Dia'ruis Eternal

Sibatti

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Holbrook:
Ushered into a permanent and deafening stillness, the heart of Holbrook beats no more, his life forever given as an unwilling sacrifice in the name of Dendara Eternal.
Fame: He was sacrificed unwilling to the wilds, his life ended forevermore.

Beside a reassembled stone altar.
The rain pours down beneath the darkness of night, the clouds blotting out the heaven and stars. The collapsed remnants of the stone building now stand in a haphazard circle about the area, the space meticulously cleared and cleaned to make way for a potentially large gathering. At the centre, shattered stone and cracked rubble shape themselves into the form of a grim, foreboding altar, towering some four feet in height. Curved in places and jagged in others, the edifice bears numerous detailed carvings along its edges and planes, spiralling symbology of vines and foliage interspersed with animal motifs and beasts in mid-hunt. Palpable silence lingers heavily in the air, an ominous portent of ritual magic to come. There are 2 monolith sigils here. A glowing golden crown bound by chains sits atop a marble pedestal here, armaments scattered about its base. A chute is visible just beyond the knothole, traveling down the mountainside to far below. Humming with energy, a crystal aegis has been attuned to this location. A dark altar draws the eye with an inexorable magnetism, the rune-etched stone awaiting its grim purpose. A simple wooden offering bowl to Srahda, the Seer has been placed near the altar. A simple wooden offering bowl to Kree-sa, the Broodmother has been placed near the altar. A simple wooden offering bowl to Griash, the Keeper has been placed near the altar. A simple wooden offering bowl to Rhulvok, the Warden has been placed near the altar. A simple wooden offering bowl to Takaros the Fury has been placed near the altar. A simple wooden offering bowl to Vo'acha, the Shadow has been placed near the altar. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. An enormous drum has been set here, rimmed in bone and rope. A pitcher of dark red wine is placed on the altar. A pouch is conspicuously placed near the entrance of the grounds. Like a bird-shaped hole in space, a dark raven spirit glides through the air. A brutish, muscular ancestral simulacrum stands here with arms folded and a bespectacled stare. Eerily still save for breathing, a vine-laden, immense toad rests here. Hovering nearby is the sight of a black and yellow honey bee. Pacing and prowling, a shifting cougar spirit blends with nearby shadows. Inspecting its surroudings, the fluctuating form of a feline prowls nearby. Flying in wide patterns is a bevy of bees. A hound with goggles strapped about its head sniffs at the ground here. The twisted remains of Holbrook lie here. The visage of the Shark is here. She is riding on a tusked mezilkree. She wields an obsidian dagger in her left hand and a jewel-encrusted sacrificial dagger in her right. The visage of the Orgyuk is here. The visage of the Tiger is here. The visage of the Panther is here. The visage of the Golden Deer is here. She wields an obsidian dagger in her left hand. The visage of the Rabbit is here. The visage of the Wyvern is here. He wields a tower shield in his left hand and the heart of a wyvern in his right. The visage of the Boar is here, wrapped in an aura of bright energy. The visage of the Otter is here. She wields the heart of an otter in her left hand. The visage of the Coyote is here. The visage of Mamba is here. Haern looms here, His hulking form dominating the area. The visage of the Crow is here. The visage of the Bear is here. She wields a throwing axe in her right hand. The visage of the Direwolf is here. He wields the heart of a direwolf in his left hand. The visage of the Night Tiger is here. This area has been overgrown with a swathe of seething plantlife.
You see exits leading down, northeast, and northwest.

You see the visage of the Wyvern raise his voice and shout, "DENDARA ETERNAL!!!!"

You see the visage of the Rabbit raise his voice and shout, "DENDARA ETERNAL."

You see the visage of the Crow raise their voice and shout, "DENDARA ETERNAL!"

You see the visage of the Golden Deer raise her voice and shout, "DENDARA ETERNAL!"

Soft and soothing despite the volume, the dulcet tones of Arista echo, "DENDARA ETERNAL!"

Docent Eliadon, fio Ihiem Emaev's voice resonates across the land, "I suppose Varian doesn't love His children after all."

Electrified by unwilling sacrifice, the air crackles with latent power, spilled blood causing the heightened pressure in the atmosphere to swell to a near oppressive weight. The scent of blood fills you with hunger; it is intoxicating, captivating, and the primal urges buried far beneath stir to motion, craving their fill of the spoils.

With Holbrook's life given up for ritual purpose, the Coyote begins once again to beat upon the drums. Her music is a storm of percussive slams, the collective heartbeat of those gathered as the enchantment of the near-midnight hour thrives upon the spilling of blood and the Rhythm's frenzied force. Throughout it all, the visage of the Coyote keeps her eyes upon you and Haern.

The sibilant voice of Elene rings harshly across the realm as she states, "What surprise is there, where the Duiran Council is concerned? Bitten once, and one would be twice shy. Bitten twice, and one would think thrice. You are bitten thrice, and now you drink from the wells of betrayal. May your sacrifice open eyes that were closed in denial, Holbrook Hought."

Rife with unyielding conviction, Whirran's zealous intonation rings clarion across the land, "YOU HAVE PERMANENTLY TAKEN WHAT WAS HIS AND HIS ALONE TO TAKE. HERETICS. HEATHENS. HIS JUDGEMENT WILL FALL UPON YOU A THOUSANDFOLD, AND YOU WILL NEVER KNOW PEACE."

You have emoted: Sibatti emerges from the now-lifeless corpse of Holbrook with the man's heart now clutched within her clawed hands, covered up past the wrists in his blood. The entire act is performed with surgical dedication, no different from a farmer's everyday butchery. Solemnly, she brings a mortal heart still dripping blood to a waiting Haern.

Aisling's mouth opens beneath the mask, the shift of myriad teeth brushing against each other as they stare to the body, on and on. Their heartbeat quickens, their hands clenching into fists at their sides in attempted restraint. No true movement comes, only the bristling of the fur about their neck.

Docent Eliadon, fio Ihiem Emaev's voice resonates across the land, "Amusingly enough, the only reason Bloodloch cares is because Holbrook was someone they cared about. The only reason the Child Soldier's Order cares is because Holbrook was one of them. Look upon this, Sapience, and see their hypocrisy - they will readily feed upon, and tolerate feeding upon those they deem less than themselves - but when one of their own is sacrificed to a greater power, they turn into mewling little kittens."

Like the sudden strike of hammer against anvil come the commanding words of Mjoll, "BLOODLOCH DOES NOT CARE."

Haern accepts the heart, dwarfed now in a massive hand as He regards it with a sudden, wild hunger. He lifts the still quivering organ to His lips even as His gaze moves upwards to lock on to the burgeoning moon directly overhead; an unspoken defiance sets itself in stone upon His features and He bites into the heart, spraying what remains of its internal reservoir of blood across His face, and down His chest.

Bulrok, Oje Dibi Viru's voice resonates across the land, "WHO SAID WE CARE YOU IDIOT."

Like the sudden strike of hammer against anvil come the commanding words of Mjoll, "DO NOT PUT YOUR FEELINGS ON US, BALDYUI."

With manic excitement, Rijetta screams, "Ah! His blood has not yet congealed and Enorian is already making excuses to overlook Duiran sacrificing someone not their own - as they command that we should do! Incredible! The hypocrisy knows no pause!"

Docent Eliadon, fio Ihiem Emaev's voice resonates across the land, "The Tyrant was here and cared enough to shout about it herself. Perhaps the rest of you do not, then, but at the very least she cared enough to opine."

(Duiran): Arista says, "They sure do talk a lot."
(Duiran): Eaku says, "Let them shout themselves hoarse. We are not done."
(Duiran): Arista says, "I know."
(Duiran): Devin says, "They always make a lot've noise. S'nothin' new."

Silent until now, the rooster that once inhabited Holbrook's shoulders crows in anguish, its pained squawks slicing through the air like screams. It runs in erratic patterns around the altar, circling it again and again in a rage. The urge to corner it and capture it threatens to consume you with primal need; how easily its neck would snap; how swiftly its life would still in your hands.

You think:
[ She leaves it to someone else ].

Lieutenant Tetchta V. Mesis, The Tick's voice resonates across the land, "Enorian has the integrity of a rotten plum, it is no surprise that they would paper over any act that preserves the comfort of their beds."

Haern reaches out and seizes the rooster with sudden, violent action, taking it by the throat in a grip that immediately cuts off its anguished cries. Without a scrap of hesitation, the Hunter lifts the rooster to His still-bloodied maw before it opens wide enough to allow in the head of the panicked fowl. He bites down hard, tearing the head and neck free of the body before tossing it away. The Immortal chews slowly, deliberately, before finally swallowing, His attention returned now to you, and the ritual at hand.

Bulrok, Oje Dibi Viru's voice resonates across the land, "She cared enough to make a point that you apparently missed."

As the rain beats down along the gory, bloody figure of the visage of the Tiger, she lets out a snarl as the drums once more rail between the harsh water that clings to her skin and pelt. Her crimson eyes are locked to you and Him as she rocks in place, her whole body an undulating extension of where the rhythm moves. Once the Hunter tears into this heart, she raises a severe cry in the sign His act, rejoicing even in the sound of flesh that is rent, and torn by hardened teeth.

Docent Eliadon, fio Ihiem Emaev's voice resonates across the land, "As for you, Child of False Corruption, I do not speak for Enorian - my own city has demonstrated its unwillingness to actually take a stand where it matters - rest assured, I would have lopped the Liar's head off."

The sibilant voice of Elene rings harshly across the realm as she states, "In your shock, perhaps you have missed my point. I suggest you, too, open your ears to listen intentfully, bald man."

When ready, you may CARVE CORPSE to present the offerings to the Guardians, or do so according to your own methods.

The visage of the Coyote just thought:
There were many things she wanted to shout back. The Rhythm held her too strongly now for such mortal theatrics, however.

Rife with unyielding conviction, Whirran's zealous intonation rings clarion across the land, "His life belonged to none but the Lord and the Father. It was taken by neither. My oaths are clear. I keep my oaths."

The visage of the Boar stares up to the moon now, blood thrumming in his ears. His fists tighten till nails tear open palm and blood trickles down to mix with the pouring rain.

The visage of the Boar just thought:
Next.

(Tells): From afar, Asaraii hisses harshly to you, "Malice looks good on you."
(Tells): In a deep, gravelly voice, you impart to Asaraii, "As ever."

You have emoted: Sibatti is not left empty-handed for long. She returns to the body, its chest already caved open and here is where her real work begins. Discarding her dagger in favor of a carving knife - suspiciously similar to one you might find in an average kitchen - she goes first for the eyes, simple gouges that she pops into the bowl for the Seer, plopping each atop the colorful gems and other trinkets.

Swaying lightly to the beating drum, the visage of the Direwolf pays no real mind to the shouting across Sapience, unwavering stare focused solely upon Haern.

You have emoted: It is Sibatti's hands that work to wrench a few teeth out, tribute to the Fury, and a simple act. The light clatter of them being tossed into the bowl would be audible were it not for the visage of the Coyote's devoted drumming. Moving back down to the trunk of the body, she works her knife down to split the abdominal cavity open to retrieve both a liver and a slice of flesh - the Keeper and the Shadow, respectively.

You have emoted: When Sibatti's hand plummets into the corpse, rummaging for something in specific, she casts a glance back over her shoulder at the gathered. It isn't until her veiled gaze settles on Haern does she come up with her prize - the snapped-off bone of a ribcage. It joins the rest of Rhulvok's offerings.

The dispassionate cogitation of Linne intones with clinical cadence, "Return his remains. You have severed much Ef'tig this day. Endanger no more of it."

You have emoted: Sibatti's final action is to place the instrument of the Spirean's ending into the last bowl - the Broodmother's, its bladed end still warm from his blood.

You have emoted: To the visage of the Night Tiger and the visage of the Orgyuk, Sibatti orders quietly, "Clear the altar."

Irrepressible emotion pitches Myrnma's voice high as they call, "I did not know you much, Sir. But in the heart of those that did, and in the heart of those that would have liked to, you are forever unforgotten."

Haern just thought:
Would it be that pride were an appropriate feeling for what courses through Him now. A paltry word, in this setting. He /thrives/ in a way that He cannot remember.

Upon hearing the Voice's instructions, the visage of the Coyote soothes the savage rhythm of her percussive music to something steadier - another anticipatory build-up. Preparation for the next steps.

The visage of the Orgyuk moves with the first prompting, perhaps too eager to do anything other than stand still. They move to slip thick arms under the body's knees and shoulders, lifting and stepping back, blood to stain the pale fur of their garb.

The visage of the Orgyuk picks up the corpse of Holbrook.

The visage of the Night Tiger just thought:
"More useful in death than he was in life."

Haern just thought:
How true.

You have emoted: "This man was chosen," Sibatti addresses to her kin, the gathered councilors cloaked in their chosen animal spirits. "He did not believe in the purpose his sacrifice enabled. A reminder that we are entitled to nothing- even our bodies shall be taken from us." Her voice is crisp and unwavering.

The visage of the Wyvern just thought:
For Dendara.

The visage of the Night Tiger just thought:
She awaits the day.

"Even your souls," Haern finishes grimly.

You have emoted: "Now......." As the altar is cleared, Sibatti returns to examine it, her meticulous attention on anything left behind, to ensure that the site remains pleasing to your Guardians. "Who among us -is- a believer?"

The visage of the Wyvern stills, raising his quarterstaff in silent reverence.

The visage of the Tiger bristles, the sound of you voice cutting through the beats of the drum. She steps forward in ascent, her chin lifting high.

The visage of the Otter stands up onto her toes and raises her hand up high, all the better to be seen.

The visage of Mamba lifts his chin, standing tall and confident admist those gathered. He, too, steps forward to join the visage of the Tiger.

You say, "Who will step forward, as a willing sacrifice?"

The visage of the Golden Deer offers a nod, beating her fist over her heart. "I will."

Beside the visage of the Wyvern, the visage of the Direwolf raises his own staff in equally silent reverence.

The visage of the Orgyuk just thought:
Dread. Excitement. All a terrible, cold pit in their gut, ones that spread through their limbs.

You nod your head at the visage of the Golden Deer.

The visage of the Crow just thought:
If only I could. If only my soul was whole...

You say to the visage of the Golden Deer, "Step up, child. Your lack of hesitation will be rewarded."

Raest, Hunter of the Heartwood exhales a long, steadying breath as he steps forward, the flickering light of the fel green flames suddenly alive and moving across his weathered visage. Confidence thrums within him as he declares: "No, I will do this. The rest of you must carry on the will of what it is to come. If the other sacrifice is any indication, I will not be returning."

You say, ".... oh."

Raest, Hunter of the Heartwood just thought:
His chest feels suddenly light as he speaks the word, and his heartbeat sets off into an immediate gallop.

The loud crashing and clacking of shifting rocks announces the entry of a towering durdali.

The visage of the Golden Deer inhales slowly, starting to take a step forward, though at Raest's words she stops, brows furrowed.

You have emoted: Sibatti sucks in a quick breath through her nose, her veil trembling with the motion.

The visage of the Orgyuk swallows harshly, throat bobbing. They step back, holding the body of the previous sacrifice still, as to afford Raest, Hunter of the Heartwood space to approach.

The visage of the Night Tiger had stepped even closer at your earlier question, a closed fist beating upon her chest with the rhythm of Iesid's drums. At Raest, Hunter of the Heartwood's words, however, she comes to stillness, eyes wide behind her mask as she watches, and takes a step back alongside the visage of the Orgyuk.

A soft whispery breath exhales from behind the wall of the visage of the Tiger's guise, her head dips.

The visage of the Golden Deer takes a step back again, shaking her head ever so slightly. She keeps her eyes firmly on Raest, jaw clenched.

The visage of the Crow stares at the ground silently, averting their gaze. With a choked sigh, they force themselves to raise their head and look.

You have emoted: Sibatti's gaze is long on Raest, Hunter of the Heartwood, and she is silent for a long spell. "...... Come, my kin. Lay upon the altar and make known your supplication to the Rhythm and the wilds."

"Step forward, Mine," Haern utters aloud, His words torn nearly twain by the growl that emanates from deep within the Hunter's chest. Approval wars with the wild predation set into His gaze as He watches Raest step forward. "Serve Me this one final time, as you have served me through the centuries."

The visage of the Bear blinks from behind her mask towards Raest, the rest of her still as she watches the Runecarver.

With a solemn nod towards Haern and you, Raest, Hunter of the Heartwood strips off his clothing before ascending to the stone altar. He turns to regard the visages of beast and bird that snarl and harry him to his final act; and as his chin lifts in a swell of immeasurable pride, you are struck by the realisation that the Heartwood Hunter has found true peace.

The visage of the Wyvern places a hand on Cinnamae's shoulder, pulling her back. "It isn't your time. It's alright."

Raest, Hunter of the Heartwood just thought:
He has helped to shape and raise so many of these men, women and people. The future now belongs to them. He is ready.

The visage of Mamba takes a single step backwards, coming to rest in an attentive stance.

The visage of the Panther just thought:
Unforgotten, Raest. The bones of the land will remember you and your sacrifice. The Hollow will echo with your name.

With each step taken by Raest, the visage of the Coyote slams out a particularly loud beat of the drum - it grants thunder to the hunter's momentous steps, making him a giant in this very moment.

The visage of the Orgyuk just thought:
Fondness and sympathy. Understanding. A rare swell of pride and warmth coils in their throat.

The visage of the Night Tiger just thought:
An echo: "Unforgotten."

Raylor has chosen to start his journey in Duiran.

(Novice): Raest, Hunter of the Heartwood says, "Welcome home, Raylor. We are glad you're here with us. Read CHELP WELCOME to get acquainted with your new home and ask if you have questions using CNT to speak here."

The visage of Mamba just thought:
"One last time."

You think:
[ Some of her oldest memories - over two hundred years of them - were by this Priest's side ].

The visage of the Boar slowly turns his gaze from the moon to Raest, Hunter of the Heartwood, the weight of memory, long hours learning at the Core, settling on his unbowed shoulders. Slowly, he raises a bleeding fist, slamming it against his chest three times in tune with Iesid's drumming.

You think:
This is true and right.

A lupine howl sounds in the distance, first one, then a second, and then a pack.

The visage of the Wyvern just thought:
[The conversation the Tiarna had earlier with Raest - the mention of a debt that was owed. It will
be paid by living on. By ensuring his sacrifice will not be in vain. You will never be forgotten.].

Falling still, the posture of the visage of the Tiger eases once she spies something within the vision of the hunter as he divests and moves toward the edifice of stone. Then she too lifts her fist, and beats it against her left breast. A wail rips from her that joins the howling in the air.

The visage of Mamba follows suit after the visage of the Boar's display, drawing a fist free and beating against his heart in slow succession along with the visage of the Coyote's drumming.

The visage of the Golden Deer follows suit, lifting her fist to drum hard against her heart, her breath shaky.

The visage of the Wyvern holds a hand to his chest, feeling his heart beat in time with the Rhythm.

The visage of the Panther raises her left fist as the Heartwood's hunter approaches the altar, slamming it against her chest in time with every beat of the Coyote's drum, joining her kin in measuring out Raest's last moments.

Joining the chorus soon after, the visage of the Direwolf, too, lifts a fist to beat rhythmically against his chest to the beat of the visage of the Coyote's drumming as he watches Raest, Hunter of the Heartwood.

The visage of the Night Tiger's fist pounds upon her chest, and the sound of her heartbeat joins with the rest alongside the drumming.

Drawn by the promise of blood and the savagery of the magic crackling in the air, a pack of wolves pads in, their eyes trained as one on the prostrate figure of Raest, Hunter of the Heartwood. Baying in unison, the pack leaps in a blur of motion both deadly and refined, closing their jaws about the sacrifice in a flurry of ripping flesh and rending tissue. Minutes pass in what feels like only seconds, the lupine host tearing Raest apart.

Torn apart in a frenzy of lupine bloodlust, Raest, the Hunter of the Heartwood gives his life in service to Dendara evermore.
You divine the location of this death as Beside a reassembled stone altar in Duiran.

The presence of a seventh Guardian can be briefly felt in the moments as the pack descends, the hazy outline of a wolf that watches the offering be torn asunder.

You see the visage of the Wyvern raise his voice and shout, "DENDARA ETERNAL!!!"

You see the visage of the Golden Deer raise her voice and shout, "DENDARA ETERNAL!"

You see the visage of the Crow raise their voice and shout, "DENDARA ETERNAL!"

Soft and soothing despite the volume, the dulcet tones of Arista echo, "DENDARA ETERNAL!"

The urge to join the baying pack rises like gorge in your throat, to fall to your knees and feast, to lick at the spilling blood and drink deep.

The visage of the Tiger lets loose a chilling howl, unable to contain it belting from her chest.

A faint smile can be glimpsed beneath the visage of the Direwolf's mask, eyes watching the hazy outline with growing intrigue.

The visage of the Panther tilts her head back, loosing her voice in a feral howl to herald Raest to his rest.

The visage of the Orgyuk drops to their knees, snarling low, the torn body of the previous sacrifice cast aside to join in taking of the fallen Priest's blood.

The verdant embers smouldering in the offering bowls hiss with renewed vigour, tongues of green flame flaring skyward and showering the earth below in bright green sparks. Each sets the wind alight with puissance, the air crackling loudly in voices both familiar and unknowable. Resolving into animalistic forms, the near-palpable presence of the Guardians impresses itself into your mind, and you feel empowered by the rhythm, blessed with the touch of the wilds.

You have emoted: "Let his destruction run through your body, and sing your challenge to the moon, my kin!" Sibatti urges, her own timbre rising to a guttural snarl.

At this, the visage of the Boar's fist stills, clenching harder even than before, and he approaches a grim altar of runic stone, kneeling before it with palms outstretched to carry the blood of the fallen to his lips. A final remembrance, then, and the boar stands to howl his rage to the heavens, eyes fixed on the moon.

In a fervent tone strengthened by conviction and valor, Rasani the Godsmith declares, "What the -pit- was that?"

Molotok Znaniye intones, "Nothing good, Godsmith!"

The visage of the Orgyuk joins the howling, loud, rising from deep within their chest and up, to entwine with all the others.

The visage of the Otter tilts her head back and lets her voice join the chorus, wordless praise offered to the Moon.

Following his Prideleader, the visage of the Direwolf steps forward to mimic the visage of the Boar's own actions, fingers trailing the blood left behind by Raest before bringing them to smear across his own lips.

The hearts of the animals hunted begin beat anew in your hand, the power of the Rhythm flowing through them. You must TEAR HEART.

In an animalistic display, the visage of the Otter tears into a fresh heart with her teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Crow tears into a fresh heart with their teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Bear tears into a fresh heart with her teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Boar tears into a fresh heart with his teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Direwolf tears into a fresh heart with his teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Panther tears into a fresh heart with her teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of Mamba tears into a fresh heart with his teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Rabbit tears into a fresh heart with his teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Night Tiger tears into a fresh heart with her teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Coyote tears into a fresh heart with her teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Orgyuk tears into a fresh heart with her teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Wyvern tears into a fresh heart with his teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Shark tears into a fresh heart with her teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Tiger tears into a fresh heart with her teeth, blood spraying wildly.
In an animalistic display, the visage of the Golden Deer tears into a fresh heart with her teeth, blood spraying wildly.

The power of the Guardians flows in your veins, the fresh heart trembling in your hands as you exert pressure over it, slowly, ever so slowly. Its smell creeps into your nostrils and something stirs in your own heart, something primal, something bestial, something wrathful. For a moment, you and the beast are as one; you are the wolf at the head of the pack. The vein in your throat pulses with the intensity of an earthquake, a desperate need rising from within: to hunt, to corner, to capture, to kill, to bleed, and to feast. You shred the heart in your hands, allowing its blood to paint you, the air, and everything around you in a sanguine haze.

In her harried, violent revelation, the visage of the Tiger claws across the flesh of her chest with a sharp strike of her talons as she throws herself into a full-body arch, tense, yet fluid as she opens herself up to the moon above. Then she rips the heart in her hands apart.

Naeda closes their eyes as the Yeleni begins to concentrate upon a distant, focal point. Shuddering violently, the Yeleni shifts and twists about as if in unease, before their eyelids flicker open. The Yeleni tilts his head skywards, taking in a desperate breath of air, a hand rising to claw against their chest, as if to let out a monstrosity trapped within. A loud scream emanates forth from them as their muscles lock up against their will. A visible wave of essence explodes outwards from them, sweeping down their body and altering the flesh where the energy passes across. As the process dies down, you realise that Naeda has embraced their newform as Yeleni.
A visible ripple of energy flashes across the skies above, celebrating the ascension of Naeda to Yeleni.

Didi Lionheart's voice resonates across the land, "Awesome."

Then, as one, issue forth your CHALLENGE MOON.

Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Boar and he challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from his mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Golden Deer and she challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from her mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Crow and the Yeleni challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from their mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Rabbit and he challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from his mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Tiger and she challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from her mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Direwolf and he challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from his mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Coyote and she challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from her mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of Mamba and he challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from his mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Panther and she challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from her mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Night Tiger and she challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from her mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Orgyuk and she challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from her mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Bear and she challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from her mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Wyvern and he challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from his mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Otter and she challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from her mouth.
Primal instinct overcomes the visage of the Shark and she challenges the moon overhead with a ferocious howl even as blood still drips and sprays from her mouth.

Almost as if by instinct, a deep, guttural howl tears free from your lips with all the untamed ferocity of the outer wilds. You bay at the moon with all the fury and wrath you can muster, the sound spilling forth not your own, familiar timbre, but that of the pack: a voice composed of myriads made one.

Haern takes a ragged breath, drawing Himself to His full height. Slivers of moonlight pierce the clouds and cast the blood-daubed features of His visage into sharp relief, and His eyes turn skyward, regarding the lunar sphere with an apex predator's insatiable hunger. The Wild God throws back His head and beats at His own chest; scarcely do you have time to think before the howl comes in an otherworldly explosion of sound, the alpha's deafening roar shaking the earth with its booming, violent reverberation. The weight and magnitude of Haern's voice drives you to your knees in undeniable supplication, His divine exclamation ringing in your ears.

The earth trembles beneath your feet, the wind stills to terrified silence, and the very clouds flee the heavens as the savage roar of the Hunter explodes through the air in a violent reverberation, the sheer magnitude and intensity of His bestial howl echoing like a maelstrom of unleashed thunderclaps in trailing imitations of His monstrous voice.

The visage of the Boar just thought:
It is a wordless thing, this anger. The boiling of blood, the snapping of bones, the gnawing of flesh build within, but the focus - the focus lies on the moon. Nothing less will quench it.

The visage of the Wyvern just thought:
Do it, Lord.

Frenzied baying soon joins the Hunter in fevered ululation, thousands of lupine tongues coming together to howl in unison as all the wolves of Sapience lift their voices in support and supplication of the alpha.

(Order): Arista says, "The pack..."

The emeraldine flames of the Guardians rise to encircle the hulking figure of the Hunter in Dendaric energies as His baying howl goes on unrelenting, all the savagery and untamed ferocity of the wilds voiced in singular refrain. Instinctively, subconsciously, He exerts His will, the torrent of energy raging in the air drawn around and into Him, your own will and energy sapped to feed His storming well of gathering might.

Now you must lead them in chant.

You have emoted: Driven to her knees, her wingspan spread for balance, Sibatti nonetheless clutches at her throat with still-bloodied hands, smearing crimson over her colorless throat. "Join me, my kin," she rumbles, the last moment that her voice is this quiet.

You chant, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Crow chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Boar chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Night Tiger chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Wyvern chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Bear chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Rabbit chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Tiger chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Direwolf chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of Mamba chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Otter chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Coyote chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Panther chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Golden Deer chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Orgyuk chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."
The visage of the Shark chants, "Let the Rhythm be purged, and from purity grow anew."

Sibatti

Awash in a storming vortex of verdantine flames, the Hunter's howl abruptly ceases, the silence left in its wake as deafening as the sound which preceded it. Haern's already considerable frame grows taller, stronger, His rugged body stretching until it seems He could touch the sky itself if He deigned only to reach out and try.

As the self-inflicted wound stains across her pelt of ochre, the visage of the Tiger chants with abandon as she kneels on her haunches by him, her, and him.

Sprawling chains of dull anaxagorite manifest in His hands, fastened to the gleaming length of a colossal spear. Each link spans the reach of a mighty oak tree yet they too are dwarfed by the Hunter's enormous size. Hoisting the Underking's gift with a roar of exertion, the Wild God hurls the spear into the sky, the massive fetters uncoiling like an enormous serpent towards the moon above.

Docent Eliadon, fio Ihiem Emaev's voice resonates across the land, "Oh. Is that what they're doing?"

The lunar sphere glares down upon the world as if an immense, pupilless eye, waxing with the full splendour of its monthly radiance. As Dhar's spear connects and the chains find purchase, chunks of lunar debris scatter like so much dust about the heavenscape, raining silver on all which dwells below.

You see the visage of the Wyvern raise his voice and shout, "Our Lord who splits the sky with his roar! Our Lord who wreathes himself in a cloak of wildflame! Our Lord!"

(Duiran): Raylor says, "So...what is all that?"
(Duiran): Jakarn says, "Watch and see."
(Order): Arista says, "You can do this Hunter!"
(Order): You say, "Get it, Boss..."

Ursine hands clasp one of the massive links in a steady grip, and the Hunter heaves, pouring every ounce of His strength into the immense effort. The moon seems almost to shiver from its position within the distant skies, trembling as immovable object strains against unstoppable force.

What few clouds remain now flee, banished from the firmament such that the impervious dome of the heavens exists as but a backdrop for the monstrous God and His mighty chain, silhouetted by twinkling stars and the ire-bright moon above.

You have emoted: Gradually, Sibatti rises back up to her towering height, her veiled gaze hopelessly drawn skywards.

Swept aside by the shuddering moon, the eastern ocean roils in protest and the tide rolls outward afore time and with unnatural speed, the inner reaches of the seaboard peeling back into the shape of a tremendous tidal wave. The burgeoning tsunami swells to incredible proportions before crashing amidst a great bellowing roar, mile-high waves now pouring inwards with coastal settlements, fishing villages, and the entire City of Enorian in their inevitable path.

You see the visage of the Wyvern raise his voice and shout, "OUR LORD! HIS FURY IS UNMATCHED! OUR LORD! WHO MAKES THE MOON TREMBLE! OUR LORD!!!"

[HINT]: You may PULL CHAIN to assist the Hunter with His efforts.

The visage of the Night Tiger just thought:
She could not look away if she tried.

The visage of the Boar stands tall once more, all six wings spreading wide.

Soft and soothing despite the volume, the dulcet tones of Arista echo, "AROOOOOOOO!!!"

Velheima Valtameri, Elievie fio Ciehia's voice resonates across the land, "You guys haven't done enough already?"

Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf her in size, Ixmi grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of her strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf you in size, you grasp at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of your strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf her in size, Valorie grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of her strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf her in size, Cinnamae grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of her strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf him in size, Eaku grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of his strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf him in size, Akrios grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of his strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf them in size, Naeda grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of their strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf him in size, Daelares grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of his strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf her in size, Sekeres grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of her strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf him in size, Stine grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of his strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf her in size, Iesid grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of her strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf her in size, Aisling grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of her strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf her in size, Jhura grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of her strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf her in size, Valeria grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of her strength.
Though the links of the mighty chain dwarf her in size, Ayanala grasps at one of the segments closest to the ground, heaving in concert with the Hunter using all of her strength.

You see the visage of the Wyvern raise his voice and shout, "HEAVE! HEAVE! HEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE!!!!"

Preceded by a derisive and insulting laugh, Ayastia belts out, "Your foolish lord!"

The visage of the Orgyuk just thought:
Their heart beats rabbit-quick, their mind turned to simple instinct.

Haern heaves at the anaxagorite chains for a second time, the power of the Dendaric Guardians still wreathing Him in its vibrant green flames. The moon, sped upon a wave of starlit canvas, begins to descend, drawn as though by a magnet down the silverbright light of a path long forgotten.

Eaku's voice finds a wordless, brutal growl as he flies a few feet off the ground to pull with all his might.

Knight-Sergeant Rasani Morrog, Godsmith yells, "WHERE ARE YOU FOOLS?!"

(Duiran): Arista says, "Rasani in."
(Duiran): Iesid says, "Kill them. We have not the time."
(Duiran): A tempestuous undine aquacaster says, "Quickly, to 'Stone bridge over a spring', I heard a scream!"
(Duiran): A tempestuous undine aquacaster says, "I heard a cry for help at 'Stone bridge over a spring!'"
(Duiran): A cloaked forestal warden says, "That cry! We've got to get to 'Stone bridge over a spring!'"
(Duiran): A tempestuous undine aquacaster says, "Quickly, to 'Stone bridge over a spring', I heard a scream!"
(Duiran): A cloaked forestal warden says, "Quickly, to 'Stone bridge over a spring', I heard a scream!"

Rasani has been sliced apart by a burly centaur crossbowman.
They were assisted by: Aisling.
You divine the location of this death as Stone bridge over a spring in Duiran. (43846)
From your knowledge, that room is in the Duiran Council.

(Duiran): Illikaal says, "Done."
(Duiran): Iesid says, "My thanks."

"Defiance for Dendara!" The visage of the Tiger snarls as she takes up part of the chain with other heartlings. Her whole body is tensing as she pulls to assist with the struggle of the Hunter and his celestial quarry.

Unnatural distortion follows with the moon's downsloping fall, the air quavering in denial. Though its initial motions are languid, even lazy, it soon gains an impossible speed, forced to heed the beckoning call of the Hunter's howl. It swells with the catastrophic brilliance of a lunar light fantastic, filling the sky as it grows, becoming bigger and more horrifyingly radiant with each league closer it falls to earth.

Docent Eliadon, fio Ihiem Emaev's voice resonates across the land, "DENAN ARLOI, I HAVE CHANNELED YOUR WATERS FOR MANY YEARS - HEAR MY CALL NOW, AND BRING A GLIMPSE OF YOUR POWER TO BEAR TO PROTECT THE BEACON OF LIGHT!"

The stars wheel in the heavens as if alive, the brightest among them converging to frame the outline of a great celestial being, Its formless presence one of swirling nebulae and myriad shifting colours. Each cautious motion of this unknowable entity incites captivating stellar phenomena across the starscape, Its passage at once mysterious and sublime.

The visage of Mamba just thought:
"Eschaton."

You think:
There it is.

As the Cosmic Being drifts in the direction of the plummeting moon amidst His shroud of nebulous aurorae, a second Entity coalesces, gaining immutable cohesion from the unknowable heavens. Silhouetted in sparkling silver, the featureless figure of the Celestine materialises, His unerring descent causing the world entire to shift around Him to permit His ingress.

The visage of the Boar's muscles bulge and strain with effort as every single drop of his focus and might attend to one simple task: pulling the chain.

Barely allowing Himself a fleeting moment to look fondly over His Creation, Varian's expression is one of unreadable serenity and placid calm, His blinding illumination painting the great expanse in streaks of soothing argent light.

Rife with unyielding conviction, Whirran's zealous intonation rings clarion across the land, "Praise be unto the Father Above! Hail to our Creator! Hail to Almighty Varian!"

Creation yields to the will of its Maker as Varian raises His left hand to pierce the veil of reality and reach beyond, the fabric of all that is, was, and will be keening a note of recognition at the Creator taking the ailing Plane of Dendara into His fatherly grasp. The once hale mass, vibrant green and bursting with fresh life in ages gone now writhes in the Creator's palm amidst a viscous film of foul shadow, rotting the wild landscape from within and without.

The visage of the Boar just thought:
One thought above all others rings out: "KEEP. PULLING."

Violent storms begin to rage across the continent, forks of brilliant lightning striking vengefully from within the moonlit skies. Torrents of unnatural rainfall lash at the ground below, buffeted by fierce winds gusting wroth in all directions.

The visage of Mamba just thought:
"This is for you, Oskar. Let your sacrifice not be in vain."

The visage of the Coyote closes her eyes and makes a prayer.

Spared from the raging tempests by the wingspan of the First Dragon, Spinesreach dwells in darkness beneath Tanixalthas's unfurling pinions. Pride Incarnate stirs irritably from Her slumber, Her temper roused to anger by the calamity unfolding all around.

You close your eyes and make a prayer to Haern.
"Strength, my Hunter."

Pressure builds in the deep caverns of Bloodloch, the dormant volcano at their heart shuddering. The ground shakes with every tremulous burst, low keening rising from the bowels of the earth.

You see the visage of the Wyvern raise his voice and shout, "WE ARE THE UNRIVALED FURY OF DENDARA! AND THE WORLD SHALL KNOW OUR BITE!!!"

Lightning strikes lay siege to the streets of Enorian, spearing down from above to vent their wrath upon cobble and stone. In the distance, the still-growing tsunami rolls its way inland, advancing with cruelly slow inevitability toward the coast.

The visage of the Boar closes his eyes and makes a prayer.

The Creator's mere presence seems to repel the unnatural weather squalling all about Him, for He remains unmoved and utterly serene, devoted to His work. With one tender hand He shapes new from nothing, and in the other He cradles life itself, carefully liberated from dying Dendara to be transplanted into the newborn Lirathyar He has made.

The visage of the Tiger closes her eyes and makes a prayer.

You think:
[ Rage, anguish, sorrow, joy, ecstasy - all waging for dominance in her heart ].

Sweeping landscapes rise and fall within His palm whilst He works, the familiar lights of the Ancient Valley shimmering before He moves on to the next, countless tiny specks visible among the vast, foetid swath of rot devouring everything in its path in a chilling mirror of the plight which Prime too endures. He looks far to the east and draws forth wild foliage, and from the distant south comes sun-blushed verdure; life in all its forms passes beneath His omnipotent eye, each creature and sprouting bud dutifully conveyed to its new, healthy home.

The visage of the Orgyuk just thought:
They feel only dread, now, even with teeth gritted and muscles straining with the chain. Only dread.

Wrested from its prominent position within the heavenly vault, the moon's descent continues without impediment, both the skies above and the populace below screaming a requiem of impending catastrophe as it inexorably traverses the night sky.

Like the sudden strike of hammer against anvil come the commanding words of Mjoll, "HEY MATI?"

Bulrok, Oje Dibi Viru's voice resonates across the land, "WHAT'D YOU SAY EARLIER?!"

The visage of the Coyote just thought:
Unerring concentration, beyond the brief moment of plea to Someone.

Reaching out with kind hands to arrest the moon's imminent collision with earth, the Cosmic Being snaps Dhar's spear with effortless ease, a minuscule flexing of power leaving no doubt as to the depths of this Entity's well of might. The world lurches, sundered chains engineering a sudden release of tension while the moon, freed from its deathborn snare, begins returning to its rightful place.

With manic excitement, Rijetta screams, "Blessed be the All-Father, Creator, glorious Varian! Blessed are we to witness His return! All praise! All praise! We exult in Your works, Lord, as You deliver us from the evil of Albedos!"

Varian's timeless serenity falters, consternation creasing His brow into a frown of disappointment for His interrupted works. He motions to return whence He came, the sky shifting all around Him, and finds His traversal heavensward hastened by the hands of the Cosmic Being reaching out to take Sapience itself in Its grip.

You see Haern raise His voice and shout, "NOT YET, YOU BASTARD! NOT YET!"

A deep-rooted, primordial soughing ferments from the arboreal bosom of the heartwood, as the Great Oak acquiesces to Haern's indisputable command. Awoken from natural slumber and silent observation by the desperate efforts of the Wild God, none are beyond its reach. The topmost eaves unfurl in a panoply of tremendous boughs and enormous limbs which, with an almighty CRACK of ancient bark and rugged branch, lurch skyward, swelling to envelop the lunar sphere and see the Hunter's life-long will be done.

Both Creator and Counterpart hesitate, statuesque figures of formless celestial wonder standing frozen in the skyscape. Bought time by the Hunter's daring intervention, Varian's serenity reasserts itself, His work nearing completion.

The frothing tsunami gains momentum, drawing yet more of the displaced ocean into its surging, torrential mass. As it draws nearer to Enorian, a lone figure strides calmly across the receding waters, the ever-shifting presence of the Maelstrom strolling out to meet the monstrous wave. Slyphe wears an almost child-like smirk upon Their features, a grin of selachian excitement as the God prepares to act.

Sonic booms wrack the sky-dome, the insatiable ire of the First Dragon unabating in its relentless squall against the usurpers of Her domain. By Her grace alone does Spinesreach remain sheltered from the preternatural storm which harries it, Her magnificent wingspan granting reprieve.

Midnight swallows up the land, the darkness absolute as a new day begins.
It is now midnight on Kinsday, the 8th of Arios, year 504 of the Midnight Age.

From Her vantage in the northern skies, She callously judges Duiran's fate; Her dreadful maw yawns open, the cavernous pit of speared teeth alight with crackling bolts of azure, and with an ear-splitting roar, She unleashes a tremendous torrent of lightning to damn both the Council and the surrounding woodlands for their audacity.

The firmament shudders, yielding to the thunderous voice of Tanixalthas as She booms, "ALREADY YOU STOLE FROM ME! THIS IS NOT YOUR DOMAIN - NOT YOUR POWER - TO INTERFERE WITH. THE STORMS BELONG TO PRIDE FIRST!"

The visage of the Coyote just thought:
"Piss off, You big lizard."

Plumes of grey-white smoke roll in, blanketing Duiran and the surrounding Ithmian forests in a protective sheen of misty pearlescence. The incandescent lightning strikes at the charnel barrier again and again but is repelled, denied purchase by the Lord of the Underhalls. Dhar appears sans flair or fanfare in the sky; ever-reserved and emotionless, His regard is cold and unflinching, shattered chains held within His grasp.

The visage of the Direwolf purses his lips, visage still yet calm as he looks towards the impending lightning.

Armoured in His dark grey cuirass, Dhar's grim countenance is one prepared and ready for battle; plumes of essence spill from Him in a torrent of silver-white, devouring the Dragon's azure thunderbolts in an anguished chorus of hissing protestations.

The world around you is momentarily still as the raspy whisper of Dhar, the Underking pervades, "This is the will of Our Father. And it shall be done."

Streams of variegated colour and multifaceted illumination spark from the Celestine's fingertips whilst He works His quintessential purpose, the ineffable act of Creation inspiring a faint half-smile of joy and merriment upon His lips. Shorn from the rotten core of ailing, plagued Dendara, that which dwells within the newborn Lirathyar positively bursts with vibrant energies, bequeathed fresh life to grow and gifted time to flourish wild and wondrous.

In steady, practised motions, the Creator sets down the Lirathyar, allowing it to settle at the heart of the cosmos. He spares a furrowed, worried glance towards once-Sterion, but His concerned reverie is short-lived; His Counterpart blazes in the upper reaches of the stratosphere, a resplendent, blinding manifestation of countless suns-turned-supernova.

Having called unto Itself Its full power, It prises the screaming moon from the boughs of the Great Oak, restoring it whence it came with an alien, but nonetheless palpable kindness and compassion. Varian's form deliquesces to naught but sparks of fulgent silver, and, leaving behind a vacuum of darkness as if They had never existed, both Creator and Counterpart are gone.

Thrusting out an upturned palm, the Maelstrom wills the oncoming tsunami to halt, the mountainous expanse of churning, frothing, seething water freezing unwillingly in its tracks. That mercurial joie-de-vivre clings to Slyphe's visage as the Changing God lifts Their trident, cleaving the torrential deluge in twain.

Roaring in protest, the sundered waves collapse upon themselves, the displaced ocean reforming in a bellowing cascade of salt and spray, creatures aquatic and amphibious drawn along helplessly by the foaming tides.

The earth shudders as the Great Oak recedes its almighty branches, monstrous roots lacing a labyrinth anew within the depths of the world in anchoring homage to the new-made Lirathyar.

You have emoted: Sibatti is breathless, frozen, unable to do anything beyond watch cosmic events unfold.

Still does the gargantuan silhouette of the Hunter abide - His duty done and His charge secured, only now does His tremendous size wane until, once more, He reverts to His ordinary stature. Though lesser in size, Haern exudes a newfound vigour and vitality, a zest for life rekindled from the pits of misery and despair.

(New Haern look!)
He is an Immortal, weathered by centuries of struggle and made whole by life's renewal. A hulking beast of a God, He looms more than stands, a mass of rippling musculature and unfathomable strength towering over even the tallest of mortals in a posture simultaneously lumbering and dangerously adept. Manifest vitality thrums within Him, His heart pounding in His chest as if the pulse of the rhythm itself were given voice. Horned protrusions fan out from His brow and yield to short curves of yellowed ivory reaching far past His head, framing His savage features in a wild crown. His eyes, once hollow and consumed by grief, now blaze with the fel green of nature's flame, passion and vigour reignited like a verdant phoenix risen anew from viridescent ashes. Jagged tusks peel back His lower lip to reveal crooked teeth jutting out at awkward angles, the rest of His face bedecked with partially healed wounds, a feral snarl worn near permanently upon His mouth. Lashings of bristly black hair erupt from His back like a coarse, tangled mane, sweeping the length of His massive arms to a pair of ursine hands, black claws tipping each finger. Scars and tattoos decorate the rest of His frame in a tapestry of carnage, trophies of wild hunts uncountable warring with each other across the chaotic battlefield that is His pockmarked flesh. Yet for all that ravages His body, Haern's demeanour bespeaks neither discomfort nor pain, rather a predator's confident, pragmatic air as He abides, shorn of a terrible weight and gifted the unthinkable: a future. Blood marks His features with ancient runic symbology of the wilds.

(cinched neatly) : an unornamented hide loincloth

The visage of the Boar finally, finally takes the time required to lower his arms, each a mass of bruised, torn muscle.

Chest rising and falling in slow breaths, the visage of the Direwolf's gaze follows the receding roots of the Oak in wonderment.

(Order): Arista says, "...Holy...pit."
(Order): Devin says, "Whoa."

Booming across the land with a harsh fervor, the voice of Bamathis, the Warlord resonates, "Behold the Divine generosity of the Father, by His grace has Life been born anew. By His grace, that this continent all too often spurns. Even now, He works tirelessly for this continent, holding an implacable enemy at bay. For Sapience!"

Preceded by a derisive and insulting laugh, Ayastia belts out, "And tell us, Warlord, who was it that kept the Moon from crashing onto us?"

With manic excitement, Rijetta screams, "FOR SAPIENCE!"

Like the sudden strike of hammer against anvil come the commanding words of Mjoll, "FOR SAPIENCE."

(Order): Arista says, "He did it...brilliantly, so very brilliantly..."
(Order): Akrios says, "How do You feel, Lord?"

The oceans of Sapience at last settle, and the violent storms calm, petrichor pungent in their wake. The volcano of Bloodloch stills, its ire quelled by the abruptly ended phenomena. At the heart of the woodland realm, nature's heartbeat thrums in a chorale of sylvan celebration. The forests wax verdant, creatures gambol with newfound energy, sweet birdsong and the call of the beasts ever vital and robust, all blessed by an extraordinary gift.

The visage of the Golden Deer takes a shaky breath, lifting her trembling hands to her chest.

Renewal.

You see Haern raise His voice and shout, "BEHOLD, THE PLANE OF LIFE BORN ANEW! DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!"

The visage of the Boar just thought:
Renewal.

You shout, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!"

You see the visage of the Otter raise her voice and shout, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!"

You see the visage of the Crow raise their voice and shout, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!"

You see the visage of the Night Tiger raise her voice and shout, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!"

You see the visage of the Golden Deer raise her voice and shout, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!!"

You see the visage of the Direwolf raise his voice and shout, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!"

You see the visage of the Boar raise his voice and shout, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!"

Soft and soothing despite the volume, the dulcet tones of Arista echo, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!!"

You see the visage of the Panther raise her voice and shout, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL."

With a guttural growl, Devin shouts, "Awooooooo."

You see the visage of the Wyvern raise his voice and shout, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!!!"

Noble Daelares, the Lunar Black Rabbit's voice resonates across the land, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!"

Rife with unyielding conviction, Whirran's zealous intonation rings clarion across the land, "For Sapience! For the Father Above, All-Knowing and All-Mighty in His generosity! For the Lord, the Vigilant Sentinel brought by His hand! For our purpose! FOR SAPIENCE!"

You see the visage of the Bear raise her voice and shout, "DIA'RUIS ETERNAL!"

You see the visage of the Shark raise her voice and shout, "DIA'RUIS ENTERNAL!"

Asaraii, Lemiti wo Oru Du's voice resonates across the land, "BETTER BLOOD?"

You see Illikaal raise his voice and shout, "DO NOT CLAIM THE PRAISES OF OUR VICTORY WHEN YOU WERE SO QUICK TO WHINGE OF OUR EFFORTS, COWARDLY HERALD!"

Bulrok, Oje Dibi Viru's voice resonates across the land, "Didn't you lost just curse Him moments before this all happened?"

Preceded by a derisive and insulting laugh, Ayastia belts out, "Your victory? You damned fools almost destroyed our city! And many villages on the coast!"

(Duiran): You say, "Rebirth. Hers.."
(Order): Arista says, "I cannot wait to see. Hunter, You're well?"
(Duiran): Sekeres says, "Life ever. Dia'ruis turns the Cycle."

And then, exhaustion finally crashing down, Haern collapses in a heap beside the rune-worked altar, every muscle of His frame shaking violently with the effort expended in His feat.

Haern just thought:
For Her. Finally, for Her...