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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: swirling sands...
The Rima'arrna nodded at Arathea's response. But then, Seleniniel interjected that she was coming along. As the companions came to an agreement, the officer frowned.
"Nila'arato," he intoned, "the griffon can certainly bear the weight of you both. Understand that she will need to take more frequent breaks, however; this will slow our progress somewhat."
(OOC: assuming that there is no objection)
The tall soldier nodded. "Very well," he stated. "I know that you have only just arrived, so I will give you time to see to your duties, but we should be off as soon as possible."
Even as the conversation was ending, another uniformed sylvari approached - this one not quite as tall as the Rima'arrna, with chestnut hair bound back with a band. He wore a charcoal uniform denoting an officer of the Imperial Army, with a formal cape in deep purple designating his status. A soldier in a plain uniform - some sort of aide, one would presume - followed at a respectful distance.
This newcomer, of course, had to be the base commander.
The charcoal-clad officer halted his approach and gave the party an appraising look. "I am Nost'kano Saelron Feldinil. Welcome to Hyanda Nost. You are the megilindar we have heard about, I presume?"
(OOC: assuming an affirmative response)
"Very well," Feldinil replied. "Please let me know if you require any resources from Hyanda Nost."
His gaze settled on Isilmewen, and his expression relaxed. "Ah, Lady Mithvanryl," he exclaimed. "I was not informed that you were attached to this... outfit." The commander seemed to appraise the party for a moment. "If this... interesting assortment of companions has you to vouch for them, I must confess that I feel much better about the entire affair."
He turned and addressed his aide. "See to it that they obtain proper lodging," he ordered.
The aide immediately saluted, bringing his right fist to his left shoulder. "As you order, Nost'kano," he replied.
The commander then regarded the party once more. "Tur'ohtar Biros here will see to any needs you may have regarding equipment or provisions. As I understand it, you are in the service of House Isil'nari, on bidding from the Speaker, so we will naturally offer any aid that we can. You will of course be welcomed to dine with us for the duration of your stay."
Feldinil's expression changed subtly. "Speaking of which, how long do you intend to remain at Hyanda Nost?" he asked. "Also, I will of course welcome any news or intel that you may be able to offer."
(OOC: allowing for any appropriate responses)
"Very well," the commander spoke. "I will allow you to get settled in." His gaze settled on Arathea. "My condolences for your loss, Nila'arato. Your father had a sterling reputation for integrity... he will be missed. May the gods bear his spirit to the hereafter, and may Adaron put the wind at your back as you go to your family home."
********************************
In short order, Arathea and Seleniniel had said their goodbyes. While the rest of the party were assigned spots in the barracks by Tur'ohtar Biros, the pair found themselves led by Kosta'cora Tatheme to the other side of the main courtyard of the keep, where a pair of magnificent beasts were tethered outside of a large building. The griffons - with the head, wings, and front feet of an eagle, and the body, back legs, and tail of a lion, were easily nine feet long, and stood five feet high at the shoulder. A quick glance at the large, razor-sharp beaks made it very cleaer that the ropes used as tethers were simply to remind the creatures of their expected place; it would be trivial for them to easily slice the ropes and take wing, if they so desired.
Tatheme's approach drew their attention, causing the griffons to take to their feet and stretch their wings. They made shrill little calls at his appearance; one of them acted in a clearly affectionate manner, rubbing up against the Stormrider as he drew near. The building - a large stable - contained saddles and tack for the griffons, which Tatheme made short work of lashing into place before stowing the new group's gear appropritely.
"Lady Isil'nari," the Stormrider stated, "I would recommend that Nila'arato Ondolithe mount first, and you slide behind her. It will not be the most comfortable of rides, but it is the only way." He frowned. "With one arm, you will need to take extra care. A spill from a horse seldom leads to little more than bumps, bruises, and woudned pride. Were you to fall from Tanna here, you would likely not survive."
(OOC: assuming agreement)
One all were mounted, he grinned at the two adventurers. "Are you ready?"
Apparently, the question was rhetorical; a moment later, he called out to the griffons. "Rip'lle!"
An instant later, Arathea and Seleniniel were being pressed into the saddle as their griffon clawed her way into the sky. It was a stomach-churning experience, but as disquieting as it was being pushed into the saddle, when the beast made small dips in the course of her flight, the feeling of weightlessness from coming up off of the saddle was worse.
There was going to be a long week ahead.
********************************
"My lord, a letter for you has arrived via falcon," the servant spoke.
Lord Tansathil looked up from the tome he was examining, his face impassive. "Give it to me, then," he replied.
The platinum-haired sylvari regarded the envelope with detachment. The handwriting was familiar; the seal, even more so. A quick inspection of the wax revealed that it had been almost certainly been disturbed and re-sealed; frankly, Tansathil would have expected no less. The great lord had eyes and ears in many places, including within most of the other Great Houses; he was hardly so foolish as to think that the archons of the other Great Houses would do any less.
Any true irritation he felt was more around the fact that the would-be spy had been so sloppy in their work. Tansathil himself would not tolerate such subpar attention to detail; he was nearly embarrassed on the behalf of whoever's representative had screened the missive before it reached his hands.
However, the vicarious embarrassment melted away as the great lord reviewed the contents of the letter. A cold anger settled over the features of House Isil'nari's patriarch. The change was subtle, but those who knew Tansathil were aware of the fury held within; the servant himself found himself shying away from the lord's desk.
For several long minutes, Tansathil sat motionless, his steely eyes staring into space as he considered the content of the letter. Neither the servant nor the lord's bodyguards dared to break his reverie; instead, they held motionless, awaiting any possible requirement of their patron. Finally, the patriarch retrieved a sheet of parchment and a quill, and with his mouth set into a thin line, began to write a reply.
You speak of trustworthiness. I find this claim to be laughably dubious, given the manner in which you blatantly advertise every secret within your possession like some common k'goth whore standing with her body on display at the edge of the docks in some human city when a ship makes port.
Given your background and education, I'd have trusted you to understand at least the absolute rudiments of discretion; clearly, my trust was wildly misplaced.
Surely you know that any letters sent to me will be read by spies before they reach my own eyes; a bit of sealing wax will hardly deter anyone outside of a Meiven Tarai priest... and even then, a sliver of common sense would allow you to expect such as those to still accept a coin in exchange for your secrets.
In case this concept still escapes your ken, guard your tongue - and your quill. Do not speak openly to name our adversaries, nor our allies, nor the targets of our efforts. Information is the most valuable currency in the world, and you have just scattered the most precious pearls you have ever possessed before any random swine that may happen to stumble across them.
Your instructions were very clear. I will not reveal to you the fruit of our labors, nor how they are planted, nor those with the knowledge of the place or method of their cultivation, nor those who would seek to impede those fruits - not in a mere letter that anyone with a thin blade can open, or use a bit of heat to re-seal.
Your people depend upon you. Do not let them down again.
When the scathing missive was completed, Tansathil shook his head, sealed the missive, wrote the name of the recipient, and sealed it with his own seal. His gaze finally returned to his servant.
"Have this sent back in response," he ordered casually.
Bowing, the servant took the letter and made a swift exit from the study.
Posted on 2025-06-18 at 20:11:02.
Edited on 2025-06-18 at 20:11:42 by t_catt11
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Topic: Audalis creations
Subject: sylvari military...
Ohtar - soldier
Tur'ohtar - sergeant
Nilaa - squad leader
Nikym - platoon leader
Nikerym - captain
Enyalie - general
Kano - commander. A title more than an acual rank; Nost'kano = keep commander.
Also...
Mahtar - swordsman
Pengron - archer
These denote a soldier's specific job.
Megilindarim (bladesingers) have their own ranks:
Istima - initiate
Arato - champion
Tura - master
Esta'hyanda - first blade
The Rimen'arrna, the Riders of the Storm, also have their own titles.
Rima - rider
Elen'cora - star leader/commander
Kosta'cora - bolt commander
Loomi'cora - cloud commander
Esta'rima - first rider
Posted on 2025-06-17 at 14:32:53.
Edited on 2025-06-17 at 15:15:12 by t_catt11
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: dark tidings
Of them all, Mae'rel was the lone party member to have any further questions. "Will you maintain any contact before we reach the Tomb?" she asked. "And further on that, how will we return to you once we have the pendant? After all, capable as we may be, we are not able to reach this place on our own?"
King Rhäärghan answered.
"Ysmiril, who served as your guide here to our home, will accompany you as need be," he rumbled in response. "She will lead you back here once you have obtained the pendant." He paused, appearing lost in thought. "That said, you might be separated on your journey," he added. "We cannot know what perils you might face."
After a pause, the fae produced a small crystal, light blue in color and delicate in appearance. Staring intently into the facets, he sang a few rief phrases, causing it to glow for several moments. Once the glow faded, he reached it towards Mae'rel.
"Here, parantaja," he offered. "Take this trinket. If you are pepared to return to this realm, but cannot locate the tienraivaaja we send with you, grasp this trinket firmly, and crush it between your thumb and fingers. This will send a signal, and we will know of your plight."
He shook his head ruefully. "Remember the way that our worlds are connected. Your signal will travel best from the deep forests of your realm, or from other wild places. If you call for us from inside of a kuolevainenpesä, a mortal nest... it will be as if you called from a desert wasteland, and we may not hear it... or hear it right away."
After he was certain that the cleric understood, he dismissed her. "Now, go," he spoke.
Once all of the companions had agreed that they understood and would comply with the mission bestowed upon them by the fae monarchs, it quickly became clear that their audience had come to an end. Queen Cwynthien, whose patience had apparently been tried more than her husband's, seeemed especially ready to send the party on their way. Ysmiril led an awkward round of goodbyes, and the group departed the court.
There was a quick meeting between Ysmiril and the orange-haired Äitienne; a touching of foreheads, a few murmured words in an unknown tongue while the party recovered their possessions. Soon, the crystal halls of the castle were behind the companions.
Ysmiril swiftly led the party back down the soft blue stone path, past the vibrant rainbow trees and glimmering waters. With no fanfare, the lavender-haired fae began to sing open a portal, which she ushered the party through.
The return to the mortal realm was both comforting and a touch bittersweet; it was nice to see solid edges return to reality, but the loss of the extra colors and vibrancy felt like a shade had been thrown over all of the world. After a prompted rest by the faerie, the group set back off that evening, into yet another portal and the shadow realm. Fortunately, this trip - while still exhausting and unsettling - was overall uneventful. After the terrible experience that Seleniniel had survived, no companion even considered listening to any other songs or looking at any other lights during the shadowy ethereal journey.
Once the group was back into the mortal realm, they found themselves standing in the original glade where Ysmiril had opened her first portal. The faerie sang open the stump, allowing the companions to reach inside and retrieve their iron items. After this was done and the stump returned to normal, Ysmiril bid the party a temporary farewell.
"I will not travel with you into to the fortress of the children of the stars," she explained. "Your business there is your own, and it is not my place to walk openly among the tähtienlapsia. I assume that you will take your westward road from this Hyanda Nost; I will meet you along the way after you depart."
With that, the lavender-haired fae shimmered for a moment, then was gone.
********************************
It sook most of two days for Isilmewen to lead the party to reach Hyanda Nost on foot. They arrived not long before sunset, with the formidible castle cutting a breathtaking profile against the sky.
Hyanda Nost was an ancient fortification, dating back to the days when sylvari and khords were fast friends. Situated high on a cliff overlooking the forest, the keep had gray stone walls so dark that they appeared nearly black and seemed to sprout from the bones of the steep hill below its foundations. Indeed, to even the most discerning eye, it was impossible to determine where any stones had been fitted to the ground; they all appeared to be part and parcel of the terrain itself.
The battlements rose a dizzying height above even the ground of the hilltop, with walls angled in such a way to make ladders nigh impossible to place. Nevertheless, the walls themselves displayed a breathtaking array of stunning stonework, featuring seemingly fragile spires and etched decorations of incredible detail. Surely there must be seams between indivdual stones, but so cunning was the workmanship that no gaps could be detected, no lines could be seen.
One narrow, winding path led from the forst floor below up the steep, rough terrain onto which the castle itself was situated. Small fortifications enhanced the natural stones along the path, meaning any approach had to funnel through unimaginiable death before reaching the legendary walls themselves. It was known that an underground spring lay beneath the fortress, and tunnels were carved to allow the inhabitants secret exits far into the forest. Such a place could stand against a seige for years... for decades, even. It was said that even a well-supplied human army would siply grow old and feeble while attempting to outwait the defenders of this stronghold.
Hyanda Nost stood as a beacon above the western border of the Empire. Even the mightiest of Anathari armies had broken like so many waves against the unmoving cliffs when they tried to take it. If ever there was a fortress that inspired awe, Hyanda Nost was it.
Sentries hailed the party more than once as they made their way up the steep, narrow path, and while the bófir and the cidal collected a few odd glances, a look at the elaborate tooling of Arathea's blue leather forestalled any objections. Soon, the party found themselves before the mighty gates of the citadel, which currently stood open to permit traffic, though a pair of guards approached the party.
When Arathea revealed herself and introduced her companions, the guards gave a respectful salute and stood aside. "Nost'kano Feldinil will wish to speak with you, nila'arato," the soldier stated. "Please enter; we will of course provide lodging for you and your... companions."
As the party entered the courtyard of the great keep, a lone figure strode from a nearby building and walked straight for the group. He was a tall warrior, dressed not in a formal uniform as one expected to see on a commander of such an important fortress, but he nevertheless carried himself with authority that clearly was not accustomed to being questioned. Instead, he wore studded leather dyed a scarlet color, though the armor had clearly been well-worn. Beneath his left arm he carried a distinctive helm with a plume of feathers along the crest, and a charcoal cloak hung from his shoulders. A sheathed sword was worn on his left hip. His long blonde hair was bound back, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the group but came to rest on Arathea. This was no ordinary solider - this man was one of the Rimen'arrna, the elite Riders of the Storm, the Empire's aerial cavalry.
He came to a pause a respectful distance ahead of the companions before raising his right fist against his left shoulder in salute. As he did so, the black mourning band around his uper arm was clearly displayed.
"You are Nila'arato Arathea Ondolithe, are you not?" he asked, his voice clear.
(OOC: assuming that Arathea will answer affirmatively)
The warrior nodded. "I am Kosta'cora Cilthas Tatheme, and I have flown from Londelirinen to Faernae to seek you. Lord Isil'nari suggested that you would come this way; I am glad to find that he was correct." The solider paused, sadness on his face.
Kosta'cora - the title indicated that this soldier commanded a kosta - a bolt - of Rimen'arrna. A kosta consisted of four elenae, each of which contained five Stormriders. In all of the Empire, there were no more than two hundred Rimen'arrna, meaning that this was no mere messenger; this was a seasoned, elite warrior.
"Honored megilindar," he spoke carefully, "it pains me to bear such tidings, but your father, Erestor Moreuron Ondolithe, was killed a tenday ago. Her Imperial Majesty, the Speaker of the Stars, offers you her condolences for your loss. Your father was a well respected servant of the empire, and his loss will be felt by all."
The soldier paused. "I apologize that I do not have all of the details. I was told that there was some sort of terrible accident involving his carriage. His body lies in state, although the funeral songs are surely being sung by now; I do not know when the final services will be held."
He took a step forward. "I have brought a spare mount with me, a gentle beast well trained. You have been given leave to come, see to your father's affairs, and say your goodbyes. In Her generosity, the Speaker has provided that we may fly you back here after."
The tall soldier stood easily, waiting for a reply.
Posted on 2025-06-05 at 15:12:50.
Edited on 2025-06-07 at 01:24:41 by t_catt11
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: lots of fluff, get to the point
Rosariel listened to the back and forth first between Seleniniel and the fae monarchs, then between Arathea and the same rulers. While the two companions' attitudes may have been different, both sought to question the ancient past. But to what end?
The fae may well have had some hidden agenda. How was that remarkable? Rich and important people usually did.
The story of the lost seeds resonated with Rosariel. The tale rang true - at least on the important points. The group had all seen the healing power of the wytchwood sap, and Arathea seemed to know something of weapons made from the wood itself. That the seeds could extend life seemed believable; after all, something had granted the Speaker unnaturally long life. That the trees were so important to the existence of the fae realm - and even the mortal world - likewise felt right on some fundamental level.
Perhaps Taurdor Salka was whispering in her servant's ear, perhaps Rosariel was instead falling prey to wishful thinking. Either way, the huntress found a surprising urgency in her heart; this simply needed to be done.
Of course, as Seleniniel had pointed out, all of the discussed factors really only impacted feelings; the final decision was largely taken from the party's hands. The choice to save Ruadhrí had come with a price, and this mission was that price, or their lives were forfeit. So be it.
"Do you understand?" the one called Cwynthien had asked, her glittering eyes intense.
Finally, Rosariel spoke in simple response to the Queen's question. She nodded in reply. "We understand, your majesty. We will complete this task, bring this pendant to you."
What else was there to say?
Posted on 2025-05-28 at 13:54:59.
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: fine. Be that way.
No one could miss the impertinence in Seleniniel's tone; the words - while polite - fairly dripped with derision. Even so, King Rhäärghan appeared to overlook the slight - for now.
"Queen Cwynthien and I are of course gratified at your acceptance of the terms," he offered with a smile that did not reach his glimmering eyes. The scorn in his own tone could not be missed by any, no matter their lack of sensitivity to courtly manners. Even so, the faerie monarch did not choose to tarry on the attitude of the one-armed wizard. Instead, his attention turned to the megilindar.
"I practice my people's traditions," Arathea explained. "I have dedicated my life to preserving them. It is true that my song can enchant my blade, though..." she paused, pain in her voice. "The blade I was connected to has fallen, and I have yet to build a new bond with a weapon so special."
A look of confused amusement crossed the royal features momentarily before Rhäärghan answered. "A blade is a tool, how can it fall?" He shook his head, a raised hand forestalling any further explanation. "No, no. I assume that the children of the stars have built in their own rituals around the song we bestowed upon you so long ago. Far be it from me to question your traditions, miekkojenlaulaja. And of course, steel is not as responsive to oikealaulu as some things are; it makes sense that it would take time for a new sword to accept your music."
As Cwynthien looked on with an arched brow, the king shook his head. "Still, had you the time for it, I wonder what you could learn were you to spend time with our laulajat? Few mortals can sing any of our songs to even the proficiency of a child. Yet here you stand."
"Another time," the queen interjected in a not unfriendly manner.
The king nodded. "Indeed. Another time, perhaps," he agreed.
********************************
The discussion continued. One by one, Mae'rel, Ruadhrí, and Rosariel all chimed in with enthusiastic support. Indeed, all of the party - save the predictably irascible Seleniniel - seemed to be on board with this new quest.
But then, Arathea spoke up again.
"My pledge is to the Speaker," the bladesinger spoke. "You speak of old ways; I am sure you understand this. My duty to her is ancient, my masters share it and their masters shared it, and the masters before them as well. I fear I may be betraying my oath should I do what you ask. Your Majesty, how can I even be certain you are speaking the full truth to me? With all respect I have spent almost my whole life studying history, yet I have never heard talk of this old alliance between our peoples, nor the Speaker's relationship with these seeds."
Arathea's tone was polite, but her question was heavily pointed.
"How can you know I am speaking the full truth with you?" King Rhäärghan mused in his gravelly tone.
Any icy voice interjected. "You cannot know," Queen Cwynthien stated flatly. "How shall we prove our claims? Shall we summon dancing lights, show ghosts of the ages past? Even if we produced the spirits of Galrathdur and Eslinnëa themselves, your kutoja would dismiss these as parlor tricks."
Rhäärghan laid a hand gently on his wife's, and she breathed deeply, causing her expression to return a step towards neutrality.
"My queen speaks true," the fae king stated. "There is no proof we can offer you, none that you will accept. We speak of events older than any of your people save perhaps your Speaker - and many older than even her."
He paused a moment. "Why are stories of our alliance not known to you? I cannot say. I can say this, however - the children of the stars largely view the children of the shadows as fanciful tales meant to entertain and frighten children, do they not? And yet, here you stand in my court, tonttutytär. Our people are forgotten to yours - however such a thing might be... but we undoubtedly exist."
His eyes met each of the companions' as he continued. "Why does your Speaker hide the existence of the seeds, let alone her use of them? I will not guess as to her motives. You cannot deny that her life has extended far beyond what even the most benevolent of your gods might grant." He paused, seeming to think on the subject, but Cwynthien spoke again.
"Everything we have told you is the truth, mortals." she stated flatly. "You are under the binding of the oldest magic; there was no requirement for us to explain why we desired the seeds, only that you must bring them to us. My king wished you to be informed, for he is courteous; there was no need to tell you anything at all save what is required of you." She cast a derisive look upon the party. "Why lie to you? What would it gain us? You are bound upon pain of death to fulfil the task set before you."
The fae queen smirked at Seleniniel. "As your velho states true - our words may impact your feelings, but not your duty to uphold your oaths. Believe our words or do not, but your task is set."
Now, Rhäärghan seemed content to let his wife speak. "Go to the tomb of your people, just as your herra has bid you to do," she stated. "Bring the pendant to us, so that we may sing it open and reclaim the noituudenpuua seeds. Then, you may do with it what you wish; give it to your lord, sell it, cast it into the sea for all that we care. But the pendant must be brought to us once you recover it - before you give it to anyone else."
Her face was frigid, impassive. "Do you understand?" the fae queen asked.
Posted on 2025-05-27 at 16:12:43.
Edited on 2025-05-27 at 16:18:44 by t_catt11
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: an outdoors perspective
Rosariel felt her stomach flip when stepping through the portal, but thank Taurdor Salka, there was no disquieting, otherworldly shadow path on the other side. Instead, this was a rich, vibrant world - really, almost too vibrant. The colors were undoubtedly gorgeous, but they were just slightly discordant, like some dream world brought to life instead of how nature should feel.
And yet... as strange as everything appeared, even with the edges of her vision seemingly rebelling against what her senses were telling her were there, the fae realm felt... comfortable. Refreshing. Like the scent of the forest when a rain had fallen after a long drought.
The concept that this world could feel incongruous and yet comfortable seemed more than a little strange, but Rosariel chose to let the ideas drop as she stepped onto the (soft?) blue rock path.
********************************
After an encounter with a male fae who apparently seemed bent on some mischief - which Ysmiril clearly had no time for - the huntress found herself being ushered into a crystal palace that seemed to materialize from the same dream as the rest of this place.
Ysmiril's "soul friend", a fae called Äitienne, acted as the group's keeper for a time while the familiar faerie busied herself on some errand. Roasariel had no steel to relinquish, not that she would have objected; what would some paltry blade do when the companions had been spirited away into another entire world? No, they were here to find out the price of their debt; best to be on about it and avoid ruffling any feathers unnecessarily. In the meantime, she spent her time relaxing on the surprisingly soft accommodations.
Eventually, the lavender-haired fae returned and presented Isilmewen with a dress. When the noble-turned-ranger tried it on, Rosariel's eyebrows raised, though she carefully cast her gaze to the side in an effort to avoid making her companion any more self-conscious than the flushed cheeks belied that she already was. Apparently, for the time being at least, Isilmewen would be sharing views of all of the body that the gods had granted to her to anyone who wished to look. Given the fae's nonchalance towards nudity, the group probably shouldn't have been surprised.
Meh, it was skin. Everyone had it. Why worry overmuch?
Soon enough, the party was brought before the fae court. Rosariel was careful to follow Ysmiril's lead, to bow appropriately and conduct herself respectfully (or, as respectfully as she could with a suddenly-active rat wriggling around inside of her hood). The king and queen - who seemed to view each other as equals - told a sorrowful tale of loss and death and betrayal, and finally revealed the boon which the party was bound to fulfill.
As King Rhäärghan spoke, Rosariel felt herself moved by his words. She had seen the power of the wytchwood sap; there was little reason to doubt his depiction of the power of the seeds.
From the beginning, Rosariel had held her doubts about the haughty noble that had collected them all on this quest. It strained credulity that Lord Isil'Nari would not have known of the seeds, yet he had kept their existence a complete secret. The huntress could think of no honest reason for him to do so.
Rosariel remembered a situation from some decades ago. It had been a hard winter, and a large morko had turned up half starved near Dor’ghen Loth. The great creature had conducted itself gently, and two children - unbeknownst to their elders - began sneaking food to the grateful beast.
It survived, but it also grew reliant on the village, losing its healthy fear of the inhabitants in favor of easily obtained scraps of food. By the time Rosariel had discovered the situation, it had grown too late. Another child was injured by the great bear, and to protect the lives of the sylvari, Rosariel had been forced to bury an arrow deep into the morko's heart.
From the sound of the king's tale, the Speaker had grown reliant on these seeds like the bear had grown reliant on the villagers' food, and in doing so, had lost perspective as to the cost of her addiction. While the ruler's own fate was regrettable, what of the innocent fae doomed to unnatural deaths?
The very existence of an unknowable number of fae - to say nothing of the very existence of their world - versus an unnaturally lengthened life of some haughty royal who barely deigned to make herself seen to the nation who she ruled? Rosariel shook her head. The fae royalty need not have sealed this deal with magic; the farahe knew that she would have gladly agreed without any of that.
Rosariel's back straightened like her resolve. "Mae'rel had the right of it," Taurdor Salka's priestess spoke. "I will do all I can to help make this right. So many lives, this world," she gestured, "against the life of one person extending theirs unnaturally? Why is this a choice to debate?"
She frowned. "Besides," Rosariel added, "nature is delicately interconnected. If you kill all the wolves, the deer multiply until they die in great numbers from starvation and disease - but before they do so, they eat some plants to extinction. And then, other animals that rely on those plants can die. If this fae land fades away, will it not harm our own world, lead to deaths there?"
She shook her head. "No. I cannot refuse this task. The lord will have his pendant, but not until the fae have the seeds."
Posted on 2025-05-19 at 16:35:44.
Edited on 2025-05-19 at 16:43:00 by t_catt11
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: how rude
Isilmewen and Dak both agreed to the fae king's bargain quickly enough, with good spirits and positive tones. But Seleliniel was not so easy to convince.
The wizard possessed the most noble background among the companions. She knew all too well what was expected in a courtly setting. And yet, despite that knowledge, she rejected her manners and experiences, instead blurting out a demand as if she were haggling with a fishmonger over the price of a fresh catch.
"Why have the Speakers refused you?" Seleliniel fairly demanded.
Of course, one did not simply make demands of monarchs - let alone in the palace of one, with no way home save by the good graces of said insulted monarch. And yet, the mage made no efforts to still her tongue or sweeten her words, allowing them to jab as if released in the opening round of a fight.
Cwynthien's face darkened at the open insult and Ysmiril's violet eyes went wide in alarm, but Rhäärghan remained stoic, and the fae king raised a hand to still the response of his queen.
"Your tone is impertinent, kutoja," he spoke, the power of a mountain in his voice. "But your question is a fair one." His mouth settled in a crooked grin not unlike that Ysmiril sometimes adopted.
"Our people and yours were one fast allies. We tended the groves together. We shared much. But war came, times changed. Choices were made," he spoke slowly. "And that alliance fell to tatters."
He paused, allowing his gaze to settle over each party member in turn. "We all think ourselves the heroes of our stories, do we not? And yet, I ask you to consider this. The children of the stars were once fast friends with not only the fae, but also with the kivenasukkaat - the ones you call 'Khordaldrum', and with the children of the sun - the auringonlapsia, the humans. Who do the children of the stars count among their friends now, vihainenyksilö? Why is it that none other who walks beneath the sun are welcome in your forests? Do you truly believe that all fault must lie at the feet of other races, and none of the blame rests with the children of Adaron?"
Rhäärghan shook his head. "Your hallitsija, your Speaker - she is not the first such to live beyond the length of her natural life, though her life has lasted the longest of any such ruler. Do you not find that peculiar, oh koulutettu?"
The fae king folded his hands together and let his nigh-mesmerizing gaze rest on Seleliniel. "Your Speakers refuse to speak with us about the matter at all. They keep their own counsel, and do not share their reasons with us. But knowing what we do about the nature of the seeds and what they do to the tähtienlapsia, it requires little imagination to surmise why they deny us."
Posted on 2025-05-16 at 14:20:17.
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: in a land fae, fae away
Ysmiril watched as Isilmewen went into her panic, and then as the little masked cleric helped to calm her somewhat.
"Ai että, pikkusisko!" she exclaimed. "You need not fret yourself this way. While I am certain that none in the court expect a tähtienlapsi to follow the fashions of our kind, if it will help you to feel more at ease, I will assist you in this. Jep?"
(OOC: assuming Isilmewen does not object)
She looked back at the group with a final smile. "Very well," the fae stated in her ever-positive tone, "follow me into the keijuvaltakunta, ystäväni!"
Stepping through this portal was similar - and yet, wildly different - than the portal into the shadow path had been. There was the sensation of pushing through resistance, but it did not come with the same feelings of disorientation and confusion that stepping into the varjopolku had brought. Nor was the overall experience the same - this place was not dark, silent, or empty.
Indeed, the world on the other side of the portal was nearly bursting with colors and life as the party stepped into a scene that was the Lindela Elin... and also, was not those same pools.
Indeed, a series of stream-fed pools lay here along a wood, just as they had in the mortal realm. And yet, the tree leaves were not the autumn colors giving way to the browns of winter, but were instead a vibrant rainbow of shades - some of which could not have possibly existed in the real world (silver? purple? fusia?). The air was fragrant with the scents of exotic flowers, many examples of which could be seen in almost any direction. The area teemed with life; birdsong and the hum of various insects were immediately discernable; a half dozen nixies played and splashed in one of the pools with no thought whatsoever for the party's appearance.
While no sun was visible overhead, the air was lit by a warm ambient golden glow, as if the sun's warmth and light existed without the presence of the burning ball itself.
One aspect here was noticeably similar to the shadow path - the edges of reality seemed to blur. The companions quickly realized that if one focused on something - say, a tree, a flower, a rock, a pool - it came into sharp relief. But other items - even scenery recently studied - seemed to blur away into etherealness, only shadows of themselves, whenever one looked away. The sensations were more than a little disorienting and difficult to become accustomed to.
A few notes of a song from Ysmiril, and the ring leading back to the mortal realm closed in upon itself. The party was now well and truly within the dominion of the fae.
Ysmiril naturally did not seem perturbed by this; why would she be? Instead, she smiled and bade the companions to follow her.
In short order, the group found themselves on a wide path made of what seemed to be crushed blue stone. The path was not exactly a road; the surface, while appearing to be made of stone, was strangely soft for walking upon. Interestingly, no weeds grew among the path, nor did they bunch at the edges.
A half hour into their walk, the blue road led the group into an open glade - where it become quickly obvious that the companions were not alone. A half dozen fae could be spotted moving here and there, seemingly all absorbed in their own business. These other fae resembled Ysmiril in size and coloration, with their own hair of various bright colors, and their clothing of shimmering translucence. It was quickly obvious that the lack of modesty was definitely a true aspect of the fae folk, and not some quirk of Ysmiril, judging from how little of their bodies were left to the imagination beneath the garments worn.
Presently, the way was barred by a male fae wearing a shimmering garment that only crossed one shoulder (OOC: think toga), with a broad cloth belt around his waist. He gave a wide smile, mischief dancing in his sapphire eyes. "Ah, you must be the mortals we have heard of," he spoke in oddly accented sylvari. "May I have your names, please?"
Ysmiril's eyed flashed purple fire as she stepped between this new fae and the party. Before anyone could respond, she thrust a finger out and pressed it into the other fae's chest. "Painu helvettiin, tyhmä! We do not have the time for your games! This lot are here by invitation of the Court. Do not impede our efforts with your foolishness!"
The newcomer's face slid into a smirk and he raised both hands with palms open and fingers spread. "Rauhoitu, sisko. I mean no real harm. I withdraw my jest, for I would not inconvenience you on important business."
As he moved away, Ysmiril shook her head. "Glyädumin has ever been a kusipää," she muttered.
********************************
A short time later, Ysmiril brought the companions to a place that weas truly something out of a dream.
Ahead, shimmering crystals grew in tall columns from the earth, joining together into a palace so beautiful to look upon that it was almost physically painful. The structure lacked the careful order of Ela-Ishtel... and yet, it felt wild, free, alive with an organic asymmetricity that somehow felt perfect. The crystals had a soft glow about them, white light tinted ever so slightly with blue as they climbed up impossibly high before disappearing into the sky above.
An open archway served as an entrance to this singular place; a pair of stern fae wearing blades flanked the doorway. Ysmiril tittered something in her singsong language; the pair nodded and stepped back to indicate that the party should enter. Without hesitation, lavender-haired fae guided her charges inside.
The inside of the building was... interesting, to say the least. There were no visible sconces, no candlesticks, no lights of any sort... and yet, every room was pleasantly lit by soft light with no clear source. Despite being fully indoors, a gentle breeze flowed periodically, bringing with it the scent of lilac, rose petal, gardenia, and others. One moment, a hall would look totally straight and featureless; at the next inspection, it had a curve to it with chambers opening in odd places.
After a short walk, the party was ushered into one such chamber. Inside stood a female fae, slightly taller than Ysmiril, with bright orange hair and eyes to match. Like the other fae, she wore an iridescent garment; hers shimmered in colors between greens and yellows, all the while revealing every bit as much of her body as Ysmiril's own clothing did. Her manner was far more aloof than the lavender-haired faerie as she shot a look at the party before engaging in a singsong conversation with Ysmiril. After several moments, her face relaxed.
"This is Äitienne, my sielunystävä. My... soul friend," Ysmiril explained. "She serves the court, and will attend your needs while I see to another brief task. Please remain here until my return."
(OOC: assuming the party complies)
As Ysmiril exited, Äitienne indicated a series of crystal platforms adorned with bright pillows. "You may be seated here," she indicated in that same odd sylvari dialect, "while you await your audience." For the first time, a glint of mirth touched her features. "I might have known that it would be Ysmiril who would bring mortals to this place. She has such an... interest in your kind." She paused, as if in thought. "Some would call such a thing a weakness, a silly fancy. But she has never been one to care overmuch for what anyone else might say." The lurid-haired fae smiled. "It is, perhaps, one of her most endearing characteristics."
The crystal slabs proved to be incredibly comfortable; how could a hard material like this feel both soft and warm? The pillows were likewise like clouds given solid form - incredibly light, unthinkably soft.
The fae grinned at the expressions of the companions, then gestured. "The pillows are made of hämähäkkisilkki - spider silk. I do not suppose that mortals such as yourselves have ever experienced such things." She paused thoughtfully. "Ai että... I suppose that much of this place must be extraordinary for you."
Äitienne then shook her head. "Curse me for a fool, it has been so long since we have had visitors like you that I forget my duties!" She gestured at a low, oblong table fashioned of a very light-colored wood. "You will not be permitted to your audience while bearing weapons. I must ask you to place them upon this table - you have my vow, and that of the Court, that none of your belongings will be disturbed. All will be returned to you once your visit has come to its end."
(OOC: assuming that everyone complies...)
The fae bowed her head in acknowledgement. "You have my thanks, mortals. Until such time as Ysmmiril returns to bear you to your audience, please rest here."
********************************
It could have been a half hour, it could have been half a day before Ysmiril reappeared; time definitely appeared to be... elastic in this place, as in the shadow path. But however long it had been, the fae appeared bearing a smile and a small bundle.
"Isilmewen," she called as she offered the package. "This is for you, pikkusisko. A kakankaantaiteilija, who is a dear friend of mine, created this for you. She lacked the cloth to make it a punainen color like your own garment on such short notice, but it is a pleasing sinipunainen. I believe that you will approve."
The bundle was a dress made of the iridescent material that the fae seemed to so dearly love. As Isilmewen pulled it on, she could not help but notice how comfortable the material was; even the finest clothing she had ever owned seemed to have been crafted of sackcloth by comparison. The main color was a shimmering violet, but as the material caught the light, it glittered in various hues of red and blue. The dress hugged the ranger's form in the most flattering of tailoring imaginable, transforming her into the vision of a vision of some lady from legends gone by.
It took Isilmewen several long heartbeats to understand why her companions quickly looked away after first admiring the new outfit.
They were averting their eyes, of course, as the fae garment covered no more of the sylvari's body than it did their own. Warm it might be, comfortable it might be - but Isilmewen would have lost no more protection of her decency were she to parade around in no clothing whatsoever.
Äitienne cocked her head in appraising fashion, seemingly unaware of any potential embarrassment that such revealing clothing might have caused. "It is most comely on you, tonttutytär," she stated in a sincere tone. "This hienomekko suits you."
Ysmiril nodded enthusiastically. "Ai että!" she beamed. "It is most beautiful, pikkusisko! Now, there is certainly no need for you to fear that you fall short of some courtly standard in your attire."
(OOC: opportunity for Reralae to respond in whatever manner she wishes; I can edit accordingly)
A tiny creature - something like one of the fae, but with wings, and scarcely taller than the pommel of Arathea's sword was long - flitted into the room, made a humming noise. When the two fae turned towards it, it hummed again, then flew away.
The fiery-haired faerie smiled. "It would seem that the time of your summons has arrived. Luck be dancing with you, children of the stars and sun."
********************************
The party followed Ysmiril down a curved hallway into a room that seemed to open up into the sky. The light was more muted here. A handful of fae stepped back and dispersed a bit as the group came into the chamber.
There stood a slightly raised dais, upon which were two pieces of what looked like amethyst - if amethyst were somehow malleable and comfortable. Each figure wore a crown of what appeared to be highly polished wood.
One male, one female; both looked youthful in appearance, though their eyes belied incredible age, and the wisdom of millennia.
He was nearly as tall as Mae'rel, with dark green hair cut short, and wore a tunic of deep yellow material than shimmered with violet accents. She was shorter, similar in height to Ysmiril, with vibrant indigo hair that hung in waves past her shoulders, and wore a gown of glimmering jade fabric. Neither or them held any seal of office or wore any visible jewels, both wore the same revealing cloth that all fae seemed to favor.
Ysmiril bowed low, gesturing for the party to do the same.
(OOC: assuming the group follows suit)
"Rise," came the male fae's voice - musical but deep, with a feeling of ancient boulders rolling against one another. He spoke sylvari with that same unusual dialect, with pauses and accents in such odd places. "It has been many centuries since the tähtienlapsia tongue has been spoken in this court. How... stimulating to do so once again.
The female fae arched an eyebrow. "What poor manners my husband displays," she shared in a droll manner, her voice full of the music of growth, of life, of the trees joined in chorus. "Forgive us, mortals. I am Cwynthien. This is Rhäärghan. We welcome you to our realm."
(OOC: any response)
Rhäärghan spoke. "I see that your mieslehmä lives. This is pleasing. Ah, but my wife speaks of manners... will you not introduce us to your charges, tytär?"
Ysmiril appeared to blush slightly. "Of course, hallitsija. Please forgive me."
She gestured one by one.
"This is Arathea Ondolithe, a miekkojenlaulaja. Next is the mieslehmä warrior called Ruadhrí. This is Isilmewen of House Mithvanryl, a ranger of the forests. Next is Seleniniel of House Isil'inari, a velho. We have Rosariel, a huntress in service to the goddess of the same. Mae'rel is another servant of the gods, she worships the blue lady. And finally, the uteliaspieniihminen is known as Dak Whisperfoot."
The fae king nodded. "Well met, all of you. We are honored to host mortals in this court once more."
The queen chimed in. "Indeed. It has been far too long."
Rhäärghan frowned. "A miekkojenlaulaja?" he asked. "How... interesting. I had wondered if such things ever persisted now in the miehenvaltakunta. Tell me, megilindar Arathea - do you know the song so well as to enchant even one of your own forged blades? Can you cause it to glow with your connection to the syvinlaulu?"
(OOC: assuming some positive response)
The king nodded. "Indeed. That is bracing news to hear. It is good to know that not every scrap of the old knowledge has died out, then."
The monarch rose to his feet. "But I digress, I fear. This is not why you visit - you are here because of the oldest magic, yes? You made a bargain, you owe a boon, and now... you have come to learn of the task we ask of you. Yes?"
(OOC: again, assuming affirmative)
Rhäärghan gave a small smile. "You travel to the lands of the auringonlapsia, to those of the humans, on a quest from a great herra of your people, yes? He sends you to some long-forgotten tomb, to bring back some bauble - a pendant, as I understand?"
(OOC: assuming that the party does not lie)
He glanced to the still-seated form of the indigo-haired fae before looking back at the party. "And yet, you know not why he wants this thing. Not the true reason, I would venture." He paused and fixed his golden gaze on Ruadhrí. "Your mieslehmä survived his affliction, thanks to Ysmiril singing the song of healing and giving him sap of the noituudenpuu. From what I know of it, his death was surely upon him, yes?"
Cwynthien rose to move beside her husband. "We are certain that Ysmiril taught you something of the noituudenpuua," she spoke in her melodious voice, "but what do you truly know about it?"
(OOC: assuming honesty)
The fae's shockingly blue eyes stared off into space for a long moment before she spoke again. "You know, then, that this tree you call 'wytchwood' can be made into blades, that its sap can heal injury and sickness, that its fruit can be consumed. What you do not know is what the most powerful part - the seeds - can do."
Rhäärghan shook his head. "I would argue, beloved, that the seeds themselves are not the most important aspect..." he voice trailed off.
Cwynthien smiled at her husband. "My lord speaks true. The trees themselves are most important. The noituudenpuua are connected to the heart of the world itself. They allow life to flow. Now that there are no such trees..." she paused. Rhäärghan frowned, appeared ready to object, but she raised a hand.
"If we do not tell the full truth of it," she continued, "why would these mortals listen at all? If we reveal the rest without this, they will think this is a matter for you and I alone."
The king sighed and allowed his shoulders to relax. "You speak truly, my queen," he rumbled. "Go on, then."
The queen's mouth skewed for a moment. "The children of the shadows do not know death. This, you must already know. And yet... our world relies on yours more than you might ever believe."
Rhäärghan took up the narration. "In places where men and their greed tear up the land, destroying the trees, packing their homes together like termites in a stump... it harms our world as well, only more so. Were you to travel in our realm where it is connected to a great human city, you would find barren autiomaa. A desert, a wasteland. Nothing in our world can survive there; those who lived in those places fled or died." His voice grew pained. "The children of the shadow are not meant to die. We are not like you mortals, with time after life ends promised to us by gods - when we perish, we are no more, forever. Our memories are scattered to the void. We are forgotten."
The green-haired fae seemed shaken on some core level. Cwynthien picked the conversation back up.
"When the humans destroyed the noituudenpuua, when they cut down the last of the wytchwood groves, the devastation was terrible," she explained. "But worse is this - with that deep connection gone, our realm slowly began to fade. As did the ones who inhabit it."
She shook her head. "Over time, many denizens of what you call the fae lands have congregated more and more in places like this one here - in places where the connection between the worlds is strongest, and is still healthy. But some cannot flee to safety, and all are slowly diminished. All places, even those so strongly connected as this palace, are slowly crumbling. Dying." She paused for several long moments. "If this fate remains unchanged, the children of the shadows will eventually all pass into the void. Our realm and all who inhabit it will fade away to nothing."
Her achingly beautiful features looked sick.
Now, Rhäärghan spoke once more. "Though the noituudenpuua are dead and gone two millenia now, there are still a handful of seeds remaining. The seeds are preserved in such a way that they can still be sung into life, into growth. We would have to work closely with some of the children of the stars, but it is possible to plant a new grove... and to thus save our world. But we cannot reach these seeds."
A long pause, then he spoke again. "This pendant you seek - it is enchanted. It is more than some trinket, it contains a few of these wytchwood seeds. But the pendant is sealed inside of a sylvari tomb these two thousand years. A tomb warded not only by strong magics, but by cold iron." A rueful look crossed his face. "Even if you know nothing of the children of the shadows, you must know how we cannot countenance cold iron, yes?"
(OOC: assuming some positive response)
The fae king's face was nothing but serious. "This boon we ask of you, this boon that will complete our bargain, is for you to bring the pendant back here to the keijuvaltakunta. Fear not - we will neither harm nor keep the trinket. After you bring it to us, Cwynthien will sing it open. We will remove the seeds, and then, you will be free to deliver this item to your herra."
Cwynthien started to speak, but Rhäärghan gave her a look. Her face darkened. "No, rakkaani. I will have none claim that we deceived them into our bargain." The fae queen swept her gaze across the party. "The seeds of the wytchwood tree are among the most valued items in all the realms. Among other uses, they can be prepared in such a way that consuming them bestows life beyond that which a mortal should otherwise see. But doing so not only hands over power of yourself to the idea of long life - it destroys one's will where it comes to the plants. Once you have consumed a seed in this manner, nothing else will ever seem as important to you as repeating the process. You will do anything to experience it again, to extend your life in this way."
Her face grew sorrowful. "If a person were to do such a thing once or twice, it might not cause much in the way of ill effects. But every time a mortal uses a seed in this manner, it drains more and more of their essence, of who they truly are. As a candle lit aflame from both ends, their being is burned, consumed by this power."
Her words hung heavy in the room as everyone silently contemplated them. Eventually, the king's rumbling voice broke the silence.
"A children of the stars is given... eight, perhaps ten centuries if they are exceptionally fortunate?" He looked meaningfully at the group. "Your hallitsija... your ruler, your Speaker of the Stars. She has lived for some twenty centuries, has she not?"
He sighed. A mournful look on the face of a fae seemed exceptionally wrong. "If you will do this thing, you can save many lives, save our very realm. And in doing so, you can still fulfil the oath you swore to your herra. Your bargain would be complete, and you would be heroes, yes?"
Rhäärghan reached out and slipped his hand into Cwynthien's. "What say you, mortals?" the fae king asked. "Will you bring the pendant here before you return it to your great lord?"
Posted on 2025-05-12 at 16:58:18.
Edited on 2025-05-13 at 16:29:46 by t_catt11
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: at the gate
While some of the companions sought baths, food, or solitude, the need for rest eventually caught up with them all; one by one, they slipped into Valdorn's domain. Under the faerie's watchful eye, the group took their much needed sleep.
When the first of them awoke, it was to the pale light of early morning. To begin with, there was a bit of confusion; had the party taken a nap of a few minutes only? Ysmiril tittered with the laughter of tiny golden bells at this concept.
"Of course not, ystäväni," the grinning fae trilled. "The way was long and arduous. You have slept all of the day and all of the night! This place is safe, so I allowed you to regain your needed energy."
Ysmiril came to her feet, the dawn sun playing at her lavender hair like some enchanted fire. "Even so, now is the time for the lot of you to be up! Make your water, break your fast, and let us be on our way!"
As the party prepared for the day, Ysmiril flitted back and forth at first before coming to rest on a boulder and staring out into the water of one of the pools.
After a time, she spoke. "Ai että!, the Laulualtaat are magnificent, are they not?" she observed. Her face took an uncharacteristically thoughtful aspect. "I wonder... can you hear their song?" her gaze drifted to Isilmewen and Rosariel.
"Pikkusiskuret... the pair of you are moved by the earth's dance more than any of your companions, this is plain to see. But listen... can you not hear the singing?"
The babbling of the brook that fed the various pools was musical in its own right, but the fae seemed to be earnestly referring to something more, something akin to actual music.
After several long moments of silence while the trio listened, she shook her head. "Voi, you cannot hear it... though I truly think that you need only to learn how to listen for it." Her expression brightened. "Perhaps, when your task is accomplished, we will have time for such things. I would be honored to perhaps remind the tähtienlapsia how to listen in the ways that your people once did. If you were interested in this type of pasttime, of course..."
(OOC: almost any answer)
The fae led the way once more, this time on a path to take a partial circuit around the pools. As always, Ysmiril stuck to the shade of the trees above during her movements. As the group followed behind - at a much more leisurely pace than before - she spoke.
"I have heard your murmurings, seen your glances - you wonder why we come to the Laulualtaat, yes?" she paused for a moment, then continued.
"The miehenvaltakunta and the keijuvaltakunta - the lands of the mortals and the children of the shadows - they... overlay one another. Adjoin one another. In certain places in the world, they lie more closely together than in others."
She made a sweeping gesture, indicating the pools and the lands surrounding them. "This is one such place. Surely, you have heard tales of the beings you call 'sprites' and 'nixies' that inhabit these woods, these pools?"
(OOC: assuming some sort of affirmative response)
Ysmiril nodded. "These are beings that could belong in both worlds. To you, they may be bedtime stories, they may be legends... but rest assured, they are very real."
With that pronouncement, the fae grinned, then sang out a few notes, projecting out as if calling to someone across the water. Moments later, ripples began to form in one of the pools before a dozen heads popped up from beneath the surface of the pool.
Their skin was greenish and lightly scaled, their hair slick and deep green, their eyes wide and silvery in color, their ears pointed. Soon, they rose up just past their shoulders in the water, and one of them called out in a strange language.
Ysmiril responded back in the same tongue. One of the creatures raised an arm in what appeared to be a wave, then they all disappeared beneath the surface of the water.
"The järvenkansaa - the lake folk, who you call 'nixies'," she exclaimed. "It is fortunate that none of your number is a human male; the järvenkansaa are very fond of taking those auringonlapsia for labor among their homes. Given the harm done by men to folk such as those, I would not begrudge them."
Ysmiril gestured to the trees. "Rest assured, the metsänkansaa - the forest folk you call 'sprites' or 'pixies' - are watching, as well. As long as you do not molest their woods, they will most likely avoid you altogether." She grinned. "As will the järvenkansaa, as far as that goes."
For a time after that, the faerie fell silent as she led the party on a circuit around the pools. She seemed lost in thought, often staring off into the woods or water for long moments while remaining nearly oblivious to the world. After some time, she led the companions to stand between two great aspens.
The normal vibrant yellow autumn foliage of the trees seemed to glow nearly golden... and as the fae approached, the color of the leaves seemed to grow even more in intensity.
Uncharacteristically sober, Ysmiril spoke.
"We stand at a varjonportti... a gate, as it were," she explained. "When we step through, we will be in the keijuvaltakunta - the lands of the children of the shadows."
Her expression held none of the usual mirth. "You will be presented before the kuninkaallinenhovi - the court itself. I would urge you to observe your best manners - there are beings of great power who may not countenance some of your previous conduct with the same... grace that I have shown."
The fae then cocked her head to the side in that odd manner of hers. "Touch nothing," she warned. "Eat no food nor drink no draught that you have not brought in with you - at least, not unless you are made an official guest and given an assurance of hospitality. Offer every ounce of respect you would to the greatest lords or ladies you may ever care to meet, as rudeness of any sort could have... dire consequences."
A smile returned to the otherworldly beautiful features, but it was far more wan than she had displayed before. "There was a time," she allowed, "that the children of the stars and children of the shadows were fast friends." She frowned, and the expression was nearly heartbreaking. "I fear that such days are far beyond the memory of most."
Her eyes roamed across the group, pausing on Seleliniel for a long moment. "There are some who would not view you with the same... graciousness that I feel for your kind. Stay close to me, allow me to remain your guide. I will lead you safely to your meeting and back here again - of this, I give you my word. In no circumstance should you wander away. You do not wish to offer offense you may not even perceive; do not give to any an excuse to harbor ill will against you."
Then the fae's expression brightened once more to her normal radiance. She stepped forward, raised a hand, and began to sing. As she did so, the air between the two great trees began to shimmer. She looked back, arching an eyebrow. "Will you follow me, ystäväni?"
Posted on 2025-05-03 at 23:22:46.
Edited on 2025-05-04 at 00:56:40 by t_catt11
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Topic: Audalis creations
Subject: musings on the fae...
The fae largely live in an alternate reality that overlaps that of the mortal world. In many places, the keijuvaltakunta - the fae realm - seemingly occupies the same space as the mortal realm, albeit in another dimension, another reality. In other cases, there is no mortal equivalent for areas of the keijuvaltakunta. To mortal perception, there may be no perceivable rhyme or reason as to these connections.
Even less understood is the keskiyönvaltakunta - the midnight realm, which is something of a shadow of the fae realm itself. This realm is viewed with respect and even fear by the fae themselves.
The fae realm exists outside of time and space as mortals perceive these things. Those forces do exist, but they do not function the same. Virtually all stories about faeie lands include warnings for mortals to not tarry there, lest they be lost forever.
Even so, the mortal world can and does influence the fae - and vice-versa. For instance, eastern Sendria now occupies what was once ancient Sylvari forest. During the Anathari-Syvari war, the humans conquered this territory and razed the old forests, then built cities. This area - where the first forests of the world grew right up against the skirts of the Khordal mountains - was a place of deep and powerful magic. Now, in the keijuvaltakunta, this land is a barren desert thanks to the destruction wrought in the mortal world.
It should be no surprise, then, that few of the varjojenlapsia - the children of the shadows - have positive attitudes towards humans. Human cities and human "progress" involve ripping out nature and replacing it with stone and steel; the great cities of men are all scars in the fae lands, and the more humans expand, the more the fae are pushed out... not only in the mortal world, but in the fae realm, as well.
The shadow path is a world between worlds. It connects places among the three realms - the miehenvaltakunta (mortal realm), as well as the keijuvaltakunta and the keskiyönvaltakunta. It can be used to traverse great distances in the mortal realm with less effort; it can also be used to travel from one realm to another, or to travel within places in either of the other realms. It can be dangerous to those unaccustomed to its use; it is very easy to become disoriented, and some creatures/beings from the keskiyönvaltakunta do prowl for unsuspecting victims.
The varjojenlapsia are immortal unless killed. They have a very interesting relationsip with the deities of Audalis - in that they have little relationship whatsoever. Fae priests and temples - let alone clerics - are unheard of. The varjojenlapsia recognize the deities, they respect the divine authority, but they do not worship gods or goddesses. There are murmurs that the gods do not hold the same influece in the keijuvaltakunta or the keskiyönvaltakunta as they do the mortal world, but this may be more due to common agreement than lack of ability.
Posted on 2025-04-24 at 13:14:07.
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire Q&A
Subject: encounter description...
Esther asked a couple of questions last night. So here is a more direct, third person summary of the shadow path encounter.
1) Seleliniel fell victim to a charm from a terrible creature called a luuhaaveilija - a sort of malevolent undead fae. She wandered away from the group while under the thing's thrall.
2) Arathea realized what was going on, and chose to pursue.
3) Arathea grabbed Seleliniel away from the creature, putting herself between the monster and the mage.
4) The bladesinger hit the creature with her sword, apparently causing it injury. In response, it used ancient power to paralyze her. At that point, neither of the companions could move or act.
5) Ysmiril interceded with her own magic and the alien rules of the fae lands. The fae asserted that the luuhaaveilija had no claim over its intended victims. the creature retreated, whether from fear of the fae's power, the rules in play, the location of the encounter... this is unclear.
6) Once freed from their afflictions, the party members returned to the group, and Ysmiril led everyone out of the shadow path.
Posted on 2025-04-23 at 10:39:50.
Edited on 2025-04-23 at 10:43:54 by t_catt11
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: friends on the other side...
Ysmiril listened to Isilmewen's suppostion and question. After considering the words of the taur'ohtar, she nodded in agreement.
"Your words are clever and wise," the fae agreed. "Like a bog... an amusing comparison, but not without merit. Indeed, there is footing to be found; if you follow my steps, you will be safe." She paused. "A line... what a novel idea! I have never heard of the like, but your idea makes sense, pikkusisko. Yes, unfurl your rope, and let your companions take it in hand."
When the rest of the party save Seleliniel expressed enthusiasm, the fairy smiled in response. While the wizard herself elected to stay silent, though her body language suggested agreement - perhaps even unexpected positivity.
The group organized themselves into a single file line, with Isilmewen unrolling a length of silk rope for each of them to hold.
With a final smile, the fae looked back at the assembled companions. "Are you ready, ystäväni? The time has come, follow me into the varjopolku!"
As she strode into the portal that seemed to lead into nothing, Ysmiril began to glow. A soft violet light emanated from her body, with her hair shining a shade brighter. "Remember to follow my light, to step where I step," she instructed. "And remember!" she warned. "Do not venture off of our path."
Stepping through the portal was as odd of an experience as any of the party had ever encountered. Though no visible impediment stood in the way, stepping into the ring was like trying to push through a membrane - not entirely unlike the sensation of pushing one's hand through the not-quite-solid surface of the stump... but not quite the same, either. Once inside, a momentary terror rushed through each body; the feeling was something akin to being underwater, but surrounded by the darkest blackness imaginable. The air was thick, oppressive, almost palpable... sounds were distant, with an eerie, otherworldly quality to them. The tiny amount of light from the other side of the portal faded away as the ring dissolved, leaving nothing but crushing dark around them all.
And then, the achingly sweet voice of the fae came lilting musically, bringing calm and relaxation as she sang a wordless tune. "Have no fear," Ysmiril assured the companions, her voice seemingly inside their very minds. "Follow my steps, all is well."
Soon, light began to return. The first visible thing was Ysmiril herself - the fae, clad in her translucent garment, stood patiently, waiting for the party to grow accustomed to this shadow path. Then, more details of the world around began to come into focus.
There seemed to be no sky, nor any sort of ceiling; there was blackness above, feeling as if it stretched into eternity itself, even though it seemed as though a misty haze hung just overhead. However, there were lights here and there, and as time passed and eyes grew accustomed, one could make out an actual path at the party's feet. Shapes were visible here and there, things that looked like gray trees and bushes and rocks - or, at least what dreams of trees or bushes or rocks might look like - but they were hazy, ethereal, not fully solid. Mists flowed over (and through?) the companions, alternately hiding and revealing a place that did not truly exist.
A faint whooshing sound seemed to pervade everything in a truly disquieting manner, making the fae's song that much more the welcome. And yet, here and there, other songs could be heard blending into the distance. It was clear that the group was not alone.
Isilmewen's rope shed a soft silvery glow, making it easy to spot - and to hold - as the group carefully shuffled forward, although each other companion almost seemed little more than a shadow; sometimes, they were visible... other times, they seemed almost made of the same mists as the surrounding terrain.
Ysmiril's laughter could be heard as the tinkling of a bell in the party's minds. "Be cautious, yes - but you must actually move if you wish to get anywhere!" she tittered.
And so, move they did.
*********************************************
After a full day's forced march, even the strangeness of the shadow path soon took a back seat to overall fatigue. Adrenaline prompted by the fear of the unknown and the risks of the venture began to empty out of the companions, leaving them all the more spent. As they trudged along, the other voices of this strange place became commonplace; sometimes, one had to focus on Ysmiril's sweet singing so as to not become confused. At least they had her lavender light, and the soft silver glow of the rope... though from time to time, other lights came and went.
Most of those lights were far away flickers, ghostly apparitions with no substance. Sometimes they would be dark, sickly greens or reds; no one had to be told to avoid such things, as even the instincts of mortals could identify such things as threats.
But then, came the soft golden glow.
The party as a whole was able to ignore it as they had countless others in the interminable time they had walked in this strange place. Indeed, no one paid it much mind as they focused on Ysmiril's lavender light.
None, that is, save Seleliniel.
Naturally, the rest of the party followed the treacherous fae's instructions like so many sheep, fixating on her glow as if nothing else existed. Of course, one could hardly expect them to do much else; they lacked the sort of insight and intuition to perceive the full extent of what was truly going on here. They looked past that enthralling gold - missing all of the promise, all of the subtlety, all of the secret knowledge.
It made so much sense that Ysmiril herself ignored the golden light. The fairy obviously had not planned for her mortal charges to witness such a thing; she would not wish to share the bounty. She would doubtless double back to claim this for her own once she had taken the party to their destination - that is, if she would not simply lead them all astray, abandoning them to some horrible fate among the mists and darkness while she warmed herself in this beguiling glow.
The wizard never even truly processed that she had let go of Isilmewen's rope. After all, ropes and paths were mere trifles in the presence of such a thing as this. Ysmiril's light had faded, her song had quieted; the mage felt the warmth of the golden light begin to permeate her being. The fear and the worries - not just of the shadow path, or of the fae, but the toils and trials of life itself - began to blissfully melt away. The gods offered false promises to those who would prostrate themselves in some mockery of servitude, but this... this was real. The light began to share secrets of time and life with Seleliniel, she began to understand, her face relaxed into rapture.
Yes.
Fingers dug painfully into the shoulder above her missing arm, snatching the magus back. Steel hissed through the mist, then the sound was followed by a wet squelch and a sucking sound of agony.
"Foolish star-child..." moaned a whispering voice within the mind. "Meddling in affairs that do not concern you, in the affairs of the luuhaaveilijat. Now, you will travel to the House of Sorrow, to dwell in eternity with Inet-Mukri. We will sing the old songs, songs of pain, of forgetfulness. Your soul will struggle to fly, but will never break those bonds..."
Arathea swung again, but her arms incredibly felt cold, and the cold permeated through her very bones, causing her body to go rigid.
A grating sound, like dry branches - or ancient bones - rubbing together, echoed in thier minds. It took several long moments to realize that the horrifying sound was laughter from the thing.
"Run," Arathea gasped to the mage that she had shoved behind her own body. "Run!"
But Seleliniel could not. The golden glow had faded, leaving behind a horror of dried bones covered loosely by paper that once had been flesh. The mouth was a grinning rictus, with golden pinpicks of light in empty eye sockets. Even with the abomination now being visible, though, the caster was rooted to the ground.
And then, lavender light flowed around them all, causing the being to recoil with a hiss.
"You will not have them, foul creature!" ordered Ysmiril. "Back into the darkness from whence you came!" the fae exclaimed.
The skeletal form tried to move towards the fae, but the light flashed from her being and it fell back.
"You have no claim here, likainenkauhistus!" Ysmiril roared. Somehow, the diminutive fairy felt larger, stronger. "Return to the tabupolkuja and trouble us no more!" she demanded. "These are bound to the Court by the oldest magic - even the likes of you dare not interfere with such. Begone!"
Hissing, the thing melted away into the darkness. As it did so, the ice melted away from the bones of the bladesinger and wizard alike, and they found themselves able to move once more.
Ysmiril cocked a disapproving eyebrow at the duo. "Did I not tell you all to not venture from the path?" She shook her head. "Come now, let us rejoin your companions - and stay together from this moment on."
*********************************************
It took hours, days, weeks... the time spent in the shadow path was impossible to measure. Other lights came and went, but none tempted any of the companions after Seleliniel's near disaster.
Finally, Ysmiril called a halt, and her song began to subtly change. As it did so, a new ring began to appear, and painfully bright light poured through it.
"Qucikly," the fae hissed. "Morning is almost here. The varjoovi will close, and we will be forced to remain here until until I can open another ring. With haste!"
One by one, the companions hurried through the portal - and the light was blindingly bright for several moments, with the sounds incredibly loud and disorienting.
Within five minutes, their eyes had adjusted to the pre-dawn light; Solans was only just now pinking up the edge of the sky. The wind no longer seemed so loud, the rustling of leaves did not seem painful to hear, the babbling of a nearby brook no longer roared like thunder.
Exhausted, the party found themselves barely able to stand. "Rest, ystäväni, and take heart," Ysmiril stated. "I will proudly watch over the first mortals to walk the varjopolku in a thousand years. When you awaken, you may refresh yourselves in the Laulualtaat."
If the fae was to be believed, the group had arrived at the Lindela Elin - the Melodious Pools... and had apparently made the journey in a single night.
Posted on 2025-04-21 at 22:03:16.
Edited on 2025-04-23 at 18:28:20 by t_catt11
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire Q&A
Subject: retcon
Please note that I have updated the fae vocabulary, and have also retconned a few of my recent posts. After some research and consultation, I have changed some of Ysmiril's terms into compound words as opposed to two words. I.e. tonttutytär as opposed to tonttu tytär.
I doube that any of you are terrily fussed over this, but those edits have been made.
Posted on 2025-04-14 at 11:09:19.
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: beware...
"I'll agree to the iron," Dak said, fishing a veritable pile of iron from his gear and laying it alongside the bata, "but, for now..." glittering green eyes lifted to the fae and he offered her a cunning smile, "...I am loathe to venture into such an unfamiliar place completely naked. I'll keep my sword and daggers if it's all the same to you."
The fairy nodded. "You may walk the varjopolku with your steel," she agreed. "Although you will not be permitted to bring it the entirety of the distance we will travel together."
"Ysmiril," Rosarial began thoughtfully, approaching the fae and the light of the circle, "I've heard traveling by fae magic can sometimes alter the way time flows for its passengers. Normally it is when entering or leaving your domains, but as we do have more duties to perform, I wanted to ask if any such alteration will happen with us, as we travel by these means?"
The fae cocked her head in that unique manner of hers and seemed to consider for a moment. "That is an interesting question, tonttutytär. It is true that the the flow of time can... differ in the varjonmaita, the lands of shadow." She then twisted her mouth into that pursed expression before fixing the huntress with those violet eyes.
"Think of the passage of time as water flowing through a stream. You know how water can flow steadily in some places, yet rush as it cascades over rocks? In other places, it can stand nigh-still in a pool, yes? And in others still, water can whirl back upon itself in an eddy."
The fairy paused, awaiting a nod of agreement from the farahe before continuing. "Time is like this," she explained. "When it flows through the varjonmaita, it can rush or stagnate, depending on the... terrain, as it were."
A look of amusement crossed the fae's face, and she tittered as if enjoying a private joke. "Naturally, it is not quite so simple as that, and the varjonmaita are hardly as constant as a stream bed, but the concepts share some similarities. I hope this helps."
The bladesinger had her own take on the fae's offer.
"I am for anything that would get us through this... quest as fast as we can. Giving up our iron is a sacrifice I believe to be acceptable," she turned to the rest of the group before turning back to Ysmirel and continuing. "But our steel is another subject, I am willing to part ways with this blade if I will not need to use it, I understand it may be... disrespectful for your people. But I do not want to march into a battle with no weapon."
Ysmiril ducked her head in acquiescence. "I give you my vow, miekkojenlaulaja - no harm will come to your iron. As I told the uteliaspieniihminen - you may bring your steel for now. I respect your caution."
One by one, the others agreed to divest themselves of their iron - Isilmewen and Ruadhrí almost eagerly, Seleliniel begrudgingly. Mae'rel had no iron, but she offered to stow Arathea's original sword, still wrapped in cloth, with the party's iron.
Ysmirl moved to a broad tree stump situated near the perfect center of the circle of moonlight. The light of the red moon appeared to make her iridescent skin and hair glitter even more brightly than it did in the sun, not that such a thing seemed possible. She sang a soft tune, her voice lilting musically as she traced a finger around the edge of the stump. As the song faded away, the top surface of the rotting wood began to glow with an amber light.
"Place your belongings inside," the fairy instructed in as nonchalant a tone as if she had suggested that the companions should take a sip of cool water on a hot afternoon. "Nothing will disturb them until our return."
(OOC: assuming the party complies)
Placing anything inside of the stump was a disquieting experience, to say the least. It required some effort to push through the surface of the wood - the material gave some resistance, as if reaching through a stretchy barrier, but once through that, it was like reaching into a cold, empty container. The visual of one's arm embedded within what appeared to be solid wood was not a pleasant one; it tickled a part of the brain warning of serious danger.
When all of the items had been deposited, Ysmiril began to sing again, and the glow faded away. She reached a delicate hand out and rapped her knuckles against the wood; a wet thud answered her efforts.
"Solid once more, you see," she offered. "Nothing can reach your possessions." Then, an idea raced across her features, and the fairy started in on a new song. After two or three minutes, she stopped and smiled.
"There," she declared. "The warding is complete. Now, the stump will avoid notice - and be even more tightly sealed. Until you return here from the varjonmaita, your items will be completely safe."
Apparently satisfied with her efforts, the fae smiled broadly and did a little spin. "Now," she grinned, "shall we walk the varjopolku together?"
*********************************************************************
To no one's surprise, Ysmiril began to sing once more. After a few moments, a faint blue light began to glow in a ring that extended up from the ground perhaps six feet in diameter. As she sang, the fae gave Ruadhrí an appraising look; she arched an eyebrow and redoubled her song, and the circle expanded by another two and a half feet.
Inside of the ring was the blackest darkness that any of the companions had ever seen. Staring directly into the ring made one's stomach lurch a bit; it felt almost like a hole in reality itself.
Seeing the less than enthused looks on her companions' faces, Ysmiril smiled. "Have no fear," she encouraged in her warm tones. "The varjopolku is perfectly safe to walk. Well..." she paused for a moment, and a frown crossed her features. "It is perfectly safe, provided that you follow my instructions carefully."
Her appraising gaze swept over the party. "You must follow me closely. I will be your tienraivaaja, your guide. The varjopolku can be perilous to those who wander the tabupolkuja - the forbidden paths."
Her normally friendly face was shockingly severe. "Beware any strange lights or sounds. Follow them not, no matter how beguiling they may appear; there are... things that roam the tabupolkuja, cold things that seek warmth. A child of the stars or the sun would be very appealing to such things. Your death would not come for a very long time - even by the standards of my people. Were they to claim you, I would not be able to counter such a claim... and I fear that you would forget your name long before your agony ended."
Her tone brightened, and her smile returned. "Be brave, ystäväni! Nothing may harm you as long as you tread where I tread, as long as you follow my light, as long as you ignore the nälkäisiä. I will guide you through safe, I give you my word."
Her eyes sparkled in the darkness. "Are you ready?" she asked, excitement in her voice.
Posted on 2025-04-13 at 23:23:25.
Edited on 2025-04-14 at 11:03:08 by t_catt11
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Topic: Audalis creations
Subject:
Defnitely worth consideration.
Posted on 2025-04-11 at 10:49:26.
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Topic: Audalis creations
Subject: more sylvari government musings...
The Speaker of the Stars is the chief executive of the government, obviously. However, they often have little interest in the tedium of day to day management. These tasks fall to a quasi prime minster figure - the Voice of the Speaker.
The Voice is an appointed position, solely chosen by the Speaker. This person will often have high level military experience, but as it is the Speaker's sole decision, this is not a concrete requirement. This person has demonstrated their loyalty, their good judgment, their quick thinking. Everything they say carries the power of the Speaker's name behind it, though the Speaker may of course step in at any time. The Voice serves at the Speaker's pleasure; they may serve for centuries, if the Speaker so desires.
As discussed before, there are two legislative houses. The upper house is similar to the real life British House of Lords - tentative title is the House of the Stars.
The upper house contains one representative of each Great House, plus each of the three kingdoms has one representative for the Lesser Houses, for a total of twenty seats. The breakdown is six great houses in both Londelirinen and Maelamin, five great houses in Alloryen, plus each kingdom has one seat to represent the Lesser Houses.
The upper house also has non voting seats for the major religions. The churches of Kith-jora, Solanis, Lysora, Oriana, and Jusarin all have representatives who may hold the floor and speak - but these individuals do not have votes.
The upper house largely concerns itself with "big picture" items - foreign policy, overall tax rates, important negotiations, etc. On items such as this, the lower house gets a token say only. (one vote?).
The lower house - consisting of the erestorea - are elected officials (note - we need a name for this house). Each province has a pair of erestorea, who serve a term of one century, which results in a lower house that is roughly double the size of the upper house. Provinces elect an erestor every fifty years, thus ensuring that there is always a senior and a junior erestor for each province.
Most erestorea serve one term only; a few serve two terms, and there have been a tiny handful to serve three. Traditionally, however, there must be exceptional demand for an erestor to serve more than one term. The lower house is the progressive branch of sylvri government, so an infusion of fresh perspectives is highly valued.
To be eligible to become an erestor, you must have served at least a decade in the sylvari military. The lower house is the voice of the common people - nobility may not be elected to these seats.
The lower house is largely responsible for laws that deal with internal matters - local commerce, local taxes for local projects, and so forth. In theory, all decisions by the lower house must pass through the upper house to be ratified; in practice, the upper house almost always rubber stamps such legislation, as it is viewed as largely beneath the powerful lords.
As a matter of fact, all legislation is written with the clause "accoding to the will of the Speaker of the Stars". This is due to the fact that even though the Speaker has delegated lawmaking to the legislature, she still holds absolute authority. If at any time, the Speaker wishes to countermand a law or establish her own directives, she may do so. The Speaker holds what is, in effect, the mandate of Heaven.
Do note that whle the Voice of the Speaker could technically veto laws and such themselves, doing so is one area that would trigger an immediate opposition. The legislature has been delegated lawmaking authority by the Speaker, so for a veto or the like that comes from the Voice to be upheld, it would need the Speaker's blessing. There have only been two known vetoes by a Voice in sylvari history.
Posted on 2025-04-11 at 09:18:57.
Edited on 2025-04-11 at 09:19:09 by t_catt11
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Topic: Audalis creations
Subject: musings on godhood...
This is the groundwork for a possible full article to be posted soon...
In the beginning - some might say, before the beginning - there were the Twelve. These were the greater deities, the cosmic powers that came together first to create - then to rule - Audalis.
The greater deities are utterly immortal. Yes, they have primal drives - hunger, thirst, lust, power, satisfaction. They can feel love, they can feel pain - but they cannot be killed. At the worst, a deity might be injured so badly that they are forced to go into a state of deep sleep while they recover; but in no case can a greater deity be killed.
Greater deities embody the very powers that make up their cosmic portfolio. Rydor *is* justice, order, truth. Kith-jora *is* nature. Tyrannis *is* darkness, treachery. And so on and so forth.
Then, you have the lesser deities.
These are, almost without exception, mortals who so perfectly embodied a given greater deity's values that they were ascended to lesser deity status by their patron as a reward. The greater deity carves off a portion of their portfolio to assign to this newly ascended subordinate, who now manages that power. All greater deities have at least one subordinate lesser deity.
Lesser deities are immortal, although there is some debate as to whether they could be killed. Some theories suggest that godhood means that they cannot ever die, that they would go into a sleep state like that of a greater if greivously wounded. Others hold that a lesser deity can in fact be killed by other deities, at which point their powers would revert to their patron. Could a patron restore them? This is unclear.
It is known that lesser deities cannot bestow the same power levels of spells as can greater deities. It is also known that only greater deities can restore life to a fallen mortal - though doing so drains the god or goddess greatly. If a lesser deity wishes to do this, they must seek a boon of their patron or some other friendly greater power to restore a dead mortal to life - this boon is rarely sought, and almost never granted.
Note that there are two exceptions to the origins of the twenty-one lesser deities of the pantheon of Audalis. Gaela and Lleua, the twin moon goddesses, were born of divine parents - Solanis and Tyrannis are their parents. As such, their powers are intrinsic, much like those of greater deities, instead of being granted by a patron.
So why, then, are the moon goddesses not greater powers in their own right? Solanis himself is the child of Rydor and Lysora, and he is as mighty as any other greater deity.
There are those who claim that if Gaela and Lleua wished to manifest that level of power, they could in fact do so. Some scholars theorize that Gaela and Lleua are in fact greater powers in thier own right.
It is known that these two goddesses care nothing for the heavenly struggle that involves so many of the greater deities. Rather than choose the side of either Solanis or Tyrannis, the pair instead chose Kith-Jora, the god of nature, as their patron, and have studiously avoided celestial infighting.
Posted on 2025-04-10 at 16:20:16.
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire Q&A
Subject: that's a stash
Yep. That is a correct read on all of that.
Posted on 2025-04-07 at 15:12:47.
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire Q&A
Subject: what is iron, and what is steel...
Blades are steel. This includes swords, daggers and knives, unless you have specificed that there is some other material at use. Steel is more durable, more flexible, and holds a better edge than does iron.
Axes are typically steel, for the same reasons as listed above.
Ruadhrí's warhammer is almost assuredly iron. Iron is cheaper, and works wonderfully for a hammer.
Arrowheads are iron, as this makes them cheaper and easier to produce. Note that arrorws without heads will have reduced range and inflict noticeably less damage.
Dak's bata is iron-clad. Darts and caltrops would be iron, yes.
A few spell components are iron.
Do keep in mind that Ysmiril has stated that you can leave your items here for safekeeping. She is not asking to to permanently throw away any gear - only that iron cannot be taken on the shadow path. One would presume that she might ward your items or do something similar.
She would prefer that you bring no steel, either, but steel is not forbidden int he way that cold iron is. She has intimated that there will be a time that your steel will also need to be set aside, however.
Posted on 2025-04-07 at 14:51:32.
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: rebuttals and a journey
Earlier...
“Thank you, Ysmiril, he was lost without your help.” Rosariel looked back down at Ruadhrí and dropped to her knees beside him, lightly tracing the place on his arm where the fungus had sprang. No evidence remained, only the memory.
“This magic,” she started, softer now as she looked back to the fae creature, “is this something you can show the other cleric and myself? Even if we do not yet have the fortitude to conduct such a powerful healing now, perhaps we can study and pray on it until we can. I have a feeling we may have to fight this off again, should we pursue the one who did this.”
The fairy's expression was caring, it's tone gentle. "Ai, pikkusisko, such a thing to ask!"
She shook her head. "The korkeampi laulu - the higher singing, in your tongue - this is not something I can easily teach. It is more than words, it is more than melody. It is the art of weaving the shadows of what might be into the reality of what we wish them to be. I know not if a child of the stars can even perceive those shadows - I supsect that it would require you to dwell among the children of the shadows for some time to learn the see and feel them - let alone begin to bend them to your will."
For a moment, Ysmiril seemed to be stuck as she searched for the correct words. "History has shown that while the children of the stars fare better than do the children of the sun when visiting the shadow lands, I fear that the sort of stay that would be needed to gain this type of knowlegde, this understanding... it would change who and what you are."
Then, the fae's face fell. "Even if you were to pay such a price willingly, the fact remains - the healing was made so potent thanks to the wytchwood sap. Alas, I used more than half the contents of the vial I carry, and there is no more available to me."
She shook her head solemnly. "No, pikkusisko, I fear that this is not something I can bestow upon you. Even were you to pay the great cost such knowledge would require, you would still lack the wytchwood necessary for such healing. I am sorry."
*********************************************************************
Later...
"Why? Seleliniel cocked her head as she looked down at those radiant eyes. "Why should we go to Lindela Elin? Because you say so? You've proven no more than a glorified messenger, sent to spook us with shadows and wooden blades. You've made good on your word," nodding at Ruadhri who appeared to be sleeping peacefully despite her now-raised voice, "but you've given us two days – the time we lacked to reach Hyanda Nost – and demanded a month's detour before we can even begin to settle our debt. Dispense with the patronized bemusement at us silly mortals and either accept reasonable repayment, or add some weight to your side of the scales."
The mage's demanding tone took a darker edge. "Or. Show your skill at more than circletalk and pouring old tree sap," as her hand disappeared into her robe. "If it's the threat of violence that compels us to honor your unbalanced trade, let's get it out in the open so we can at least have an honest understanding."
Isilmewen tried to diplomatically bring an end to any potential conflict before it could start.
"Seleniniel," Isilmewen laughed, "How is this so different than the agreement made back at the Isil'nari estate? You and I both know, the heads of our own Houses are like to see us as much tools and extensions of their will as you say our unexpected patron does. But, we have received boon of this patron. I'd sooner settle our service in return while we can, lest Heren'salkya's dance tips unfavorably, and we find for some reason later on that we cannot." Isilmewen's voice went a bit quieter, "If the old fables are to be believed, such a scenario would certainly not be favorable in any capacity. To us, or kin."
"In any case," the taur'ohtar added, "We've effectively received summons from one who would receive us and return their favor. To keep them waiting could be an insult," Isilmewen frowned a bit as she scratched at her cheek, "At least, going by House summons and what my siblings told me about how those are supposed to work. If I remembered that right... did I remember that right?"
The bladesinger, on the other hand, was not content to risk their mission's success to flowery words. When it became obvious that Seleliniel was offering violence, Arathea stepped forward and spoke in a loud, commanding tone. "You will NOT threaten the wellbeing of your companions because you cannot put your trust into a bargain, she has done nothing to suggest she will not uphold her commitments, now we will uphold ours. I will not tolerate you putting your life or the lives of any of us in danger because you seek to act like a headstrong fool, we will travel with her and that will be the end of this discussion."
"We are a group," she continued, "we stick together, we will die if we do not. Put your feelings aside whatever they are, if they are too hard to put aside then talk to me, we can work some solution out. But do not threaten violence against what is effectively an ally, stand down, I will not repeat myself."
Then, Mae'rel got involved - the little healer could not stomach the thought of her companions resorting to actual conflict against one another. She forced her slight body between the megilindar and the istar. "Seleniniel, Arathea, we are still recovering from the battle between ourselves and the Wytch. We need not create more enemies between ourselves."
She turned first to Seleniniel, trying to reason with the wounded mage. "I understand you find this creature... unsavory. Its methods and vagueness unsettle me as well, but without your assistance, we may not complete our task, let alone even fulfill this debt. Your skills as a mage are unlike any I have seen in my life, but combat with this being could very well spell your end, or at the least, set us back further while we wait for you to recover. You are above this battle, there is no need to take it. The detour is no doubt frustrating, but we knew we would pay a considerable price."
And then, to Arathea, attempting to reason with the Dancer. "And Madam Arathea. I know you do not often agree with Madam Seleniniel, but you must see from her perspective and realize she is not trying to put us in harm's way. There is no need to threaten Madam Seleniniel, I've often found that persuasion has better results. I agree completely that we need not make an enemy out of this ally, but that means we should also avoid making enemies with our existing allies, as well."
For all of the swirling and varied emotions from the sylvari, the fae herself seemed unperturbed. If any emotion at all registered on the comely face, it was one of amusement.
At first, she nodded to Isilmewen. "You are indeed correct, tonttutytär. If you were to fail to fulfil your end of the bargain, it would indeed not be favorable for you. And yes, ignoring such a summons is indeed considered to be quite rude in any culture I have ever experienced."
Next, Ysmiril turned her violet eyes on the bladesinger and priestess of Lysora. "Ah, such emotion, such passion! It is ever so fascinating to see how the lot of you largely hold the same opinions on the large choices, yet you come to those opinions by such different paths!" She shook her head, a rainbow of purples and pinks and blues set adrift by the motion. "You need not fear. This... creature," the word was spoken with great amusement, "means you no harm. Also - I do not believe that your warrior here intends and harm to the vihainenhenkilö, oh healer. She seeks to prevent violence, not cause it. Is this not the case?"
(OOC: assuming Arathea agrees, or at least does not disagree...)
Then, the fairy turned its gaze on the troublemaker herself. Seleniel met Ysmiril's eyes defiantly, with components to a spell clenched between fingers.
"Why should you travel to the Laulualtaat, oh vihainenyksilö? Because you have a debt to pay." The last was spoken in a tone that one might use to explain to a slow child why clothing left in the rain became wet, or how one can predict where the sun will appear each morning.
She shook her head, a slight frown momentarily spoiling the breathtaking beauty of Ysmiril's face. "I had believed that I had fully explained the concept of a bargain to you; yet once again, you question it." She clicked her tongue.
"You believe that I threaten you? Why would I bother with such a thing, hmmm?" Ysmiril's expression returned to one of amusement with her query. "You are bound by the oldest magic, child of the stars. I need not compel you to keep your word. If you break the arrangement, the magic itself will deal with you - and quite harshly, I fear. It will consume you, taking your life in the stead of the vow you left wanting. No healing - not even that of the gods themselves - would cradle you from your fate."
"A glorified messenger?" she tittered, violet eyes dancing in amusement. "Aha, you *DO* perceive some things true, velho! I am indeed but a messenger, sent to guide you to the ones who are the source of the aid - who gave you back the life of your friend. I am no one of any consequence - nor have I ever claimed to be more, hmmm?"
The amused expression darkened the tiniest fraction. "I have threatened you no violence, kutoja. Indeed, I have offered you nothing but aid. Is it truly I that you are so angry with? Or am I merely a convenient outlet for your rage - and your fear, I wonder?"
Ysmiril straightened her posture, standing at her full height; despite being taller than only Dak, power radiated off of her very being for a long moment as she stared at the one-armed mage.
"Know this true, Seleliniel of House Isil'nari: for all of your learning, for all of the tide you may weave, for all of your bluster - you cannot touch me with your magics. I say this not to threaten you, but to enlighten. Were you to choose to try to harm me, I would simply walk away and leave you be. Of course, that would lead to your excruciating death, for without me to guide you, you would not meet the ones who sent me - and so, neither you nor your companions would be able to fulfil your bargain."
For the first time since the party had met Ysmiril, the fae wore a completely somber face as she spoke. "I truly do not wish that on any of you," she stated flatly. "I would see you succeed and prosper. The oldest magic is not forgiving."
She sighed. "I have returned the life of your companion to you, just as I swore to do. I do not understand why it is so difficult for you to abide by the agreement you already made."
The maimed spellcaster seemed to finally decide to stand down from her challenge, but still seemed unable to fully let go. Like a tied dog retreating from the end of a chain, she could not seem to resist one final growl at her perceived adversary. "They are not the same, you'll see," Seleliniel snarled. As the silence stretched thin, she cocked her head at the fae. "Won't they?"
Amusement once again touched Ysmiril's features. "And here, I had believed that all of you already realized that, tonttutytär. I have never tried to convince you that the children of the shadows are like unto you. But yes, you speak true - in the coming days, you will all assuredly see this for yourselves. We are not the same, koulutettu."
(OOC: taking a minor liberty here. Arathea had internally made up her mind to travel with Ysmiril, and she has said that "we will travel with her and that will be the end of this discussion"... but I don't think that a definitive answer was posted as to whether the party will go with Ysmiril before or after Hyanda Nost. However, Esther states that she thinks we should go on and get this side quest done, and also give Arathea a little more time to adjust to the loss of her sword before she has to face the military. So I'm proceeding on as if that had been fully stated.)
One Arathea communicated that the group would travel on with Ysmiril immediately, rather than go on to Hyanda Nost first, the creature smiled widely. "Wonderful!" Ysmiril exlaimed, hopping up with glee and clapping her delicate hands with childlike enthusiasm. "We will begin our journey in the morning."
*********************************************************************
8th Bre Uthan, 452 E.R.
Alloryen Kingdom, East of Hyanda Nost
The morning came, and once the party's fast and camp were broken, the group set out in a generally northern direction. Ruadhrí was up at dawn, feeling perhaps a bit weak still, but otherwise more hale and hearty than he had anytime in the previous tenday. His wound looked even better; if one didn't know exactly where to examine, they likely would have never known that it had existed.
Ysmiril led the way, her features and clothing glittering in the light of day. A perceptive individual might have noticed that the fae did not walk an entirely straight path; she would divert several feet in any given direction to avoid any patches of direct sunlight, instead staying always in the shade of the trees.
Her pace appeared easy and relaxed, but despite having shorter legs than anyone but Dak, Ysmiril had to slow herself two or three times to allow the party to catch up. She was absolutely relentless, with no rock or tree root or bramble causing her the slightest delay - nor did she appear to have the capacity to tire whatsoever. Like some spirit, she moved in a never-ceasing method, though she would often pause and smile encouragingly at her companions as they caught up to her.
She seemed almost impatient while the party paused to eat and rest a bit at midday; as soon as possible, she was up again, prompting them to move along.
"I apologize for pressing your pace," she explained at one point, "but we must not tarry if we wish to take the varjopolku - the shadow path. I believe that you will much prefer that choice, as it will make the journey so much easier."
When pressed to explain, Ysmiril would only grin slyly. "Fear not," she stated mysteriously. "You will see soon enough."
*********************************************************************
Sunset came, and Lleua began to rise over the horizon. The red moon's light was strong thanks to her fullness, which would help illuminate the way for any who sought to travel during the hours of darkness.
The companions could definitely feel that the autumn chill was becoming more and more noticeable with each passing evening. The first month of winter was less than three weeks away; the winds were blowing down from the mountains, bringing touches of real cold with them. It was not at all uncommon for the first snowfall of the year to occur around this time of year; such a thing could happen at almost any time, now.
With darkness falling rapidly, the group began to search for a suitable place to camp, but Ysmiril objected. "No, ystäviä - we must not stop now, for we are almost at our destination. I implore you - travel with me just a bit further."
(OOC: assuming that the party is willing to do so)
An hour or so later, the darkness was settling in deeply thanks to the thickness of the branches above. Few stars were visible; even the red moon itself was nearly invisible due to them.
And suddenly, a near perfect circle of open sky appeared above the group. Ysmiril held up a hand "hold here, companions. We are here."
She turned to look at the party. "The varjopolku lies before us. I can help you to walk it, and it will save you much time and effort."
She pursed her lips and twisted them to the side in an expression of pique as she raised a single finger. "However, you may take no iron with you. I would prefer that you leave all such metal - iron and steel - here for safekeeping until we return. However, I will not force that - not yet."
The fae cocked her head to the side. "With that said, you may not bring any cold iron with you and still walk the shadow path. That means no blades, no arrowheads, no necklaces or trinkets." The purple eyes came to rest on Seleliniel. "That also means no iron spell components, velho. Weavers such as yourself usually have a few such items - shavings, rods, nails, or similar sundry. If you will not set them to the side, then you may not enter the varjopolku."
Ysmiril raised an iridescent eyebrow expectantly. "Well? What will you choose? Your iron, or the chance to walk the varjopolku?"
Posted on 2025-04-05 at 21:26:12.
Edited on 2025-04-17 at 01:33:02 by t_catt11
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire Q&A
Subject:
I have updated the first page to include the fae terms and phrases used. Obviously, your characters will not know these words, but I have provided English for your enjoyment.
Also, as an aside, camlut is a fabric from the Chindari Plains, very similar to silk in many ways - albeit superior in others. Very lightweight, very strong, able to accept dyes and patterns very well. Stretchy and durable. It is highly sought among royalty, the nobility, and the wealthy. The fabric is fairly rare - and quite expensive - as the aldasflies that create the substance to be spun into camlut only live on the plains; attempts to domesticate the insects and raise them in the five kingdoms or among the Empire have failed miserably.
Posted on 2025-04-03 at 11:46:00.
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: disparate viewpoints...
Earlier...
"How many have come and gone in years uncounted, that haven't seen a dream such as this?" Isilmewen exhaled, unknowingly putting voice to her thoughts.
Then, in a hasty attempt to smooth over any possible ruffled feathers from her outburst, the ranger spoke again. "If I could use a guise like that, I'd be tempted to do the same. Though my sister would be furious with me if I did such at an evening dinner. Even if some of the others deserve the startle."
Ysmiril giggled and smiled, the expression seemingly taking root in those violet eyes. "And such a jest that would be, tonttutytär. Truth be told, I may have used that form for reasons not very dissimilar in days gone by."
She cocked her head at an odd angle. "Your... openness is refreshing. Far too many children of the stars seek to lock others away from their true selves, never realizing that by doing so, they lock themselves into centuries of unnecessary loneliness."
********************************************
Later, at the campfire...
"You may have long ignored the stretch of time, but we do not have that luxury," Seleniniel railed. "If you lack the authority to let us promptly settle our debt, summon your master–or whatever it is we’re pledged to–to Hyanda Nost. Surely we are not the only ones who walk paths forbade to others. That–or dispense with the needless obfuscation and tell us the full price rather that meeting it out bit by bit."
If the women - fae - creature - took offense at the noble's acid tone or haughty demands, she did not show it. Instead, a grin teased at her lips, as if the one-armed spellcaster had just suggested a marvelous jest.
"Ai että!" Ysmiril exclaimed with a laugh. "You are an amusing one, vihainenyksilö. As if the one who truly owns your debt could be summoned like some koira to your lap." She shook her head, iridescent gossamer locks floating around her ears. "No, you will travel with me to the Laulualtaat. They will explain the balance of your debt, for it is not my place to do so."
Posted on 2025-04-03 at 11:30:33.
Edited on 2025-04-14 at 11:05:08 by t_catt11
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire Q&A
Subject: pronunciation
In case you are wondering...
Ysmiril = "EES-muh-REEL"
Posted on 2025-04-02 at 15:57:28.
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire Q&A
Subject: bookkeeping
Just an FYI. Hyanda Nost is less than two days away. Lindela Elin is a good two week's journey.
Posted on 2025-04-02 at 12:07:48.
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Topic: Shadows of the Empire
Subject: healing and a reveal
"You pat our heads for our prudent skepticism, then speak as though we are free to reevaluate the equities of this pact once made. Perhaps that is so... perhaps not." Seleliniel shrugged, then let out deep sigh. "I agree – to a debt commensurate with the value given. Once verified."
A slight gesture came from the shadowy figure. "I do not claim that you are free to reevaluate the bargain once it is struck. If all agree, then make no mistake - the price *WILL* be paid. I merely informed you that if you do not receive that which you are promised, then I have broken the bargain, which releases you from the debt."
Somehow, the dying bófear mustered up enough fiery strength to pledge his oath to accept the being's offer. A note of happiness emanated from the cloaked figure, though the visage did not change.
And then, there was but one. While it did not move, it became obvious that the shadowy figure's focus had come to rest on Rosariel.
"You say you respect those who respect the forest," she stated carefully. "You and I are the same in that way. For that and your willingness and ability to save our friend, I am honored to treat with you today, and would with my friends agree to your assistance in return for a boon. But I must ask first, a being such as yourself, one that could bring him back from this," she waved to where spores now fell lightly from Ruadhrí's cracked lips, "What could we possibly provide someone as powerful and capable as yourself, that you could not find on your own? What could we provide worth a life?"
The words from the servant of the Huntress hung heavy in the air for a long moment before the being replied. "As I told the uteliaspieniihminen, now is not the time nor place for me to name the price. Indeed, the final boon is not mine to ask, for that which I offer to you is lent to me. I am but the messenger, the executor of this accord. The debt you owe will be paid to another, to the one who sends me here."
It paused for a moment. "Even so, your question is fair. While it is not my place to discuss the price itself, suffice it to say that there are places that my kind cannot go - not without great difficulty and cost. There are paths that are open to the children of the stars" - the being made an unseen gesture that swept across the sylvari members of the party - "and the children of the sun" - a new gesture, to indicate Dak and Ruadhrí - "that are blocked to me and my folk. Some of these paths already lie before you, tonttutytär."
Rosariel sighed and nodded. "Very well. I agree. Please save Ruadhrí."
Emotions emanated from the being. Satisfaction. Enthusiasm. Glee.
"Excellent," the strange voice intoned. "Our covenant is agreed. I will heal the afflicted mieslehmä, and you will repay this favor accordingly." As the words were spoken, the companions could feel a strange tingle flow through their bodies. "By the oldest magic, it will be done."
The purple light flashed for a moment deep within the shadowy hood. The being seemed to turn its attention toward the sky, seemed to examine the canopy for a moment, before drifting back towards the trunk of the mighty aspen it had first approached from.
"Bring the mieslehmä to me," it commanded as it settled within the shadow of the great trees.
(OOC: assuming that the party assists Ruadhrí to the designated area)
For a long moment, the being did nothing but stare down at the massive form of the dying bófear lying on the forest floor. Next, two shadowy hands reached up to grasp the edges of the hood, pushing it back and off of the head.
Then, it changed.
The exact process made no sense as reality itself seemed to warp for several moments. Where a lanky, seven foot tall being of gaunt shadows once hovered, now stood an exotic woman of barely five feet in height - if that.
The most cursory of passing glances might have suggested that she was a short sylvari - she shared the almond-shaped eyes and pointed ears of that race. But any further examination belied that idea instantly.
Her hair hung in iridescent gossamer waves past her shoulders; while the color was largely that of periwinkle, it seemed to nearly shimmer as light touched it, with pinks and blues mixing in among the hues. Her features were sharp, almost otherwordly in their feel. While some sylvari were known to have lavender eyes, hers were a deep purple, with an intensity that suggested an inner light, making her pupils more holes of color than discernable features of their own.
Her skin, a creamy white, seemed to nearly shimmer with touches of a violet iridescence of its own. No longer clad in shadow, she wore a gauzy, near translucent garment that stretched down to just above her knees, with a wide belt at her waist. While a rainbow of colors seemed to glimmer from the otherwise white fabric as she moved, the being might as well have been wearing nothing whatsoever in terms of any modesty it provided; no part of her body was left hidden to the imagination. On her back was a cloak of what looked to be the finest camlut fabric, dyed to a deep charcoal color. Her feet were clad in supple, short boots, and the handle of a knife protruded from her belt. She carried no pack or other obvious source of supplies.
As the group looked on, she cocked her head slightly to the side and broke into a wide smile. "I am Ysmiril," she stated, "of the children of the shadows." Her voice was now musical in its tone, though it retained the same odd intonation and accent. "Now that we are friends... or, at the least, working in concert, I find it far more pleasing to show my true form. While it is useful - and not a little amusing - to carry on as a great being of darkness and balefulness, I find it to be so very restricting to do so for long. Wouldn't you agree?"
Ysmiril seemed to titter at her own joke, heedless of whether anyone else appreciated the humor. She then knelt at Ruadhrí's side, a look of genuine concern on her face. A nigh-shimmering hand passed over the bófear's features, causing her to frown. "Ah, his flesh, it burns," she observed.
Her hand went to her belt, and she withdrew a vial from a small pouch that could not have possibly been large enough to contain it. Inside the vial was an amber substance of some sort.
She glanced up at the companions. "What do you know of wytchwood?" she casually inquired.
Without waiting for any actual replies, she retrieved a few other items from her belt pouches. Various plants, a larger bottle containing a clear liquid, a pinch of this and that. She added several drops of the viscous amber liquid to the clear, then one solid ingredient after another, before muttering under her breath and rubbing the bottom of the bottle. She placed it carefully on the ground next to the massive warrior, where it began to bubble and steam.
Once this was done, her gaze swept over the companions to settle on Arathea. "You practice the bladesong, do you not?" she asked rhetorically. "Then surely you know of the value of a wytchwood blade, yes?" With that, she drew her knife - it was immediately apparent that this was no normal weapon. The handle appeared to be leather-wrapped, but the blade itself was a dark mahogany brown, obviously not forged from metal. "It is exquisite, sharper and stronger than the finest steel - yet lighter still."
Then, she regarded the casters. "I know not your knowledge of ancient plants, but wytchwood is useful for far more than fine blades. The sap here," she gestured to the amber liquid, "has healing properties beyond compare. The fruit makes the finest wine you could ever hope to taste. And the..." she paused, seemingly catching herself, "well, there are other uses. Although this may not be the proper moment to discuss all of that; I beg your forgiveness for my imprudence."
The steaming had ceased, so Ysmiril picked up the bottle, giving the contents a critical eye. "I suppose," she stated, "that it is more accurate to say that wytchwood 'was' useful, given that there have been no wytchwood trees in... what has it been now, two millenia?"
She leaned down and cradled Ruadhrí's head. With gentleness - and surprising strength, given the massive size differential, she lifted his head and supported it. "You must drink all of this in one draft, mieslehmä. All at once, do you understand?"
He nodded weakly, and she held the bottle to his massive mouth. Despite his weakened state, the huge warrior grimaced upon swallowing; the taste was truly vile.
Carefully, Ysmiril laid his head back upon the forest floor. "While that will help, I fear that I do not trust it to be enough," she stated sorrowfully. "I will also need to treat the wound directly - which will require re-opening it." She glanced around the group. "I will need you to hold him, as this will hurt - badly. It will be true agony, but it is the only way. When my treatment is complete, you who bend the ears of the gods must pray to them with all of your might. This medicine is powerful, but I fear that he is too far gone without their intercession."
Once she located the wound, she examind it before nodding. "I see great skill here," she observed. "Almost any other affliction would have been dealt with by your efforts. Your teachers would be proud." She made eye contact with the group. "Hold him," she ordered.
Ysmiril passed the wytchwood knife through the scabbed flesh, causing it to nearly burst open. As it did so, sickly green fungal tendrils sprung out of the wound, bringing with them a burst of stench - the odor of putrefying decay, of death, of rot.
Ruadhrí grunted and twitched, but gritted his teeth against the pain and did his best to hold still.
Ysmiril frowned, then pulled the incision open with her fingers and began to dribble the thick amber liquid inside. The bófear's eyes shot open and he screamed in unthinkable agony as a sizzling sound emanated from the site of the wound. The stranger sang softly as she worked the fluid into the wound, heedless of how the massive patient bucked and thrashed and howled despite his reduced condition. Eventually, his motions fell into a rhythmic twitching - the huge warrior was undergoing a terrible seizure.
"Pray for him now," the stranger hissed. "Pray for your gods to help him!"
And so, pray Mae'rel and Rosariel did. They prayed even as Ruadhrí convulsed, his horns and fingers digging great gouts of dirt from the ground and tossing them here and there. They prayed as Ysmiril continued to softly sing, her fingers moving deftly even within the wound itself. They prayed as the green tendrils wilted into brown and fell away from the wound.
They prayed as the wound eventually closed.
At some point, Ruadhrí blessedly lost consciousness. Eventually, Ysmiril's singing came to an end, and with it, so did her ministrations. She shivered, seemingly nearly as tired as the patient himself. "You have done well," she stated, weariness apparent in her voice. "He will need to rest, but when he awakens, he will be greatly improved. It may take a few days for the mieslehmä to fully be himself once more, but he will live now... absent something that violently ends his time in the sun, he will enjoy all of the brief days allotted to his kind."
Indeed, the bófear's color was vastly improved, and he no longer struggled for breath. Instead, he breathed the slow, easy, deep breaths of the peaceful dreamer. There was no visible sign of the fungus, nor of his persistent wound; nothing remained there but the pink of new flesh, not even a sign of a decent scar.
The shade of the great aspen seemed as good a place as any to make camp.
************************************************
For close to two hours, Ysmiril wrapped herself in the charcoal cloak and stared into the fire, seemingly unaware of everything around her. Any questions or attempts at conversation seemed to fall of deaf ears. She neither moved nor blinked, the purple eyes just staring into the flames.
Eventually, she shook her head and stood to her full height, seemingly heedless of how the firelight illuminated her body through the nigh-transparent clothing. "Your destination is your people's stronghold, this Hyanda Nost, is it not?"
(OOC assuming no one attempts to deceive her)
"That is a... diversion from where I would see you tread," she declared. "I would have you accompany me to the Laulualtaat... the children of the stars call them Lindela Elin - the Melodious Pools." She paused. "Of course, you will be at Hyanda Nost in less than two days, and the pools are... further away. I will not begrudge you if you feel that your duties demand that you visit your own people first."
She stretched languidly. "Speak amongst yourselves and decide. If you choose to visit your folk first, so be it. Go and attend your business, but return here to me, and we will journey together to the Laulualtaat on your return. If not, we will leave for the Laulualtaat upon the morn, and I will accompany you back to this place after."
Posted on 2025-04-02 at 11:51:19.
Edited on 2025-04-14 at 11:07:16 by t_catt11
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