Blood of the Rhythm

Mariena

(Or, a cry for help)

-In the midst of a great stone circle -

Hood shadowing her face, you say, "Welcome all. During these trying times it is good to remember our roots. What connects usall. We protect the Wilds and something much more ancient. We protect the Heartbeat of the Rhythm. The Blood of the Wilds, the backbone of Sapience. We protect Dendara."

Gwenith gives a small nod, planting a quick peck on Daweson's shoulder.

Trager thumps a clenched fist against his bare chest suddenly, the sound reverberating about the clearing
as you pause.

Pausing and chin lifting, Mariena allows the statement to resonate before continuing in a voice that is delicately musical as she speaks to those assembled, "The Shaman walk with one foot in Dendara and one in the Prime Material. Our Ancestors chose the same path and prayed to the Guardians that protected their Heart." She deliberately casts her gaze outward, hood falling back enough to make eye-contact with those assembled. "Your Ancestors may be different. You may call upon your God or Goddess for strength, or the power of yourself. No matter."

Mariena holds aloft a jewel-encrusted dagger in her left hand, her right poised over a lacquered magewood panel. "Blood calls to Blood. The heart of the Rhythm beats within us as our Blood surges through our body. The Rhythm beats within Dendara as it beats within our home." The bite of metal against flesh is seen by the crimson well of liquid that begins to drip from the robed woman's right hand. "Our Strength to Dendara! Our strength to our Home. We are the Blood that flows in her veins. By our hand she is protected! By our backs she is carried! We are the Rhythm. We are the Life that flows."

The Blood splashes into the rainbow-drenched bowl, thick droplets staining the surface and then pooling at its apex. Mariena cries out, "who stands with the Council? Who will call upon the Ancient Spirits for protection and pledge themselves to protecting the Heart of us all?" She offers a sweeping arc of the bloodied dagger, point whistling through the air. "Stand together, Duiran! Let the Heartbeat of the Rhythm, of Dendara, of YOU beat strong and clear!"

Phendegwen draws a bone-handled dagger of anaxagorite and swiftly drags it across his own clawed palm, blood staining his white fur before it falls into the bowl along with that of you.

A low, reverberating rumble takes seat within Trager's chest, serving as unspoken agreement with your words. One long step forward, and he casts an arm out to encompass the entirety of the gathering. "We stand as the Council! We who give care, protection, and defence to OUR domain!"

Mariena nods silently, thanking Trager. "Who spills their blood and joins as one with their brothers and sisters? Step forward, Duiran!"

Siorva steps forward as she takes a small dagger from her pack. Quickly running the blade over the skin of her arm to let her blood spill over the magewood panel like the others.

Shuka takes her dhurive in hand and slices her paw open, drawing the blade up her arm to open her vein. She spurs her mount foward and lets the blood drip into the bowl. "I stand with my Council, my home and my brothers and sisters. We shall never fall as we stand as one!"

Shinji drives a claw into his palm, offering up his blood too.

"By my blood, body, 'n mind, I have given Oath to stand for 'n protect the Rhythm, the wilds, I stand with ya." Kaestrin murmurs while pulling out a jewel-encrusted sacrificial dagger, dragging the honed edge across his palm to let his blood spill forth into the bowl.

Gwenith glances to Daweson, giving him a small nudge with her shoulder.

Kheoss offers himself without hesitation, stepping forward to answer the call, he draws a sharp dagger from his cloak slitting his palm letting his blood spill into the bowl.

Trager turns around to face the gathering. "Step forward, Councilors, warriors of the Rhythm. Spill your blood upon hallowed ground, that me might join together in unity, as brothers and sisters of the Wilds!" With this said, a crystalline dirk is suddenly palmed in hand. A ragged jerk of the blade, and his blood spurts out, the claret liquid spraying eagerly onto the ground.

Meyvitch steps in through a fiery portal. Three heads lifting from their resting state, Rivian stands and walks quickly to Meyvitch, abruptly trying to lick his face.

Kaestrin turns to face Meyvitch clenching his right fist and pounding his chest thrice in rapid
succession, symbolizing the vibrant heart that beats within.

Your voice like the wind itself, you tell Meyvitch, "Essentially we are offering our blood to this bowl atop the cairn, please offer yours?"

A massive, winged, three headed canine says, "Meyvitch! Stab me, I wanna add my blood to the rest! I am a warrior pup!"

Meyvitch murmurs a greeting to the dog, scratching behind an ear before he turns to Kaestrin, pounding his fist against his chest.

Daweson nods at Gwenith and seperates from her, stepping forward as he draws a dagger. He slits his palm and holds it over the bowl, letting his blood flow freely as he says in a strong, clear voice "For the Rhythm. For Duiran. For the Heart of us all. He looks to Trager and Ashlea and then steps back to his place.

Meyvitch's dhurive slaps into his hand and he moves towards to the bowl, slicing across his palm and adding his blood. Then he turns, gesturing for a paw, and slices across Rivian's.

Ashlea steps toward the bowl, slicing a knife blade across the palm of her hand, watching as the thick crimson liquid spills into the bowl. "I stand with the Council, for the Rhythm, for Life and for Dendara," the woman answers solemnly.

Raka steps forward and cuts her arm with her dhurive, allowing the blood to drip into the bowl, mixing with the others before stepping back again.

A massive, winged, three headed canine raises a paw and offers it to Meyvitch. When said paw is sliced, it hovers over the bowl and allows some of the blood to enter.

Meyvitch steps back, licking his hand. In echo of the others, he murmurs, "Council. Dendara."

The air hangs heavy with the presence of the spirits as shrouded figures flicker in and out of your field of vision, their forms muddled in lurid colours.

Trager steps forward and holds out the slashed flesh. He clenches a tight fist, sending the crimson fluid down into the bowl before stepping back, careless of the droplets he leaves in his wake.

Gwenith steps up after Daweson, pulling a snapped bardiche blade from her pack to slice over her palm and allows the sanguine fluid to mutely drip into the bowl before stepping back without uttering a word.

Shuka holds her arm out, allowing the blood to splatter across the ground. She strokes her mount slowly, watching the shadows with respectful awe.

Meyvitch's ears twitch and twist back and forth.

Clovis takes up her claw fetish and cuts into the palm of her hand, just above numerous similarly earned scars, and steps forward with blood welling up and pooling. With a flick of her fingers, her blood mingles and joins with the offerings from everyone else. "Spirits listen and listen."

Meyvitch watches respectfully as each person approaches the bowl. Briefly, he glances at Shuka.

Voice lifted in clear ecstatic joy, you say, "Have all joined as one? Have all offered their Blood? We are the Heartbeat! Jooin if you've not yet!"

Mileta looks around for something to cut her palm, finding none she claws her palm adding her blood to the bowl before stepping back. "Should keep a knife or such with me..."

Meyvitch looks to Shuka with more alarm, head whipping around as he stares at her, then shudders and returns his attention to the others.

Once the last person has finished with their offering and pleas to their ancient and
divine beings, Mariena lifts the brimming panel of magewood up and addresses the heavens in a clear, ringing voice, "take our strength! Use our bodies as your own and protect us as we protect you! Together we stand united against all threats, The Council is ONE!"

"For the Council!" Trager booms out in his strikingly abrasive voice. "For our home, for our
people!"


Sentinel Shuka Te'Straif, White Huntress says, "For the Wilds!"

Mariena dumps the mingled lifeforces of the Council onto the physical representation of
Dendara within Duiran, the Cairnstone. Blood seeps into the pitted stone, fresh rivulets of crimson tracing paths anew. "For the HEART OF THE RHYTHM!"

Clovis begins to rap her knuckles and dash her fingertips against the taut skin of the drums as the cheering grows louder.

Meyvitch lifts his muzzle in a happy howl.

As she continues to play in the background with sound growing louder and more steadily, Clovis says, "Against the many, many, many and many that stand against us. In this plane and the others."

Mariena flips the bowl back over and sets it firmly into the mingled lifeforces of those
gathered. It stands as a stained testimony to those who have come together as one.

Gwenith's grin grows bigger and bigger as the councilors around her cheer and shout their unity as one. Her bloodied hand slipping into Daweson's as she watches their antics.

Sentinel Shuka Te'Straif, White Huntress says, "We are going to be fine. Nothing will stand... in our way."

Phendegwen rumbles, "Much will stand in our way. But we stand for the Cycle, and as such, we stand for the Light- we will pass through His Halls to fight for Life again, until our service has ended."

Siorva folds her arms as she gives a little nod, glancing towards everyone gathered. "May we all be strong in these times."

Trager turns once more, squaring himself against the gathering of Councilors. "No matter what might flood through the gates, what threat we encounter, none will placate our cause! None will still our arms, or cease the beating of our hearts!" His fist still high in the air, finally drops down, a splatter of blood sent flying by the sudden movement. "Aberrations, corrupted Guardians, the very Shadow Itself - all may test our resolve, and all will be sent back to the depths in which they came!"

Trager's voice drops down to a more amiable level as he turns to face you. "Thank you for leading us in this ceremony, Hand," he rumbles out, voice low and abrasive. "You give us all hope, and stoke the ever-burning fires that lie within our hearts." His words completed, he clenches the bloodied fist tight, and brings to his chest, resting just above the space where his heart lies. "Thank you, Mariena."

Mariena tucks the dagger still wielded close to her heart and offers a short bow from
the waist. "Thank you all for attending. Together, we are strong."