Aishia holds her own hand out, the palm scarred in whorls from the heat
of lightning. "Destroy it? Ensure the godthing remains dead? Entrap them more
fully?" She speculates.

High Keeper Anjali says, "It has been tried many a time to destroy the Hollow, but Dendara
would not have it be so."

High Keeper Anjali says, "And how would you purge it? They are returned, time and time
again. Their madness increasing as time gnaws at their sanity."

High Keeper Anjali says, "Dendara's greatest gift unto us has become our greatest curse."

Delicate motes of pale green light flicker and float through the air before you, vanishing
as quickly as they appeared.

You say, "I do not know. I am much more a warrior, than a sage. Perhaps some great tool,
or weapon? Or the assistance of some other great force."

High Keeper Anjali delicately grasps your hand, turning your hand palm upwards. "Look at
the spirits, Elder," she murmurs in a hushed voice, eyes cast downward to your open palm.
"Do you think they would endure such a harrowing battle?"

You have emoted: Aishia cedes her palm without complaint, curious, but her gaze moves to
the great spirits at the urging. "I do not know. But I feel it would not end so well." She
admits.

An arachnid of immense proportions, this translucent spider stands poised on each of its
eight, spindly, chitinous legs. Her bulbous abdomen is the largest part of her, thorax and
head small in comparison, and the geometric patterns marked upon her spectral exoskeleton
glow of their own bioluminescent accord. Eight fathomless, glossy black eyes take in the
world around the aspect, a sentient weight to her predatory gaze. Kree-sa's mandibles
constantly shift and click together, her fangs visibly flexing, adding an ominous overtone
to her already unnerving appearance.
Kree-sa, the Broodmother almost glows with nearly god-like power.

High Keeper Anjali says, "The heavens are aflame, Elder. Even now, the stars are not as
they once were and creatures from ages long past now reappear in the waking world. There
is a darkness in Prophet's Hollow that reaches outward in its horrible slumber. The
spirits fall and none rise in their stead. What shall we do, mm?"

High Keeper Anjali delicately closes your hand with her own, grasping it within her palm.
"We are strong, are we not? Let us weather this terrible storm."

You have emoted: Aishia's deep uncertainty shows clearly, though she seems to take some
comfort from that. "Surely there is more we can do, than you imply..." She says, softly.

"Hear the cry of the Fury! Takaros rises on wings of fire and all is beneath him!" A
feminine voice rings out from the gathering, her voice a roar. "WE ARE UNBROKEN FOR AGES
UNTOLD!" A cacophony erupts from the priesthood as voice fights for voice amongst the
gathering before they finally move onward to the next statue in their dark procession.

You see exits leading south and out.
Unmapped: out

High Keeper Anjali says, "Is there, Elder? Or are we little more than a speck in the great
churn of the seas?"

 You have emoted: Aishia forces a predatory grin, clenching her teeth, and swelling up
slightly, her wings ruffling and shifting on her back. "It is our place, one way or the
other." She declares, without compromise.