Sacrament of the Durdalis

Sibatti

Led by the Sentinels, the council gathers to honor the Durdalis in song and memory and to usher safe passage to Dia'ruis.

Featuring: Ulo, Sekeres, Govon, Jhura, Ixmi, Ase, Sibatti, Valorie, Khedoulemouqe.

This was such a joy to participate in, and a fantastic example of the evolution of Duirani culture. This was player-initiated and driven - having Govon show up was entirely unexpected, and only made it even more amazing.

A mist-wreathed altar in the durdalis henge.
The noonday sun shines down, tinged grey by its passage through the thick clouds above. Numerous stone formations surround this open air henge within this sacred location beyond the resting Durdalis. Encircling an altar that is centrally located within, the lush soil of the surroundings breaks where the immense stone pillars break through the loam. A gentle mist blankets the surroundings, curling and twisting around obstacles to ensconce the clearing in its silvered presence. Rising up centrally an altar stands, the wooden surface gently dusted with ash and soot from the firepit which rests centrally. Surrounded with numerous stones that have been chiseled with representations of the Guardians of Diaruis, the firepit itself is large enough to bear a relatively sizable fire within. Draped in viridescent foliage, a ritual altar dwells here. Like a bird-shaped hole in space, a dark raven spirit glides through the air. Imparter Ulo Ka'aukai is here. The Azudim wields a spirit-bound dhurive of Ithmian hymns in their hands. This area has been overgrown with a swathe of seething plantlife.
You see a single exit leading south.

Govon strides in from the south, the clash of stone upon stone heralding its passage.

You smile at Govon.

Ulo turns to face Govon clenching their right fist and pounding their chest thrice in rapid succession, symbolizing the vibrant heart that beats within.

Jhura turns to face Govon clenching her right fist and pounding her chest thrice in rapid succession, symbolizing the vibrant heart that beats within.

Govon arrives amidst the low grinding of stone and soughing life, the ancient elemental moving with a slow, ponderous gait that leads the Durdalis to rest a distance away from the altar.

Ulo mixes together a thick paste using some oil, and coats a slender length of wood in the substance. The Azudim waves it through the air a few times to dry it, and ends up with a stick of gradated elderflower incense.

With a creaking sough, Govon says, "The Durdalis have long memories, for few find their end when left to our own devices."

Ulo exhales deeply, nodding and understanding the weight of the words presented by Govon.

Sekeres suddenly appears, having travelled down the beam of prismatic light.
Imparter Ulo Ka'aukai says, "The Prideleader comes."

The grinding of stone punctuating what follows, Govon says, "It is right that the Council remember those that are no more. It is right."

Heralded by a showering of wild light, Sekeres appears and emerges from behind one of the formations.

Imparter Ulo Ka'aukai says to Govon, "We must never forget that which is part of this Council, by their sacrifices they are one with the Cycle, but their memory shall last so long as their story is told."

Ase turns to face Sekeres clenching her right fist and pounding her chest thrice in rapid succession, symbolizing the vibrant heart that beats within.

Sekeres puts a fist to her left breast and beats it thrice. Though soon, she tends to such things involved in the laying of items most sacred.

Ulo nods their head at Sekeres.

Pulling a weathered ivory rattle set with bronze bars from her leather hip-belt, Sekeres beckons Ixmi with a crook of her finger.

Ixmi flits over to Sekeres' side as she's beckoned, though her attention lingers firmly on Govon.

Govon settles to contemplative stillness, save for the occasional flicker of fel light that emanates from deep within his craggy bulk.

Pressing the rattle into her hands, Sekeres nods solemnly before turning her changeable eyes on Jhura.

Ixmi ceases to wield a crystal-tipped ashwood quarterstaff, securing it to her weaponbelt.
Ixmi starts to wield a weathered ivory rattle set with bronze bars in her left hand.

Ulo ceases to wield a spirit-bound dhurive of Ithmian hymns, securing it to their weaponbelt.

Prismatic coat swishing about her ankles as she moves Jhura crosses to join Sekeres.

Ixmi accepts a weathered ivory rattle set with bronze bars in both hands, the eager instrument making its characteristic noise no matter how gently she handles it. She looks back up to Sekeres then and nods her head twice.

Ulo starts to wield a smoke-finished violin adorned in moonstone in their left hand.

Ulo exhales slowly, allowing a long fluid breath to creep from their lungs.

Inclining her greatly-maned head of blackened dreadlocks, Sekeres' features soften faintly as she gestures her palms flat and moves toward the drums. These, still stained from smoke, and even very faint flecks of dried blood. "Begin a rhythm, my sister," she bids as her eyes trail to them.

Ixmi begins to shake the rattle gently, setting a slow and quiet rhythm that nevertheless pervades the quiet space, each second beat coming a bit harder than the rest.

Sekeres' silent approval drags as splinters of bright, amber-muddled emerald toward her.

You have emoted: Sibatti stands quietly, but fondly, next to where Govon has settled in, lifting a thin split quarterstaff bearing shrunken heads once Ixmi's rattling begins to sound, the rattle of shrunken heads briefly joining in.

The hues shift slightly as the rhythm begins to coalesce in song within the henge, the mist upon the floor parting around those gathered as the Speaker takes up their violin, joining in the sound.

Sekeres just thought:
"So few," Sekeres' thoughts murmur before turning to the new faces. They give her hope.

Jhura rests her hand gently on the the drums as she steps up to them, eyes closed briefly in reverence. Before her eyes open she strikes the drums in a quickly flurry, a triple beat with the third resounding louder, echoing briefly from the stone formations surrounding them before her mossy eyes open and she settles into a rhythmic beat that quickly fills the air.

It begins faintly, only just audible to those directly beside him. A deep hum takes up from within Govon, adding its deep appreciation to the musical notes that begin to fill this place.

Yet, Sekeres is not done. To a kneel, the Yeleni goes to set places of wood before the altar at some distance into a firepit. Once complete, she sways up. Even as you settles in, the wildling steps forth on bare feet. She asks, "Would you do the honors of being the keeper of the flame?"

Ixmi shakes a weathered ivory rattle set with bronze bars just a bit harder, not to compete with Jhura's drumming, but to fill the space between each beat with the softer chorus of jingling discs.

You nod your head at Sekeres.

Ulo speaks through the sound, their tone gentle as they afford it to the beat of the percussion, "The hearbeatt of our lands, the thrum of renewal. Dia'ruis thrives amidst untold destruction, unfathomable loss and furthermore the strength of sacrifice to preserve it all." Their tone somber as they finally declare amidst the music admission to the gathering.

(Tells): Her voice sharp-edged and frosty, Sekeres whispers to you, "You shall be accepting herbs from those who shall have them in a moment. And place them in the flame. You shall ensure that the heat, and light, does not die."

Sekeres bows her head, and then turns to scatter herbs along the gathering of Duirani - each with its own pungent fragrance. She glides to the beat.

Ulo mixes together a thick paste using some oil, and coats a slender length of wood in the substance. The Azudim waves it through the air a few times to dry it, and ends up with a coil of intoxicating opium incense.

Sekeres gives a bunch of sage to Ase.
Sekeres gives a bunch of rosemary to Ulo.
Sekeres gives an opium poppy to Khedoulemouqe.
Sekeres gives an opium poppy to Ixmi.
Sekeres gives an opium poppy to you.

Sekeres pivots, and then scatters bundles of woven yarrow within the firepit not yet lit.

A single sharp, pronounced shake echoes from the rattle at the end of Ulo's statement before Ixmi slows her instrument to a quieter rhyrhm. She repeats that single excited note two drumbeats later, then two after that, filling the stillness where Ulo's voice once was until the Azudim have need

Ulo's words are punctuated by another resounding triple beat, the voices of the drums sent far and wide to call to the memories of those who gave their lives for the Cycle, to call to the spirits that yet awaited their rebirth. Sinking into Instinct and the voice of the wilds that permeates the soul of the Council Jhura sways with the building rhythm of drum, rattle and violin, all supported by Govon.

Descending in a rippling of corded muscle, Sekeres kneels aside the drums; prepared for action and motion as she sets a haunting wind chime of skeletal mourning nearby to stir. Yet it needs it not, as a cool turn of autumn's wind floats to catch its old, forgotten music. Poignant and stirring through the low vibration of the drums, and the smattering copper clash of the rattle. The wildling then lifts an ocarina to her lips, contributing a final breathless sound of the dying and the hollow with her own voice - as the wind through canyons, as water on stone, it flows between and all around. Mournful and morose.

Ulo indulges upon the rattle and percussion, allowing the staccato to infiltrate the surroundings, the grinding of the earth, the timely beat. All sound is consumed and brought to the forefront with the sound of stone rumbling taking precedent and meeting their words as they stand before the altar, "This Autumn, we honor the Durdalis who sought to defend our wilds, to protect the Heartwood, to face the Shadowbound threats in tumultuous war." They intone, their voice complemented by the rumbling as they look upon each face gathered and settle upon Govon, "This Sacrament shall be in offering to their sacrifice, shall be in respects of those who met a premature end, and shall stand this day in memory unforgotten, the Spirit of the Durdalis honored."

Ulo gestures widely before those gathered, and while the rumbling persists, they nod to the firekeeper signalling the Sacrament beginning.

Life's elemental only watches, abandoning words in favor of that ever-growing hum that yet emanates from deep within. As Ulo falls into silence, the creak of stone and the sough of verdure punctuate the slow, inexorable nod that Govon passes them.

Ixmi stills her rattle to near-quietude once Ulo begin speaking again, its subtle rhythm barely audible amidst the other instruments and Govon's deep hum. The sound slowly picks up as the Azudim speak, punctuating their pause with another hard shake, the jingling of bronze discs still resounding as the Azudim continue. At Ulo's gesture and Govon's nod, she resumes her earlier rhythm, but this time two hard shakes join together where once was but one.

You have emoted: Sibatti takes a position over the firepit. Listening to Ulo's cue, he opens his jaws wide to permit a narrow, pointed stream of fire directed at the kindling of herbs and wood. They alight without trouble, and the scent of burning, bitter pine accompanies. The Azudim's great wings spread out into their full, impressive span, creating a bulwark against any errant winds seeking to smote out the newborn flame.

As the fire takes purchase within the firepit, golden light casts upon those gathered and their shadows upon the stone formations which encircle them. The rumbling of stone and percussion dancing in beat with the flames that grow upon the afforded kindling. Gesturing towards the Sentaari, bundles of yarrow are afforded and smolder in the flames, the aroma of burning herbs fills the surroundings. Spirits calming and trauma being quelled. The Sacrament begins.

Fleeting, keening, skipping air in a slow smear of sliding foreign scales, Sekeres breathes. And once the flame is light her arms fling to the sides to cut the sound subtly, a signal to her and her to cease the delicacy of the rhythm of their creation; of memory, of honor, of sacrifice.

Ulo exhales deeply as the Sentaari afford their Yarrow, their eyes then turn upon the Sentinels gathered, "Pride, may sage now purify and cleanse these surroundings, freeing our communion of impurity and intrusion." Their voice deep and rumbling, stern yet kind.

Ase shuffles forward, bundle of sage clutched in her hands.

Sekeres moves to a stand, and falls alongside Ase as she pulls her woven, braided strands of sage in a hand. Her ocarina in the other. She solemnly nods to the Unblooded, as she steps past you to offer the herb to the flame with an opening of her palm.

At Sekeres' signal the voices of the drums fall silent with neither flourish nor fanfare, coming to a simple end as the final notes of the mingled rhythm fade away and Jhura's hands rest atop the instrument.

Ase settles with the presence of her Prideleader, and reaches out to lay the bundle into the flames.

As the sage is afforded to the flames the tell-tale aroma fills the henge and an auspicious lingering smoke filters through the surroundings. Neutrality comes forth from the offering and the Ritual Leader nods through the smoke at those gathered.

You have emoted: Shaded gaze moving to Ase, Sibatti dips his chin in a nod towards her.

Sekeres steps backward, and returns to her place; quietly slipping her the opium of a poppy bloom.
Sekeres gives an opium poppy to Jhura.

Ase steps back as well, tucking into a out-of-the-way spot.

Ulo speaks now upon the Shamans gathered, attention brought forward and earnest request as their tone bellows once more through the smoke, "Next the offerings of the Shamans shall come, to open the minds of those present, to welcome the spirits and ancestors to in, and to accept what they may afford unto us." Their palms are displayed openly as they nod and state the time is ready.

The sound of the rattle stills to where it began, its sole rhythm seemingly magnified by the stilling of Jhura's drums. Though it takes her longer, Ixmi moves by foot for once, stepping carefully across to where you tend the flame. She nods once to you as she kneels down and places the head of an opium poppy into the flame, before tipping the stem in as well with a flick of her finger.

Khedoulemouqe casts an opium poppy into the flames.

As the offerings are made, Ulo begins tying up their own bundle of herbs upon the altar and quietly nodding as each individual offers theirs in turn.

You have emoted: Sibatti waits until the others of the Praadi have cast their herbs, and then releases the poppy clutched in his own claws to the firepit just below. A few twirls, and the flower joins its sisters in a smolder of burning petals and its particularly strong odor. His eyelids fluttering to a close, he murmurs his own prayer to the spirits: "Forever, we listen to what you speak to the earth in your sleep, what secrets may you whisper from your ancient wisdom during your rest."

As the opium poppies are brought forth unto the flame, the invigorating aroma comes forward and excites the air from the neutrality and cleansing of the previous offerings. The flames flicker in hues of pink ever so slightly as the flowers burn away into the basin of coals joining the offerings prior.

Quietly exchanging herbs, Sekeres genuflects her eyes down to her as she offers a sprig of rosemary. Then she exchanges a brief glance with them. Through the heady smoke, her electric blue eyes seem to smolder and lid at the prayer which you offers.

Sekeres gives a bunch of rosemary to Jhura.

Ulo now steps forward from the altar, their own offering coming to be shared to the flames. Taking a single knee before the flame they murmur unto the fire itself, "We offer now the final herbs in symbolism of memory, may those who sacrificed themselves for the cycle, accept and join us in this time of remembrance." And as their words conclude, their bundle of rosemary is cast into the flames, and they nod to Jhura.

Jhura curls her fingers about the offered rosemary, cradling the herbs gently in her hand as she steps forward towards the flames. With eyes lidded she gazes into the pink tinged conflagration and lets the bundle fall to join its brethren in the hungry fire.

As the final herbs meet the flame, the heady aroma of rosemary fills the henge with a brightness and excitement. The smoke joining together with all the aromas to bring those gathered together

Ulo raises a stick of gradated elderflower incense slightly as the Azudim lights it, allowing it to smolder for a moment before puffing the flame out in a short breath.
Ulo drops a lit stick of gradated elderflower incense.

Govon just thought:
Though they are gone from us, it does not mean forever. They are kept safe as long as one Durdalis yet lives and is willing to carry their memory back to our home.

In a raspy, whispery keen of sound, Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer of Dia'ruis chants, "What is gone, is born again, the Cycle turns to remain."

As the stick of gradated elderflower incense burns, a strange musty-spicy aroma wafts in the smoke. While abruptly pungent, as it lingers, the aroma softens to something sweeter and fresh, reminiscent of death and renewal.

Govon just thought:
Home...

Ulo exhales deeply and nods to Sekeres, taking position on one portion of the perimeter of the flame, "In life, so comes death, and in death, comes renewal." They intone aloud following Sekeres words in earnest.

Sekeres lowers her sharp, angular chin; her eyes downcast into the center of the rising flames. All but high and brushing beyond the reach of the pit. She falls into a silent, solemn contemplation as she breathes in the mingling of scents.

Govon just thought:
They can feel it rising within them, that compounding urge of instinct slowly building to a crescendo.

Jhura just thought:
Gone, but Unforgotten, forever with us in memory and song.

Ixmi jolts her rattle to emphasize Sekeres' chant, filling the silence between her and Ulo. She keeps up a quiet and continuous rattle then, foregoing her established rhythm for a new one touched by anticipation.

Ulo joins back in the song and speaks aloud, "The beat of the cycle thrums with our offerings, with each of us, we represent that which shall honor the Durdalis memories, by our stories, by our words today, we share their story and ensure that it joins the song of creation." The words are punctuated by the rattling and drums, the sound of the winds and stringed instruments, "We begin.." And with that their dhurive in hand, they draw symbolism around the flames representing the elements themselves, Fire, Water, Earth and Wind joining together and being connected by lines with their blade, "Rattles and drums, the Earth listens." They intone gesturing towards the aforementioned parties.

You have emoted: As the fire takes on its own life, Sibatti steps away so as to give it room to breathe and expand, as necessary. His voice is guttural and pitchless as ever, though here it is accompanied by a softness. "We will remember your primordial sound. Your hum of ancient, storied battles. Your voices, tuned to the song of creation. Sing your sonorous songs of deep time. We will be here for you; we will listen."

Allowing one moment of heady air through her lungs, Sekeres listens to the melding of her rattle. By the beckoning of Ulo at the apex head of the firepit, she lifts a carved magewood ocarina to return into a layered suddenness of music, and the ever-living snare of a heart-beat like sway of cacophony. She turns on her one knee and bends her head before tossing it back to eye Jhura, her look wild and full of hope. Her breath buzzes, throatily through her chosen instrument; giving voice to the dead.

Ulo exhales aloud as they gesture to the other instruments, "And so does the wind rush through the boughs, the whistle through the foliage, the creaking of the wood." Their eyes settling upon the ocarina and affording a nod in earnest to accompany the song. They speak further, "So does the waters nourish the lands and help restore life, so too do the fires keep balance upon that which would grow unruly and bring new life."

Again the voices of the drums sound out, the fervor of their beat greater than Jhura drew out before. With the scents of the fire about her she sounds not a call nor entreaty, but a song of ancient Earth, the heartbeat of caverns untouched by sun or light of mortal yet remembered ever by those birthed from Life Herself.

Ulo intones aloud, "All parts bear vital importance, be it Life or Death, all must remain so that our Cycle can thrive." Their voice lowers and rumbles with the sound of the stone, "She exists because of our sacrifices, She revels in our victories, She grieves in our defeats."

Rather than still her instrument while Ulo speaks, as she has previously, Ixmi shakes just a bit harder with each passing syllable, quickly building up her rhythm to where it was and then rattling even more once Sekeres' ocarina and Jhura's drums join her anew. With the silence filled, her sharp notes ring out freely, chasing each drumbeat with their ringing claps.

Ulo nods towards Sekeres, "So as the Durdalis gave unto the Cycle so we could continue forward, this day we will give back part of ourselves to honor them."

Cutting off the ocarina's powerfully empty, haunting wheeze of sound, Sekeres swiftly draws a dagger from it's sheathed place at her hip. And offers it palm up to them.

Sekeres gives a hunting knife with a bone-carved handle to Ulo.

Ulo accepts the dagger, taking it in a firm grip in their right hand and slices across their left palm, allowing the blood to run freely into the bowl upon the altar, "The Durdalis have served the wilds long before any of us, their duty is founded as ours. We shall never forget our oaths, never forget our ancestors, never forget our kin." They clench their palm "..for Dia'ruis." And the blood is afforded, they then nod to Jhura inviting next, "Afford your offering, speak your words, select that which follows."

Ulo steps away from the altar and hands the dagger off to Jhura.

Ulo gives a hunting knife with a bone-carved handle to Jhura.

As the stick of gradated elderflower incense burns, a strange musty-spicy aroma wafts in the smoke. While abruptly pungent, as it lingers, the aroma softens to something sweeter and fresh, reminiscent of death and renewal.

Letting the voices of the drums echo and fade slowly as she takes the knife in hand Jhura approaches the fire again, laying the blade against the palm of her left hand and laying it open with a practiced slice. As the blood wells from the wound she cups her hand so it pools before she lets it spill into the bowl upon the altar. "The Durdalis rose to fight for us knowing what it would cost them," she begins. "They fought for the same reason we all do, and have paid the price that all of us must be willing to. Let their sacrifice for the Cycle guide you, and may their songs never be lost." Splaying her fingers she bows her head over the altar. "...For Dia'ruis." Turning then to Ixmi she offers the knife before she returns to her drums, and fresh blood joins the dried that marks its surface as she takes up her place in the joint rhythm once more.

Jhura gives a hunting knife with a bone-carved handle to Ixmi.

Ixmi's rattle finally stills as she sets it aside to accept the blade from Jhura with both hands. She steps up to the bowl and hums a single thoughtful note before voicing, "Patience is a frightening virtue. As important as it is, it's also pathway to indecision and hesitation to act." She nods twice as she slides the dagger across her palm, clenching her hand around it and withdrawing the blade, then opening her wounded hand up just above the bowl, letting a fine, golden powder trickle out to mix with Jhura's offering. As she does this, she continues, "The Durdalis never hesitate, though. For all their infinite patience, they're always ready to do what needs to be done at a moment's notice. It's really amazing." That said, she nods twice and turns to you, offering the knife handle to you.

Ixmi gives a hunting knife with a bone-carved handle to you.

You have emoted: Sending Ixmi a brief, secret of a smile, Sibatti draws the knife over an old scar in his left palm, a motion speaking to old and rote practice. His blood joins with the others', and he mutters a refrain of his earlier prayer: "We will remember your primordial sound."

The flames of the pit smolder and crackle, the ever intermittent *POP* of something releasing within incorporating with each of the offerings afforded

You give a hunting knife with a bone-carved handle to Ase.

Ase removes her gauntlets quickly in order to accept the knife from you. "I am still new to Duiran, but I owe my life to those that fought in the Second War. May you rest in peace, and your memory carry forever." Quickly, with unpracticed hand, she slices the knife across her palm and lets her blood drip in with the rest. Stepping back, she hands the knife to the next.

Ulo nods their head at Khedoulemouqe.

Ase gives a hunting knife with a bone-carved handle to Khedoulemouqe.

Khedoulemouqe slices a handful of dark leaves that sprout from its shoulders and places them on the alter. "For Dia'ruis."

Khedoulemouqe gives a hunting knife with a bone-carved handle to Ulo.

Ulo smiles and sees that the offerings have all come in earnest from the Councilors afforded thus far, with severity in their tone they gaze into the flames as the final coals smolder. Seeing now Sekeres, they gesture them to the altar, "Prideleader." The words finally come and the dagger is handed off.

Ulo gives a hunting knife with a bone-carved handle to Sekeres.

Lowering her ocarina, Sekeres accepts the knife humbly as she makes her way to the altar; marking a new half-moon scar across the flat of her palm. The very tip of the dagger audibly scrapes up the flesh, branding it with the smear of gory red that is blood. With a slow hiss, it is done. "Stone is constant," she voices in a dark, smokily luminous sound, this ringing through the misty air. The great sound of the fire. Her hand tips, and sanguine falls, "Stone, erodes," she states. "By wind, by water," the wildling's eyes lift to the henge. "By fire," her gaze falls, and shimmers in an emblazoned reflection of the pit. "By earth," this uttered to the beginnings of ash falling across her skin. "And by shadow." She exhales this, reverent as she looks to Govon. "Your spirit. Your lives. We remember. The song, it shall remain as long as one is there to sing it." Her blood fills the bowl, and she clenches her fist. The knife she lifts, and points it to Govon in offering. "For your brethren," she hopes.

The defiance of the flames that are nearing their conclusion, naught left but coals and ash that curls through the air as the words of the Council speak in turn where the once roaring fire persisted amongst the heartbeat of Creation. Silence takes over the henge and a moment of remembrance is afforded to those as the twilight takes over the land surrounding.

The earth heaves in response to the ponderous steps of the ancient elemental, stone and life intertwined protesting the heft of Govon's bulk as they move closer towards the altar. The ever-deepening thrum that emanates from within them still carries throughout this place, the vibrations of their call seeping into the very earth underfoot.

For what is offered, Govon pauses in review, the fel glow of their eyes casting a verdant light across the proffered life with no hint to what the primeval being might feel within.

Still holding the bloodied, glinting knife aloft to the tall edifice of stone, the evening light dims on Sekeres as she becomes shadowed by Govon's faceted shadow. The wildling is respectful, in her silence.

You have emoted: Sibatti takes a step to one side, yielding the firepit and altar altogether to make room for the towering Durdalis stepping forward.

And then the hum begins to deepen further, Govon's vocalization sinking to depths unnatural. The song of the Durdalis begins.

It begins with a faint soughing on the wind, a lone voice arising from the depths of dale and dell to drift as though a northern's breeze's gentle, yet inevitable rush.

Ulo instinctively lowers their head, the alien sound taking over the henge and their respectful desire to listen and experience takes over.

Across bough and branch sweeps the mourning song of mornings come and gone anew, waking that which 'neath the loam and leaves still sleeps.

Neither done nor still just one, a sough becomes a heady thwoom, the realm of green awoken new.

And from the depths of woodlands old come voices many, hale and true.

In sonorous unison the reverberation of ancient voices spur the Heartwood into newfound enterprise, and unbridled Life stirs throughout the primordial grounds.

Like the ripple of a stone dropped into a still pond, vigorous life stirs across the land in response to something at its focal point; the Heartwood moves in time to a song that breathes its tune with wistful effervesence.

And the Durdalis stir. As their song continues on without falter, the long immobile elementals of Life begin to shirk free the decades of earth and debris that long choked their mighty frames.

The sound of cracking stone and creaking verdure overwhelms all other sound within the Heartwood as dozens - nay, hundreds - of these sleeping giants stir into momentary action.

And as the song begins to drift away, growing ever fainter, so too do many of the Durdalis settle back to their dreaming wakefulness, ever ready to answer the call to defend that from which they come.

You have emoted: As thunder and sonorous reverberation - by song or storm - echo throughout valley and grounds, Sibatti's eyes dart towards the mountains of the sheltering Hollow at the overture of their movement.

With the angling of an elbow, Sekeres lowers the knife as it drips down her thigh. She sways subconsciously, her eyes locked to the multitude of visions of renewal. The scouring thunder, alighting the sky in a terrible flash as all are bathed in a chiaroscuro of white light.

Ulo raises their head, eyes wide and stormy as the sound drifts until anon, the rumbling earth joining in the silence that pervades the henge once more as the final dregs of flame linger in the memory of the Durdalis.

Though the majority of the mighty defenders of Life fall still once more, their promise renewed, some yet move with an urgency not seen in centuries gone.

They pass through to the primal demense, to Dia'ruis Eternal, woken from their slumber to embrace She that now lives anew - and find their lost home once more.

Govon's voice cracks with the last fledgling remains of their song, replaced now with words spoken in utter solemnity. "The Durdalis do not forget their duty, nor will they forget those that gathered for this remembrance."

Ulo swallows at the severity and intensity of the songs conclusion, a single tear rolls down their cheek that they quickly brush away and afford a nod unto Govon in understanding.

The last remnants of the song settle down upon you like a protective blanket, swathing your form in the fel glow of unbridled Life.

Jhura bows her head at the song's conclusion, feeling the notes of Life reverberating in the depths of her being.

Dark ropes upon ropes of Sekeres' mane fall as she heeds the words of Govon; though her face is shielded her mouth is not. A wavering line of emotion.

You have emoted: Sibatti's chin remains lifted, his eyes scanning his peripherals for detected movement and song alike. The passage of Durdalis returning to Life Eternal has seemingly rendered him speechless; only his eyes move, darting, while the rest of his form is still and statuesque.

"My kin move to find that which we had thought lost, guided by instinct that lives within each and every Durdalis." Govon's inexorable gaze moves across the faces of the gathered, impressing their words with a stare that seems alive with rekindled hope. "They carry with them the memories of those that fell for this land. When they find our home, those that gave their lives will yet live once more - as is the way of the Durdalis."

A sudden influx of chill breathes into the air around you, crisp and sharply refreshing as a winter morning. The temperature seems to hover in this new, frigid place for a moment before vanishing, returning the ambient air to normal.

Sekeres just thought:
Sekeres' racing heart is cradled by the Durdalis and their words. She understands. And in this moment, is renewed herself. All of the memories, they shall begin again.

Ulo is almost frozen in awe, the Sacrament culiminating beyond expectation, Dia'ruis and Durdalis alike having their being wrought in emotion. Though with an adjustment to their posture they step forward and claim the bowl which bears proffered blood. "The Council will always remember their sacrifice, that our duty is entwined, that theirs will always be honored, and that we shall see to them for guidance as their spirits may come to us openly. This very henge the connection between Dia'ruis and our lands forevermore."

You hear the faint echo of lone howl just at the back of your mind as a presence larger than yourself is felt nearby. The fleeting moment passes, and the sound is heard no more.

Govon retreats back into solemn silence as they return to their original position, away from the altar.

Sekeres slides away from the altar to return by her side where the sacred drums of a ritual before rest.

The final logs smolder and crumble, ash curls through the air filling the surroundings and coating the surfaces. The Kelki steps forward before the flames and affords a final prayer, offering in hand

You have emoted: "Welcomed home, to gentle She." Sibatti's coarse rumble is evocative of the sound of gravel against rock. He tucks his wings close to his sides, his profile greatly diminished.

Ulo speaks before the remnants of the fire, "The final remnants, the herbs the flames. The smoke before us symbolizes the passing of the spirit, and thus, we give our offering unto the earth in earnest." With their head lowered the blood extinguishes the remnants of the flame, "From this ash, from these flames, so too shall life come anew. The Cycle our duty, made known within this henge. So that Durdalis and mortal shall commune."

A grey-furred direwolf bounds suddenly into view, carrying a shadowy figure upon its back.
She is followed by a luminous, star-bound glimmercrest.
Valorie gracefully hops off of a grey-furred direwolf.

Valorie clenches her right fist and pounds her chest thrice in rapid succession, symbolizing the vibrant heart that beats within.

Ulo exhales deeply and nods to Sekeres, "May the seed bearer plant life anew within the ash, and thus the cycle continues."

You think:
She must be overjoyed, to welcome you. Was your journey good? Was it worthy?

"A new face, a new beginning, thus is the way of the Cycle, for all, for Durdalis, as we are cradled by the hope of She Who Lives Anew," Sekeres states as she steps forward to you with hands out-stretched for the vine. "A seed becomes a vine, a vine becomes the land, and our land, and our hope, rests with those that are young." She commands, "Those that bring balance to the Rhythm." The wildling bows her head to Govon, and then speaks to all, "The seed bearer shall be chosen. And with the offerings of our time, to enrich where they rest their new life in the earth - all shall be." The Yeleni's bough-like horns begin to spout with new green buds, even against the frost of autumn. "Spend time in reflection, listen to the chimes of our fallen, as you depart from this place. Know what what was wrought, was meant."

Govon just thought:
They are stirred into further hope for what is to come, trusting their kin to find the path that leads home.

Ase bows her head in silent contemplation.

Govon just thought:
[Amusement] May they return with our kin, that Govon might not be titled the youngest any longer.

You think:
[ Complex emotions stir and move him. The memory and instinctive protectiveness of motherhood, the earnest tears that threaten to form at how deeply this feeling of empathy runs ].

Sekeres hands over the seedling to her all of a sudden, gently cradling it with her hands. "Unblooded," she hopes. "Choose a place."

Sekeres gives hallowed flame vine to Ase.

Ase startles, fumbling the seed for a moment before gently clasping it in her hand. "An honor, thank you." Looking about, she chooses a spot near the altar still flecked in ashes that escaped from the fire. Carefully she kneels, and digs a spot free to place the seed into.

As the seeds are placed within the loamy soil, vines grow with expedience along the stone and climb across the crevasses and cracks in the surface. Verdant spear-shaped leaves curl open and fiery orange flowers cluster as the vines take root in the memories of sacrifice within the durdalis henge.

Sekeres scatters the bloodied ash around the beginnings of the vines where they continue to grow and grow. Finishing, she drags her charcoal-covered hands down her hips.

Numerous clusters of vibrant flame-like flowers sprout amongst the vines, the memory of the Sacrament growing anew within the henge for generations to come

In a quiet, reflective timbre, Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer of Dia'ruis says, "Leave silently, or spend time in contemplation. But go, in hope."

Ulo speaks solemnly, "We have witnessed the memories of Sacrifice, of Renewal, and of newborne life. Dia'ruis has opened Her arms for the Durdalis once more, our connection to the Durdalis spirit forged in the song of creation." Their head lowers in humility and humbling presence unseen in the Speaker as they look upon those gathered and Govon.

You have emoted: The lantern held in Sibatti's hand droops low to the fertile earth, a prayer whispered quietly under his breath as the flame vine sprouts with empowered, lush growth. "May Her love grow in our hearts. May Her hope thrive. There is no end, there is only tomorrow."