Mourning of the Three Lost

Inthirath

Communal Mourning of the Three Lost
A time for Enorian to gather together and share in the losses of Gods that shaped the city.
Attended by: Reinald, Mahar, Benedicto, Eaku, Jhura, Melantha, Church, Gefjon, Bhalwyn, Kalena, Kurak, Meleah, Sine, Duncan, Emhyra, Jakarn, Xavin, Shreek, Rasani, Eliadon, Pugsly

The Altar of Fire and Water.
The sun sets, its dimming rays lancing across the sky and lighting the dim edges of cloud that hang there. Motes of hallowed light anoint the air with heavenly splendour. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. The Grand Flame blazes brilliantly atop the dais, taller than mortal and Immortal alike. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Padding about on six legs, a sabre-toothed abosvi snarls as it prowls for game. A thickly-furred albino tiger prowls here. A curved, symmetrical moat encircles the base of the Grand Flame, its pure waters a glimmering barrier between the platform and the fire. An ascended Golban duamvi stands sentinel here, his massive hands clasped around the hilt of his sword. Humming with energy, a crystal aegis has been attuned to this location. Clusters of mourning flowers are laid out for the taking, along with silver censers and a variety of incense.

You have emoted: As time grows closer, Inthirath puts out the cigarette and straightens his posture. "As you enter please take a cluster of flowers, a censer, and some incense if you do not have such already."

Page Reinald says, "Well met Knight Eaku."

Quickly snapping to a rigid stance, Eaku brings his weapon to a vertical position in front of his chest in an act of respect towards Reinald.

Eaku releases himself from his tensed posture, lowering his shoulders to a more relaxed position.

Hiale Sine asks Church, "Is that acceptable for me to do your oath?"

Briefly stepping over to the basin, Church scrubs steadfastly at his hands and forearms before returning to face Sine with a nod.

Church says, "Perfectly. Thank you."

Sine nods his head emphatically.

When Sine reaches out to touch the tome atop a pillar here, it pulses with a faint white glow.

Emhyra and Jakarn enter, each holding a twin and nod and take a stance in the back to wait. Helping the children prepare the censers quietly.

Melantha shakes herself from her vigil and straightens, then moves to retrieve each of the aforementioned items.

The sun casts its final rays from the west as it sinks beneath the horizon, a last challenge before the falling darkness of night.
It is now dusk on Falsday, the 1st of Ivolnos, year 0 after the Creators' Monomachy.

(Enorian): You say, "We will begin in five minutes. Please make your way to the Grand Flame."

Hiale Sine says, "Church, nod your head and simply state, I am ready to begin."

Church nods his head emphatically.

Church says, "I am ready to begin."

Church says, "I, Church, come before those gathered to swear by the following:."
The temperature in the room rises. The sound of crackling and sizzling crescendos and then wanes returning to the normal soft din from the city below.

Church says, "To live by and uphold the Hammer's laws. The city of Enorian is now my home and I will strive to lead a life that is an example of the Light."
The tinkling sound of glass being struck by metal ascends through seven notes of the musical scale and then descends the same notes.

Church says, "To conduct myself with dignity and respect towards my fellow citizens as well as non -citizens. The Hammer is not just a name for the city of Enorian, it is a symbol to the realm that we stand on the front lines against Shadow and darkness, and by pledging myself as a citizen, I have now become an extension of that symbol."
The crystal clear ringing of bells in the distance can be heard, their song but a few precise notes.

Church says, "From this day forth, I am proud to call myself a citizen of the Hammer of Dawn. I swear to embody the Godly causes of Light, Fire, Instinct, Truth, and Storm in the pursuit of the Age of Dawn."
A loud clap of thunder is heard in the distance as a gust of wind explodes through the room and the air immediately stills.

The voices of Light, Fire, Instinct, Truth, and Storm ring out declaring that Church has pledged their life and swore to Enorian an oath on this glorious day in the Midnight Age.

(Enorian): You say, "As you are called please collect a cluster of flowers, a censer, and incense. Please FOLLOW me as well, so we may process together."

(Enorian): Sine says, "Welcome back Home Church."

Meleah holds her hand out in open air, spark flaring to life in the center of her palm and covering her skin in a purifying glow.

Xavin wraps his tail around a cluster of mourning flowers and retrieves it.

Eaku reaches out with a wing and takes a cluster of mourning flowers.

Jhura starts to wield a softly shimmering violin with chaotic patterns in his left hand.
Jhura starts to wield an oceanic bow in his right hand.

You have emoted: Inthirath straightens his posture as he stands before the Grand Flame, watching the faces of those gathered. His gaze drifts to you in turn, then moves on as he readies himself to speak.

You say, "We gather to share the burdens of our sorrow, our wandering, and to uplift each other with the hope of this new age, and the age to come."

Forgoing incense and flowers, Jhura instead takes up his violin and bow, tucking the instrument beneath his chin. With a small breath out he gives voice to the mourning of those present, the first low notes of a mournful dirge drift about the temple's pinnacle.

You have emoted: Inthirath continues, his tone touched with an intense respect. "We have borne witness to such acts of sacrifice, and such sharing in our mortal struggles that bring our Divine closer to us, and us to Them."

You have emoted: "In turn," Inthirath glances up to the sky as he recalls those visions carved into his memory. "We will remember the intense courage and determination of the Imago as She faced Her Creator and struck the deciding blow, knowing the cost would be Herself."

You have emoted: Inthirath's voice quiets a little, his exhale heavy as the loss resonates within him. "We will remember the grief of a brother who held true to His duty at the cost of His heart, and His sacrifice as He gave Himself to the Eschaton so that Sapience might endure whole. So that we can continue our work. The Unbound's faith in us will be met in action."

You have emoted: "We will remember the trust of the Rekindled, who stepped forward to do what was needed." Inthirath says, the rhythm of 'we, we, we' emphasizing the gathered community. "Who, like many of us, independently and together, faced the betrayal of Her kin and whose loss was transformed into determination of whose who remained."

Emhyra listens quietly, allowing Aevoi to hold the censor allowing the smoke to waft through the room, nodding in approval.

You say, "This is what we must do. Carry our grief, transform our loss, and unify together. A light across the continent, a pyre for the corrupt, stronger together as the Hammer of Dawn."

You have emoted: Inthirath lingers in a reflective silence for a few moments.

Melantha's gloved hands close into tight fists at her side as she keeps silence, expression stony with the effort of mastering herself.

With a nod, you say, "When we are ready, we will process down to each of Their alcoves. If you have prepared anything to offer to the pyres, feed them your hopes and your pains that they may be rekindled to purpose and light. We will return here to the Grand Flame for closing thoughts and dedications."

Jhura weaves the violin's voice beneath your words, keeping it as a backdrop to them, modulated just a little for each Divine to shape a song aligned with Who They were.

You open an ornate silver censer.

You crumble a stick of lavender incense in your hands and cast it into an ornate silver censer, ready for burning.

You carefully light the coals within an ornate silver censer, stoking them until they burn vigorously.

You have emoted: Inthirath gestures to the gathered clusters of mourning flowers, the censers and the incense. "Please take as you feel called. OPEN the censers to PUT incense in them, then IGNITE them. Specific to your own. Please do not ignite all of the ones on the floor."

Church smiles wryly.

// People ignite their censers //

You have emoted: Inthirath nods and silently begins to walk back down into the temple, swaying his censer and weaving the scented smoke as he moves.

// We head down to the base level of the Temple //

The Alcove of Fire.
Motes of hallowed light anoint the air with heavenly splendour. A large sheet of metal has been
pounded into a plaque, and mounted onto a wall. An immense mural depicting fireflies sprawls
underfoot, lit to dazzling highlights beneath the brazier's brilliant blaze. Glazed in a scintillating blue sheen, a smoldering grand pyre radiates here with a majestic brilliance that pierces the firmament.

A massive pyre of flames ignites the sky above, filling the area with the glorious, blazing colors of fire.

You have emoted: Inthirath approaches the pyre where once a shrine stood. He takes flowers out, and rolls them in a letter which he offers to the flames. "Any who have something to give in memory of the Rekindled, please do so now."

You read what is written on an elegant white letter:
Ethne, Rekindled
May Your fires keep our homes warm
Our hearts pure
Our will and resolve tempered as steel
Our fury righteous
Until our labours are done

You settle an elegant white letter into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, watching as the flames utterly consume it until no trace is left.

Reinald places the corpse of a tainted black snake into the burning heart of a massive, burning pyre to the accompaniment of sizzling, popping sparks.

You watch as Eaku settles a graven rune greatspear into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

A massive pyre of flames ignites the sky above, filling the area with the glorious, blazing colors of fire.

Melantha steps forward to the pyre, and at last her resolve breaks. Grief stands stark and open on her face and tears fall as she lifts her hand to remove an explosively colourful fire flower from behind her ear.

Ethne, the Rekindled's mithril bell sings out from the Temple, carrying promises of illumination and fire.

You watch as Melantha settles an explosively colourful fire flower into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

You have emoted: Inthirath bows his head as the mithril bell rings, drawing a steady breath. When its peal ends, he turns to listen to Mahar.

As the bell fades, Mahar weaves his way to the front, stepping into his place with meticulous care. He clears his throat once, swallowing thick, and his voice is coarse as he is forced to raise it.

"Truthfully, I did not know the Rekindled Lady very well. Not personally, like some might have. My learning of Her was through Her influence and stories." Mahar speaks to a distant point, fidgeting with a ring. "But it is those stories that speak to Her character. She is well loved. You cannot listen to those touched by Her and not hear the love that burns for Her."

Dhie Mahar D. Morrog says, "The Rekindled Lady was spoken of as humble - as much Her mortal form as She was Divine. I have been gifted with fond memories of Hers, knowing the comfort of being able to make jokes with Her. To know that She was not so high and mighty that She did not know how to laugh."

Mahar pauses, just for a moment, as he recalls, "But She knew how to forge Her weapons, too. All the many tasks I heard of Her handing out, all done so eagerly by Hers-to-be. All the battles they sought in Her name - to fall and to rise again; all the patience she instilled, to know how to make something of a defeat."

"The Rekindled Lady may have fallen, but we will be forever blessed to hold these memories of Her. That is what keeps Her alive," Finally, Mahar drops his gaze to the crowd in front of him. His hand clenches into a fist, held over his core, as he continues, "Feel this anger - this sorrow. Cry. Scream. Burn. Feel - until your grief is a raging inferno. Let the fire of Her memory drive these forward steps."

Growing softer now, a conclusion drawing near, Dhie Mahar D. Morrog says, "Just make sure there are steps forward. She would not wish for it to blind your path, to have it consume you. Act, defy, and live - until it comes your time to join Her."

Mahar's final words are spoken to the crowd in prayer, his tone softening completely to one of solemnity. Lowering his head, he speaks, in Mhun, "From the Flame, and back to it." A prayer of the Mhun, appropriately adjusted.

Benedicto walks towards a massive, burning pyre with a solemn expression, an ornate silver censer loosing fragrant puffs of smoke as it swings with each deliberate step. As he nears the flames, he wordlessly places a cluster of mourning flowers into the heart of the blaze before stepping back. "Mebrene. Lady Auresae. Lady Ethne. Rekindled and Inferno. Through these centuries I have known Your many forms." A faint smile plays across his lips as his eyes go distant with nostalgia. "One of my earliest memories as a young man in Ashtan was playing a prank upon the Lady Lleis. Like two naughty schoolchildren we riddled Renewals temple with fire-skunks." He turns and glances about the assembled folk. "They would...ahem...break wind and loose a trail of fire from their behinds and shoot off in a random direction."

Emhyra covers Aevoi's ears and mumbles something quiet in they boys ear that has him nodding solemnly.

You have emoted: Inthirath reaches for Mahar's hand when he is done, giving it a squeeze as his attention turns to Benedicto. He cannot help the smile at such mischief.

Benedicto's smile falters and becomes melancholy as his luminescent gaze finds the pyre once more. "Suffice to say I was roundly scolded by Lady Lleis, however, it is an exceptionally fond memory from my youth." He steps back allowing another near to the pyre.

Quiet and brief, you say, "She was the first Divien I learned of when I came to Enorian. I have long had reservations of Them. It is one of the troubles of my heritage. But I appreciated that She was straight forward. Just do good work. Do it well. No fanfare, no ceremony. I try to keep that in mind. Just do good work."

Emhyra tosses a sparkling cloud of dust over herself, and vanishes little by little into
invisibility.

"I'd love to say that my fondest memory of the Lady Ethne would be battering down the gates of Bamathis' fortress beside Her," Church offers, voice a bit softer than one might expect from the man. "Though that would be a lie. A glorious one - but a lie all the same." He pauses, clearly unaccustomed to... Public displays. "Next to how happy She made my Kaiara with Her presence and person, nothing compares. For that I will be eternally grateful to Her."

You have emoted: Inthirath watches those gathered as the silence follows. He nods. "We will continue. Her spark kindling a flame."

Bhalwyn may as well be a statue for all his still quiescence, the confines of an atramentous mask of uncanny lineaments requiring he turn his head directly towards each speaker to observe. Yet all the while, he keeps an ornate silver censer clasped firmly in hand, a cluster of mourning flowers held more loosely in his opposite.

Melantha nods firmly at Mahar's words, eyes still fixed on the flames of a massive, burning pyre. Her lips lift in spite of herself as she listens to Benedicto's story. This passes, though, and once she is sure of her voice, she says, "I knew Mebrene as Auresae and Ethne. My Inesse, my Mother, twice over was She. Both of my Ladies were entirely Themselves, and I loved Them for Themselves. And They both loved me. I served and loved Them with all that was in me. Now that She is gone, my devotion lies with He Who carries Her within Him. This I will do for His sake, but also for my Lady. And this will I do gladly. We will remember."

Myrnma quietly slips into the Alcove, their green eyes roaming along the gathered before they move to stand near Melantha, listening to her words.

Emhyra smiles at Church.

You have emoted: Inthirath weaves his censer in a pattern before he bows to the pyre and turns to continue the procession.

// Procession to the next Diety //

The Alcove of Dream.
Motes of hallowed light anoint the air with heavenly splendour. A nightmarish mural ensconces an evershifting vision against the back wall. Glazed in a scintillating blue sheen, a smoldering grand pyre radiates here with a majestic brilliance that pierces the firmament.

You have emoted: Inthirath approaches the pyre amidst the alcove of Dream and bows to it. "If you have offerings for the Imago, please place them in the pyre." He says as another cluster of flowers is wrapped within a letter.

You read what is written on an elegant white letter:
Omei, Nightmare and Dreamer
May You hold us fast against the terrors of the night
Inspire our hopes so that we may Become
Fill us with passion to create
And trust in our instincts
Until our labours are done

You settle an elegant white letter into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, watching as the flames utterly consume it until no trace is left.

You watch as Mahar settles a cluster of mourning flowers into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

Melantha gives a cluster of mourning flowers to Myrnma.

You watch as Reinald settles a cluster of mourning flowers into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

You have emoted: Inthirath steps aside so others may safely approach the pyre, and turns to face Eaku with a nod.

A massive pyre of flames ignites the sky above, filling the area with the glorious, blazing colors of fire.

Eaku steps forward, a pearlescent platinum bastard sword resting in his hands. "I would speak now."

Solemnly, Eaku Redwood says, "Much of who and what She was is difficult, if not impossible, to put into words. She was many things. Hers were Dreams and Passion and all the hues of Astral. She was brave in the truest sense. And She meant many things, to many of us. Once more too many things to truly express."

Myrnma looks down at a cluster of mourning flowers as they receive them from Melantha, their eyes flickering afterwards towards a massive, burning pyre as they listen to Eaku.

Eaku brushes a hand through his hair. "It is no secret that we of Her Court sought to empower Her to stand against Her father. The Hammer stood with Her, too, our lights to blaze incandescent behind Hers." He pauses, scanning the crowd, the mourners - Her Court and the gathered sparks of the Hammer. "Had Her plan come to its fullest fruition, She wished to right all wrongs - to grant us peace at long last."

Eaku exhales slowly, allowing a long fluid breath to creep from his lungs.

Eaku closes his eyes, wings folding behind him. His brow furrows briefly, and the once-Brute says, "But it did not. Even so, as She was dying, our Empress and Nightmare faced down Her father the Worldeater, the cursed creature who unmade Her. And She struck the decisive blow, taking His hand."

Softly, Eaku Redwood says, "In the end, it was Her victory."

Eaku drops a pearlescent platinum bastard sword into the flames.

You watch as Eaku settles a pearlescent platinum bastard sword into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

Wings spreading once more from behind him Eaku peers down at his arm, where once a colorful tattoo lay and shifted. "We who live on must remember Her always - our Empress, the Nightmare, the Imago, the Beast-Queen, She Most Chromatic. Unforgotten."

Softly and solemnly, Bhalwyn, the Navigator says, "Unforgotten."

You watch as Benedicto settles a cluster of mourning flowers into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

(Mass: Bhalwyn, Myrnma) If either of you would like to say something please feel free. I am trying
to get a sense of who wants to speak so I do not cut them off.

Eaku Redwood says, "We must live our lives as She would have wanted. Finish Her works, yes. Feel new things, dream new dreams, so that one day, when we meet again -."

Myrnma at last moves closer to a massive, burning pyre, their eyes lingering a long moment on the flowers in their hands before at last they let them fall upon the pyre.

"Unforgotten," Jhura murmurs softly, the utterance almost lost beneath the mournful voice of his violin.

Eaku Redwood says, "When we meet again..."

Eaku Redwood says, "We will have so many things to tell Her."

The bell of Omei, the Imago rings out in dreamy peals, its lulling tones singing across the city.

You watch as Myrnma settles a cluster of mourning flowers into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

You watch as Bhalwyn settles a cluster of mourning flowers into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

Again, Eaku Redwood says, "Unforgotten."

Joining in the refrain, you say, "Unforgotten."

Pentarch Kalena Emerson says, "Unforgotten."

Benedicto nods his head in silence.

You have emoted: Inthirath nods to Eaku. "As Corruption sends us temptations in our sleep, my kin know the Nightmare as a kind of guardian. Not necessarily keeping us safe, but enabling us to protect ourselves. To keep us sharp. To keep us present.

Myrnma draws in a soft, shuddering breath, watching the flowers be consumed. A soft sniffle escapes them, and then they too utter a quiet, "Unforgotten," and step back. "She was... Always so many things at once," the Tsol says, looking at no one now but at the tambourine in their hands. "We use 'em names. Imago, Empress, Beast-Queen... but it was Her very essence to be many'ed. She was violence and care, affection and murder, Dream and Nightmare in all She did, and all She wanted. And She wanted most a world free of Her Father, and She got it, and I am sure She aint even thought twice 'bout the price of it. She would'a given all for it, and She did..."

Kalena nods her head at Myrnma sagely.

Myrnma scratches at the back of their head, a passingly sheepish expression on their face. "So I remember Her. Urging us, me, to live, to always listen to our instinct, and to bear the price of it, as She taught us to the very end." Then another sob escapes the Tsol and they fall silent, retreating from the crowd.

Kalena moves from her position alongside Kurak, moving towards the pyre, dipping her head towards Myrnma. She looks to each of the Chosen for a brief moment, exhaling a soft sigh before smiling lightly, "The Nightmare is gone, but She lives on with each Dreamer She touched. As much as She will be missed, do not forget Her teachings," the redhead pauses, chin lifting to look at the midnight sky for a moment. "Trust your Instincts. Face your fear so you may become. Become or Die." With that, she nods towards you and returns to her former place alongside the Tree.

You tell Jhura, "Did you want to speak? Or play?"

Vivid colours fill your mind as Jhura communicates to you, "I'll play something."

You tell Jhura, "Good. You should."

(Enorian): Commander Verok says, "It is midnight, Hammer, where the forces of Shadow are at their
strongest. Let us continue to remain vigilant against those who would seek to sow destruction and
malice across the realm."

The Gods' bells toll out the midnight hour across the City - flickering sparks, nascent and young, kindle within the belfry, lensing the temple in the makings of a burgeoning, rosy glow. An orchestra of the First Flame's baritone bells sing ancient hosannas of the eternal dawn.

The tones of the Gods' bells fade away, leaving the night silent.

You have emoted: Inthirath draws closer to the fire with the calls of midnight, letting the thoughts Myrnma and Kalena shared fill the contemplative silence.

As the speaking ends Jhura sends the voice of his instrument soaring higher, letting the dirge that has been an undercurrent fill the alcove in a reprisal of his role amidst Her Court. In an echo of days spent in dance and laughter he holds back nothing, pouring out every ounce of grief that has filled him, has filled Her Court, in a song that echoes from the walls, pours out into the temple beyond in remembrance of Immortal Instinct and the Passion She inspired, the Dreams She championed for all of Sapience and beyond.

Rasani arrives from the southeast.

You give a cluster of mourning flowers to Rasani.

Rasani enters as unobstrusively as she can, bowing her head deeply as she accepts the items handed to her.

You have emoted: Inthirath's breath comes tight in his chest as he listens to Jhura's music, his
hand reaching back for Mahar's until he has regained his composure.

Emhyra clutches Aevoi closer to her chest as she lets out a slow breath, settling herself.

Mahar squeezes your hand in return, his gaze fixed at his feet.

Eaku bows his head, listening to Jhura play, and for a moment, a long moment, it is as though he is somewhere else.

The faintest hint of a smile blossoms on Myrnma's lips as they listen to Jhura's song, an expression of reminiscence crossing their features, eliciting them to now and them finger their tambourine's bells in melancholy refrain.

A distant keening howl seizes your attention, and you stop to listen. It is the sound of some creature, somewhere, experiencing inutterable sorrow. A chill ripples down your spine as the sound trails off, but you remember...

Kalena lets a long breath slip from her lips, her gaze turning downward to stare a her booted feet.

As tears streak his face Jhura allows his song to drift lower again, a quieting to return to the gentle burble of a stream beneath the collective grief.

Benedicto remains still and silent, sombre enough for the occasion but clearly apart from others in the alcove.

You have emoted: As the song simmers back to the lingering memories each carry, Inthirath bows to the pyre and retreats from the alcove, letting the pitch of the Howling and Jhura's dirge carry them into the temple again.

// Procession to the last Diety //

The Alcove of the Shepherd.
Motes of hallowed light anoint the air with heavenly splendour. An ascended Golban duamvi stands sentinel here, his massive hands clasped around the hilt of his sword. An abstract mural coils around the alcove, interwoven with the marble in sharp, monochrome geometries. A bell-ringing, Unbound statue sits in somber relief here. Glazed in a scintillating blue sheen, a smoldering grand pyre radiates here with a majestic brilliance that pierces the firmament.

You have emoted: As they come to the Alcove of the Shepherd, Inthirath once more bows to the pyre and draws out a letter and flowers to wrap within it. "If you have offerings, please place them in the pyre."

You read what is written on an elegant white letter:
Damariel, Lord Unbound
May Your light guide us through the perils of our work
Let us never sacrifice the dream of liberation
So that all may walk in a new age
Keep us hungry for hope and justice
Until our labours are done

You settle an elegant white letter into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, watching as the flames utterly consume it until no trace is left.

Rasani's body tenses the moment they cross the threshold of the alcove.

You watch as Eaku settles a watersteel moon shotel into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

You watch as Eaku settles a watersteel moon shotel into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

You watch as Benedicto settles a cluster of mourning flowers into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

Emhyra exhales a breath and sets Aevoi down pointing towards Kalena murmuring softly. "Behave. Watch. Observe." She murmurs quietly and the boy solemnly nods and walks to his great aunt and takes her hand in his little one, violet eyes watching his mother. Satisfied, Emhyra walks forth placing the mourning flowers within the pyre, holding her manacles for a brief moment before standing before where once a shrine stood looking to the crowd.

Emhyra clears her throat and looks about the room. "For some, He was the Shepard. For many, He was the firm hand of the Light. For even fewer... He was a father, a guiding figure. No matter what He was to us though, we will all notice His absence. However, if there was one thing I knew about Him, it was the Age of Dawn must come to Aetolia. No matter the cost."

Emhyra pauses allowing the last sentence to soak in. "This was the reason for His actions during the Monomachy. That He would give his life for the cause only shows that no matter what happens we must go on. We must remember to guide all of our actions with Truth, for to do so is to stride to the new Age without regret. We must remember to fight with Valor, for the world watches our actions and we must show them what it means to be warriors of Light. But most importantly... we must remember to stay united in Spirit. On our own we can only do so much - but connected in spirite we are stronger. No matter Who he was to you, He would want us to ever stride forward. I will share the words He once shared with me:".

Kalena takes her great nephews hand, guiding him to stand in front of her while she watches Emhyra quietly.

Virtuate Emhyra Kavoros, aal-Tsan says, "It matters not that you stumble, that you get back up."

Virtuate Emhyra Kavoros, aal-Tsan says, "Grieve, mourn, do whatever you must - but never forget that the Age of Dawn must come to Aetolia. No matter the cost. We will all do so together."

You watch as Emhyra settles a cluster of mourning flowers into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

Jakarn holds onto his small child in front of him, his hands holding atop her shoulders as he bows his head, young Ilemi following suit.

Looking a touch uncomfortable, Church takes up a position beneath the western arch, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the stone as he slants his gaze eastward towards the gardens.

Rasani unfastens her Knighting cloak and removes it with little fanfare, her gauntlet's fingers clutching the white and worn fabric. Stepping toward the pyre, she kneels, pressing her forehead to the ground before the massive flame. "My life undying for the Lord Unbound." She murmurs, perhaps the final time she shall, before standing.

You watch as Rasani settles a Knight's draping white cloak into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

Xavin closes his eyes briefly before wordlessly moving to place a bundle of flowers within the pyre. After a few moments, he carefully places gleaming vestments of the Varouk-saad within the pyre as well, lips moving in unspoken prayer before he draws back.

You watch as Xavin settles gleaming vestments of the Varouk-saad into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

With faith and righteous fury burning in her voice, Rasani tells you, "I shall, if no others are prepared."

Emhyra holds the hand that the manacles still lay upon and polishes it softly before holding it to the air. "Varouk-saad! Our Crusade never ends! We fight on for Him!"

Rasani slams her gauntlet against her own gleaming vestments. "None are free until all are free! Liberation, no matter the cost."

You watch as Gefjon settles a cluster of mourning flowers into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

A pained expression paints Mahar's face as he too quietly offers his vestments to the pyre, returning just as quickly to your side.

You watch as Mahar settles gleaming vestments of the Varouk-saad into the heart of a massive, burning pyre, where it is swiftly and utterly consumed by the flickering flames.

Content that she's done all she can, Emhyra returns to Kalena and bundles Aevoi back in her arms nodding to Kalena before settling back with her family, her face masked but alabaster eyes glittering with grief.

Damariel, the Unbound's bell resonates through the air, its triumphant call echoing over the city of Enorian.

Rasani rumbles, looking at the pyre. "No matter the cost. The Lord of Truth could speak nothing but, could do nothing less than live as an example of what He demanded." The censer in her hand rattles against the starmetal beads as she becomes animated as she oft does, lost in the fervor of divine passion. "No matter the cost, and what a cost we have paid! What we -mourn- here is a chasm, but we will do what Enorian always has, what our Lord and these Ladies taught us: we fill the cracks with gold and we march onward. We give all we have for the promise of Dawn, because we swore we would. Because -He- swore He would and now -has-!"

Rasani looks around. "Each of you has sworn an oath at the Flame. Our divine have lived up to Their oaths, and now we must live up to ours. To Light, to justice. To passion and to each other and to the -glory- of the Sun." The butt of her censer taps against the ground. "We live on in those who remember us. Let us assure, each and every one of us, that Those who stoked in us a Passion most Divine shall yet live to see the Dawn."

Rasani bows her head, taking a step back.

Kalena guides Aevoi back to Emhyra, her head nodding slowly. She offers Rasani a soft smile, moving to press her forehead against her own. After a moment, she turns to face the gathered, "The Lord Unbound sacrificed Himself so that our collective vision and dream would come true," she starts, folding her hands in front of herself - fingertips brushing against a pair of blackened steel manacles. "I feel that the words He spoke have never been more clear. 'Our crusade must always advance, and cannot be forestalled, curtailed, or hindered. The Light does not rest; and nor can we rest so long as there is one corner of darkness yet to expunge.'" There is a lingering pause as she bows her head towards a bell-ringing, Unbound statue, "He is gone, but His dream and vision lives on with each of us. Truth will never die. Spirit resides in all of us. Valor is who we are. He is gone so we could live. His sacrifice will never be forgotten."

Emhyra inhales quickly, hand seeking Jakarn's as she holds a vice grip determined not to let her mask slip as she listens to Kalena's words.

Gefjon swells at the various speakers' words, reverence causing a heavy breath to catch in her throat.

Kalena lifts her head and takes a deep breath, offering a crisp and sharp salute towards a bell -ringing, Unbound statue. After a moment, her posture relaxes as she finds her way back to the gathered.

Rasani lifts her hand to rub at Kalena's back a moment, giving Kalena a nod.

Benedicto steps forward, nodding acknowledgement to Kalena as he does so. "This was a Divine who cared so deeply for mortals that He fought against His own Father and Brother to ensure our free will." He pauses, his effulgent gaze drawn to a bell-ringing, Unbound statue. "Who cared so deeply that when it seemed that we had failed in our endeavours during the War of Night, He knelt in the dirt and wept for our loss." He spares a moment of silence for this memory. "The Age of Dawn will not be achieved without an equal amount of care and consideration for those we seek to protect."

Benedicto ceases to wield an obsidian scrying stone, securing it to his weaponbelt.

Riptide gleams with an iridescent rippling of light, casting wavering reflections on its surroundings.
Benedicto pulls the living trident, Riptide from his weaponbelt fluidly.
Benedicto starts to wield the living trident, Riptide in his right hand.

Quickly snapping to a rigid stance, Benedicto brings his weapon to a vertical position in front of his chest in an act of respect towards a bell-ringing, Unbound statue.

Grand Crusader Benedicto Silverain exclaims, "Adhin, shav sa-emmashayyu aal-Yamira, naf ruyy ianai ayida aal-Inra!"

Eaku nods his head to Benedicto, then looks deep into the pyre. For a moment hesitation rules his expression, but then, finally, he says, "Always will I too remember our stand at the bell, when it seemed the end of days. Always will I remember Your sacrifice." A pause. "Freedom was the Lord Unbound's gift, and He gave it freely."

You have emoted: Fidgeting briefly with the rescue knife that hangs from his neck, Inthirath nods once. "I have never identified with a God so much as I did the Unbound, in the end. The love of a brother. The lingering hope to return to what once was. Then in the end, unlike those who opposed Him, He did as He lived, and as He guided. He gave himself. Not grasping for power, not giving Himself over to ambition beyond ensuring that life here would continue. To hold the line, as Templar are taught, until the end. Hope remains so long as someone holds out. And now that is us."

Emhyra exhales slowly, allowing a long fluid breath to creep from her lungs.

You have emoted: Inthirath squeezes Mahar's hand with his other, and stands in silence for several minutes. When none others step forward, he bows to the pyre with that final thought.

// A return to the Grand Flame //

The Altar of Fire and Water.
You have emoted: Inthirath returns once more to the Grand Flame and gazes up at it for as long as he can bear. With a breath, the Arqeshi turns around to face those gathered and lifts his voice in prayer. "As the soft rains fill the streams, pour into the rivers and join together in the oceans, so may the power of every moment of your faith flow forth to awaken and heal all beings, those here, now, those gone before, and those yet to come."

You have emoted: "By the power of every moment of your passion," Inthirath's voice trembling with intensity, "May your heart's wishes be soon fulfilled, as completely shining as the bright full moon, as vividly as all the colours of the heavens and life."

You have emoted: Inthirath inclines his head to draw a solemn breath. "By the power of every moment of your determination, may all dangers be averted and all disease be gone. May no obstacle come across your way. May you enjoy fulfillment to your last days."

You have emoted: Inthirath raises his gaze once more to look at each of you for but a moment. "For all in whose heart dwells the dream of liberation, the peal of justice, the cleansing and burning spark of transformation, and embraces the harsh and gentle beauties of this world and all of its potential..." He trails off, then nods and speaks with complete dedication, "They shall live, forever, each made eternal by our deeds."

Reinald smiles at Meleah.

Quietly, Pentarch Kalena Emerson says, "Well said, Vanguard."

Knight-Chaplain Rasani Morrog, Dajna Za'anak Avekkak says, "Beautifully."

Meleah offers a small smile to Reinald and bows her head in reverence to the prayer.

You have emoted: In dismissal, or at least release from the formalities, Inthirath gestures once more to the offerings of incense and blooms. "Please take and meditate as you feel called. We will endure, and soon we will thrive. Together." He says, and to Bhalwyn and Myrnma he adds, "Unforgotten."

Pentarch Kalena Emerson says, "Unto the Dawn, Hammer."

Softly, Virtuate Emhyra Kavoros, aal-Tsan says, "Unto the Dawn."

Sniffling, Knight-Chaplain Rasani Morrog, Dajna Za'anak Avekkak says, "Ever and Always."

Reverently, Page Gefjon says, "Unto the Dawn."

Dhie Mahar D. Morrog says, "Unto the Dawn."

Firmly, Grand Crusader Benedicto Silverain says, "Unto the Dawn."

Page Reinald says, "Unto the Dawn."

Meleah Bravewish says, "Ever forward, unto the Dawn."

"We will Become, or we will die," Jhura murmurs softly.

Bhalwyn gives a solemn dip of his chin to you.

Melantha's tears have long ceased to fall. Her voice soft but rough, she says, "Unto the Dawn," her grief forged into grim determination in expression and tone.

Ephemeral as a breeze, a gyre of celestial mist ascends above the memoryscape and alights upon the City of Enorian, the blessing of the Indelible settling with Her manifest regard.

(Enorian): You say, "Thank you, Enorian, for coming together and sharing in this way. A chapter closes and another begins, what we write next a continuation of what has come before."

(Enorian): Kalena says, "Thank You, Madam Memory."

Benedicto glancing towards the east, out over the Beryl sea. "Dawn is not too far away." He tugs a brass pocketwatch from a pocket of a sleeveless, gold and midnight blue uniform and idly looks down at it.

(Enorian): You say, "And thank You, Indelible."

(Enorian): Meleah says, "Thank You, Indelible."

(Enorian): Melantha says, "Thank You, Lady Memory."

(Enorian): Rasani says, "My thanks, Lady Lexadhra."

For a third time, Eaku Redwood says, "Unforgotten."

(Enorian): Mahar says, "Thank you, Indelible Lady."

The dam breaks as tears stream down Emhyra's face as she looks to the sky, clutching her family close.

Pentarch Kalena Emerson says, "Unforgotten."

(Enorian): Emhyra says, "Thank You, Lady Memory."

(Enorian): Eaku says, "Thank You."

Imparting a trickle of Her incogitable knowledge, the voice of Lexadhra, the Indelible Goddess decrees, "Hold dear this memory of sorrow and all those moments that led to it. Remember always that this is the price of victory, warriors of the Hammer, and let nothing deter you from what you seek in honour of those Three. As Instinct oft said: let this be unforgotten, for Memory is what teaches all lessons and stokes the fire in all hearts."