The passing of the last Warden

Comments

• Iesid

  April 2021

  You think:
  "They just need to SEE the enemy - to understand the enormity compared to any one of their pieces,"
  the Seer reasons out.
  
  Placing a hand over one obsidian blade, Ranger Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer in Spears says, "It is my
  thought that Segiae Clinemh should have all told the tribes to come with her to meet the enemy - to
  have that honor alone as the tribe who saved the wilds. She should have told them that they were the
  strongest, the most ferocious, the most wise and cunning. All of them, they would hear this and
  come. Before they would have a chance to bicker, and war with each other, they would have to face
  their common enemy - realizing that they all must save their tribes, but the wilds too. This would
  have united them."
  
  Sekeres just thought:
  There is defiant hope there, glimmering in the strength of Sekeres' idea and its conviction.
  
  An ancestor warrior spirit's chin settles atop its folded hand as it listens to Sekeres. "Perhaps in
  a time such as this, your solution holds merit," it acknowledges, but then its gaze spills aside to
  the bones again. "In Segiae Clinemh's day, it is doubtful whether it would have appeared to the
  elders of the tribes. They would have seen it for empty flattery, for trickery..." The bones all
  about begin to whisper, murmur, voicing various agreements that rise and stain the air in
  innumerable memories and protests - but the spirit holds out its hand. "...no, no," it's quick to
  reprimand its brethren. "She's close enough. She's got the right of it in one regard."
  
  A memory finds its way unbidden into your mind, as you look through the eyes of the ancestors: You
  are Segiae Clinemh and you have found your answer amidst the Hunter's Ways. You rise, the midnight
  hour shrouding the forest in darkness, as you know now what must be done.
  
  An ancestor warrior spirit says, "They did need an enemy."
  
  (Sentinels): Valorie says, "Ah, is there something happening? I just recalled the Pride's aether -
  final moments of the last Warden?"
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "Already laid to rest in the back of the crypt beneath the guildhall. You are
  welcome to join us here. Given proper respect, the cairn will convey you to the crypt - and us."
  
  Sekeres just thought:
  There is minor disappointment in that she did not get it right. However, she understands, times
  change. And she learns.
  
  You think:
  "They are all arrogant. Or selfish. Or wounded. They had injustices to correct - but they could only
  reasonable achieve resolution to these things once bound together as one society. They needed to be
  made to know their relative size - no individual third could best the ensuing danger. It would take
  their combined might."
  
  (Sentinels): Valorie says, "Surprised more people didn't wish to come, was the Council not
  informed?"
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "The council was busy squabbling. I did not want their vitriol to stain the
  passing of the satyr that tended to Huwald Seluno's cairn."
  
  (Sentinels): Valorie says, "And after they were done 'squabbling'? Do they not have the right to
  mourn the passing of a satyr, because they were busy with other matters at the time?"
  
  (Sentinels): Rhine says, "He had already been laid to rest."
  
  "She could not appeal to them upon the grounds of common defense," an ancestor warrior spirit
  explains as it concludes its tale, "For they did not see one another as siblings. She could not
  appeal to them by flattery, for each already thought themselves better than the others. None, alone,
  was sufficient to the force outside the woods, nor did they view it as their problem to oppose. It
  was someone else's, you see..." A murmur of agreement lifts from the bones of the ancestors, fainter
  than before - and, at the same time, the spirit's outline begins to dim. "...so instead, Segiae
  united them as the Hunter has ever instructed the wilds."
  
  An ancestor warrior spirit says, "Hunt - or be hunted."
  
  Sekeres bows her head, her face obscuring for a moment to an ancestor warrior spirit as the
  whispering swirls about on the air. A silent beseeching to them as much as to the warrior, respect
  as much as the hope for forgiveness there in her youthful sights as she returns to listening.
  
  (Sentinels): Valorie says, "Yes. So I've heard. Why is the Council not being informed now? It's been
  quiet since I've been awake, and I assume for a while before then."
  
  You have emoted: "Did she go back, then? To each of them?" Iesid asks in a soft voice, his attention
  cast here and only here now as he hangs on the end of the story.
  
  "...I don't recall," an ancestor warrior spirit admits, in a voice that fades more and more by the
  moment - the bones about it glow with a beckoning light, dissolving the motes of its collective
  being. "There is a spirit who does, however, who has been given word to expect you. The crypt within
  which he lies is located..." Several more shimmers rise from amidst the bones, and it stops short
  mid-speech. "...I am told that in your modern coordinates, it is 731. How quaint."
  
  You have emoted: "Gods! I'm HORRIBLE at cartography!" Iesid mourns; he collects himself back into a
  more solemn demeanor mere moments later, however, and bows his head.
  
  You say, "Eifan. You are unforgotten, dear ancestor. Thank you dearly for your wisdom."
  
  The shrunken head in your inventory sneezes violently.
  "Thank you," Rhine whispers, nodding her head gratefully towards an ancestor warrior spirit. "I will
  lead you," the glowing woman smirks at you, rolling her eyes.
  
  Sekeres rises from her feet, her dhurive shifting to the crook of her arm as she bows her head to an
  ancestor warrior spirit. "Thank you, ancestor, for your wisdom. I hope that I may come to know more,
  in time," she murmurs to that spectral being, crowned in feathers.
  
  Sekeres just thought:
  There is a hope to see Eifan again. Someday, sometime, some place.
  
  "Unforgotten," an ancestor warrior spirit murmurs, bowing its head low and respectful. Its visage
  does not last much longer afterward, melting away moment by moment.
  
  Eifan is become one with the bones once more.
  
  A crypt of roots and stone.
  This crypt has large stones amid the earthen walls, embraced by the roots from the trees above. The
  stone bracing here is thicker and more obvious than elsewhere in the barrow and in some places is
  surrounded by roots. The decedents here lie upon earth that is rockier than other places, though
  care has been taken to ensure the stones would not cause harm. The floor here is also stonier than
  the rest of the barrow. The occasional well-worn rock protrudes higher than the rest of the floor,
  the steps of those who have walked here working to naturally smooth them down. Like elsewhere, those
  who were inhumed here lie in ceremonial garb with memorial trinkets and their preferred dhurives,
  spears, or tridents at their sides. The body of Cenuth has been laid respectfully to rest within one
  of the alcoves. Rhine Aquila Taziyah Mulariad is here. She wields a gem-inlaid dhurive bearing
  lumenite blades in her hands. Ranger Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer in Spears is here. She wields a
  sinuous, curved dhurive of pale ash in her hands.
  You see exits leading east, south, and west.
  
  You say, "I think I can make the way there, love. Off we go."
  
  Ranger Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer in Spears says, "Should we allow others to enter our sacred
  ground?"
  
  Quietly, you say, "I do not want to invite the council. This is a matter of the Pride. It is up to
  you, Prideleader, to decide if we announce our trip to the rest of them."
  
  You say, "But I am furious. This is not the Duiran I bled for. Nor the wilds that Eifan died for."
  
  
  [The trio travel to the next crypt]
  
  
  Atop the mound.
  Glimmering hints of grayish daylight are all that pierce through the darkening clouds above. This
  flat top of the mound looks down upon its circular crest. The mound is perfectly round along its
  base, and is surmounted by a small plateau which although not perfectly round, is conspicuously
  unnatural. No discernible entrance from here can be found, but a set of steps lead back down to the
  bottom of the mound covered in thick moss. Sprawling lupin grows here, blanketing the area in
  feathered purple. A colorfully frilled bird perches here, warbling happily. Rhine Aquila Taziyah
  Mulariad is here. She wields a gem-inlaid dhurive bearing lumenite blades in her hands. Ranger
  Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer in Spears is here. She wields a sinuous, curved dhurive of pale ash in her
  hands.
  You see a single exit leading down.
  
  Ranger Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer in Spears says to you, "I am sure Eifan knows it."
  
  Ranger Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer in Spears says, "And it is why, as the young blood, I was
  schooled."
  
  There is a faint depreciating smile there on Sekeres' face.
  
  Rhine smirks at Sekeres.
  
  Sekeres just thought:
  "I gave it my best," she murmurs to herself, as the sun becomes high.
  
  Ranger Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer in Spears says to Rhine, "We should likely say something to the
  Speaker about it. And then perhaps one of us can write to the council."
  
  Rhine Aquila Taziyah Mulariad says, "I am afraid to open my mouth to speak, lest I say something I
  eventually regret."
  
  You have emoted: "This place does not feel... right. Like someone covered something up," Iesid
  observes as he stomps one booted foot to the ground.
  
  Sekeres looks about, slipping away from the tether of her Pride. "Yes," she agrees, her voice
  wavering.
  
  As the moments pass, an ancient energy begins to gather - motes of pale, celestial light piercing
  from the earth beneath your feet and rising, assembling, into a singular, ancestral form. Taller and
  wider it grows, rippling with cords of muscle, ancient leather armor arrayed along its pillarlike
  limbs. Eventually it looms above all of you, gazing down and silhouetted against the clouds above.
  
  In a low, sonorous voice, an ancient Troll spirit says, "You're shorter than I was expecting."
  
  Sekeres draws a fist to her chest in greeting to an ancient Troll spirit. She stands just before the
  heathery patch of lupin.
  
  Tall even for his kin, this ancient Troll spirit's rugged reddish-grey skin covers its muscular
  stature. A large, detailed tattoo of a serpent body wraps around his body. Beginning on the back of
  his neck, it ends on the side of his leg. A simple twisted leather cord holds both his only
  clothing, a tattered hide loincloth, and a large scythe. Within both his hands, he holds an
  unadorned greatspear.
  An ancient Troll spirit almost glows with nearly god-like power.
  
  You have emoted: "Y'don't have to rub it in mate; yer taller than I was expectin'!" Iesid grunts out
  as he crans his neck to look up towards the troll spirit's face. "By what name do you go by, tall
  spirit?"
  
  Tilting her head to look up at an ancient Troll spirit, Rhine's lips break into a wide smile. "You
  are not quite what I was expecting either, but here we are." Despite her words, the Prideleader bows
  her head respectfully.
  
  "My greetings, taller-than-me-for-now spirit," Sekeres quips as she plants her dhurive on the top of
  one foot, looking high with shift of eyes.
  
  You think:
  "A serpent tattoo," the Seer observes. "He is of the Red Serpents. You mean to tell me that Haern's
  warrior-priestess bested five of THESE?"
  
  You think:
  "Is it a he?" the Seer wonders. "The voice... it's hard to place..."
  
  A wide asymmetric grin spills over an ancient Troll spirit's features, and then it bellows with
  radiant laughter, slamming its fist against its chest in greeting. "Haaa! You've got humor. I like
  that." It stoops down, placing itself level with the three of you. "I suppose if you have to call me
  something, Rukto'll do...? We're a bit past names, truth be told, though I suppose Eifan's told you
  all about that..."
  
  Muttering, an ancient Troll spirit says, "The mouthy sack of memory sure loves to gab..."
  
  "Rukto," the Seer murmurs to himself - repeatedly, ingraining it into his memory.
  
  You have emoted: "We come during a time of trouble. I am sure you already know that the last Warden
  has passed on, his vigil finally over and his body interred with the ravens," Iesid explains to the
  ancestor. "Eifan bid us to proceed here to the north to hear more of Segiae Clinemh."
  
  Sekeres remains deadpan, her teeth pressed to her lower lip. "Yes, he told us of the three tribes
  and the eve of the battle - To hunt or be hunted," she adds to your explanation.
  
  At this remark from Sekeres, an ancient Troll spirit begins to grin - it doesn't quite stop at the
  edges of its ethereal face, spreading wider and wider until its head lolls forward. It cants its
  head to one side until a ghostly bone pops, then repeats the process with the other. "Sure enough,
  I've heard you're in a time of trouble," it concedes. "And sure enough, I know more of Segiae
  Clinemh - but you don't seem to know about the second trial."
  
  Rhine just thought:
  "Did we even pass the first?" the thought dissipates almost as quickly as it was formed.
  
  "Before I say a *word* to any of you," an ancient Troll spirit explains, popping its head back into
  place with a wet snap of ectoplasm, "There's formalities to be observed. Ancient traditions. Rituals
  of mystical import." Demonstratively, it hefts its greatspear, flourishing it skyward and sighting
  along the blade. "...put simply, you, your tribe, and anyone else you can convince to fight with
  you..."
  
  An ancient Troll spirit smirks and says, "...have gotta beat me."
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "The Prideleader, Trailblazer and I are on the hunt to learn more of a fabled
  warrior-priestess of the Hunter; we seek to complete trial on behalf of the guild so that the
  ancestors might pass on their knowledge of the Warden's way. We are currently speaking with a second
  spirit now in the Northern Ithmia."
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "You are all welcome to join; your guile and strength are needed."
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "And Valorie - you Speak for us. It is at your discretion to call upon the
  rest of the council to aid us. I trust your voice and judgment."
  
  Sekeres lifts one of those charcoal brows, the challenge making her eyes gleam through the coils of
  her twisted hair. She nods to an ancient Troll spirit, and in her widened stances awaits signs from
  the Prideleader and Bloodhunter in turn.
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "We will be doing battle with a particularly tremendous troll spirit. I think
  we'll need a hand."
  
  (Tells): His voice laden with crackling fire, Stine whispers warmly to you, "I get that you're busy-
  - I get that, but just."
  
  You think:
  "I like this one. It has a sense of humor as well," the Seer remarks.
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "I am in agreement. If you wish to bring the council, then that is up to
  you and the Prideleader."
  
  (Tells): His voice laden with crackling fire, Stine whispers warmly to you, "Just go with it. If it
  happens, you'll know what I mean. We can hash it out later and you can call me an idiot, of any
  variety you wish."
  
  (Sentinels): Valorie says, "I did not, since I was both unaware of how to get to the cairn itself,
  and wasn't privy to any of the details. But as you say."
  
  (Duiran): Valorie says, "Council - our Prideleader, Singer and Seneschal have been set on a task to
  find more about a Warrior-Priestess of the Hunter, so that the ancestors may pass on their knowledge
  of the Warden's way. There will most likely be a battle. You're all welcome to join and lend your
  strength and support to the cause."
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "We spoke of it earlier! You must show respect to the ancestors, the
  cairn itself."
  
  (Duiran): Sibatti says, "The Warden's way?"
  
  (Sentinels): Rhine says, "It was within our crypts, of which we had no prior knowledge of until the
  spirit of one of our ancestors mentioned it and led the way."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "Thank you for informing us. Do you know the name of the Warrior-Priestess
  yet?"
  
  Beginning to warm up with easy passes of its spear, an ancient Troll spirit adds, conversationally:
  "I remember when there wasn't the ruins of a city smack dab in the middle of the wood. I think
  that's prob'ly when things started going to shit." It sidesteps, ramming its greatspear through the
  air, its outline rippling with the violence of its practice. "Things always start to go to shit when
  you let people build cities."
  
  (Duiran): You say, "The great Segiae Clinemh."
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says, "Then again, it's a ruin... better late than never."
  
  An ancient Troll spirit grunts noncommittally.
  
  (Tells): Vivid colours fill your mind as you communicate to Stine, "Don't you even [EXPLITIVE]' MOVE,
  mate."
  
  (Tells): Vivid colours fill your mind as you communicate to Stine, "Every time you MOVE, you make
  MORE trouble."
  
  (Tells): His voice laden with crackling fire, Stine whispers warmly to you, "It's already in
  motion."
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "Ah yes, Prideleader. Though this whole trial is for our Pride, and I
  look forward to the battle."
  
  (Duiran): You say, "You remember Cenuth, Watcher? The satyr that tends to Huwald's cairn in the
  glade?"
  
  (Duiran): Aithinne says, "Greetings."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "Greetings."
  
  (Tells): His voice laden with crackling fire, Stine whispers warmly to you, "My goddess said it
  best: You are the Speaker. You think about everyone else. I failed at that- they're right, to some
  degree, in that I was only thinking of myself."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "What happened to Cenuth?"
  
  (Duiran): Valorie says, "Good afternoon, Speaker Aithinne."
  
  (Duiran): You say, "He passed away, Wylliam."
  
  (Duiran): You say, "It was his time."
  
  (Duiran): Sekeres says, "Shall anyone else join us? We are in Northern Ithmia, you cannot miss the
  very tall spirit who stands with us there."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "A member of the council passed away, and we are only being told of it now."
  
  (Duiran): Aithinne says, "I can in a moment."
  
  (Duiran): Rhine says, "We mentioned it earlier."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "Why is it, news isn't shared."
  
  (Duiran): You say, "I alerted you while you were busy immersing yourself in Illidan's post."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "Was I awake? No."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "Was there a post."
  
  (Duiran): Jhura says, "Yes, you were."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "No."
  
  (Duiran): Rhine says, "It just happened moments ago."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "In passing Jhura, when we were talking about the Voice."
  
  (Duiran): Illidan says, "You casually mentioned it long after you engaged in it, based on your
  words."
  
  (Duiran): Illidan says, "Before anything happened."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "And you were in middle of a funeral rite."
  
  (Duiran): Jhura says, "He asked you for a moments respectful silence for the departed."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "Not afterwards."
  
  (Duiran): Wylliam says, "Not when it mattered."
  
  (Duiran): Illidan says, "Precisely."
  
  (Duiran): Rhine says, "It happened rather quickly."
  
  Pressing the open palm of her left hand against the clenched fist of her right, Aithinne bows
  respectfully.
  
  (Duiran): Illidan says, "So quickly you had time to bury him before our conversation started?
  Alright."
  
  (Duiran): Sekeres says, "We had to place his body in our sacred ground as it was his last hope. It
  was not before your conversation, it was during."
  
  Its grin widening as it watches more of you approach, an ancient Troll spirit says, "Oh, this'll be
  good fun. Almost enough of you to be a challenge."
  
  A stream of crackling blue fire sizzles across the sky.
  Wylliam has been slain by the divine might of Haern, the Hunter.
  
  (Duiran): Haern says, "Join the Pride in their trial or be silent."
  

  

  1
• Iesid

  April 2021

  Jhura gazes up at the Troll, her staff tapping against the ground. "This will be... Interesting."
  
  You think:
  Pride, deep and true, for the Hunter's Divine fire and the way it strikes true. For a moment, he
  forgets everything - all the upsets and irritations of silence. He understands well now that the
  Hunter always listens - to say nothing is not to be absent. "I'll leave You a drink somewhere, Lord
  Hunter," he sends up as a heartfelt prayer.
  
  [More bustle as Duiran and Enorian assemble.]
  
  You say to an ancient Troll spirit, "We are more tenacious than we look, honored ancestor. It is the
  prey's duty to honor the hunter with a thrilling hunt - and the hunter's duty to honor the prey with
  a dignified and glorious end. I am sure we'll sort out the details of who is who."
  
  Lin enters from the down, riding an immense, three-eyed rojalli.
  
  Lin just thought:
  "At last, I can--!"
  
  Lin takes up a grisly axe of bone in her fist, slathering the ground with hot blood.
  
  Lin brings a sinewy axe to the ready, inadvertently slashing the ground with a slick of fresh blood.
  
  [More spam of people preparing.]
  
  "What news," Lin asks, rolling her axes about in her fists.
  
  "People of the wood," an ancient Troll spirit bellows loudly, so that its voice may carry- "You're
  gathered here to join the Black Ravens in their trial by combat. My name's Rakto," it introduces
  itself, bringing its immense hand to its glowing, see-through chest, "And I'm the trial by combat."
  A wide grin slices its Trollish face in two. "Pleasure'll be all ours if what this raven here
  says..."
  
  An ancient Troll spirit nods his head at you.
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says, "...ends up bein' true."
  
  Sekeres just thought:
  "What about your other name?" She thinks about the Troll.
  
  You think:
  "There are no lies in the wild," the Seer snarls in his mind.
  
  You ask, "Mm. Any stragglers?"
  
  Haven just thought:
  "Gods...that's a big one."
  
  [More arrive.]
  
  The shrunken head in your inventory sneezes violently.
  Rhine Aquila Taziyah Mulariad smiles impishly and says to you, "Apparently."
  
  You smile and say to Rhine, "My gut's pretty good about that."
  
  You say to an ancient Troll spirit, "Alright, mate. It's a pleasure to do battle with a Red
  Serpent."
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says, "Once more, for a third time, so that all of you may hear the purpose
  of this meeting - the Black Ravens are fighting a trial by combat. I'm the trial. You're gonna help
  them take me down."
  
  "You'll know when we've started." an ancient Troll spirit smirks wide.
  
  Tightening her grip on a gem-inlaid dhurive bearing lumenite blades, Rhine cracks her head to the
  right and then left. "You ready for us?" the Prideleader asks an ancient Troll spirit.
  
  Sekeres dances forward, slinking into a formation aside those near her. She looks to an ancient
  Troll spirit for the word.
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says to you, "Mate, I'm about to teach you ravens the *meaning* of
  readiness."
  
  Czcibor Svin says, "I was awoken from my meditations by bickering, so might as well channel some of
  that energy into some fighting."
  
  Ranger Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer in Spears says to an ancient Troll spirit, "Yeah, we'll see."
  
  You smile impishly and say to an ancient Troll spirit, "Yeah? Going to cut me up with that gardening
  tool?"
  
  Verdantgard Valeria says to Czcibor, "Just try not to blow everyone up!"
  
  An ancient Troll spirit wields its large greatspear and commences battle.
  
  [Battle ensues ... I unfortunately did not bother snipping this part - but props to Haven, Lin, Jhura, Czcibor, Illidan, Sekeres, Rhine for snappy combat one liners. If I missed you and your wit, I am sorry and I love you. ]
  
  As the moments pass, ancient energy begins to gather once more - motes of pale, celestial light
  piercing from the earth beneath your feet and rising, assembling, into a singular, ancestral form.
  The Troll's spiritual frame regenerates in a blinding instant, rippling with cords of muscle,
  ancient leather armor arrayed along its pillarlike limbs.
  
  (Chromatic Court): You say, "I LIVE FOR THIS SHIT!" The comment is raw, singing pure with thrill and
  joy. "That was a damned BATTLE!"
  
  Haven just thought:
  "He was nearly as tough as that Spider-Demon that consumed me before."
  
  Sekeres drips with sweat, and rakes her dreadlocks back as she smiles proudly to the Prideleader who
  struck the last blow. A quiet look of gratitude sweeps about to everyone as the spirit reappears.
  
  (Chromatic Court): Lin says, "Hahahah! Oh, how I missed a good hunt!"
  
  Laughing with loud, exultant mirth, an ancient Troll spirit pounds his fist to his chest with a roar
  of triumph. "Now THAT was a Gods-damned FIGHT! WELL DONE!"
  
  (Chromatic Court): Jhura says, "Now that... That is proof that I live... The racing of my heart and
  the song of the Hunt."
  
  (Chromatic Court): Sekeres says, "WOOHAAA!" She exclaims, the rapid pounding of weaponry somewhere
  in the distance. "We need more of -those-!!"
  
  An ancient Troll spirit exclaims, "I'll say, you've all learned a thing or two in a few thousand
  years!"
  
  Kaiara looks mortally alarmed at this, her dark gaze moving from Lin's manic exuberance, back to the
  Troll. She seems unsure how to handle this battle-loving energy.
  
  Jhura lets loose a bright peal of laughter, flashing a grin at Kaiara.
  
  Rhine bows her head towards an ancient Troll spirit and smiles. "We are honored to have experienced
  such a battle, Rakto. Thank you."
  
  "Kree-sa-preserve, you were a phenomenal hunt," Lin exclaims, panting the last of her adrenaline.
  
  Nisavi just thought:
  Mnh. Wanted to see this great, powerful spirit, we did, yes. Are they very powerful? It would seem
  so, Nisavi, yes. They say its name is... Rak-toh. Yes, Rakto?
  
  Rasani tilts her head, watching the Troll spirit curiously, her hand subconsciously coming up to her
  own tusks.
  
  "My name is Komanti," an ancient Troll spirit offers Rhine by way of correction - but then waves its
  hand dismissively, an ethereal shimmer passing over its flesh. "It is no matter," it murmurs.
  "You've fought for gab, and gab you shall have. I'll tell you about the night Segiae pissed off
  three clans at the same time."
  
  Haven narrows his eyes at the mention of Kree-sa but otherwise remains silent.
  
  Nisavi just thought:
  Komanti, yes. Very powerful Komanti. We would challenge, yes, the Law of Growth would demand such.
  The Law of Manners and the Law of Hospitality take greater precedence, Nisavi, yes. This Komanti
  seems pertinent to their Council, yes? Yes.
  
  Sekeres just thought:
  Sekeres laughs inwardly. "Komanti, Rakto, Rukto'll." What name shall be next?
  
  You think:
  "... that TRICKSOME TROLL!" the Seer gripes; still, there is laughter in the thought. "I will
  remember all your names! You will be unforgotten, like it or not!"
  
  Haven just thought:
  "A warrior spirit it seems... I've much to learn among the Duirani. My skin crawls at the prospect."
  
  Leaning heavily upon its insubstantial spear, an ancient Troll spirit collects its thoughts for a
  long moment, breath flooding from its wide nostrils. "Now, Segiae, she's mighty pissed with the
  Bears, us Snakes, and you Ravens." Its hand jerks across to Rhine, Valorie, Sekeres, and you.
  
  Lin just thought:
  "Good gods above. It's like I was carrying a cannonball."
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says, "...y'know what? I need help with this damn story. Let's get closer to
  the bones."
  
  [We go beneath the mound after a momentary bit of confusion.]
  
  "Right," an ancient Troll spirit grunts, shaking its head. "Too many of you bastards here for me to
  think straight, swear to the Cycle..." It points to the mound. "You enter there. Not all this up and
  down running about like you're young bloods."
  
  Saidenn stays at the back edges the larger gathering of Duiranite and Enorianite peoples gathered,
  silently observing apart from the occasional shift jingle of bells attached to his swaying tail.
  
  An ancient Troll spirit abruptly manifests from the bones all about you, proceeding inward. "C'mon,"
  it growls, its voice echoing down the halls. "Deeper in..."
  
  [We got deeper in]
  
  "Enh," an ancient Troll spirit mutters to itself, "This'll do." It raises its voice: "Don't any of
  you go touchin' those bones! You owe your ancestors some damn respect."
  
  The warning comes just in time; Lin was about a half-second away from immediately prodding at a
  clutch of ancient ribs, and wisely chooses to back away.
  
  Valeria just thought:
  But now I REALLY REALLY want to touch the bones!
  
  Lin just thought:
  "Me too...!"
  
  "Now, Segiae heads out of the Ithmia," an ancient Troll spirit mutters. A low glow rises from the
  deeper parts of the crypt, and from the bones all about. The cast of light flickers inward from all
  directions, giving the spirit a greater appearance of substance, "And goes and finds one of the
  enemy's encampments. Now, no one's stealthier than Segiae, she can slither faster and quieter and
  slicker than any Serpent you know, but... mheh..." It shakes its immense head.
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says, "That ain't her style. She marches right up to those dark-lovin'
  bastards and puts an arrow through one of their heads real swift-like, so they can all see her do
  it."
  
  Lin just thought:
  "I will find this Segiae and make her my second wife."
  
  Saidenn's ears tilt toward an ancient Troll spirit as he listens, although his bifurcated eyes study
  the ancient weapons on display, eventually alighting upon the Greatspear in a position of honor.
  
  Czcibor just thought:
  I want to join a tribe too.
  
  "And then she runs 'em around, is what she do-" an ancient Troll spirit stops short with a loud
  grunt as a flare of ancestral light glows from deeper in the tomb. "They tell me I'm gettin' ahead
  of myself. No. That ain't the one she kills yet."
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says, "So morning rises. The White Bears, the Red Serpents, the Black Ravens
  - they all wake up, thinking they've heard the last of Segiae Clinemh, but they're thinkin' wrong,
  because they discover that their elders are missing. Every. Last. Godsdamn one of 'em."
  
  Valeria just thought:
  Is this really all the fight we're going to get! The talkings the boring part..
  
  Curiosity satisfied, Saidenn turns his head toward an ancient Troll spirit, pulling out a small
  notebook and beginning to gently write in quick motions, marking down a form of shorthand.
  
  "So they all start scouting out, yeah?" The light of the crypt begins to die away, though an ancient
  Troll spirit blazes on, having found its proper place in the story. "And it don't take them long.
  They find their clan elders. Then they find their clan elders' heads. And they find Segiae Clinemh
  throwin' their heads one by one into the river."
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says, "Right there, where all three of their territories meet, makin' sure
  every last one of 'em can see her do it. Hands bloody'n all."
  
  Sekeres just thought:
  "So I was right, destruction was the answer...I should have not gone against my gut," Sekeres
  thinks.
  
  Saidenn just thought:
  Tribes. Indicative of an early civilization built around tribalism. Early settlements? No, nomadic,
  likely. Agriculture does not seem reflected in this architecture. Worship? A name, however.
  
  "Now, I don't know if you've got clan elders in this day and age," an ancient Troll spirit remarks
  with a wide grin as it looks about its gathered audience, "But I'm here to tell you that the people
  back then? They loved their clan elders fierce, and now they hate this Haernite hunter-priestess
  more'n ever."
  
  Saidenn just thought:
  Ah ha, tribalism, indeed. Lineal hierarchy over consolidated theocracy. Power struggle?
  
  "All three of 'em get their weapons and go after her," an ancient Troll spirit explains, and echoes
  filter outward from the crypt - the oaths and rage of countless dead warriors, the hammer of
  footfalls on soil, the snarls of tamed animals - "And she leads 'em all about the wood 'til they're
  all turned 'round and they can't help but reach the end of the forest, right there in the
  outskirts."
  
  You think:
  "... and then they saw the real enemy."
  
  Elene just thought:
  These Trolls remind me of the ones in Ilhavon.
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says, "And who should be approachin', right then, but the evil ones? Armed
  to the teeth, of course, with metal and magic alike, and faced with *that*, what choice did any of
  'em have? There was a fight. Big damn fight."
  
  Elene just thought:
  Isn't that where one of the Seluno Brothers ended up in, though?
  
  Large, bifurcated eyes gaze out toward the crypt, the pupils dilating as his ears twitch with a soft
  jangle of gold. His fur rises slightly on his hackles, but Saidenn remains calm apart from an
  agitated twitch of his tail, sending the bells attached ringing.
  
  "They fight all day," an ancient Troll spirit murmurs to itself, and the sounds of battle rage
  behind it, louder and more visceral than ever. The clash of metal and wood joins the sundering of
  flesh and the splatter of blood, such that you can even smell what the spirit describes - the
  coppery, foul tinge of blood and gore. "And when the sun goes down, they break off, neither one able
  to find an advantage over the other."
  
  Lin uses her rojalli like a living and mobile chaise, laying atop him on her side, her legs sprawled
  out behind her. The story holds her interest without effort, a carousing grin on her face.
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says, "...now. You might think at this point the three clans are ready to
  call a cease fire and fight the real enemy? But you don't know these clans. The bad blood runs
  *deep*. Most of 'em are still at odds, even if a few are startin' to see a little bit of sense."
  
  Haven looks thoughtfully at Illidan.
  
  Saidenn allows a soft, growling rumble to lift upward from his chest, his tail twitching more
  rapidly. Claws ache to flex, freeing from their sheathes in a motion before relaxing. His attention
  his rapt, however, and the soft scratch against paper never quite ceases.
  
  Haven just thought:
  "Perhaps we know them better than we realize."
  
  You think:
  "Times do not change."
  
  "Now that's when Segiae comes back into it." an ancient Troll spirit circles around the left side of
  the hall, gazing up at the snakes and the greatscythes clutched in their maws. "She sees 'em
  bickering even after bloodshed, and she comes in. She tells 'em they've lost sight of the Hunter's
  Ways, they *keep* losin' sight, and they're doomed by the enemy's hand if they don't shape up right
  then and there."
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says, "And she tells 'em that they've gotta go fight the enemy right then,
  while they're disorganized, before they got a chance to figure out another plan... except none of
  'em are listening to her. You gotta remember this lady killed their clan elders earlier that day,
  and folk are still raw about it. There's a few in this crypt as might have gone with her, point of
  fact...? But they feared losing face among their own."
  
  "Not a one of 'em went with her," an ancient Troll spirit declares, its expression flat, leaden.
  "Not a single damn one of us. To our shame."
  
  Saidenn just thought:
  Mmh. A theological victory. Integration of theology into lineal hierarchy?
  
  Now an ancient Troll spirit's path carries it past the right side of the hall. It lifts its
  greatspear, allowing it to clack against the ancient ones brandished by the snake. Motes of dust
  fall free, spilling about its frame in slow swirls. "Which brings us back to where I was, before
  SOME FOLK-" Its bellow roars down the passageway, echoing several times in the deep crypts, "-told
  me I had it all wrong..."
  
  Elene tilts her head to one side, her heterochromatic gaze rapt with attention even as she winds her
  way through the crowd of listeners. A soft exhalation, akin to a sigh, slips out from her. Her soft
  feet eventually find a spot an arm's length away from Xavin and she remains there. Scarred fingers
  twine. She remains silent.
  
  (Tells): Voice lilting on feathery wafts of air, Rhine tells you, "This story sounds oddly
  familiar."
  
  An ancient Troll spirit says, "Segiae marches out that wood alone, right up to the enemy camp bold
  as you please, and puts an arrow through one of their heads."
  
  "Right in their faces?" Lin calls out.
  
  Jhura asks "Where they could all see her?"
  
  "Right in the face," an ancient Troll spirit enthuses with a wide, toothy grin, "Where every last
  one of those corrupt bastards could see her do it. You're damn right." It drives the butt of its
  greatspear to the ground, letting its loud clack ring out.
  
  Lin pumps her fist in triumph. It's exactly as douchey as you think it looks.
  
  "So Segiae's off, and she's got, I don't know..." an ancient Troll spirit mumbles, waving her hand
  absently, "...bolts of darkness, arrows, throwin' knives and all this shit flying after her. We got
  conflictin' memories about it, but most folk agree she took a couple of 'em before she made it back
  to the trees." The THUD of an arrow finding its mark in flesh rings out, and a huntress' low snarl
  echoes forth in answer. "Either way she's still up and runnin', and they're after her, hunting.
  She's teaching 'em proper worship, see." It taps an immense finger against its insubstantial head.
  
  An ancient Troll spirit's confidence abruptly evaporates as it trails off, an uncertain silence
  replacing its story. "...I don't remember the rest," it admits after a sheepish moment. "Neither do
  any of them. Reckon you'll have to ask one of the White Bears." It looks to the gathered Sentinels
  inquisitively. "You still know where their crypt is, yeah?"
  
  Quietly, you say, "I suspect that knowledge might be lost, honored ancestor."
  
  "Clans these days," an ancient Troll spirit can't help mumbling beneath its lack of breath, shaking
  its head slowly, "No respect for their ancestors..." It comes back to itself after a moment's lost
  focus, gaze wandering aside. "It'll be, uh. 918 in your coordinates? If it's wrong, don't come
  blamin' me. Your epoch made up that mess, not mine."
  
  Elene raises a scarred hand, sweeping fingers across her features to brush away idle strands of
  hair.
  
  Czcibor Svin says, "Yeah, people are really the worst."
  
  You have emoted: Iesid bows his head in momentary silence as a show of his gratitude for the aid of
  an ancient Troll spirit. "You were fierce in battle - that, alongside your myriad names, shall be
  unforgotten. You honor us with your fighting spirit, ancestor," he offers in solemn thanks.
  
  Thank you," Rhine nods her head respectfully before turning to the rest of the group. "Shall we
  then?"

  

  1
• Iesid

  April 2021

  Saidenn Tetzauh says to Rhine, "If I may come along?"
  
  Kaiara waves a merry goodbye, not at all solemn, enthusing, "Thank you!"
  
  (Chromatic Court): Lin says, "Would this be a Sentinel function, O Seer?"
  
  (Tells): Vivid colours fill your mind as you communicate to Rhine, "Adventure with you is always so
  thrilling. So simple."
  
  "Of course," an ancient Troll spirit answers, bowing low to you, Rhine, and the other Sentinels. It
  has already begun to fade. "...but just so you know, I only have one name, and it's Hevekk."
  
  An ancient Troll spirit fades from sight.
  
  Aloli's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.
  
  Rhine smirks.
  
  (Chromatic Court): You say, "You are welcome to accompany, Lin, for you have walked the Way before."
  
  Knight Chaplain Rasani Morrog, Forgemaster says to you, "Do you want this to be left to your guild,
  Iesid?"
  
  (Chromatic Court): Lin says, "Tcha! Barely. But I will take it."
  
  Lin begins to follow you.
  
  To the departing spirit, Speaker Jhura Gallant, the Imago's Violinist says, "But which of you does
  that name belong to?"
  
  You grunt noncommittally.
  
  Rasani looks a little disappointed she didn't get to speak at more length with the faded Troll
  spirit, but maintains herself.
  
  Huntress Valorie Aresti frowns and says, "I wouldn't wish for anyone to miss out on the rest of this
  story."
  
  You say, "So long as you folk keep your grubby paws off the remains of the ancestors, you're welcome
  to accompany."
  
  Rhine Aquila Taziyah Mulariad says to Lin, "I think he is talking to you."
  
  Sekeres nods with, "Thank you, Komanti, Rakto, Rukto'll, and Hevekk." Her smile is just there,
  slitting her eyes to crinkling lines.
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "These crypts are sacred. If someone begins to channel or wield Shadow in our
  presence there, it is an affront worthy of violence. Do we agree on this?"
  
  Haven just thought:
  "Who has grubby paws?"
  
  Lin scrunches up her nose at Rhine, and stubbornly clasps her hands at the small of her back.
  
  (Sentinels): Valorie says, "Of course."
  
  Haven just thought:
  "Not me."
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "Good. Your dhurive is the one I would depend on the most. You would do better
  in my seat."
  
  Czcibor just thought:
  He didn't say anything about fire.
  
  [The now much larger party traverses to the final crypt.]
  
  Mound within the ring of pine.
  Many of the stars are disguised behind looming clouds, tracing their slow paths across the sphere of
  the heavens. Within the center of the ring of pine trees, is a large mound, perhaps double the
  height of a human and as broad as it is high. It appears to serve no particular purpose, though the
  fact that it has been built in the center of a ring of trees might lead one to believe its origins
  to be mystical in nature. However for now its nature remains a mystery. An enormous monument to
  Haern stands here. Sprawling lupin grows here, blanketing the area in feathered purple. A grub
  writhes here, its many tiny legs flailing. There are 2 diminutive nightingales here. The ethereal
  form of a guardian angel hangs in midair, cloaked by a pale shimmer. Abbess Aloli Silverain Gallant
  is here. Khimaira Haven Locke of the Black Sun is here. He is riding on a war-painted orel. He
  wields a jewel-encrusted buckler in his left hand and an iron-tipped whip in his right. Rhine Aquila
  Taziyah Mulariad is here. She wields a gem-inlaid dhurive bearing lumenite blades in her hands.
  Elemancer Guiseppe Adesso is here. He is riding on a donkey. He wields a staff of flame-charred oak
  in his left hand and a buckler in his right. Headmistress Kaiara Gallant is here. She is riding on a
  fiery-maned qilin. She wields a banded shield in her left hand and a wicked, curved scalpel in her
  right. Lin the Chaos Eater is here. She is riding on an immense, three-eyed rojalli. She wields a
  cavalry shield in her left hand and a pulsating handaxe of blade-edged sinews in her right. Church
  is here. He wields a mithril-taloned beast claw buckler in his left hand. Commander Xavin Taziyah is
  here. He wields an emblazoned kite shield in his left hand and an elementally infused staff of
  arijia in his right. Devout Elene Arcan, Savant of Jherza is here. Czcibor Svin is here. He wields a
  jewel-encrusted buckler in his left hand and a long wooden staff in his right. Hunter Mahar dur Naya
  is here. He wields a dhurive of living vines in his hands. Knight Chaplain Rasani Morrog,
  Forgemaster is here. She wields a shining steel longsword in her left hand and a shining steel
  longsword in her right. Ranger Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer in Spears is here. She wields a sinuous,
  curved dhurive of pale ash in her hands. Sister Aithinne Fiadhaich is here. She is riding on a
  flaming stallion. She wields a buckler in her left hand. Speaker Jhura Gallant, the Imago's
  Violinist is here. She wields a verdant staff of living Heartwood in her hands. Saidenn Tetzauh is
  here. This area has been overgrown with a swathe of seething plantlife.
  You see a single exit leading south.
  
  You have emoted: Iesid gazes about, his gaze fixated upon the edges of the mystical mound here
  within the ring of pines. "The last one manifested after some patience," the Azudim explains
  sheepishly.
  
  (Sentinels): Valorie says, "I'm honored you think so, Bloodhunter."
  
  The sound of a bear's roar shakes the earth before the mound, and an eldritch glow fills the air. It
  isn't long before the insubstantial light finds a form, binding itself to some vaguely humanoid
  shape. Details are slower in coming, but before long an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan stands
  before you, the mound standing at its back.
  
  Its ethereal form clad in ancient mail, this ancestral spirit of the Bear clan looks out with hollow
  eyes from a masked visage. A frayed, tattered cloak hangs loosely from his shoulders, and the mask
  its wears has been shaped into the imagery of a snarling bear. Within its armored grasp, a weathered
  cudgel is clasped and festooned with trophies of ancient battles.
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan looks weak and feeble.
  It carries one week of survival experience.
  It is strangely weightless.
  
  Saidenn remains near the back of the larger gathering as an observer. His eyes do study the attire
  and visage of an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan, however, a quick few scratching marking notes.
  
  You have emoted: "Hail to you, ancestor of the mighty White Bear clan!" Iesid calls to the
  manifested ancestor, his dhurive handled in one hand as the other frees itself to wave in greetings.
  The Seer cannot resist a more-than-cursory inspection; he rakes his gaze along an ancestor spirit of
  the Bear clan, lingering long upon the tattered cloak and the mask frozen in snarling fury. "We come
  seeking your wisdom."
  
  "There are rather more of you here," an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan murmurs, blinking in slow
  surprise, "Than I was led to expect." It beckons, nevertheless, looking about at those gathered.
  "Welcome, Ravens - honored guests, all. You have come seeking my wisdom, the end of my story, and
  the third and final trial ere the ways of the Wardens become your own."
  
  "May I invite you inside?" an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan inquires, with a lazy nod of its
  masked head back toward the mound. "I would offer you drinks and refreshment, but, alas," a laugh
  like shifting chain mail echoes from its throat, "We have long since left behind the need for such
  things."
  
  Valeria just thought:
  Hmm.. Do you think these spirits care much about how a Dhurive is treated? I threw one across the
  Council once.
  
  Elene's heterochromatic gaze fall upon an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan as she sways upon her
  bare feet. She's inquisitive, taking in the mail-clad form of the spirit, and the mask that
  identifies him as an ancestor of the Bear clan. She nods to herself, silken tresses falling across
  her shoulders.
  
  Sekeres bows her head to the ancestral spirit of the Bear clan as she keeps her dhurive held aloft.
  "We would be honored," she utters gently with a canting of dreadlocks to the spirit.
  
  You have emoted: "Aye! We would be honored to walk the hallowed halls of your crypt, ancestor,"
  Iesid responds on behalf of the rest of those gathered behind him.
  
  Guided by the ancestors, your attention is drawn to the concealed entrance of the mound - an
  entraceway covered by vines which you step through.
  Aithinne, Aloli, Church, Czcibor, Elene, Jhura, Kaiara, Lin, Mahar, Rasani, Rhine, Saidenn, Sekeres,
  and Xavin follow you to the ether.
  
  Beneath a great ursine archway.
  The hard earthen walls of the crypt rise in a natural curve to create a hushed, cathedral-like space
  beneath the ground. Stone support keep the walls steady and are aided by the tangled mesh of tree
  roots interwoven through the dirt. Arching over the space is a piece of stonework wrought to
  resemble an enormous bear. The likeness is interpretive and generous; the beast's great skull sits
  at the top of the arch with furry shoulders extending to either side. The legs of the arch are the
  legs of the bear, complete with curved claws at the base. Behind the archway lies the rest of the
  crypt. It is dim with a pleasant, earthy scent wafting from it. A fairly large toad sits quietly
  here. There are 2 diminutive nightingales here. The ethereal form of a guardian angel hangs in
  midair, cloaked by a pale shimmer. Verdantgard Valeria is here. She wields a rune-covered cavalry
  shield in her left hand and a throwing axe in her right. Huntress Valorie Aresti is here, concealed
  within the shadows. She is riding on a leafy elm dendaric entbeast. She wields a vicious dark brown
  dhurive in her hands. Abbess Aloli Silverain Gallant is here. Rhine Aquila Taziyah Mulariad is here.
  She wields a gem-inlaid dhurive bearing lumenite blades in her hands. Seurimas is here, shrouded. He
  wields an iron-tipped whip in his right hand. Headmistress Kaiara Gallant is here. She is riding on
  a fiery-maned qilin. She wields a banded shield in her left hand and a wicked, curved scalpel in her
  right. Lin the Chaos Eater is here. She is riding on an immense, three-eyed rojalli. She wields a
  cavalry shield in her left hand and a pulsating handaxe of blade-edged sinews in her right. Church
  is here. He wields a mithril-taloned beast claw buckler in his left hand. Commander Xavin Taziyah is
  here. He wields an emblazoned kite shield in his left hand and an elementally infused staff of
  arijia in his right. Devout Elene Arcan, Savant of Jherza is here. Czcibor Svin is here. He wields a
  jewel-encrusted buckler in his left hand and a long wooden staff in his right. Hunter Mahar dur Naya
  is here. He wields a dhurive of living vines in his hands. Knight Chaplain Rasani Morrog,
  Forgemaster is here. She wields a shining steel longsword in her left hand and a shining steel
  longsword in her right. Ranger Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer in Spears is here. She wields a sinuous,
  curved dhurive of pale ash in her hands. Sister Aithinne Fiadhaich is here. She is riding on a
  flaming stallion. She wields a buckler in her left hand. Speaker Jhura Gallant, the Imago's
  Violinist is here. She wields a verdant staff of living Heartwood in her hands. Saidenn Tetzauh is
  here. This area has been overgrown with a swathe of seething plantlife.
  You see exits leading north and out.
  
  [We zoom around like the Aetolian zoomers we are.]
  
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan yells, "So impatient! It takes us old ones a moment or two to
  manifest."
  
  [We stop deeper in.]
  
  (Tells): Vivid colours fill your mind as you communicate to Rhine, "I have come up with proper
  penance for Emerson, on behalf of the Pride."
  
  (Tells): Vivid colours fill your mind as you communicate to Rhine, "I will elaborate - unless the
  ancestors give me a better idea than they already have."
  
  In good humor despite its volume, an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan chuckles to itself, a low and
  bearish sound. It's become visible once more, standing before the mosaic and gazing up at the
  visions of the ancestors painted there. "There we are, all assembled as one."
  
  Eyes alight upon the mosaic, even in its disrepair. A pleased purr filters from Saidenn's throat as
  he looks over the stones and imagery, his tail slowly swaying behind him.
  
  A mosaic depicting fur-clad warriors.
  The hard-packed earthen floor slopes sharply up to a natural dais set before the northern wall of
  the crypt. This wall curves up towards the domed roof like the rest in this place, braced with
  living tree roots and stone braces carved like the skulls of bears. Here, though, the wall is
  decorated, inset with many tiny, colored stones to form a crude but remarkable mosaic. Ranks of
  warriors wearing bear-faced helmets and fur mantles around their shoulders stand facing an open
  field. Puddles of blood, depicted with red sandstone, splatter the earth. The warriors all wield
  weapons, clutching either cudgels or wearing war gauntlets. Some of the mosaic has been damaged by
  the insidious press of tree roots through the earthen wall, but much of it has been repaired as
  well. It speaks to someone tending this place with great care and attention. The light is a dim,
  flickering thing that gives the mosaic a life and motion all its own. The air smells of good,
  healthy earth and tended things. His visage masked, an ethereal ancestor of the Bear clan drifts
  upon unseen currents here. There are 2 diminutive nightingales here. The ethereal form of a guardian
  angel hangs in midair, cloaked by a pale shimmer. A fairly large toad sits quietly here. Jaws gaping
  and ethereal tail raised to strike, a wyvern spirit hovers menacingly here. Verdantgard Valeria is
  here. She wields a rune-covered cavalry shield in her left hand and a throwing axe in her right.
  Huntress Valorie Aresti is here, concealed within the shadows. She is riding on a leafy elm dendaric
  entbeast. She wields a vicious dark brown dhurive in her hands. Abbess Aloli Silverain Gallant is
  here. Rhine Aquila Taziyah Mulariad is here. She wields a gem-inlaid dhurive bearing lumenite blades
  in her hands. Headmistress Kaiara Gallant is here. She is riding on a fiery-maned qilin. She wields
  a banded shield in her left hand and a wicked, curved scalpel in her right. Lin the Chaos Eater is
  here. She is riding on an immense, three-eyed rojalli. She wields a cavalry shield in her left hand
  and a pulsating handaxe of blade-edged sinews in her right. Church is here. He wields a mithril-
  taloned beast claw buckler in his left hand. Commander Xavin Taziyah is here. He wields an
  emblazoned kite shield in his left hand and an elementally infused staff of arijia in his right.
  Illidan Aresti-Te'Straif is here. He is riding on a colossal, winged sapphire toad. He wields a
  staff bound with bone-laden chains in his hands. Devout Elene Arcan, Savant of Jherza is here.
  Czcibor Svin is here. He wields a jewel-encrusted buckler in his left hand and a long wooden staff
  in his right. Hunter Mahar dur Naya is here. He wields a dhurive of living vines in his hands.
  Knight Chaplain Rasani Morrog, Forgemaster is here. She wields a shining steel longsword in her left
  hand and a shining steel longsword in her right. Ranger Sekeres Dark-wing, Singer in Spears is here.
  She wields a sinuous, curved dhurive of pale ash in her hands. Sister Aithinne Fiadhaich is here.
  She is riding on a flaming stallion. She wields a buckler in her left hand. Speaker Jhura Gallant,
  the Imago's Violinist is here. She wields a verdant staff of living Heartwood in her hands. Saidenn
  Tetzauh is here. This area has been overgrown with a swathe of seething plantlife.
  You see exits leading east and south.
  
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan says, "Now... I'll tell you the end of Segiae Clinemh, and I bid
  you listen well, ravens, for there's a question I mean to ask you at the end - and it has a right
  answer."
  
  Haven just thought:
  "Hope they've been paying attention because..."
  
  (Tells): Her voice echoing with haunting distortions, Elene speaks to you, "May I ask?" Her voice is
  a silken caress, tinged with curiosity. "If the second trial is of Combat, and the third is of
  wisdom, what was the first?"
  
  (Tells): Vivid colours fill your mind as you communicate to Elene, "The first was similar to this
  third."
  
  (Tells): Her voice echoing with haunting distortions, Elene speaks to you, "Ah."
  
  Haven narrows his eyes at Rhine, Valorie, you, and Sekeres.
  
  Valorie narrows her eyes back at Haven before turning her attention to the spirit, listening
  attentively and quietly.
  
  Sekeres crosses her arms about her chest, the broad lines hitching in her chin as she nods to the
  ancestor spirit of the Bear Clan. She turns to her other Pridemates then back.
  
  "The Bear ancestors saw Segiae," an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan recounts, its gaze distant as
  it stares at the mosaic. The flat wall serves to reflect its voice back, magnified to many times its
  soft volume. "Badly blooded as she ran the length of the wood, her foes pursuing her with force and
  vengeance. She'd laid many traps, as the Ravens had taught her... and when she had run short of
  supplies with which to build them, she shot her arrows to the last, making each and every one count
  for one of her foes."
  
  A great weight seems to have been lifted from Haven.
  The eyes of the mosaic begin to glow - dim at first, but then brighter and brighter, shining forth
  in fury. When an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan turns to address the gathered crowd, the same
  wrath burns there, its manner become less welcoming. "When her arrows were spent and her bow broken,
  she took up her blessed greatspear and met the dark ones head-on. They had set the forest aflame!"
  It snarls, rage in its voice at the prospect, "All to flush her out... and the White Bears sent word
  of it up and down the river, to every last corner of the forest."
  
  (Tells): Her voice echoing with haunting distortions, Elene speaks to you, "Was the first trial
  also done within another mound, a temple hidden within just like the last two?"
  
  (Tells): Vivid colours fill your mind as you communicate to Elene, "Beneath our guildhall."
  
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan says, "It was the first time the three clans joined for a single
  purpose in any of their histories. United, together, to quench the fire and drive out the threat.
  The battle raged all night long, all through the Ithmia, and the river Zaphar ran red with the blood
  of the fallen."
  
  (Tells): Her voice echoing with haunting distortions, Elene speaks to you, "I cannot go there,
  then." Thoughts entangle and entwine, forming into concepts that merely caress at the edges of your
  mind, before dissipating. "This is very interesting. I would like to try my hand with writing a book
  on this story, too."
  
  Elene shakes her head lightly, the scent of iron and spice falling off her tresses as she tugs her
  mind away from her thoughts, returning her focus upon an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan.
  
  "In the end, the servants of darkness escaped," an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan concludes, but
  an unsettling smile glows on the spirit's face as it adds, "Not many. A few. The forest had devoured
  the rest of them, and the Cycle turned onward." The rising light of the mosaic at its back renders
  it near-invisible, one more bear among a horde of many, speaking with multiple voices: "We sought
  Segiae, so that she might stand to the clans' justice. Right or wrong, she had slain our elders, and
  such a crime could not stand unpunished, no matter the circumstance."
  
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan says, "...we found her surrounded by the bodies of a several
  dozen dead in a clearing of her own making. Her spear was lodged in the heart of the last she'd
  slain. We cannot tell you how many Segiae Clinemh took with her to the Underhalls, but she accounted
  for a large fraction of the army by herself. The Ithmias have rarely known a warrior of her like."
  
  (Tells): Vivid colours fill your mind as you communicate to Elene, "I will retell the story to my
  Pride and council; then, perhaps, I will retell the stories to the world at large."
  
  (Tells): Her voice echoing with haunting distortions, Elene speaks to you, "I eagerly await for
  that."
  
  Elene just thought:
  Even if she turned against her Elders.
  
  "Now then, Ravens..." an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan's chin rises upward, "Midnight has fallen,
  and the time of the third trial is nigh. Choose one of your own for a sacrifice - and give their
  blood to the crypt."
  
  Lin just thought:
  "Here we go. I knew it was going to get good."
  
  Czcibor Svin says, "I choose Iesid."
  
  Elene just thought:
  Of course he does.
  
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan says, "Think carefully on this matter. Blood is a serious thing,
  and it should not be spilled without due consideration."
  
  Swiftly casting his eyes from one direction to another, Czcibor Svin says, "Wait, I didn't mean to
  say that out loud."
  
  Softly, you say, "You are not a raven. The ravens will choose."
  
  Aithinne looks quietly over Rhine, you, Valorie, and Sekeres, but she remains quiet.
  
  Czcibor just thought:
  I'll show you raven.
  
  Ichored lips shift and twist upwards, amusement flickering across Elene's features. Just a moment
  does the emotion stay, before it swiftly vanishes, overwritten by thought.
  
  Jhura puts a hand on Czcibor's shoulder and slowly pulls him back.
  
  (Sentinels): Karistan says, "Hrm? Is something happening?"
  
  Church nods in agreement, remarking, "Certainly a selection not to be made without due caws."
  
  Lin rolls her eyes in good humor and glances at you. Perhaps she believes she can see the future.
  
  Czcibor Svin says, "Okay, I change my vote."
  
  Knight Chaplain Rasani Morrog, Forgemaster says to Church, "That was the worst."
  
  Saidenn just thought:
  Mmh, who will stand in place? Shall they clamor for an honor, or shall it be seen as a necessity?
  
  "I lead the Pride, I will volunteer myself," Rhine states, stepping forward. Turning back to look at
  her fellow Pridemates, the glowing Azudim raises a brow. "As long as the Pride agrees."
  
  (Sentinels): Valorie says, "I would not volunteer someone else for this. If nobody else is willing,
  I- ah."
  
  Church says to Czcibor, "Thank you."
  
  Elene just thought:
  What of the story has shown the way to the choice to be made?
  
  You have emoted: Iesid's lips purse in quiet contemplation as he considers Rhine's volunteer of
  tribute.
  
  (Sentinels): Karistan says, "If you desire assistance or a volunteer, I shall assist if needed."
  
  Czcibor Svin says to Church, "But hear me out. What if we let calamities decide for us?"
  
  You ask an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan, "Who does the bloodletting?"
  
  Jhura swat's Czcibor's shoulder.
  
  Illidan Aresti-Te'Straif says, "Pay the Spirit some respect with your silence."
  
  Isia rolls her eyes at Czcibor.
  
  Czcibor just thought:
  Oh, so now he understands the virtue of silence.
  
  Kaiara turns her eyes skyward, hoping for divine inspiration.
  
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan says to you, "This is your choice as well."
  
  (Tells): Her voice sharp-edged and frosty, Sekeres whispers to you, "There is a right answer."
  
  Czcibor just thought:
  I'm glad the Ascendrils don't have such rituals.
  
  Sekeres glances askance to you before that focus drifts to the air above the spirit. Her mouth
  presses thin as she palms her grip across a sinuous, curved dhurive of pale ash.
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "The spirit said there was a right answer."
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "We choose the leader as the sacrifice, for it is the leader's duty to put
  their people - their tribe and clan - before their own interests."
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "That is my opinion."
  
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan stands still and silent, arms folded. The eyes of the bears
  watch from all around, and elsewhere in the crypt, the bones glow and hum attentively. All eyes,
  dead and alive, rest upon this place and moment - waiting, as they must.
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "I think that is wise. But who shall sacrifice?"
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "Is there no way she could also do the bloodletting? The warrior-priestess
  sacrificed herself."
  
  Aithinne just thought:
  All of them. They all should.

  

  1
• Iesid

  April 2021

  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "Yes. Perhaps it would not be wrong to ask?"
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "I quite like the Sentaari Speaker's wisdom."
  
  You ask an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan, "Must it be an individual?"
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "She has thought of something, I trust then?"
  
  Valorie's eyes flicker between Rhine and you, and the woman takes a step forward to stand near the
  rest of her Pridemates on solidarity.
  
  Haven just thought:
  "The blood of our enemies should suffice as the legends say. I nominate Saidenn."
  
  After a moment's pause, an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan answers you in a low rumble, a smile
  momentarily threatening its grim visage: "This, as well, is your choice."
  
  Haven eyes Saidenn.
  
  Czcibor just thought:
  So you're saying the calamity would be an option...
  
  Saidenn feels eyes upon him, his ears twitching first and then his head tilting toward Haven. A
  gleam passes through his storm-laden gaze, his maw twisting into a wry expression.
  
  You have emoted: "Then we should all be sacrificed, great ancestor, for it is nobody's individual
  duty to die for their clan - all ravens must die for each other, or else our clan is without worth
  or solidarity, no?" Iesid inquires of an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan.
  
  You say, "To cooperate with others clan, we must first cooperate amongst ourselves."
  
  Lin just thought:
  "The glory hound is learning well. I'm proud of him."
  
  Elene's chest rises and falls in measured pace, her gaze sweeping over the gathered Pridemates.
  Though insignificant, approval slithers from her gaze, the faintest glimmer settling upon you.
  
  Lin eases behind Mahar and gives him a none-too-gentle shove with her shoulder.
  
  Lin just thought:
  "No son of mine is going to miss a mass-sacrifice!"
  
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan stares at you. Whatever it expected, it seems that your
  statement isn't it. Hesitantly, it turns its head back to the mural, voiceless murmurs passing
  between it and the rest of its bright-eyed kin.
  
  Sekeres has not moved from her place aside you as he gets pushed forward to the fore where all the
  pride stand. She nods amongst her cohort, her face hardened and calm with resolve.
  
  Turning back, an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan asks, "...and what if none of you return from the
  halls to pass on the ways? What then?"
  
  Saidenn looks back to the Pride, the solidarity forming within its ranks. Interest gleams, yet his
  tigrine features remain neutral, keeping his thoughts to himself. His tail twitches and his claws
  flex, the dark talons dragging along the hoops of a pectoral of concentric golden rings slowly.
  
  Mahar jerks forward at the gesture, sparing Lin a slight frown before he settles in his new
  position.
  
  Eyes sliding slyly around the tomb, Church sounds beleaguered as he helpfully offers, "If none of
  them make it, I will accept their burdens and treasures, as someone must."
  
  (Sentinels): Karistan says, "If death is what is called, then is it not part of the cycle, the
  rhythm that is life and renewal? The it should stand that we should stand firm in our resolve...at
  least that is my standpoint."
  
  Expectation seethes before the mosaic. Elene sways upon her bare feet, awaiting the answer, as it
  always seem to pour forth, from you.
  
  Kaiara sighs, slanting her attention admonishingly at Church.
  
  "We have faith in the Cycle," Rhine replies, keeping her amber gaze focused on an ancestor spirit of
  the Bear clan.
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "We shall die knowing that the Cycle, knowing that whatever comes shall
  be renewed. Just as Segaie has done."
  
  "Then we shall die knowing that the Cycle, knowing that whatever comes shall be renewed. Just as
  Segaie has done. For what comes from destruction, shall be new, in time," Sekeres sounds off after
  the Prideleader, as her chin lifts with a twist of the top-most blade of pointed obsidian.
  
  Haven just thought:
  "So quick to cast away their lives when there are two perfectly good 'dark-lovin bastards'. What
  would the troll think?"
  
  Haven ponders Elene's profile, deep in consideration.
  
  Lips curve as Elene senses Haven's gaze upon her. She tilts her head to the side in mute enquiry.
  
  Elene just thought:
  That one can't see through the wreath of fire. He doesn't see the challenge behind the question, the
  challenge to champion what has been imparted.
  
  Haven just thought:
  "Then again what do I know? These Duirani are strange."
  
  Elene just thought:
  And he is one of them. [Amusement flickers.].
  
  (Tells): Voice lilting on feathery wafts of air, Rhine tells you, "Did we choose wrong?"
  
  Saidenn just thought:
  I wonder... is it many, or is it one? One to stand for many so the needs of many are sated, or to
  stand together, falling or rising as a clan?
  
  At long last, an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan considering the Sentinels before it, gives a grave
  nod - and the impressions of nodding heads can be seen at its back. "Very well," it declares, its
  teeth flashing as it speaks. "I shall tell you whether you are correct, or incorrect... after the
  sacrifice has been made." It looks to Rhine, bowing low. "Carry on, in a manner of your choosing."
  
  Lin's eyebrows threaten to shoot right off the top of her head. Now she has eyes only for the
  Sentinels, quite excited to see what comes next.
  
  Czcibor just thought:
  Worked quite hard on that one. Has a sharp edge.
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "We should begin with the smallest of our number."
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "If that appeases you, Prideleader?"
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "... this is going to be messy and, if we chose wrong, I'll buy all of us a
  pint."
  
  (Sentinels): Karistan says, "If you need a sacrifice, I'm willing, Prideleader."
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "Y'know, sod it. I'm buying all of us a pint anyways."
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "I'm still getting sauced to add to the mess."
  
  (Sentinels): Mahar says, "I'm just happy to be a part of it all."
  
  (Sentinels): Valorie says, "I... don't think I like the idea of starting with the smallest. I-...
  uh. Just. Go ahead and behead me?"
  
  You have emoted: "Oh, on with it, then!" Iesid grunts out as he produces a jewel-encrusted
  sacrificial dagger from a nomad's coat of unstable midnight hues. The Seer turns the wicked edge of
  the knife toward himself, though he pauses at something unheard.
  
  (Sentinels): Valorie says, "Unless we prefer spinecutting to beheading, I'm not sure how practical
  it'll be here."
  
  You say, "Our Speaker is first, then."
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "Fair enough, I was considering speed."
  
  Valorie kneels onto one knee, demonstrating her humility and respect.
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "Well, I don't lop off heads - but a spinecut should suffice, aye?"
  
  (Sentinels): Valorie says, "It does the job all the same."
  
  (Sentinels): You say, "Let's make it quick, then. Don't waste your curatives."
  
  [Iesid kills a passive Valorie.]
  
  A flare of bright red blood surges from the mural, eyes alight - and then a roar echoes throughout
  the whole of the crypt.
  
  Holding up its hand, an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan says, "You have chosen wrongly."
  Elene's withered tongue escapes from the confines of her mouth, wetting her ichored lips.
  
  Elene's gaze flitters towards the pool of blood before the mural, before trailing upwards to the
  Pridemates gathered.
  
  (Sentinels): Karistan says, "Question...must the sacrifice be of blood, or perhaps the sacrifice is
  of something else?"
  
  Czcibor just thought:
  I never noticed how horrible her tongue actually is. Wonder why it's worth so much.
  
  Saidenn's ears fold back briefly as the roar echoes, but then he exhales a soft growl. The response
  of the mural and an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan has his interest, although his nostrils flare
  to take in the vivid scent of spilled blood, leaving his tongue dragging along his lower lip.
  
  Khimaira Haven Locke of the Black Sun says, "Perhaps the trial is to embody Segaie and kill a clan
  leader or a member of shadow as the story foretells."
  
  Verdantgard Valeria murmurs something softly to Haven.
  
  Khimaira Haven Locke of the Black Sun murmurs something softly to Valeria.
  
  Verdantgard Valeria murmurs something softly to Haven.
  
  Czcibor Svin asks, "Segiae killed many in her battle, no?"
  
  Illidan Aresti-Te'Straif says to Haven, "Let the Sentinels undergo their trial. We should simply
  bear witness."
  
  Khimaira Haven Locke of the Black Sun says to Illidan, "Apologies. I was inspired by the power of
  kinship among them."
  
  (Sentinels): Sekeres says, "New plan. Seeing as we're being told what to do. How about we go with
  the original plan of the Prideleader's sacrifice?"
  
  "Shit," Lin exclaims, turning to leave without explanation.
  
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan glows bright, even as the red light begins to fade - a pinkish
  cast suffuses its shape even now, and it licks its lips as though to clear them of blood. It gazes
  down at the growing pool of blood, and the corpse that is its source. "There is a last bit to the
  story of Segiae, though she is long dead." Its eyes lift, and it looks to the remaining Sentinels.
  "The Hunter appeared to the clans, and reprimanded all of them for their shortsightedness - their
  foolishness. At last, by His divine word, they understood the depths of their folly, and swore an
  alliance by the symbol of the open triad - the three-branched knot."
  
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan says, "The Wardens were formed in the wake of the Ithmian
  battle, comprised of the greatest warriors of all three clans, and they were set to guard the crypts
  and the bones that lay within. The first set, of course... belonged to Segiae herself, and they were
  interred with the White Bears."
  
  "In older days, perhaps, such a sacrifice might have been looked upon as good and necessary - but
  that's the same mindset that nearly led to the Ithmia's downfall." an ancestor spirit of the Bear
  clan's eyes are blinding, now, so brightly they glow - and the mural at its back is alive with
  motion and radiance, the spirits within clamoring for a better view of the assembled Sentinels.
  
  An ancestor spirit of the Bear clan says, "You are not to perish by your ways. You are to *live* by
  them."
  
  You have emoted: Iesid's head moves in a mechanical motion, understanding slowly dawning on his
  face.
  
  Valeria just thought:
  Live by what, spinecuts?
  
  Saidenn just thought:
  Needless bloodshed is not the Rhythm. Each death is meaning, each cut a purpose. To live is to hunt,
  and to hunt is to know Life.
  
  There is dawning enlightenment quietly seeking its expansion across Elene's features. Silvery
  tresses shift and curl across her shoulders. Her gaze finds itself upon an ancestor spirit of the
  Bear clan.
  
  Karistan rubs his chin thoughtfully before nodding in understanding.
  
  Elene just thought:
  To worship the ways of the Hunter does not mean one must sacrifice blood. It is the hunt, the
  pursuit of all He embodies, that matters.
  
  Valorie glances towards the staked corpse of herself before sniffing softly and crossing her arms
  over her chest as she takes her former place next to the rest of the Sentinels.
  
  Elene just thought:
  Blood is worthless, without meaning attached to its offering.
  
  Saidenn's eyes flick toward Elene, as if a moment shared, and he nods subtly, a purr escaping his
  throat.
  
  Sekeres remains silent, the angles of her face softening as her eyes move to the mosaic behind the
  spirit.
  
  Saidenn just thought:
  A life is taken to feed, not to sacrifice and let the flesh rot. A life is taken in glory to the
  hunt, and then the life is given meaning through the act of the Hunt, and the life it gives back in
  its flesh, its hide, its bones and sinew. A death without meaning is no glory to the Hunter or His
  Rhythm.
  
  Elene just thought:
  [Her mind shifts, the strands of thought aligning themselves across the surface of her mind. It
  settles in clarity.].
  
  Haven just thought:
  "Where is my tinderbox..."
  
  "Nevertheless," an ancestor spirit of the Bear clan grants - a smile showing in its previously
  severe expression as it nods to Valorie and you, "Your willingness to die for one another, though
  tragically misplaced, speaks to a camaraderie that was sorely lacking in the time of your
  forebears." Its edges have begun to blur and fade, melting away toward the mosaic, the bones, and
  the stone and mortar of the crypt. "The trials were not to succeed or fail. They were for you to
  learn. And learn you shall, Black Ravens, and inherit the knowledge that is your right." It bursts
  asunder into starry motes, then, lost to apparent sight. The mosaic begins to dim, and with many
  voices, it whispers one last word: "Goodbye..."
  
  Saidenn's eyebrow whiskers lift as he studies the Pride, moving from face to face, as if attempting
  to discern understanding. His paws clasp around his middle, lightly plucking at the fabric of a
  draped jacket of the Mejevsavelnel.
  
  You feel a thrum of understanding begin, someplace deep and primal. It creeps from your gut and
  along your limbs, sparking new and spontaneous thoughts within your brain. You sense potential that
  wasn't there before... a capacity for violence that was only dimly present prior. The voices of your
  ancestors speak within you, and their secrets are many.

  

  3
• Elene

  April 2021

  I actually really liked the story that the ancestors shared about Segiae, and I'm glad you guys didn't chase me off. It was interesting!

  

  1