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Oath of the Tiarna an-Kiar
It took me a while to get it all together, but here it is! I've gone ahead and broken it up into parts to make it easier to read and digest. This was easily the most memorable (and emotional) moment I've experienced in my 15 year long Aetolia career, and I couldn't have asked for it to play out any more beautifully. So, here you go:
(Tells): The low, throaty sound of Haern's voice reverberates through your conscious: "Need you at the cabin, lad. Got somethin' to ask."
(Tells): "Yes Lord? I'm at the Core," you think, instilling the message into Haern's memory.
(Tells): The low, throaty sound of Haern's voice reverberates through your conscious: "Aye, pretty sure I said cabin."
(Tells): "Errr. Where might that be," you think, instilling the message into Haern's memory.
(Tells): The low, throaty sound of Haern's voice reverberates through your conscious: "You don't even know how to use your knife, lad?"
Securing the hold on your knife, you raise it up above your head before slamming it downwards into the earth, burying it to the hilt. Your eyes slip shut, and you begin to concentrate on the Hunter's Refuge.
You continue to focus upon your destination. Verdant flames spring up around your flesh, rapidly spreading across the surface of your form with only the barest hint of increasing warmth. A second later, and even that trickle of heat dissipates as the flames wink out. You open your eyes, and find yourself in the Hunter's Refuge.
The Hunter's cabin.
The interior of the cabin is sparce and barely ornamented. A hearth sits at the end of the room, the pelt of an enormous elk stretched out before it. A table is set in the center of the cabin, a wide rectangular surface adorned with a single candle and various tools and equipment. Knives, arrows, feathers and shafts are littered across it, bearing no rhyme or reason in their placement. A massive wooden chair carved of a dark wood is here, seated at the rectangular table, clearly fashioned for some large person. A wide, rectangular table is set center of the room, intricately carved from a dark wood. Two normal-sized chairs are situated at the rectangular table, carefully carved by some intricate hand. Haern looms here, His hulking form dominating the area. He wields the colossal spear, "Rhythm's Spine" in His left hand.
You see exits leading east, south, and west.
You raise a staff bound with bone-laden chains in wordless greeting to Haern with the soft clatter of bone upon wood.
Haern grunts noncommittally.
Haern sets down His carvings, twirling an obsidian knife etched in runes between His massive fingers with surprising deftness for such a hulking beast. "Never been here, lad?"
"Mmmm, it's been some time. Didn't quite come inside last time, though." Illidan says, looking around briefly. "In fact the last time, I swore my oath to You."
Haern nods, slowly, standing from a massive, dark wood chair with some visible effort. "Aye," He rumbles, looking into the middle distance in remembrance. "You've sworn many oaths, Shaman. Do they hold true?"
Without hesitation, you say, "Now and forever."
Haern frowns, His mouth a wreck of teeth and tusks, but He grunts in affirmation. "Your oaths," He begins, counting on his fingers. "To the Shamans... to Me... to the Guardians... and to Dendara." He speaks the last one reverently, a look of melancholy briefly crossing his face. "Would you fulfill those oaths with your life?"
Illidan pauses a moment, bowing his head as he pulls the mask from his face, leaving none of his expressions to the imagination. Raising his gaze to meet Haern's, he speaks solemnly. "My service belongs to Dendara. The Guardians. The Praadi. To You, Lord Hunter. For as long as I draw draw breath, I am theirs. Yours. Eternally."
"Then it is time for those oaths to be kept," Haern rumbles, a dour shadow crossing His monstrous face. "Right, then," He demands, stepping away even as a rippling sheet of flames leaps to life, forming a shimmering portal. Haern steps halfway through this portal, and turns to look at you once more. "Go make your peace with your loved ones," comes the command, and without offering further explanation, Haern steps through the fiery portal and is gone, with the portal vanishing soon after.
Valorie has been consumed by the confluence, her mortal frame rendered irrevocably immaterial by a surge of sidereal fire.
You divine the location of this death as A strange altar flanked by vast statues in the Ruins of Masilia.
Nearly instantly after this, Valorie was slain by the confluence and her body was nowhere to be found, nor her spirit able to be sensed/revived. Illidan stood here briefly in shock trying to process this.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Barely a minute later:
(Duiran): Haern says, "Duiran! You may attend Me at the Oak."
*movement*
Rihrin enters from the west, riding a rainbow-hued peryton.
She is followed by a nine-tailed fox of flames and a wyvern spirit.
(Tells): Mazzion tells you, "What are you doing in the neighborhood!"
Iesid arrives from the west.
He is followed by a masked ancestral simulacrum, a scarred ancestral simulacrum, and a wrinkled ancestral simulacrum.
A shadowy figure enters from the east, followed by Tabinathia.
Caitria clenches her right fist and pounds her chest thrice in rapid succession, symbolizing the
vibrant heart that beats within.
Valeria enters from the west, followed by Jakarn and Khelzya.
She is followed by a diminutive nightingale and an oversized toad.
Wylliam steps down off of a giant, snowy white-furred direwolf.
Rihrin grins mischievously at Edhain.
Streaks of lightning crackle across the floor as Eaku treads in from the west.
He is followed by a veiled ancestral simulacrum.
The shadows stir as a concealed figure slips in from the east.
Khelzya clenches her right fist and pounds her chest thrice in rapid succession, symbolizing the
vibrant heart that beats within.
Yvi pats a giant, snowy white-furred direwolf in a friendly manner.
Eliadon enters from the west, riding a white-cloaked gryphon.
Pressing the open palm of her left hand against the clenched fist of her right, Rihrin bows
respectfully.
Eliadon says to you, "Your wife appears to have been evaporated."
Eaku says, "..I just can't put together how she even ended up in there."
Haern steps forth from the Great Oak, surrounded by winking motes of green light that cling to His scarred flesh. He sweeps His broad arms wide, addressing those gathered with His voice a baritone boom. "Heartwood! Duiran! The time has come to serve your oath. The Fury threatens the wilds and, in doing so, threatens Dendara." He pauses, allowing those words to hang in the air, before He declares, "And so, I will fight to drive It away. Bamathis has begged Me for My aid in trapping the bastard, so It can be wounded."
Eaku asks, "I was outside the whole time. How did the door even...?"
Edhain nods to Rihrin, unsmiling, but with a glint of mirth in his eyes. He glances towards you and lifts a hand to salute -- then pauses with a look at Haern.
Eliadon gives Haern a respectful salute.
Pilar enters from the north, riding a giant, black-furred wolf.
Haern narrows His eyes to thin slits.
You think: Where is my WIFE.
Edhain bows his head respectfully.
"For something that powerful, I will need Dendara's help," Haern rumbles, and turns to Runecarver Rhydderch, nodding solemnly. "You will lead them to the breakage point, Runecarver."
Kidos enters from the west, riding a donkey.
He is followed by a hellcat.
Pilar tilts her head curiously.
Edhain glances sidelong towards a figure hidden by flames, lifting his head.
Runecarver Rhydderch bows his head in obeisance, but his voice rises in a probing question. "Lord, are you certain the dangers are worth it?"
Mazzion enters from the west, riding a flaming stallion.
A figure hidden by flames peers about himself suspiciously.
Yvi says, "Shoo!"
Jakarn pounds his fist against his breast, nodding towards Haern, "As you command of us, Hunter."
Eaku says, "...The Fury's important, Lord Hunter, but our Fury just... exploded."
Tabinathia nods her head in agreement.
Firmly, Haern says, "I am certain."
Yvi begins to follow you.
The faintest bit of shakiness in his voice, you say, "As You command, Hunter..."
"Here to serve, Hunter, if that is what is needed." Rihrin says towards Haern with a bob of her head.
Valeria says to Eaku, "I'm sure our Fury can handle a little exploding."
Haern asks you, "Then you've no one to say goodbye to?"
Jakarn says to Eaku, "Think of everything she had to endure living alongside Valeria."
You crease your brow in a frown.
Wylliam creases his brow in a frown.
Eaku ponders the situation.
Doman creases her brow in a frown.
Valeria peers at Jakarn suspiciously.
Wylliam says, "Da...mn."
Caitria exhales another slow breath. "As promised, Hunter, we are here and will serve our oaths to aide You in trapping the Fury."
Ranae arrives from the west.
She is followed by a weathered direwolf.
Eaku peers about himself suspiciously.
From atop a giant, black-furred wolf, Pilar remains still as she shifts her ear forward to listen more closely.
Haern grunts noncommittally.
Khelzya glances over in concern at you, in hearing the words of the Hunter.
Eliadon fluidly swaps a hunter's spear with a Shamanic quarterstaff in both hands.
Distastefully, Haern says, "Breakage..."
Haern snarls in distaste at the very thought, but shakes unsureties away with a toss of His mighty head, and addresses Duiran once more. "The breakage point is a part of Dendara only I have tread in centuries," He begins. "It is the forefront of Dendara's struggle against Shadow. It is exceedingly dangerous." He begins to pace, a wild beast barely restrained as He explains, "Monsters, aberrations, and worse exist there, where shadow eats away at the very being of the wilds. And yet, Dendara persists: there are yet three groves untouched by rot, where the fight is not yet lost. You are to clear My path to these groves, and hold back the tide long enough for Me to complete My arrows."
Caitria begins to follow you.
(Duiran): Caitria says, "Duiran, be on point behind Illidan."
Rihrin says to Haern, "Will You need the powers of one of the Sentaari? I'll have to prepare myself for it if so."
Iesid begins to follow you.
Eaku begins to follow you.
Sibatti nods her head at Rihrin.
Tabinathia begins to follow you.
Nodding, Rihrin says, "One moment.."
Rihrin leaves to the south, riding a rainbow-hued peryton.
She is followed by a nine-tailed fox of flames and a wyvern spirit.
Jakarn begins to follow you.
Pilar chews thoughtfully on her lip.
Haern says, "Aye, Sentaari and Shamans will be necessary if you're to survive."
Rihrin arrives from the south.
She is followed by a nine-tailed fox of flames and a rainbow-hued peryton.
Rihrin nods her head at Haern.
Tabinathia nods her head sagely.
Rihrin says, "The one Sentaari, ready for what comes."
Rihrin begins to follow you.
Eliadon arrives from the west.
He is followed by a white-cloaked gryphon and a wyvern spirit.
A shadowy figure begins to follow you.
Tabinathia says, "Really?"
Edhain gives you a solemn look, then leans forward silently in the saddle. Careful hooves tread across sticks and moss as his warhorse drifts near your side in a show of mute support.
Edhain begins to follow you.
Gruffly, Haern says, "Rhydderch will lead you."
Rihrin says to Wylliam, "Or you, if you know of the ways, but I'm unsure if you do."
Illidan turns slowly to everyone gathered, particularly casting a concerned glance to those of the Praadi, of Duiran, and those considered friends and family. "I do not know what this means. I do not know what He means. But what I do know is that I've sworn oaths with my life. So if it comes to a goodbye...I suppose this it."
Pilar's remaining ear droops as she continues to chew on her lip. Under her breath, she mutters mostly to herself, "I am not...prepared for a fight. I admit."
Haern glares angrily at Mazzion.
Haern says to Mazzion, "You've got thirty seconds, leech."
Haern reaches for the colossal spear, "Rhythm's Spine".
The corners of Wylliam's mouth turn up as he grins mischievously.
"I will lead you," agrees Runecarver Rhydderch, though his voice holds notes of melancholy at the thought of it. "Follow me closely through the fog, and I will see you to Breakage, but I dare not enter. I will hold fast, to-" he pauses, and with a look of hope crossing his face, finishes, "... to lead you home after."
Runecarver Rhydderch presses a palm against the great tree, his clouded eye briefly glowing with the contact.
(Shamans): Sibatti says, "Praadi, come to the core if you are not yet here."
Eaku makes a quick adjustment to a black phoenix tattoo, which shimmers with reddish light.
Mazzion says to Haern, "I was sent as a silent observer, by Qeddwyn. I am quiet and with full respect to the proceedings."
(Shamans): You say, "If there was ever a time for you to uphold your Oaths. Now is the time."
(Tells): Wafting, as if on the air, Caitria's velvety voice reaches your ear: "We are flanking you."
Wylliam raises an eyebrow questioningly.
Ifinthiri arrives from the south.
The following members of the Shamans are in the realm:
Member Rank Position Class
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Illidan an Omen of Dendara Speaker Shaman
Pilar a Dendaric Reclaimant Shaman
Sibatti a Dendaric Reclaimant Shaman
Ixmi of the Vintal Circle Shaman
Valeria an Omen of Dendara Wayfarer
Raisha a Shaman of the Heartwood Shaman
Jakarn Beyami Sentinel
Tabinathia Beyami Shaman
Khalil Beyami Sentinel
Yvi Beyami Sentinel
(Shamans): Tabinathia says, "I am present."
Haern raises His fists above His head. Concentrating briefly, He causes rippling blue fire to flow from the heavens above into a ball of energy between His upraised fists. Scornfully, He throws His fists forward, sending a beam of crackling energy to incinerate Mazzion. A stream of crackling blue fire sizzles across the sky. You hear a high-pitched screaming noise and instantly, a bolt of blue, crackling energy strikes Mazzion. His body arches as his mouth opens in a noiseless scream. Blue fire erupts out of his eye sockets and mouth and his charred body crumples to the ground.
Mazzion has been slain by Haern.
Haern nods to you, gesturing to him. "With me, lad."
Ifinthiri says, "What have I walked into?"
You begin to follow Haern.
You think: Where is Val....
Caitria says, "Duiran, we flank Illidan and Rhydderch."
(Shamans): Pilar says, "I am woefully not prepared for a fight of any type but I am here..."
Haern says, "Rhydderch, take care of 'em."
Haern says, "Duiran, you're with the Runecarver."
Haern says, "Illidan is with Me."
Rihrin nods her head at Haern.
Sibatti begins to follow you.
Caitria nods her head emphatically.
Caitria says, "Follow me then."
(Tells): Jakarn tells you, "Good luck, father."
Runecarver Rhydderch offers Haern a solemn nod of understanding. "By Your will, Hunter."
Haern turns and, with a step, is gone, disappearing into a shimmering portal of flames.
(Web): Edhain says, "Illi, want us to follow Rhydderch?"
Eaku coughs softly.
You move about quickly and lose Knight Edhain de Verdigris.
You follow Haern to the ether.
(Web): You say, "Yeah."
At the foot of an ancient, weathered stair.
You move about quickly and lose Esrytesh Sibatti dur Naya.
Haern asks, "Mm. You lot are awfully bright today, hmm?"
Haern says, "If you aren't Illidan, wait here for the Runecarver, or I'm gonna start eatin' people."
Caitria says, "Not overtly. You move swiftly."
"Heh heh heh," Tabinathia chuckles.
Rihrin nods her head at Haern.
Haern asks you, "Any of them still clingin' to ya?"
You shake your head.
Wylliam says to you, "Be strong, Son."
Rihrin focuses a moment on her inner light and lets it dim down to nothingness.
Doman exhales slowly, allowing a long fluid breath to creep from her lungs.
(Tells): The low, throaty sound of Haern's voice reverberates through your conscious: "You sure?"
The following people are in your entourage:
The following creatures are in your entourage:
A colossal, winged sapphire toad#38944 and a raven spirit#401138
Runecarver Rhydderch blinks.
(Tells): "Looks clear to me," you think, instilling the message into Haern's memory.
A flickering gateway of fell green fire blossoms in the air before you, wavering outwards as the Hunter lumbers through it with a guttural chant.
The shrill Gnomish voice of Nipsy resounds antagonistically, "For interrupting our work in the Spires, enjoy the Pit of Xa'azamit."
Caitria smiles wryly at Runecarver Rhydderch.
Softly, Runecarver Rhydderch says, "Onwards then, to the remnants of the idol."
With a derisive sneer, Runecaller Rhydderch lumbers northward.
Caitria leaves to the north, followed by Eaku, Eliadon, Iesid, Jakarn, Pilar, Rihrin, Sibatti, Tabinathia, Wylliam, Yvi, and a shadowy figure.
(Tells): The low, throaty sound of Haern's voice reverberates through your conscious: "Need you at the cabin, lad. Got somethin' to ask."
(Tells): "Yes Lord? I'm at the Core," you think, instilling the message into Haern's memory.
(Tells): The low, throaty sound of Haern's voice reverberates through your conscious: "Aye, pretty sure I said cabin."
(Tells): "Errr. Where might that be," you think, instilling the message into Haern's memory.
(Tells): The low, throaty sound of Haern's voice reverberates through your conscious: "You don't even know how to use your knife, lad?"
Securing the hold on your knife, you raise it up above your head before slamming it downwards into the earth, burying it to the hilt. Your eyes slip shut, and you begin to concentrate on the Hunter's Refuge.
You continue to focus upon your destination. Verdant flames spring up around your flesh, rapidly spreading across the surface of your form with only the barest hint of increasing warmth. A second later, and even that trickle of heat dissipates as the flames wink out. You open your eyes, and find yourself in the Hunter's Refuge.
The Hunter's cabin.
The interior of the cabin is sparce and barely ornamented. A hearth sits at the end of the room, the pelt of an enormous elk stretched out before it. A table is set in the center of the cabin, a wide rectangular surface adorned with a single candle and various tools and equipment. Knives, arrows, feathers and shafts are littered across it, bearing no rhyme or reason in their placement. A massive wooden chair carved of a dark wood is here, seated at the rectangular table, clearly fashioned for some large person. A wide, rectangular table is set center of the room, intricately carved from a dark wood. Two normal-sized chairs are situated at the rectangular table, carefully carved by some intricate hand. Haern looms here, His hulking form dominating the area. He wields the colossal spear, "Rhythm's Spine" in His left hand.
You see exits leading east, south, and west.
You raise a staff bound with bone-laden chains in wordless greeting to Haern with the soft clatter of bone upon wood.
Haern grunts noncommittally.
Haern sets down His carvings, twirling an obsidian knife etched in runes between His massive fingers with surprising deftness for such a hulking beast. "Never been here, lad?"
"Mmmm, it's been some time. Didn't quite come inside last time, though." Illidan says, looking around briefly. "In fact the last time, I swore my oath to You."
Haern nods, slowly, standing from a massive, dark wood chair with some visible effort. "Aye," He rumbles, looking into the middle distance in remembrance. "You've sworn many oaths, Shaman. Do they hold true?"
Without hesitation, you say, "Now and forever."
Haern frowns, His mouth a wreck of teeth and tusks, but He grunts in affirmation. "Your oaths," He begins, counting on his fingers. "To the Shamans... to Me... to the Guardians... and to Dendara." He speaks the last one reverently, a look of melancholy briefly crossing his face. "Would you fulfill those oaths with your life?"
Illidan pauses a moment, bowing his head as he pulls the mask from his face, leaving none of his expressions to the imagination. Raising his gaze to meet Haern's, he speaks solemnly. "My service belongs to Dendara. The Guardians. The Praadi. To You, Lord Hunter. For as long as I draw draw breath, I am theirs. Yours. Eternally."
"Then it is time for those oaths to be kept," Haern rumbles, a dour shadow crossing His monstrous face. "Right, then," He demands, stepping away even as a rippling sheet of flames leaps to life, forming a shimmering portal. Haern steps halfway through this portal, and turns to look at you once more. "Go make your peace with your loved ones," comes the command, and without offering further explanation, Haern steps through the fiery portal and is gone, with the portal vanishing soon after.
Valorie has been consumed by the confluence, her mortal frame rendered irrevocably immaterial by a surge of sidereal fire.
You divine the location of this death as A strange altar flanked by vast statues in the Ruins of Masilia.
Nearly instantly after this, Valorie was slain by the confluence and her body was nowhere to be found, nor her spirit able to be sensed/revived. Illidan stood here briefly in shock trying to process this.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Barely a minute later:
(Duiran): Haern says, "Duiran! You may attend Me at the Oak."
*movement*
Rihrin enters from the west, riding a rainbow-hued peryton.
She is followed by a nine-tailed fox of flames and a wyvern spirit.
(Tells): Mazzion tells you, "What are you doing in the neighborhood!"
Iesid arrives from the west.
He is followed by a masked ancestral simulacrum, a scarred ancestral simulacrum, and a wrinkled ancestral simulacrum.
A shadowy figure enters from the east, followed by Tabinathia.
Caitria clenches her right fist and pounds her chest thrice in rapid succession, symbolizing the
vibrant heart that beats within.
Valeria enters from the west, followed by Jakarn and Khelzya.
She is followed by a diminutive nightingale and an oversized toad.
Wylliam steps down off of a giant, snowy white-furred direwolf.
Rihrin grins mischievously at Edhain.
Streaks of lightning crackle across the floor as Eaku treads in from the west.
He is followed by a veiled ancestral simulacrum.
The shadows stir as a concealed figure slips in from the east.
Khelzya clenches her right fist and pounds her chest thrice in rapid succession, symbolizing the
vibrant heart that beats within.
Yvi pats a giant, snowy white-furred direwolf in a friendly manner.
Eliadon enters from the west, riding a white-cloaked gryphon.
Pressing the open palm of her left hand against the clenched fist of her right, Rihrin bows
respectfully.
Eliadon says to you, "Your wife appears to have been evaporated."
Eaku says, "..I just can't put together how she even ended up in there."
Haern steps forth from the Great Oak, surrounded by winking motes of green light that cling to His scarred flesh. He sweeps His broad arms wide, addressing those gathered with His voice a baritone boom. "Heartwood! Duiran! The time has come to serve your oath. The Fury threatens the wilds and, in doing so, threatens Dendara." He pauses, allowing those words to hang in the air, before He declares, "And so, I will fight to drive It away. Bamathis has begged Me for My aid in trapping the bastard, so It can be wounded."
Eaku asks, "I was outside the whole time. How did the door even...?"
Edhain nods to Rihrin, unsmiling, but with a glint of mirth in his eyes. He glances towards you and lifts a hand to salute -- then pauses with a look at Haern.
Eliadon gives Haern a respectful salute.
Pilar enters from the north, riding a giant, black-furred wolf.
Haern narrows His eyes to thin slits.
You think: Where is my WIFE.
Edhain bows his head respectfully.
"For something that powerful, I will need Dendara's help," Haern rumbles, and turns to Runecarver Rhydderch, nodding solemnly. "You will lead them to the breakage point, Runecarver."
Kidos enters from the west, riding a donkey.
He is followed by a hellcat.
Pilar tilts her head curiously.
Edhain glances sidelong towards a figure hidden by flames, lifting his head.
Runecarver Rhydderch bows his head in obeisance, but his voice rises in a probing question. "Lord, are you certain the dangers are worth it?"
Mazzion enters from the west, riding a flaming stallion.
A figure hidden by flames peers about himself suspiciously.
Yvi says, "Shoo!"
Jakarn pounds his fist against his breast, nodding towards Haern, "As you command of us, Hunter."
Eaku says, "...The Fury's important, Lord Hunter, but our Fury just... exploded."
Tabinathia nods her head in agreement.
Firmly, Haern says, "I am certain."
Yvi begins to follow you.
The faintest bit of shakiness in his voice, you say, "As You command, Hunter..."
"Here to serve, Hunter, if that is what is needed." Rihrin says towards Haern with a bob of her head.
Valeria says to Eaku, "I'm sure our Fury can handle a little exploding."
Haern asks you, "Then you've no one to say goodbye to?"
Jakarn says to Eaku, "Think of everything she had to endure living alongside Valeria."
You crease your brow in a frown.
Wylliam creases his brow in a frown.
Eaku ponders the situation.
Doman creases her brow in a frown.
Valeria peers at Jakarn suspiciously.
Wylliam says, "Da...mn."
Caitria exhales another slow breath. "As promised, Hunter, we are here and will serve our oaths to aide You in trapping the Fury."
Ranae arrives from the west.
She is followed by a weathered direwolf.
Eaku peers about himself suspiciously.
From atop a giant, black-furred wolf, Pilar remains still as she shifts her ear forward to listen more closely.
Haern grunts noncommittally.
Khelzya glances over in concern at you, in hearing the words of the Hunter.
Eliadon fluidly swaps a hunter's spear with a Shamanic quarterstaff in both hands.
Distastefully, Haern says, "Breakage..."
Haern snarls in distaste at the very thought, but shakes unsureties away with a toss of His mighty head, and addresses Duiran once more. "The breakage point is a part of Dendara only I have tread in centuries," He begins. "It is the forefront of Dendara's struggle against Shadow. It is exceedingly dangerous." He begins to pace, a wild beast barely restrained as He explains, "Monsters, aberrations, and worse exist there, where shadow eats away at the very being of the wilds. And yet, Dendara persists: there are yet three groves untouched by rot, where the fight is not yet lost. You are to clear My path to these groves, and hold back the tide long enough for Me to complete My arrows."
Caitria begins to follow you.
(Duiran): Caitria says, "Duiran, be on point behind Illidan."
Rihrin says to Haern, "Will You need the powers of one of the Sentaari? I'll have to prepare myself for it if so."
Iesid begins to follow you.
Eaku begins to follow you.
Sibatti nods her head at Rihrin.
Tabinathia begins to follow you.
Nodding, Rihrin says, "One moment.."
Rihrin leaves to the south, riding a rainbow-hued peryton.
She is followed by a nine-tailed fox of flames and a wyvern spirit.
Jakarn begins to follow you.
Pilar chews thoughtfully on her lip.
Haern says, "Aye, Sentaari and Shamans will be necessary if you're to survive."
Rihrin arrives from the south.
She is followed by a nine-tailed fox of flames and a rainbow-hued peryton.
Rihrin nods her head at Haern.
Tabinathia nods her head sagely.
Rihrin says, "The one Sentaari, ready for what comes."
Rihrin begins to follow you.
Eliadon arrives from the west.
He is followed by a white-cloaked gryphon and a wyvern spirit.
A shadowy figure begins to follow you.
Tabinathia says, "Really?"
Edhain gives you a solemn look, then leans forward silently in the saddle. Careful hooves tread across sticks and moss as his warhorse drifts near your side in a show of mute support.
Edhain begins to follow you.
Gruffly, Haern says, "Rhydderch will lead you."
Rihrin says to Wylliam, "Or you, if you know of the ways, but I'm unsure if you do."
Illidan turns slowly to everyone gathered, particularly casting a concerned glance to those of the Praadi, of Duiran, and those considered friends and family. "I do not know what this means. I do not know what He means. But what I do know is that I've sworn oaths with my life. So if it comes to a goodbye...I suppose this it."
Pilar's remaining ear droops as she continues to chew on her lip. Under her breath, she mutters mostly to herself, "I am not...prepared for a fight. I admit."
Haern glares angrily at Mazzion.
Haern says to Mazzion, "You've got thirty seconds, leech."
Haern reaches for the colossal spear, "Rhythm's Spine".
The corners of Wylliam's mouth turn up as he grins mischievously.
"I will lead you," agrees Runecarver Rhydderch, though his voice holds notes of melancholy at the thought of it. "Follow me closely through the fog, and I will see you to Breakage, but I dare not enter. I will hold fast, to-" he pauses, and with a look of hope crossing his face, finishes, "... to lead you home after."
Runecarver Rhydderch presses a palm against the great tree, his clouded eye briefly glowing with the contact.
(Shamans): Sibatti says, "Praadi, come to the core if you are not yet here."
Eaku makes a quick adjustment to a black phoenix tattoo, which shimmers with reddish light.
Mazzion says to Haern, "I was sent as a silent observer, by Qeddwyn. I am quiet and with full respect to the proceedings."
(Shamans): You say, "If there was ever a time for you to uphold your Oaths. Now is the time."
(Tells): Wafting, as if on the air, Caitria's velvety voice reaches your ear: "We are flanking you."
Wylliam raises an eyebrow questioningly.
Ifinthiri arrives from the south.
The following members of the Shamans are in the realm:
Member Rank Position Class
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Illidan an Omen of Dendara Speaker Shaman
Pilar a Dendaric Reclaimant Shaman
Sibatti a Dendaric Reclaimant Shaman
Ixmi of the Vintal Circle Shaman
Valeria an Omen of Dendara Wayfarer
Raisha a Shaman of the Heartwood Shaman
Jakarn Beyami Sentinel
Tabinathia Beyami Shaman
Khalil Beyami Sentinel
Yvi Beyami Sentinel
(Shamans): Tabinathia says, "I am present."
Haern raises His fists above His head. Concentrating briefly, He causes rippling blue fire to flow from the heavens above into a ball of energy between His upraised fists. Scornfully, He throws His fists forward, sending a beam of crackling energy to incinerate Mazzion. A stream of crackling blue fire sizzles across the sky. You hear a high-pitched screaming noise and instantly, a bolt of blue, crackling energy strikes Mazzion. His body arches as his mouth opens in a noiseless scream. Blue fire erupts out of his eye sockets and mouth and his charred body crumples to the ground.
Mazzion has been slain by Haern.
Haern nods to you, gesturing to him. "With me, lad."
Ifinthiri says, "What have I walked into?"
You begin to follow Haern.
You think: Where is Val....
Caitria says, "Duiran, we flank Illidan and Rhydderch."
(Shamans): Pilar says, "I am woefully not prepared for a fight of any type but I am here..."
Haern says, "Rhydderch, take care of 'em."
Haern says, "Duiran, you're with the Runecarver."
Haern says, "Illidan is with Me."
Rihrin nods her head at Haern.
Sibatti begins to follow you.
Caitria nods her head emphatically.
Caitria says, "Follow me then."
(Tells): Jakarn tells you, "Good luck, father."
Runecarver Rhydderch offers Haern a solemn nod of understanding. "By Your will, Hunter."
Haern turns and, with a step, is gone, disappearing into a shimmering portal of flames.
(Web): Edhain says, "Illi, want us to follow Rhydderch?"
Eaku coughs softly.
You move about quickly and lose Knight Edhain de Verdigris.
You follow Haern to the ether.
(Web): You say, "Yeah."
At the foot of an ancient, weathered stair.
You find the weather around you imperceptible. The seemingly endless stairway down through the pass comes to a meandering end at a broad, flat landing carved from the living earth in the distant past. Shrubs and hardy saplings protrude from the dark soil, competing with dry, tough creepers to overtake the flat, though there is still more than enough room for most to pass without difficulty. The depths of the valley lurk to the north, guarded by enormous, dark-needled pines, and the slopes of the pale mountains loom to the south; the wind flowing down from the heights is crisp and thin, overlaid with a slight chill. Runecaller Drehos sits atop a cairn here, his staff cast across his lap as he keeps vigil across the entry into the depths of Dendara. Its slimy eyes unblinkingly observing the world, a colossal, winged sapphire toad sits here in an oversized lump. Like a bird-shaped hole in space, a dark raven spirit glides through the air. Suspended in a web of ethereal, fickle light, a luminescent spider spirit waits here. Standing vigilant, a masked ancestral simulacrum waits here. White wings draping like a cloak over its back, a gryphon stands tall here. Jaws gaping and ethereal tail raised to strike, a wyvern spirit hovers menacingly here. Sniffing at his surroundings, a rainbow-hued peryton stands here restlessly. A small, flaming fox stands proudly here, its nine tails flicking this way and that. There are 2 diminutive nightingales here. Standing vigilant, a veiled ancestral simulacrum waits here. Standing vigilant, a wrinkled ancestral simulacrum waits here. Standing vigilant, a masked ancestral simulacrum waits here. Standing vigilant, a scarred ancestral simulacrum waits here. White fur stretched tightly over sinewy muscules, this giant snowy white-furred direwolf snarls. A mote of verdant light flickers. Eliadon is here. He wields a Shamanic quarterstaff in his hands. Rihrin is here. She wields a glowing quarterstaff of magewood in her hands. Jakarn is here. He is riding on an elk. He wields a keen-edged dhurive of dusk in his hands. Doman is here, concealed within the shadows. She wields a vicious light brown dhurive in her hands. Tabinathia is here. She wields a Shamanic quarterstaff in her hands. Eaku is here. He is riding on a war-painted orel. He wields a sword-bladed ironwood greatspear in his hands. Haern looms here, His hulking form dominating the area. He wields the colossal spear, "Rhythm's Spine" in His left hand. Yvi is here. She is riding on a massive white-shelled hermit crab. She wields a wooden fishing pole in her left hand. Iesid is here. He wields a pair of heavy wargauntlets in his hands. Pilar is here. She is riding on a giant, black-furred wolf. She wields a quarterstaff of blossoming dogwood in her hands. Sibatti is here. She is riding on a verdant sylvan eland. She wields a Shamanic quarterstaff in her hands. Caitria is here. She wields hellcat-claw wargauntlets in her hands. Wylliam is here, concealed within the shadows. He wields a vicious dragon skeletal dhurive in his hands. This area has been overgrown with a swathe of seething plantlife. A shimmering portal of verdant green yawns wide here, leading to the depths of the Vintal Glade.
You move about quickly and lose Esrytesh Sibatti dur Naya.
Haern asks, "Mm. You lot are awfully bright today, hmm?"
Haern says, "If you aren't Illidan, wait here for the Runecarver, or I'm gonna start eatin' people."
Caitria says, "Not overtly. You move swiftly."
"Heh heh heh," Tabinathia chuckles.
Rihrin nods her head at Haern.
Haern asks you, "Any of them still clingin' to ya?"
You shake your head.
Wylliam says to you, "Be strong, Son."
Rihrin focuses a moment on her inner light and lets it dim down to nothingness.
Doman exhales slowly, allowing a long fluid breath to creep from her lungs.
(Tells): The low, throaty sound of Haern's voice reverberates through your conscious: "You sure?"
The following people are in your entourage:
The following creatures are in your entourage:
A colossal, winged sapphire toad#38944 and a raven spirit#401138
Runecarver Rhydderch blinks.
(Tells): "Looks clear to me," you think, instilling the message into Haern's memory.
A flickering gateway of fell green fire blossoms in the air before you, wavering outwards as the Hunter lumbers through it with a guttural chant.
The shrill Gnomish voice of Nipsy resounds antagonistically, "For interrupting our work in the Spires, enjoy the Pit of Xa'azamit."
Caitria smiles wryly at Runecarver Rhydderch.
Softly, Runecarver Rhydderch says, "Onwards then, to the remnants of the idol."
With a derisive sneer, Runecaller Rhydderch lumbers northward.
Caitria leaves to the north, followed by Eaku, Eliadon, Iesid, Jakarn, Pilar, Rihrin, Sibatti, Tabinathia, Wylliam, Yvi, and a shadowy figure.
Illikaal
4
Events post #281: Fragments of Time, Part VIII: Into the Breakage
12/7/2021 at 2:14
Anonymous
Everyone
Fragments of Time, Part VIII: Into the Breakage
Following His summit with Bamathis, the Hunter began formulating His trap to ensnare the rampaging Yvalamon. From His halls in the Temple of Thorns He set to work, brooding over the final components that lay in a place no one wanted to go. Creeping rot infests Dendara, an unending onslaught of encroaching filth that slowly devours the plane. Though so many work to keep it at bay, the advance of shadow is unrelenting, and nowhere more starkly feels this interminable degradation than the Breakage: the place where shadow seethes most strongly, where aberrations and rotspawn roam to spread their vileness. It was there that the Hunter's final materials resided.
In a quiet clearing, a humble cabin rests. Within that cabin, the Hunter counseled a Shaman known as Illidan, darkly commanding the man to say goodbye to all his loved ones and make his peace, for the journey into Breakage might not be a safe one. Unfortunately, this goodbye would not come to pass, for Illidan's wife, Valorie Aresti, had vanished from this world. Despite his best efforts to resurrect her, she was lost, destroyed by the confluence and trapped outside of time. With a breaking heart, Illidan instead attended Haern at the Great Oak, where the Hunter explained to Duiran that they would be walking into the thick of corruption, deep into Dendara. Rhydderch, the Runecarver, would open the way inside, spoke Haern, and then the God was gone.
Deep in Dendara lies a bloodied ritual slab, carved with the ancestral stories of champions past. It is to this slab the Shaman Illidan was led, and it was on this slab he swore anew oaths to the Guardians, to Dendara, and to Haern. Hushed voices of spirits whispered his name, passing it along as the trees joined in anxious onlooking. As the ancient ritual proceeded, aberrations broke through the Breakage, drawn by the essence of Life so potent and so vigorous in the air. Rage filled the Hunter as He abandoned the ritual, urgently coming to the defence of the Guardians before tragedy could befall them.
While the Shaman and Hunter did their work, Rhydderch the Runecarver led Duiran to the Valley of the Ancients and began carving a path through the fog to lead them into Breakage. Filth rose to meet them the instant they crossed into Dendara, hordes of rotspawn and aberrations surging forth to feast upon the new arrivals. The Duiranites took up their arms and began to fight, felling them with the combined fury of the wilds.
Meanwhile, Valorie Aresti had ascended into the heavens, so far away from the globe of Aetolia that it seemed as a mere dot to her. There, she met with one of the continent's famed constellations: Veithadros, the hopeful. The celestial entity was merely a memory of the mortal life that had presaged it, but with consciousness enough to possess a twofold purpose in summoning her.
The first of these purposes was to warn her of the peril in which her husband, Illidan, lay - and to this end, Veithadros revealed visions of his potential death, subdued and blighted against his purpose of Dendaric protection. Horrified, she listened all the more closely to him, promising anything in exchange for the power to save Illidan from his fate.
The constellation gave her his legend, though it was not the simple one the Mejevsavelnel had recorded in times past. He spoke of his life as a tailor, and of his lover and eventual wife Keviti, an Ankyrean of the Conclave of Science and Nature, and the romance that had blossomed between them. She had ridden off, leaving him bereft to watch for her, knitting her a fine scarf in anticipation of her return.
A return that never came.
The sky so pitied his circumstance that it raised him amongst the stars, transforming him into a constellation. Only then had he seen Keviti - dead in her grave, hand-in-hand with an Ankyrean husband, with descendants to honor their graves. Finishing his tale, Veithadros urged Valorie to do what he could not: bring her love back home.
In the final moments of their sidereal conversation, the constellation revealed that the confluence had been Aechros' doing, and that the Albedi God's goal in facilitating this meeting was to preserve the Hunter's existence, though its reasons for doing so were unclear. So imbued with the celestial power of legend, he sent Valorie back to the Prime to rejoin her beloved in the Valley.
With Haern on the back foot, caught between defending Illidan and defending the Guardians, it seemed the Shaman would die for naught, and be joined by the hale Hunter. In that moment, the stars aligned, and Valorie Aresti, now reborn as an Aetherial - one graced with the deep empathy of the stars - scoured the rot from the grove in bursts of calescent starlight. With Haern now able to complete the ancient, secret ritual, Illidan gave his life for the Wilds, and Dendara herself responded: wisps of Life from all across the plane traveled to the primordial grove to breathe life anew into the corpse of a Shaman that lie atop the deathbed and, in a moment of exultation, Illikaal rose, named Tiarna an-Kiar by the Guardians.
As the filth grew in numbers and in confidence, desperation struck a solemn tone within the Breakage, the seemingly endless legions pouring forth to spread their rot. Each time the forces of Duiran repelled them from one of the glades, fresh waves appeared to lay siege to another, and on and on it went for half a day, the enveloping shadow striving desperately to destroy the few remaining healthy glades. Respite came for the briefest of moments, a lull in the gruesome conflict that rekindled fresh hope in those gathered. The Duiranites dared to breathe. But then it came.
A seething aberration of monstrous, murderous proportions tore its way through the Breakage, eyes trained upon the western glade. Though they threw everything at it, the lesser rotspawn still surged in great numbers. Death presided on both sides, and as the great monstrosity broke through the barrier, it set to ravaging the western glade until naught remained but rotten foliage and dead, lifeless trees.
Moving between cairns at speeds only a God could manage, Haern delivered Illikaal and Valorie to the Breakage, still fresh from their trials. There, they witnessed a truly gargantuan aberration and, with a vicious bellow, Haern led Illikaal, Valorie, and the combined might of Duiran and its allies in battle against the monster.
Though many suffered, the Hunter and His cadre triumphed over the hungering rot, the beast's keening scream echoing across the shattered skies of Dendara as it fell. Haern retrieved what He had first sought to ensnare the Tumult, and with no small measure of relief, led the contingent back to Duiran, where they would live - if only barely - to fight another day.
Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 25th of Chakros, in the year 499 MA.
Anonymous
Everyone
Fragments of Time, Part VIII: Into the Breakage
Following His summit with Bamathis, the Hunter began formulating His trap to ensnare the rampaging Yvalamon. From His halls in the Temple of Thorns He set to work, brooding over the final components that lay in a place no one wanted to go. Creeping rot infests Dendara, an unending onslaught of encroaching filth that slowly devours the plane. Though so many work to keep it at bay, the advance of shadow is unrelenting, and nowhere more starkly feels this interminable degradation than the Breakage: the place where shadow seethes most strongly, where aberrations and rotspawn roam to spread their vileness. It was there that the Hunter's final materials resided.
In a quiet clearing, a humble cabin rests. Within that cabin, the Hunter counseled a Shaman known as Illidan, darkly commanding the man to say goodbye to all his loved ones and make his peace, for the journey into Breakage might not be a safe one. Unfortunately, this goodbye would not come to pass, for Illidan's wife, Valorie Aresti, had vanished from this world. Despite his best efforts to resurrect her, she was lost, destroyed by the confluence and trapped outside of time. With a breaking heart, Illidan instead attended Haern at the Great Oak, where the Hunter explained to Duiran that they would be walking into the thick of corruption, deep into Dendara. Rhydderch, the Runecarver, would open the way inside, spoke Haern, and then the God was gone.
Deep in Dendara lies a bloodied ritual slab, carved with the ancestral stories of champions past. It is to this slab the Shaman Illidan was led, and it was on this slab he swore anew oaths to the Guardians, to Dendara, and to Haern. Hushed voices of spirits whispered his name, passing it along as the trees joined in anxious onlooking. As the ancient ritual proceeded, aberrations broke through the Breakage, drawn by the essence of Life so potent and so vigorous in the air. Rage filled the Hunter as He abandoned the ritual, urgently coming to the defence of the Guardians before tragedy could befall them.
While the Shaman and Hunter did their work, Rhydderch the Runecarver led Duiran to the Valley of the Ancients and began carving a path through the fog to lead them into Breakage. Filth rose to meet them the instant they crossed into Dendara, hordes of rotspawn and aberrations surging forth to feast upon the new arrivals. The Duiranites took up their arms and began to fight, felling them with the combined fury of the wilds.
Meanwhile, Valorie Aresti had ascended into the heavens, so far away from the globe of Aetolia that it seemed as a mere dot to her. There, she met with one of the continent's famed constellations: Veithadros, the hopeful. The celestial entity was merely a memory of the mortal life that had presaged it, but with consciousness enough to possess a twofold purpose in summoning her.
The first of these purposes was to warn her of the peril in which her husband, Illidan, lay - and to this end, Veithadros revealed visions of his potential death, subdued and blighted against his purpose of Dendaric protection. Horrified, she listened all the more closely to him, promising anything in exchange for the power to save Illidan from his fate.
The constellation gave her his legend, though it was not the simple one the Mejevsavelnel had recorded in times past. He spoke of his life as a tailor, and of his lover and eventual wife Keviti, an Ankyrean of the Conclave of Science and Nature, and the romance that had blossomed between them. She had ridden off, leaving him bereft to watch for her, knitting her a fine scarf in anticipation of her return.
A return that never came.
The sky so pitied his circumstance that it raised him amongst the stars, transforming him into a constellation. Only then had he seen Keviti - dead in her grave, hand-in-hand with an Ankyrean husband, with descendants to honor their graves. Finishing his tale, Veithadros urged Valorie to do what he could not: bring her love back home.
In the final moments of their sidereal conversation, the constellation revealed that the confluence had been Aechros' doing, and that the Albedi God's goal in facilitating this meeting was to preserve the Hunter's existence, though its reasons for doing so were unclear. So imbued with the celestial power of legend, he sent Valorie back to the Prime to rejoin her beloved in the Valley.
With Haern on the back foot, caught between defending Illidan and defending the Guardians, it seemed the Shaman would die for naught, and be joined by the hale Hunter. In that moment, the stars aligned, and Valorie Aresti, now reborn as an Aetherial - one graced with the deep empathy of the stars - scoured the rot from the grove in bursts of calescent starlight. With Haern now able to complete the ancient, secret ritual, Illidan gave his life for the Wilds, and Dendara herself responded: wisps of Life from all across the plane traveled to the primordial grove to breathe life anew into the corpse of a Shaman that lie atop the deathbed and, in a moment of exultation, Illikaal rose, named Tiarna an-Kiar by the Guardians.
As the filth grew in numbers and in confidence, desperation struck a solemn tone within the Breakage, the seemingly endless legions pouring forth to spread their rot. Each time the forces of Duiran repelled them from one of the glades, fresh waves appeared to lay siege to another, and on and on it went for half a day, the enveloping shadow striving desperately to destroy the few remaining healthy glades. Respite came for the briefest of moments, a lull in the gruesome conflict that rekindled fresh hope in those gathered. The Duiranites dared to breathe. But then it came.
A seething aberration of monstrous, murderous proportions tore its way through the Breakage, eyes trained upon the western glade. Though they threw everything at it, the lesser rotspawn still surged in great numbers. Death presided on both sides, and as the great monstrosity broke through the barrier, it set to ravaging the western glade until naught remained but rotten foliage and dead, lifeless trees.
Moving between cairns at speeds only a God could manage, Haern delivered Illikaal and Valorie to the Breakage, still fresh from their trials. There, they witnessed a truly gargantuan aberration and, with a vicious bellow, Haern led Illikaal, Valorie, and the combined might of Duiran and its allies in battle against the monster.
Though many suffered, the Hunter and His cadre triumphed over the hungering rot, the beast's keening scream echoing across the shattered skies of Dendara as it fell. Haern retrieved what He had first sought to ensnare the Tumult, and with no small measure of relief, led the contingent back to Duiran, where they would live - if only barely - to fight another day.
Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 25th of Chakros, in the year 499 MA.
Kagura's combat logs
Just starting out. Will use this thread to paste my combat logs if I can remember, and work back on them bit by bit.
First bloodbath participation with a rudimentary damage script made using Sunder:
Fight 1:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/L9R1nG65
Fight 2:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/OjUlU5f8
Fight 3:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/cATse--J
Fight 4:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/iOEX4jJX
Fight 5:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/Fhougpfg
Fight 6:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/8pUYvGYM
To-do list:
Remove spammy training wheels echo
Gag invalid venom/actuate lines
Set up a weapon swapper properly
Swap order of applications so sensitivity goes before damage chiro
Fix broken arm spam
Set up alerts to prompt me to switch on metawake when opponent uses sleep
Set up button to swap hypersomnia prio
Test out double sensitivity on harrow
See if I can trigger a touch tree line to remove an affliction in sunder's target affliction tracker (until I trans vision)
First bloodbath participation with a rudimentary damage script made using Sunder:
Fight 1:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/L9R1nG65
Fight 2:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/OjUlU5f8
Fight 3:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/cATse--J
Fight 4:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/iOEX4jJX
Fight 5:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/Fhougpfg
Fight 6:
https://ada-young.com/pastebin/8pUYvGYM
To-do list:
Remove spammy training wheels echo
Gag invalid venom/actuate lines
Set up a weapon swapper properly
Swap order of applications so sensitivity goes before damage chiro
Fix broken arm spam
Set up alerts to prompt me to switch on metawake when opponent uses sleep
Set up button to swap hypersomnia prio
Test out double sensitivity on harrow
See if I can trigger a touch tree line to remove an affliction in sunder's target affliction tracker (until I trans vision)
Kagura
2
Re: Awakening of an Aetherial
I've said this already, but Aetherial is such a cool concept for a race/class. This log is really moving and a delight to read. It also makes me absolutely bananas for Aetherial lore. So! Rad!
Qelres
4
Events post #280: Fragments of Time, Part VII: Cogminds Think Alike
12/6/2021 at 15:19
Anonymous
Everyone
Fragments of Time, Part VII: Cogminds Think Alike
While Sapience celebrated the defeat of the Haekathi and took a moment to relax, Copperhead had other things on its mind. Arriving in the City of Spinesreach, the Cogger commenced what would be a weeks-long search for the 'non functional remnant' to which it had been earlier alerted. Spirean reactions were a mix of alarm and curiosity as the familiar clanking of metal sounded through the streets. Search parties were dispatched yet for all their efficient scouring of the city, Copperhead remained elusive.
Examinations of the catacombs reminded the Spireans of an ancient construct therein, fused to the stone itself in an age long past. Questions to the irascible Vusbati revealed little, save that the construct predated him and dated back to the First Order. Vusbati explained that researchers of the Second Order had utilised it during his own time with them - to construct the orrery that lay in the catacombs. Though its head had been replaced with the guise of an Ankyrean, the construct's composition was - is - remarkably similar to that of Copperhead itself. Confidence grew, certainty that this was what the Cogger sought.
Under the advice of Sneak and spearheaded by the efforts of Legyn, the Archivists began to prepare a trap formed of geometric patterns in order to restrain the errant Cogger and interrogate it. Though they suspected its quarry, they did not know the Cogger's reason for seeking it. While the Spireans had no malicious intent, they worried for their home and laid in wait. Some days later, what once was a neutral clang of metal and whirring of gears transformed to mechanical indignation: the trap was sprung, and Copperhead - having located that which it sought - raged against the bonds holding it.
Interrogation yielded little of import from the Cogger save for maddened ravings, grief at the fate of what it termed a sacred work, and newfound hatred for the Spireans who - it assumed - had defiled it. When asked of its maker by Saidenn, Copperhead demanded freedom and the Chair - interpreting this as a request to bargain - gave assent. Legyn loosened the bonds and the Cogger broke free in a whirlwind of mechanical fury. Slaying several of those who stood present, it declared a state of war against the City of Spinesreach, felling several guards as it fled the scene of its capture and declared Legyn to be "an asset" for his hand in the liberation.
For weeks then did the Cogger terrorise the Lion of the North, seeking to undermine the city's foundations from below. It wrenched sewer grates free, murdered many more guards, woke rockworms from the earth with its rowdy workings, and came and went to and from the city without obstruction. Loudly broadcasting its plans to the world with each objective it completed, panic began to wrack Spinesreach as tremors shook the city and access to their aqueducts was denied. The citizens rallied to the defence of their home, organising guards and patrols in order to stop what seemed like a course toward destruction. But all efforts were futile.
Once more Sneak came to their aid, positing a theory that the Cogger had fashioned its own means of entering and leaving the city, denying access to the sewers in order to complete its objective. She explained, having obtained the information from Delve's Pious Wards, that Copperhead was a creation of Aechros, the Endless - the Albedi Helm-God of Time and Machines. Copperhead, it was revealed, was no mere machine, but a soul infused into a mechanical body. The broken construct in the catacombs was, it seemed, a similar construct of Aechros that the Cogger believed to have been profaned and defaced. While Sneak sought to locate it, she proposed a plan to capture it and utilise the powers of Yuef and Ef'tig to form a collective mind in order to shut down its attack.
The Numerologist tracked Copperhead to the Crags, where it had bored a tunnel of its own making through the mountains and into the aqueducts. Led by Vara, an enormous group of adventurers composed of Bloodloch and Spinesreach citizens both, gathered for an assault. First navigating a series of Cogger Coms deployed as security, the group cautiously entered the aqueducts, where Copperhead had transformed the simple sewers into a theatre of chaos. The ceilings began collapsing, countless explosives awaited disposal, fissures in the rock made passage difficult, and toxic sludge poured out of broken pipes. The Cogger's maddened ravings rose to a fevered pitch as the adventurers fell in droves, first to premature fusebomb detonations, then to horde after horde after horde of rockworms.
Though it took some time, the disparate group finally began to organise, carefully bracing the ceiling and disposing of loose explosive devices before blowing apart the Cogger's obstructions. In the midst of the chaos, Iesid Mulariad - the same man who had first alerted Copperhead to the presence of the construct - entered the sewers. Despite his valiant efforts to defend Copperhead from the assault, reclassified as an "asset" by it in the process, the Seer of Omei could not withstand the combined assaults and fell. Minutes later, with the rockworms quelled and the various obstacles cleared, the adventurers turned their attention to the water wheels and as one unit, opened all the valves. Water gushed forth to flood the aqueducts in a raging tide, overwhelming the Cogger and washing it into the catacombs, where Sneak awaited.
Losing no time, the Numerologist began to form the collective mind, taking advantage of the construct's weakened state. So it was that Ayukazi, Blodwyn, Dreww, Elene, Eoros, Feirenz, Galilei, Holbrook, Kagura, Kurak, Legyn, Lenoriel, Lim, Nebula, Nipsy, Pietre, Raevina, Renli, Rhyot, Saidenn, Sheryni, Teflin, Tekias, Toz, Whirran, and Wjoltyr relaxed their consciousness and became one in Copperhead's cogmind while Inkh, Mazzion, Xenia, and Reave stood guard over their empty bodies. There they faced an experience unlike any other: their thoughts disparate yet one, faced with countless choices requiring consensus derived from individual input in order to direct the whole.
Painstakingly navigating through the cogmind network, they examined Copperhead's core protocols, reviewed its key directives, and sought to reclassify its conflict directive as low priority. At first slow and scattered in their decisions, the individual minds soon began to yield to the will of the collective, becoming more dexterous in their traversal through the Cogger's brain. Language protocols were required to translate the archives into common. Motor operations enabled the retrieval of oil in order to conduct maintenance and repair core systems. Stray thoughts bubbled up into arguments between the separate thinkers, yet the collective prevailed. Rustguards attacked the one mind and had to be fought off by expenditure of will.
Disabling the security, they ventured into the classified archives to retrieve two codes before returning to the key directives cog. There, they successfully expunged Copperhead's conflict directive before returning to the archives, greedy for knowledge. Examining each and every document, their learning revealed much about the Spokes, the individual Coggers, the Thinking Engines, and Aechros - the Maker, who Copperhead noted with the alias "Sapient sanctitude preservation engineer". Delving into the Fleshsack Memories archive, it was further revealed that Copperhead was once a Tarpen by the name of Dapuna, the date of its voluntary consciousness transferrence unknown.
After more than half a day of analysis, the collective returned to the directives module and reprioritised Copperhead's confluence preservation order. The Cogger stirred then, woken from its stunned and disabled state. Fleeing through the main network, the minds of the collective returned to their bodies, and the Cogger regained its lucid state. Declaring Spinesreach irrelevant, it exhibited confusion as to its location before the directives reasserted themselves and it ambled away, back to Masilia and its prime objective.
Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 23rd of Chakros, in the year 499 MA.
Anonymous
Everyone
Fragments of Time, Part VII: Cogminds Think Alike
While Sapience celebrated the defeat of the Haekathi and took a moment to relax, Copperhead had other things on its mind. Arriving in the City of Spinesreach, the Cogger commenced what would be a weeks-long search for the 'non functional remnant' to which it had been earlier alerted. Spirean reactions were a mix of alarm and curiosity as the familiar clanking of metal sounded through the streets. Search parties were dispatched yet for all their efficient scouring of the city, Copperhead remained elusive.
Examinations of the catacombs reminded the Spireans of an ancient construct therein, fused to the stone itself in an age long past. Questions to the irascible Vusbati revealed little, save that the construct predated him and dated back to the First Order. Vusbati explained that researchers of the Second Order had utilised it during his own time with them - to construct the orrery that lay in the catacombs. Though its head had been replaced with the guise of an Ankyrean, the construct's composition was - is - remarkably similar to that of Copperhead itself. Confidence grew, certainty that this was what the Cogger sought.
Under the advice of Sneak and spearheaded by the efforts of Legyn, the Archivists began to prepare a trap formed of geometric patterns in order to restrain the errant Cogger and interrogate it. Though they suspected its quarry, they did not know the Cogger's reason for seeking it. While the Spireans had no malicious intent, they worried for their home and laid in wait. Some days later, what once was a neutral clang of metal and whirring of gears transformed to mechanical indignation: the trap was sprung, and Copperhead - having located that which it sought - raged against the bonds holding it.
Interrogation yielded little of import from the Cogger save for maddened ravings, grief at the fate of what it termed a sacred work, and newfound hatred for the Spireans who - it assumed - had defiled it. When asked of its maker by Saidenn, Copperhead demanded freedom and the Chair - interpreting this as a request to bargain - gave assent. Legyn loosened the bonds and the Cogger broke free in a whirlwind of mechanical fury. Slaying several of those who stood present, it declared a state of war against the City of Spinesreach, felling several guards as it fled the scene of its capture and declared Legyn to be "an asset" for his hand in the liberation.
For weeks then did the Cogger terrorise the Lion of the North, seeking to undermine the city's foundations from below. It wrenched sewer grates free, murdered many more guards, woke rockworms from the earth with its rowdy workings, and came and went to and from the city without obstruction. Loudly broadcasting its plans to the world with each objective it completed, panic began to wrack Spinesreach as tremors shook the city and access to their aqueducts was denied. The citizens rallied to the defence of their home, organising guards and patrols in order to stop what seemed like a course toward destruction. But all efforts were futile.
Once more Sneak came to their aid, positing a theory that the Cogger had fashioned its own means of entering and leaving the city, denying access to the sewers in order to complete its objective. She explained, having obtained the information from Delve's Pious Wards, that Copperhead was a creation of Aechros, the Endless - the Albedi Helm-God of Time and Machines. Copperhead, it was revealed, was no mere machine, but a soul infused into a mechanical body. The broken construct in the catacombs was, it seemed, a similar construct of Aechros that the Cogger believed to have been profaned and defaced. While Sneak sought to locate it, she proposed a plan to capture it and utilise the powers of Yuef and Ef'tig to form a collective mind in order to shut down its attack.
The Numerologist tracked Copperhead to the Crags, where it had bored a tunnel of its own making through the mountains and into the aqueducts. Led by Vara, an enormous group of adventurers composed of Bloodloch and Spinesreach citizens both, gathered for an assault. First navigating a series of Cogger Coms deployed as security, the group cautiously entered the aqueducts, where Copperhead had transformed the simple sewers into a theatre of chaos. The ceilings began collapsing, countless explosives awaited disposal, fissures in the rock made passage difficult, and toxic sludge poured out of broken pipes. The Cogger's maddened ravings rose to a fevered pitch as the adventurers fell in droves, first to premature fusebomb detonations, then to horde after horde after horde of rockworms.
Though it took some time, the disparate group finally began to organise, carefully bracing the ceiling and disposing of loose explosive devices before blowing apart the Cogger's obstructions. In the midst of the chaos, Iesid Mulariad - the same man who had first alerted Copperhead to the presence of the construct - entered the sewers. Despite his valiant efforts to defend Copperhead from the assault, reclassified as an "asset" by it in the process, the Seer of Omei could not withstand the combined assaults and fell. Minutes later, with the rockworms quelled and the various obstacles cleared, the adventurers turned their attention to the water wheels and as one unit, opened all the valves. Water gushed forth to flood the aqueducts in a raging tide, overwhelming the Cogger and washing it into the catacombs, where Sneak awaited.
Losing no time, the Numerologist began to form the collective mind, taking advantage of the construct's weakened state. So it was that Ayukazi, Blodwyn, Dreww, Elene, Eoros, Feirenz, Galilei, Holbrook, Kagura, Kurak, Legyn, Lenoriel, Lim, Nebula, Nipsy, Pietre, Raevina, Renli, Rhyot, Saidenn, Sheryni, Teflin, Tekias, Toz, Whirran, and Wjoltyr relaxed their consciousness and became one in Copperhead's cogmind while Inkh, Mazzion, Xenia, and Reave stood guard over their empty bodies. There they faced an experience unlike any other: their thoughts disparate yet one, faced with countless choices requiring consensus derived from individual input in order to direct the whole.
Painstakingly navigating through the cogmind network, they examined Copperhead's core protocols, reviewed its key directives, and sought to reclassify its conflict directive as low priority. At first slow and scattered in their decisions, the individual minds soon began to yield to the will of the collective, becoming more dexterous in their traversal through the Cogger's brain. Language protocols were required to translate the archives into common. Motor operations enabled the retrieval of oil in order to conduct maintenance and repair core systems. Stray thoughts bubbled up into arguments between the separate thinkers, yet the collective prevailed. Rustguards attacked the one mind and had to be fought off by expenditure of will.
Disabling the security, they ventured into the classified archives to retrieve two codes before returning to the key directives cog. There, they successfully expunged Copperhead's conflict directive before returning to the archives, greedy for knowledge. Examining each and every document, their learning revealed much about the Spokes, the individual Coggers, the Thinking Engines, and Aechros - the Maker, who Copperhead noted with the alias "Sapient sanctitude preservation engineer". Delving into the Fleshsack Memories archive, it was further revealed that Copperhead was once a Tarpen by the name of Dapuna, the date of its voluntary consciousness transferrence unknown.
After more than half a day of analysis, the collective returned to the directives module and reprioritised Copperhead's confluence preservation order. The Cogger stirred then, woken from its stunned and disabled state. Fleeing through the main network, the minds of the collective returned to their bodies, and the Cogger regained its lucid state. Declaring Spinesreach irrelevant, it exhibited confusion as to its location before the directives reasserted themselves and it ambled away, back to Masilia and its prime objective.
Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 23rd of Chakros, in the year 499 MA.
Awakening of an Aetherial
I don't usually post logs, but this one deserves to be shared! I am still very much in awe, and I can never gush enough about how much I appreciate everyone who had a hand in coming up with this masterpiece of a story. @Ictinus promised me poignant, thoughtful and a bit emotional, and delivered on all of it (except it was A LOT EMOTIONAL ;_;) beyond expectations.
I had to change some of the colors to have them be readable, and I probably didn't do them justice, but trust me they were the prettiest. You can read this with original colors (and way worse formatting) here.
Without further ado - Awakening of an Aetherial*
South of the glowing core of the Great Oak.
A plain grey pack lies here. Dripping with bright green liquid, a very lush fruit rests on the ground here.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, and northwest.
"...Shaman," breathes a distant voice, at once above and all around you. The echoing threads of its absence take hold of you, an unseen and scarcely-felt beckon that glimmers in your mind's eye. "Do you hear my voice, across these thousands of years?"
You have emoted: Where Valorie would normally startle, the only sign of her surprise is a soft exhale, a blink of seafoam eyes and a tilt of her head as she turns around, looking for something not visible to her. There is a moment of hesitation before she speaks, voice just loud enough to be heard, "Where are you?"
"Who..."
"I am... distant," the voice affirms, a celestial song underpinning its tones. It has gained certainty, focus, in finding you. "Distant in a way not easily explained." Glimpses of a sidereal void swim past your gaze. "Come to the confluence, the place where time is broken. I would speak with you."
-lots of path tracking, totally ignored Eaku standing guard outside the confluence sorry Eaku -
A strange altar flanked by vast statues.
Wrought from mottled black, white, and green metamorphic stone, this section of the ruins opens up into a surprisingly large buried nave. The chamber, symmetrical in almost all respects, is as pristine as though it had been carved yesterday, untouched by the ravages of time thanks to being sealed away. In the center of the room is a plinth, carved from obsidian, about five feet high and with a flat top that looks as though it might hold an object. This tiny altar is surrounded by seven huge, bronze statues, each looking to be some form of giant. The statues are fifteen feet tall each, and roughly humanoid, although instead of faces, they seem to have an arrangement of recessed sockets, dry spigots, and toothed metal wheels. Each of them clutches an orb in one hand, and a disc in another. Suspended in a protective matrix, time shudders about the amorphous periphery of an aeonic device. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A flowery white cherry dendaric entbeast roams here.
You see a single exit leading south.
So close to the confluence's chaotic churn, you catch chiaroscuro shimmers - the self-same as you witnessed in your imagination, not long before, now realized as multiplicitous visions hanging in the air, silvery slashes across the fabric of reality.
You have emoted: Curiosity wins over whatever caution has been instilled into her, Valorie stepping off her beast at the entrance to the altar, and taking a slow step closer to the confluence. She does not speak, a faint rise and fall of her chest with every breath the only movement as she stares at the amorphous device, eyes wide and ears pricked.
"Hail, Valorie Aresti," speaks a celestial voice, its tones inciting iridescent flickers across the aetherial fissures in the air. They grow more diffuse, taking the form of argent nimbi that dance nearer to you.
You have emoted: A hand lifts in the air, the same relentless curiosity urging Valorie another step closer, fingertips reaching for the nimbi in yearning, as though trying to figure out the being through a fleeting touch. "Hail," she responds, eyes flickering across every glimpse of light she sees, "I do not know your name."
The starry motes settle upon your constellated freckles, the dark tan of your skin, the elongated tapering ends of your ears - mirroring the points and lines of your form. "I am named Veithadros. I have witnessed your terrible plight in coming, and I have counsel and strength to offer you. Will you join me... in the sky?"
A beam of prismatic light suddenly shoots into the room.
Alela suddenly appears, having travelled down the beam of prismatic light.
"Begone," speaks a celestial voice.
Alela is ripped from your location by an unseen force.
You have emoted: "Veithadros," Valorie repeats the name, unfamiliarity in the pronunciation as it rolls off her tongue. She pays little heed to the other women who enters, and is gone just as fast, attention focused solely on the motes of light on her skin and the voice that called them into being. She shakes her head softly, as though to see if they would float off, wonder in her eyes before she replies, clasping her hands behind her back. "I will hear you out."
The nimbi pinwheel nearer in dizzying lemniscate coils, silver fire erupting from their innocuous cores to obliterate you where you stand. Not a trace of you survives the instant of celestial annihilation, save for your still-standing soul and a scattering of silvered motes, their spheroid shapes shot through by iridescence.
Where the silver-starred midnight sings.
A memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful lingers amidst an astral nimbus.
There are no obvious exits.
Entering: the Skies
Unknown Area.
A gruesome bone icon of the Hunter crumbles away in your hands as it loses support from your city's pylon.
Valorie has been consumed by the confluence, her mortal frame rendered irrevocably immaterial by a surge of sidereal fire.
You divine the location of this death as A strange altar flanked by vast statues in the Ruins of Masilia.
Veithadros:
Twilit nimbi and twinkling starlight coalesce into a figure born of Sapient myth and infinite legend. Exemplifying steadfast tenacity, the dusky silhouette towers over mortal and soul upon curiously long, lithe limbs, whilst his hands clasp before him in collected repose. The bespangled features of his heavenly countenance give no hint nor indication of an expression, with only gleaming twin spheres, alight with primordial fire, denotive of consciousness. With any and all motion, whether subtle or distinct, he casts forth an ethereal drift of cosmic dust upon the air, wreathing him in an astral aura of midnight everlasting and eventide eternal.
A celestial memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful radiates with terrifyingly monstrous power.
"Valorie Aresti," whispers the celestial presence of Veithadros, who stands suspended weightlessly within the aetherial void. His eyes, such as what can be glimpsed of their remnants, are astral and calm, burning through the darkness to beckon what's left of you ever closer. "...you have made it here, against all odds. The first mortal to reach these constellated skies in a long, long while." His voice carries little tone to it, a whispering thought that sings through the empty skies.
Where the silver-starred midnight sings.
There is no ground underfoot, nor solidity of any sort to be found in the immediate surroundings. The only indication that there is anything, any distance worth speaking of, comes from thin, far-off lances of silvery light projected by the stars from all possible directions. Someplace else, they might form recognizable constellations; here in the inky emptiness of midnight, though, their shapes are unfamiliar. One star in particular seems a little larger, a little brighter than all the others, and its hues of mottled blue, green, brown, and white imply a conflicted storm. Only upon continued examination does it become clear that this gelid mass is not a star at all, but rather the globe of Aetolia, so far off that it appears as a mere dot from the present, umbral vantage. The continent of Sapience is just a green speck, small by comparisons to the edges of what seems to be the Albedos. Whatever islands might serve to orient the eye cannot be seen across the stellar span, leaving only the dizzying sense of scale and the near-inaudible humming born of the scintillant, sidereal void. A memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful lingers amidst an astral nimbus.
There are no obvious exits.
You have emoted: The woman is given no chance to react, but the sensation of death is familiar enough it does not take Deadvalorie long to catch up, the sudden outrage quelled as soon as she catches sight of the surroundings. "That was not part of the deal," she mumbles, no heat to the words, her senses irrevocably drawn to the pinpricks of light in the distance, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar constellations. It bothers her more than it probably should, to have those gleaming points be so unfamiliar, but her attention turns to a celestial memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful soon enough. "You have me here," she says, an agreement with his words, if not much realization of what implications they might carry, "Will you tell me now?"
Beyond the wonder, beyond the concern for what might be imparted unto her, a flicker of worry. The fact that she's being given counsel means she would be able to leave, right...? There's an image of an Ogre - HER Ogre - that passes through her mind's eye along with the thoughts.
"In times since forgotten and turned to sand," speaks Veithadros, the hopeful, the weight of portent to his celestial voice - indeed, he glimmers through the aether, the nimbi that comprise him turning with ponderous weight, "My lover, the most dangerous Keviti, rode away to do battle with her foes. I wove her a scarf, each day and night I awaited her return, so long that I could wrap myself in its embrace and imagine her returned to my side." Coldness falls again in the wake of this description, astral echoes evanescing, ebbing, into the darkness. "...she did not return to me," he concludes, "And one night I was so empty that the sky took me, to keep me for eternity. So I have watched, Valorie Aresti, and of the many things from the many times I have seen..." The sidereal being need not breathe, but nevertheless does so, a slow, sonorous slough of sound through the immaterial space. "...your love is in grave danger, even at his Hunter's side."
You have emoted: Deadvalorie is nothing if not an attentive listener, attention focused solely on a celestial memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful at the telling of the event. A slow breath escapes her, empathizing with the Veithadros of years past, her words a hushed whisper. As though speaking any louder would break the sanctity of the moment: "I only pray the stars would be merciful enough to take me." She steels herself, then, another aspect of the woman - the huntress, the Fury, the one who can think beyond the panic a celestial memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful's words bring to her - taking over, "From what?" Apparently the answer is not as important, as she moves on instantly to ask, "What must be done?"
Your love's downfall arrives with a violence and vim that defies the vast, abyssal distance of time and space, a surge of blood staining your mind's eye with a vividity that wakes the raw scent of copper and iron. A hand of shadow grows as though from within his guts, a gruesome parody of plant life that throttles and chokes the self-same breath from him. He is a lifetime away, and cannot see you, even as you gaze into his sapphire eyes, and see the lustre and life fade from their gelid depths, his crystalline wings shattered like so much common glass.
"It is many different things," whispers Veithadros, his voice a low and celestial rumination as he indicates, with one long finger, the vision. "This is but one possibility for his end, and this, here..." his hand angles aside, "...another."
Illidan fights with a fury and persistence that defies the lesser shadows that encircle him. He strikes with lightning, fierce blasts of radiance that leave smoldering craters in the fell beasts that hunt him, but there are too many, and they close upon him like the coil of a serpent and drag him down into their all-devouring mass. Droplets of blood fly above the fray, and he screams, gurgling into silence as the bluish flesh of his Ogre form is devoured by multiplicitous mouths and stripped to the pale bone. As the vision fades, the now-tainted skeleton begins to pick itself up, blight infecting the ground where its fleshless feet stand...
"...and so," concludes Veithadros, his natural, pale coloration restored as he looks to you, "...I would offer you the power to avert the fate that I could not. The secrets of the stars. Their celestial power. I would offer you... my story."
You have emoted: The feeling that might have been approaching calmness, purpose, shatters in the blink of an eye at the first vision, a gasp more pained than any yell, any scream could be. Deadvalorie's eyes stare into the Ogre's, hands lifting like she can somehow reach through time and space itself to restore him, bring him back to what she knows. They fall back down to her sides at a celestial memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful's words, her gaze only torn from one vision to fall upon the next excruciating one, eyes wide but tears not daring to interrupt the vivid scene displayed in front of her, taking it in, all of its agonizing glory. "... Anything," she whispers. Her voice does not tremble where the rest of her form does, a sliver of hope to cling to in the midst of the churning whirlpool of pain, loss and sorrow, every sickening image she can think of flickering through her mind without respite.
"Anything," whispers Veithadros, the Hopeful with an equally stark air. Even as he does not cry - cannot, perhaps, for all his astral nature - there is sadness written there, mirrored plain as an aching, cold midnight. "Anything." He does not speak, then, but lifts his hand: revealing new images. Images not your own, but his, emerging out of a dry, earthen dustiness.
A young tailor sews the hem of a shirt, one patient double-stitch at a time. There is care in the cloth, care in its working, finely spun despite its woolen origins. A shadow falls across him, and he looks up. He sees the soldier come to ask him for new underclothes, and there are stars in his eyes when he beholds her.
Keviti. That is the Ankyrean's name. She does not say she is from a village. She says she is from the Conclave of Science and Nature, an expeditionary force meant to quell dissent on the edges of the Empire. Her hair is fine golden-red, and she is skilled in spear and spell alike.
Veithadros sews her the new garments, and she scarcely looks at him when she passes him his sum of coin. There's more there than he asked for, and he buys himself a new pair of scissors.
It isn't long before Keviti is in again, asking for something nice to wear when she isn't on duty. Veithadros labors over a dress for her across days, and she returns - demanding, sharp. Where is it, she demands, why isn't it finished? But she stays to watch him. Watch his hands. Finds herself smiling, when the tailor's eyes aren't on her.
"You're not bad for a rellyw," he remembers, crystal clear, across time.
The next time Keviti is in his shop, she's asking for sewing lessons. He obliges her. She has an art with the needle, the small spear, much like the larger weaponry she wields, but even so she is impatient, clumsy, and Veithadros must caution her against doing violence to the fine silks he's set her to...
...then the next time /he/ sees /her/, they're fighting, his stave against hers, and he's not so bad at that either, so he thinks, until she trips him and lands him on his back, laughing down into his face.
She ends up on top the next time, too. And the time after that. It didn't matter what kind of sparring they did.
...she'd gone to a battle. He'd worried, fretted, the entire time, but when she'd returned, wounded but glorious, spattered in her enemy's blood... that was when he realized, against all his best sense, that he'd fallen for an Ankyrean.
They married, a few months after - in a rush of stumbling confessions, Keviti hesitant at first. She's only convinced when Veithadros gives her a list, thought-through, methodical, of all the things he loves about her. Her violence. Her eyes. Her readiness with a laugh. ...her openness.
...tried for children. None came...
...and then Keviti, his wife, his beloved, rode off again. Veithadros was more than a tailor now. A guardsman in his own right, manning the tower, watching day after day for sign of her, for anybody.
...conflict in the region came and went. Veithadros stayed. Keviti did not return.
The scarf grew long at his feet, his needles grew worn. Keviti did not return.
...he loses himself in the sky, its days and its nights... and Keviti does not return.
He gazes into the golden stain of dawn, feels his skin wrinkle beneath the sun's unkind affections... and Keviti does not return.
Beautiful, verdant green spring blooms outside the village. The flowers are fine. He remembers seeing her, that first time. ...she does not return.
...he floats away from his life, from his body, turning to stardust, ascending to a place of honor in the sky, where his solitude is absolute.
He sees Keviti, at last. Skeletal, hand in hand, with an Ankyrean man of Spinesreach. Children, circling their graves.
...and now Veithadros is here, and Keviti is not. So it will be. Forever.
"...it is by your connection to the stars," breathes Veithadros, the Hopeful, "That you shall know this power over space, time, and light. By memory. By your connection to my story. You shall know me, my life, and all its colors as I have known it." He hesitates, now, a pregnant penumbra staining his visage as his eyes glow out. "This, I have given you - to save your love, and for another purpose, which I would have you hear, now."
You have emoted: Deadvalorie dares not blink, held perfectly still beneath the fine trembles that wrack her form still. The images flicker past her eyes, what is at first the means to her purpose pulling her in quick enough, immersing her in the images that hold back the depths of her worries - for the time being. A ghost of a smile pulls at her lips, the first meeting, the spars that follow familiar enough - in spirit and in sentiment if not in memory. It doesn't last for long, only a matter of time before her lips quiver in the echo of heartbreak, moisture gleaming in her eyes. The tears fall now, crystalline and clear down her cheeks, disappearing into the emptiness. "What will you have left?" She whispers, a question that needs no answering as she sniffles, droplets clinging to her lashes as she tries to blink the tears away to no avail. "Thank you," there is sincerity in her voice, choked with emotion as she repeats, "Thank you."
"The Albedi creature," Veithadros whispers in soft, stygian tones, "Called Aechros... it is responsible for the confluence below, and it seeks the Hunter's preservation. Why, I do not know - but if your love falls, it is not just your grief that is at stake. It is the whole of the wilds that is connected to your story, the whole of the /world/. So take my starlight, Valorie Aresti, and use it not only to defend your beloved, but to see the sky's /full/ span. See the shapes between the disparate dots..." As he speaks, his hand frightens, and he reaches out as dawn breaks across the continent of Sapience far, far below. Fire rises in your mind, across your body, his nimbi all-embracing as they wrap you in a silvery flux of energy. Where there is void in you, the stars and night alike fill it, their memories and their power waking possibilities untold throughout the fabric of your frame.
Experience Gained: 300,000
You have gained the aetherial_form defence.
*Alternate titles include 'Please Make Veithadros Happy' and 'Why Spireans Ruin Everything' (jk (or am I?)).
As I was missing a lot of context after this, I'll let @Illikaal post the rest!
I had to change some of the colors to have them be readable, and I probably didn't do them justice, but trust me they were the prettiest. You can read this with original colors (and way worse formatting) here.
Without further ado - Awakening of an Aetherial*
South of the glowing core of the Great Oak.
A plain grey pack lies here. Dripping with bright green liquid, a very lush fruit rests on the ground here.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, and northwest.
"...Shaman," breathes a distant voice, at once above and all around you. The echoing threads of its absence take hold of you, an unseen and scarcely-felt beckon that glimmers in your mind's eye. "Do you hear my voice, across these thousands of years?"
You have emoted: Where Valorie would normally startle, the only sign of her surprise is a soft exhale, a blink of seafoam eyes and a tilt of her head as she turns around, looking for something not visible to her. There is a moment of hesitation before she speaks, voice just loud enough to be heard, "Where are you?"
"Who..."
"I am... distant," the voice affirms, a celestial song underpinning its tones. It has gained certainty, focus, in finding you. "Distant in a way not easily explained." Glimpses of a sidereal void swim past your gaze. "Come to the confluence, the place where time is broken. I would speak with you."
-lots of path tracking, totally ignored Eaku standing guard outside the confluence sorry Eaku -
A strange altar flanked by vast statues.
Wrought from mottled black, white, and green metamorphic stone, this section of the ruins opens up into a surprisingly large buried nave. The chamber, symmetrical in almost all respects, is as pristine as though it had been carved yesterday, untouched by the ravages of time thanks to being sealed away. In the center of the room is a plinth, carved from obsidian, about five feet high and with a flat top that looks as though it might hold an object. This tiny altar is surrounded by seven huge, bronze statues, each looking to be some form of giant. The statues are fifteen feet tall each, and roughly humanoid, although instead of faces, they seem to have an arrangement of recessed sockets, dry spigots, and toothed metal wheels. Each of them clutches an orb in one hand, and a disc in another. Suspended in a protective matrix, time shudders about the amorphous periphery of an aeonic device. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A flowery white cherry dendaric entbeast roams here.
You see a single exit leading south.
So close to the confluence's chaotic churn, you catch chiaroscuro shimmers - the self-same as you witnessed in your imagination, not long before, now realized as multiplicitous visions hanging in the air, silvery slashes across the fabric of reality.
You have emoted: Curiosity wins over whatever caution has been instilled into her, Valorie stepping off her beast at the entrance to the altar, and taking a slow step closer to the confluence. She does not speak, a faint rise and fall of her chest with every breath the only movement as she stares at the amorphous device, eyes wide and ears pricked.
"Hail, Valorie Aresti," speaks a celestial voice, its tones inciting iridescent flickers across the aetherial fissures in the air. They grow more diffuse, taking the form of argent nimbi that dance nearer to you.
You have emoted: A hand lifts in the air, the same relentless curiosity urging Valorie another step closer, fingertips reaching for the nimbi in yearning, as though trying to figure out the being through a fleeting touch. "Hail," she responds, eyes flickering across every glimpse of light she sees, "I do not know your name."
The starry motes settle upon your constellated freckles, the dark tan of your skin, the elongated tapering ends of your ears - mirroring the points and lines of your form. "I am named Veithadros. I have witnessed your terrible plight in coming, and I have counsel and strength to offer you. Will you join me... in the sky?"
A beam of prismatic light suddenly shoots into the room.
Alela suddenly appears, having travelled down the beam of prismatic light.
"Begone," speaks a celestial voice.
Alela is ripped from your location by an unseen force.
You have emoted: "Veithadros," Valorie repeats the name, unfamiliarity in the pronunciation as it rolls off her tongue. She pays little heed to the other women who enters, and is gone just as fast, attention focused solely on the motes of light on her skin and the voice that called them into being. She shakes her head softly, as though to see if they would float off, wonder in her eyes before she replies, clasping her hands behind her back. "I will hear you out."
The nimbi pinwheel nearer in dizzying lemniscate coils, silver fire erupting from their innocuous cores to obliterate you where you stand. Not a trace of you survives the instant of celestial annihilation, save for your still-standing soul and a scattering of silvered motes, their spheroid shapes shot through by iridescence.
Where the silver-starred midnight sings.
A memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful lingers amidst an astral nimbus.
There are no obvious exits.
Entering: the Skies
Unknown Area.
A gruesome bone icon of the Hunter crumbles away in your hands as it loses support from your city's pylon.
Valorie has been consumed by the confluence, her mortal frame rendered irrevocably immaterial by a surge of sidereal fire.
You divine the location of this death as A strange altar flanked by vast statues in the Ruins of Masilia.
Veithadros:
Twilit nimbi and twinkling starlight coalesce into a figure born of Sapient myth and infinite legend. Exemplifying steadfast tenacity, the dusky silhouette towers over mortal and soul upon curiously long, lithe limbs, whilst his hands clasp before him in collected repose. The bespangled features of his heavenly countenance give no hint nor indication of an expression, with only gleaming twin spheres, alight with primordial fire, denotive of consciousness. With any and all motion, whether subtle or distinct, he casts forth an ethereal drift of cosmic dust upon the air, wreathing him in an astral aura of midnight everlasting and eventide eternal.
A celestial memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful radiates with terrifyingly monstrous power.
"Valorie Aresti," whispers the celestial presence of Veithadros, who stands suspended weightlessly within the aetherial void. His eyes, such as what can be glimpsed of their remnants, are astral and calm, burning through the darkness to beckon what's left of you ever closer. "...you have made it here, against all odds. The first mortal to reach these constellated skies in a long, long while." His voice carries little tone to it, a whispering thought that sings through the empty skies.
Where the silver-starred midnight sings.
There is no ground underfoot, nor solidity of any sort to be found in the immediate surroundings. The only indication that there is anything, any distance worth speaking of, comes from thin, far-off lances of silvery light projected by the stars from all possible directions. Someplace else, they might form recognizable constellations; here in the inky emptiness of midnight, though, their shapes are unfamiliar. One star in particular seems a little larger, a little brighter than all the others, and its hues of mottled blue, green, brown, and white imply a conflicted storm. Only upon continued examination does it become clear that this gelid mass is not a star at all, but rather the globe of Aetolia, so far off that it appears as a mere dot from the present, umbral vantage. The continent of Sapience is just a green speck, small by comparisons to the edges of what seems to be the Albedos. Whatever islands might serve to orient the eye cannot be seen across the stellar span, leaving only the dizzying sense of scale and the near-inaudible humming born of the scintillant, sidereal void. A memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful lingers amidst an astral nimbus.
There are no obvious exits.
You have emoted: The woman is given no chance to react, but the sensation of death is familiar enough it does not take Deadvalorie long to catch up, the sudden outrage quelled as soon as she catches sight of the surroundings. "That was not part of the deal," she mumbles, no heat to the words, her senses irrevocably drawn to the pinpricks of light in the distance, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar constellations. It bothers her more than it probably should, to have those gleaming points be so unfamiliar, but her attention turns to a celestial memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful soon enough. "You have me here," she says, an agreement with his words, if not much realization of what implications they might carry, "Will you tell me now?"
Beyond the wonder, beyond the concern for what might be imparted unto her, a flicker of worry. The fact that she's being given counsel means she would be able to leave, right...? There's an image of an Ogre - HER Ogre - that passes through her mind's eye along with the thoughts.
"In times since forgotten and turned to sand," speaks Veithadros, the hopeful, the weight of portent to his celestial voice - indeed, he glimmers through the aether, the nimbi that comprise him turning with ponderous weight, "My lover, the most dangerous Keviti, rode away to do battle with her foes. I wove her a scarf, each day and night I awaited her return, so long that I could wrap myself in its embrace and imagine her returned to my side." Coldness falls again in the wake of this description, astral echoes evanescing, ebbing, into the darkness. "...she did not return to me," he concludes, "And one night I was so empty that the sky took me, to keep me for eternity. So I have watched, Valorie Aresti, and of the many things from the many times I have seen..." The sidereal being need not breathe, but nevertheless does so, a slow, sonorous slough of sound through the immaterial space. "...your love is in grave danger, even at his Hunter's side."
You have emoted: Deadvalorie is nothing if not an attentive listener, attention focused solely on a celestial memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful at the telling of the event. A slow breath escapes her, empathizing with the Veithadros of years past, her words a hushed whisper. As though speaking any louder would break the sanctity of the moment: "I only pray the stars would be merciful enough to take me." She steels herself, then, another aspect of the woman - the huntress, the Fury, the one who can think beyond the panic a celestial memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful's words bring to her - taking over, "From what?" Apparently the answer is not as important, as she moves on instantly to ask, "What must be done?"
Your love's downfall arrives with a violence and vim that defies the vast, abyssal distance of time and space, a surge of blood staining your mind's eye with a vividity that wakes the raw scent of copper and iron. A hand of shadow grows as though from within his guts, a gruesome parody of plant life that throttles and chokes the self-same breath from him. He is a lifetime away, and cannot see you, even as you gaze into his sapphire eyes, and see the lustre and life fade from their gelid depths, his crystalline wings shattered like so much common glass.
"It is many different things," whispers Veithadros, his voice a low and celestial rumination as he indicates, with one long finger, the vision. "This is but one possibility for his end, and this, here..." his hand angles aside, "...another."
Illidan fights with a fury and persistence that defies the lesser shadows that encircle him. He strikes with lightning, fierce blasts of radiance that leave smoldering craters in the fell beasts that hunt him, but there are too many, and they close upon him like the coil of a serpent and drag him down into their all-devouring mass. Droplets of blood fly above the fray, and he screams, gurgling into silence as the bluish flesh of his Ogre form is devoured by multiplicitous mouths and stripped to the pale bone. As the vision fades, the now-tainted skeleton begins to pick itself up, blight infecting the ground where its fleshless feet stand...
"...and so," concludes Veithadros, his natural, pale coloration restored as he looks to you, "...I would offer you the power to avert the fate that I could not. The secrets of the stars. Their celestial power. I would offer you... my story."
You have emoted: The feeling that might have been approaching calmness, purpose, shatters in the blink of an eye at the first vision, a gasp more pained than any yell, any scream could be. Deadvalorie's eyes stare into the Ogre's, hands lifting like she can somehow reach through time and space itself to restore him, bring him back to what she knows. They fall back down to her sides at a celestial memory of Veithadros, the Hopeful's words, her gaze only torn from one vision to fall upon the next excruciating one, eyes wide but tears not daring to interrupt the vivid scene displayed in front of her, taking it in, all of its agonizing glory. "... Anything," she whispers. Her voice does not tremble where the rest of her form does, a sliver of hope to cling to in the midst of the churning whirlpool of pain, loss and sorrow, every sickening image she can think of flickering through her mind without respite.
"Anything," whispers Veithadros, the Hopeful with an equally stark air. Even as he does not cry - cannot, perhaps, for all his astral nature - there is sadness written there, mirrored plain as an aching, cold midnight. "Anything." He does not speak, then, but lifts his hand: revealing new images. Images not your own, but his, emerging out of a dry, earthen dustiness.
A young tailor sews the hem of a shirt, one patient double-stitch at a time. There is care in the cloth, care in its working, finely spun despite its woolen origins. A shadow falls across him, and he looks up. He sees the soldier come to ask him for new underclothes, and there are stars in his eyes when he beholds her.
Keviti. That is the Ankyrean's name. She does not say she is from a village. She says she is from the Conclave of Science and Nature, an expeditionary force meant to quell dissent on the edges of the Empire. Her hair is fine golden-red, and she is skilled in spear and spell alike.
Veithadros sews her the new garments, and she scarcely looks at him when she passes him his sum of coin. There's more there than he asked for, and he buys himself a new pair of scissors.
It isn't long before Keviti is in again, asking for something nice to wear when she isn't on duty. Veithadros labors over a dress for her across days, and she returns - demanding, sharp. Where is it, she demands, why isn't it finished? But she stays to watch him. Watch his hands. Finds herself smiling, when the tailor's eyes aren't on her.
"You're not bad for a rellyw," he remembers, crystal clear, across time.
The next time Keviti is in his shop, she's asking for sewing lessons. He obliges her. She has an art with the needle, the small spear, much like the larger weaponry she wields, but even so she is impatient, clumsy, and Veithadros must caution her against doing violence to the fine silks he's set her to...
...then the next time /he/ sees /her/, they're fighting, his stave against hers, and he's not so bad at that either, so he thinks, until she trips him and lands him on his back, laughing down into his face.
She ends up on top the next time, too. And the time after that. It didn't matter what kind of sparring they did.
...she'd gone to a battle. He'd worried, fretted, the entire time, but when she'd returned, wounded but glorious, spattered in her enemy's blood... that was when he realized, against all his best sense, that he'd fallen for an Ankyrean.
They married, a few months after - in a rush of stumbling confessions, Keviti hesitant at first. She's only convinced when Veithadros gives her a list, thought-through, methodical, of all the things he loves about her. Her violence. Her eyes. Her readiness with a laugh. ...her openness.
...tried for children. None came...
...and then Keviti, his wife, his beloved, rode off again. Veithadros was more than a tailor now. A guardsman in his own right, manning the tower, watching day after day for sign of her, for anybody.
...conflict in the region came and went. Veithadros stayed. Keviti did not return.
The scarf grew long at his feet, his needles grew worn. Keviti did not return.
...he loses himself in the sky, its days and its nights... and Keviti does not return.
He gazes into the golden stain of dawn, feels his skin wrinkle beneath the sun's unkind affections... and Keviti does not return.
Beautiful, verdant green spring blooms outside the village. The flowers are fine. He remembers seeing her, that first time. ...she does not return.
...he floats away from his life, from his body, turning to stardust, ascending to a place of honor in the sky, where his solitude is absolute.
He sees Keviti, at last. Skeletal, hand in hand, with an Ankyrean man of Spinesreach. Children, circling their graves.
...and now Veithadros is here, and Keviti is not. So it will be. Forever.
"...it is by your connection to the stars," breathes Veithadros, the Hopeful, "That you shall know this power over space, time, and light. By memory. By your connection to my story. You shall know me, my life, and all its colors as I have known it." He hesitates, now, a pregnant penumbra staining his visage as his eyes glow out. "This, I have given you - to save your love, and for another purpose, which I would have you hear, now."
You have emoted: Deadvalorie dares not blink, held perfectly still beneath the fine trembles that wrack her form still. The images flicker past her eyes, what is at first the means to her purpose pulling her in quick enough, immersing her in the images that hold back the depths of her worries - for the time being. A ghost of a smile pulls at her lips, the first meeting, the spars that follow familiar enough - in spirit and in sentiment if not in memory. It doesn't last for long, only a matter of time before her lips quiver in the echo of heartbreak, moisture gleaming in her eyes. The tears fall now, crystalline and clear down her cheeks, disappearing into the emptiness. "What will you have left?" She whispers, a question that needs no answering as she sniffles, droplets clinging to her lashes as she tries to blink the tears away to no avail. "Thank you," there is sincerity in her voice, choked with emotion as she repeats, "Thank you."
"The Albedi creature," Veithadros whispers in soft, stygian tones, "Called Aechros... it is responsible for the confluence below, and it seeks the Hunter's preservation. Why, I do not know - but if your love falls, it is not just your grief that is at stake. It is the whole of the wilds that is connected to your story, the whole of the /world/. So take my starlight, Valorie Aresti, and use it not only to defend your beloved, but to see the sky's /full/ span. See the shapes between the disparate dots..." As he speaks, his hand frightens, and he reaches out as dawn breaks across the continent of Sapience far, far below. Fire rises in your mind, across your body, his nimbi all-embracing as they wrap you in a silvery flux of energy. Where there is void in you, the stars and night alike fill it, their memories and their power waking possibilities untold throughout the fabric of your frame.
Experience Gained: 300,000
You have gained the aetherial_form defence.
*Alternate titles include 'Please Make Veithadros Happy' and 'Why Spireans Ruin Everything' (jk (or am I?)).
As I was missing a lot of context after this, I'll let @Illikaal post the rest!
Valorie
20
Re: Thank you!
With most of the excitement out of the way, I would like to extend my thanks to everyone who helped me on the way to 200! Whether that be by providing offers of help, knives, chocolates, dawn prayers, writing my amazing description (<3 @Maeve you're a queen) or giving me encouragement, thank you to all of you - @Aisling, @Almol, @Anahera, @Caitria, @Cernunnos, @Elene, @Jakarn, @Kalena, @Khelzya, @Maeve, @Mazzion, @Mjoll, @Ranae, @Rihrin, @Robyn, @Rynkhia, @Saltz, @Sepzane, @Sryaen, @Tee, @Trikal, @Valeria, @Xenia, and anyone else I may have missed. Another big thank you to everyone from Enorian and Duiran who showed up to die for Dendara while I proceeded with my slow as heck typing, I appreciate you all so so much.
@Illikaal - I mean it when I say I could not have done this without your help. Thank you for encouraging me and helping me in more ways than I can count, from lending your artifacts to running around all over with me for months. I'm glad we got to do this together
Last but very not the least, thank you to the entire admin team who had a hand in the formation of this race and event, especially @Ictinus. Your patience, creativity, and way with words is awe-inspiring, and I hope I can be half as eloquent a writer as you are one day. Aetherial is everything I hoped it would be and then some, and I am absolutely in love with everything about it (but pls make Veithadros happy, my heart ;_;). The gradients made me SO HAPPY. Thank you for putting up with me panicking for no reason every 5 seconds.
And thank you for the laughter when I realized someone put me back into the Sentinels guild instead of the Shamans <.< Deadvalorie will be sorely missed and I take absolutely no responsibility for announcing to Duiran that the world is gonna end and we're all gonna die.
Today was full of sap and so many feelings and I'll forever be sad about my boy V but the entire event was absolutely perfect, and I am over the moon (pls no hate). You're all stars
@Illikaal - I mean it when I say I could not have done this without your help. Thank you for encouraging me and helping me in more ways than I can count, from lending your artifacts to running around all over with me for months. I'm glad we got to do this together
Last but very not the least, thank you to the entire admin team who had a hand in the formation of this race and event, especially @Ictinus. Your patience, creativity, and way with words is awe-inspiring, and I hope I can be half as eloquent a writer as you are one day. Aetherial is everything I hoped it would be and then some, and I am absolutely in love with everything about it (but pls make Veithadros happy, my heart ;_;). The gradients made me SO HAPPY. Thank you for putting up with me panicking for no reason every 5 seconds.
And thank you for the laughter when I realized someone put me back into the Sentinels guild instead of the Shamans <.< Deadvalorie will be sorely missed and I take absolutely no responsibility for announcing to Duiran that the world is gonna end and we're all gonna die.
Today was full of sap and so many feelings and I'll forever be sad about my boy V but the entire event was absolutely perfect, and I am over the moon (pls no hate). You're all stars
Valorie
15
Re: Thank you!
Man, where to start. It was a whole year ago that this whole journey to 200 started. @Sibatti came to the guild with news from the Guardians that served as my inspiration to want to try for 200. I couldn't have done it without all the overwhelming support from friends and other players in the community alike, and I never once forgot about anyone that contributed.
Whether you were my ride or die knife donaters helping me every single day for the months it took, or you only were able to help just a few times: @Robyn @Aisling @Trikal @Mjoll @Xenia @Jhin @Corvo @Oriana, Ranae, Kalena, @Anahera, @Mazzion . Thank you all for being fantastic and never once complaining for when I'd ask for a knife.
In addition to the above, people that helped me with a steady stream of chocolates, compendium pages, cheap chalices, and anything else I needed to make it as smooth as possible: @Aolin, @Sryaen, @Mati, @Rasani, @Elene, @Valeria, @Haven, @Alela, @Bulrok, @Safiya, @Tetchta, @Pilar, @Sepzane, Tee, Rynkhia, @Iesid, Khelzya. Thank you all for your contributions, no matter how big or small they were. They all added up.
Extra thank you to @Trikal for the translocator to help make things go much smoother. Thank you @Bulrok for rainbow crits. They really did make me bash 80% faster.
Special thank yous to @Sibatti, @Maeve, and @Aisling for description/design help.
The person who easily deserves the biggest thank you that I can never thank enough for all that she does is @Valorie. You incredibly supportive the entire time it took me to finish the grind, would constantly buy chocolates, sort them for me, make sure I had plenty of gold for transmutes, grab any cheap items she saw on the market, kept me stocked on pills and elixirs, and micromanaged everything for me to make it as easy as possible. You've been one of the greatest friends anyone could ever have hoped to meet, and I couldn't have done it without you.
And with the year long overdue thank you of the way, huge thank you to @Ictinus and @Haern for handling all my requests so beautifully and I couldn't have asked for anything better than what I got where the customizations were concerned, and the entire experience. Any Celani that put in legwork in the background, I appreciate you all too. Thank you to everyone that attended, the Shamans, Duiran, Enorian, Mazzion(ha), and some of my old fossil friends that turned up for it as well. This one's definitely going down in the books as one of the coolest christmas presents ever.
I had some art commissioned and I'll be posting the finished products when they're all done, and I'll get the log up as soon as I'm finished cleaning it up.
Thank you everbody! Dendara Eternal!
Whether you were my ride or die knife donaters helping me every single day for the months it took, or you only were able to help just a few times: @Robyn @Aisling @Trikal @Mjoll @Xenia @Jhin @Corvo @Oriana, Ranae, Kalena, @Anahera, @Mazzion . Thank you all for being fantastic and never once complaining for when I'd ask for a knife.
In addition to the above, people that helped me with a steady stream of chocolates, compendium pages, cheap chalices, and anything else I needed to make it as smooth as possible: @Aolin, @Sryaen, @Mati, @Rasani, @Elene, @Valeria, @Haven, @Alela, @Bulrok, @Safiya, @Tetchta, @Pilar, @Sepzane, Tee, Rynkhia, @Iesid, Khelzya. Thank you all for your contributions, no matter how big or small they were. They all added up.
Extra thank you to @Trikal for the translocator to help make things go much smoother. Thank you @Bulrok for rainbow crits. They really did make me bash 80% faster.
Special thank yous to @Sibatti, @Maeve, and @Aisling for description/design help.
The person who easily deserves the biggest thank you that I can never thank enough for all that she does is @Valorie. You incredibly supportive the entire time it took me to finish the grind, would constantly buy chocolates, sort them for me, make sure I had plenty of gold for transmutes, grab any cheap items she saw on the market, kept me stocked on pills and elixirs, and micromanaged everything for me to make it as easy as possible. You've been one of the greatest friends anyone could ever have hoped to meet, and I couldn't have done it without you.
And with the year long overdue thank you of the way, huge thank you to @Ictinus and @Haern for handling all my requests so beautifully and I couldn't have asked for anything better than what I got where the customizations were concerned, and the entire experience. Any Celani that put in legwork in the background, I appreciate you all too. Thank you to everyone that attended, the Shamans, Duiran, Enorian, Mazzion(ha), and some of my old fossil friends that turned up for it as well. This one's definitely going down in the books as one of the coolest christmas presents ever.
I had some art commissioned and I'll be posting the finished products when they're all done, and I'll get the log up as soon as I'm finished cleaning it up.
Thank you everbody! Dendara Eternal!
Illikaal
14