Visions of the Auguries: Kalaneya, Afollia

Kalaneya tells you, "I have foreseen that you shall join me with Lothwen upon duskfall. I hope that you shall be able to make yourself available."

The pointed tips of your ears twitch to hear an errant sound.

You tell Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia, "Ah, I will. Thank you."

You furrow your brow in thought.

[movement]

Hallowed circle of ritual communion.
A light cover of clouds hides the sky in a sheet of white. Open to the vast expanse of the skies, the ritual circle of the temple is clearly as ancient as the temple itself, a weighted sense of age blanketing the open chamber. The colonnade continues to encircle the open space, wyrden saplings taken root between the pillars, whose surfaces have been eroded by wind and rain, the carvings upon them no longer distinguishable. A palpable veil of darkness shrouds the chamber, the shadows themselves stirring with anticipation as unseeable dark figures flicker within them; evidence of the presence of the Spirits, and perhaps other, watchful things within the realm of darkness. The limbs of ancient trees loom above, framing the firmament with their jagged foliage and gnarled branches; their leaves lay scattered across the ground upon which is carved a deep ritual circle, mystical runes carved at the cardinal points in an unknowable language. The circle is slightly slanted inwards, deep grooves leading from the outer edges to convene in the centre, where a deep depression might collect any fluid shed within. Indeed, moss hued a deep mauve sprouts between the cracks in the ground, as do foreboding, twisted ferns and grasses, hued curiously dark as though their fare were not always of the conventional nourishment. A lingering sense of other presences pervades the sacred chamber, as though the transient visitors of past summonings have never truly departed and instead remain, waiting - but for what, one can scarcely presume. An altar of white bones and black roses stands here, burning with cold shadowfire. Lothwen Darkeye slowly paces here, beads of wood and bone wound in her pitch black hair. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia with a Regal face is here. The shadowy form of a Daughter of the Night stands here, exuding wyrden power from within swirling black robes.

Kalaneya murmurs to herself in a singsong voice as she ominously scrapes a bloodstained knife back and forth over the stone altar.

With its insubstantial hand upon Kalaneya's shoulder, the wraith glances at the gathered, then back at the kneeling form of Kalaneya. She shakes her head ponderously, then disappears into thin air.

Kalaneya closes her eyes and inhales deeply, absorbing the scent of her surroundings.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "She is gone. So then you have arrived."

Kalaneya rises and turns to face Afollia and you. Smears of blood, gore, and ichor coat the altar and the floor beneath her, originating from the fresh wounds that adorn her scarred form.

With a generous, though perhaps slightly crazed, smile, Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Thank you for your time."

[look Kalaneya]
Eyes darkened to a deep black, she is a regal aslaran demigoddess, whose shadow-wreathed coutenance befits the feline race's monarchial qualifier. Her form is deeply scarred, with various healing wounds twining over her form like creeping vines. Fresh blood mats her bronze fur, leaking from several fresh wounds that cover her arms and torso. One particularly large gash stretches from beneath her axilla down to just below the umbilicus, revealing the gleaming white fascia and ragged muscle underneath. Though her form is bloodied, she yet still stands with a proud demeanor which belies the severity of her injuries.

Her wild mane of dark fur erupts outward in all directions, matted and clumped from what may only be presumed as a great deal of time spent out of doors. Twin braids of fur hang at either side of her head, wound with thin strips of leather and studded with small, flat talismans of burnished copper.
She is wearing:
a wreath of midnight black roses atop her head, its manifold petals brushing her brow in hues of ebon and amethyst
a black leather loincloth
a shadow-stained armband of twisted thornvines, which is wrapped tightly over her left bicep
a shadow-stained armband of twisted thornvines, over her right bicep, its thorns drawing blood

Kalaneya begins to pace back and forth.

"I am no stra-" Kalaneya looses a hacking cough, issuing a black clot from her lungs that lands wetly on the floor. "I am no stranger to you, for I am the Ma'lanas Runia. The Blood Soul of the Auguries." she finishes, her eyes swirling with shades of crimson and black.

"My tah'vrai is now as it always has been. To advance our arts to their zenith," Kalaneya continues, her voice growing more hale as she speaks.

Afollia's lips for a pleasant smile as the first sentence reaches her ears, but remains silent not wishing to disturb.

Disappointment crossing her features, Kalaneya sighs, "I have been...discouraged, by all of us. We have lingered far too long, resting upon what has already been completed." She looks between you to Afollia, her gaze ponderous, judging.

Shadows grow longer in anticipation for the return of their dark mistress as Father Sun's chase brings him closer to the world's edge.
The heavens alight with a rich purple glow as dusk begins to settle in, preparing the First World for the coming night.

Kalaneya acknowledges Lothwen with a slight nod. She remarks, "The Lady Lothwen shall assist us in our Seeing. For tonight, it is time."

Kalaneya ceases her pacing. Her eyes gleam a brilliant crimson as she growls through gritted teeth, "You will See our greatness. What we can become."

Kalaneya glances again between Afollia and you. Her voice suddenly pitching lower, she confides, "Lothwen will assist us," Her whispers are conspiratorial. "She is here to ensure we do not dive too deeply, into these visions, past the point of being able to return to our realm, here."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "I will be the vessel in which the Auguries shall manifest itself, in whatever glory we shall grasp. The future and its possibilities shall fill me, and you shall See through me."

As the sun passes below the horizon's edge, Mother Night unveils her terrible, shadowy beauty, spreading darkness across the land.
As the cloak of Mother Night descends upon the forest, shadowflames flicker to life in sconces throughout the ancient temple, casting layered shadows over the stone.

"You will do this by connecting your souls to mine," Kalaneya continues, her speech unhurried as she carefully instructs you and Afollia, "...through these blades." She holds up a black iron-hilted dagger. "You will push them into my body. Hold onto the blade, tightly. Then, you will See."

Eyes darkening to a void-black, Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Will you do this? Will you do this for our tah'vrai?"

You have emoted: Dark eyes intent on Kalaneya, Esei gives the barest nod, but remains silent.

Kalaneya turns her black gaze towards Afollia in anticipation.

Afollia's many eyes fixate upon the Ma'lanas Runia for a few moments. Seemingly satisfied she gives a short cut nod in her direction.

Leaving her bloodied prints on the blade, Kalaneya gives a black iron-hilted dagger to you.

Facing the gore-smeared handle towards her, Kalaneya gives a black iron-hilted dagger to Spinner Afollia Ebonrose, the Wyrden Haruspex.

Kalaneya closes her eyes and inhales deeply, absorbing the scent of her surroundings.

You begin to wield a black iron-hilted dagger in your left hand.

Afollia begins to wield a black iron-hilted dagger in her right hand.

[probe dagger]
A strong steel blade has been sharpened to a polished finish. Set into
a handle of fire blackened iron, the dagger is perfectly balanced for
use of combat, the design simple yet effective.
It has 204 months of usefulness left.
It weighs about 10 pounds.
It bears the distinctive mark of Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia.
It has the following aliases: dagger, weapon.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "So be it."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We begin."

Tendrils of shadow float from the corners of her eyes as Kalaneya chants, "My blood is the blood of the Auguries. She holds her hands up towards the night sky, bits of intestine and fur still hanging onto her claws. "The sight of the Auguries flows through my blood."

Kalaneya's eyes blacken with pure shadow, the darkness seeming to draw directly from the night sky.

The pulsing beam from New Celest's lighthouse surges brilliantly, a shining beacon of hope that cuts through the night sky across the entirety of the Basin of Life.

Kalaneya inhales deeply again, drinking in the darkness as it covers her form.

"NOW! NOW!" Kalaneya shouts, voice vibrating, echoing with power.

You have emoted: Unflinchingly, Esei digs the blade into Kalaneya's body, their claws sinking into the hilt as their grip tightens around it.

Across the heavens, the stars and moon challenge night's dark reign, revealing familiar constellations that tell the tales of myth and legend.

Afollia wraps her golden fingers around the hilts and stabs with determination into the Ma'lanas Runia's flesh with a strong downward motion.

Kalaneya roars powerfully, barely wincing as the blades enter her form. Pure stygian shadow leaks from her numerous wounds, filling the air in the chamber with a haeme-scented mist.

Blackness overtakes the chamber, cradling you in the comfort of the dark.

You find yourself in coven with Kalaneya, hands enjoined. Two others stand with you: one, a pale beauty, winged and crowned in shadow, her movements coloured with a violent, cruel grace. The other, an otherwordly trill, robed in flowing silks, whose eyes shift between icy shades of lazuline and violet.

Beneath your feet lies an obsidian pool, encircled with pitch-stained stones swathed in lichen and moss. Its smoothly dark surface shifts with unknowable visions. The Shadetide Glass.

The Shadetide Glass? You search your mind for the term, and wonder at how the truth of its name has come to you. The three women chant in the fae-tongue, their words lilting in an obscure, otherworldly melody. As the chants crescendo, you feel your body dragged downwards into the pool's stygian depths.

The darkness around you twists into vague shapes and skeins: visions. One after another, they assault your senses, leaving you drowning in the portents of the Shadetide Glass.

The visions begin here: a haunting coppice, enshrouded in mist, enveloped in utter silence. Bare, incorporeal branches attached to nigh-translucent trunks peek out from breaks in the mistcover as if attempting to escape a slow suffocation. You deeply inhale the scent of petrichor, taking a full breath of mist into your lungs.

You choke as the overwhelming taste of fertile soil and rotting leaves fills your mouth in that moment. Through dirt-clogged senses, you hear the chitter of beetles around you, depositing more and more earth atop your air-starved body. As your grip on life weakens, you see strange visions of formless shadow-creatures, enshrined in a wave of gloom that washes over your supine form. Before your imminent death, you draw a final, desperate gasp.

Panting in relief, you find yourself again within the limitless darkness. A cold breath brushes against the back of your neck, and moments later you are startled by the crackling of black lightning in the air. Behind you, you sense a great presence; inhuman, ancient, and ethereal. You turn, and see a woman who is not a woman -- shrouded, but beautiful; compelling, yet terrifying. You know her face to be the face of Mother Night, and the Great Spirit stares back at you with fathomless eyes before she dissipates into shadow.

The shadows clear, making way for a procession of phantoms.

The first: a phantasm coalescing from the eventide shadows, tall and proud beneath the New Moon.

Another: a ghostly coven gathering beneath a black midnight.

Another: a spectre in the dismal swamp, being drowned into the muck.

Another: an ephemeral umbravian with a haughty nine-tailed fox, both walking away, towards a violet horizon.

Another: a strange avian limned in shadow, screeching its mocking yawps from a branch nearby.

The spirits fade as a primal tug pulls your heart further down, faster and faster, deeper into the unknown. Your lungs prickle with needling pain as your body is thrown into a liminal crossroads surrounded by majestic ruins.

Before you, edifices constructed of adumbrated stone and haze rise towards an unfamiliar sky, coloured a bizarre, alien green. What appears to be an enormous mirror hangs imperiously in the heavens, reflecting four moons in various phases.

You walk in an arbitrary direction, finding yourself trudging through a blank wasteland with a ground composed of dark glass. On and on and on, you walk.

The winds stirs; a particularly swift squall brings with it a different landscape and you find yourself walking upon the clouds in the virid sky. You look up, and see a lush grove filled with bioluminescent flowers above you.

As you stand in awe, warm and awash in the soothing glow, you feel the cord of enigmatic communion snap violently. Above you, pulsings of shadowy flames siphon along Lothwen Darkeye's athame, moulding it into the form of a dark, scythe-bladed kris, as she tears your mind from your drowning spirit.

As the pain of spiritual disunion sears you, one final image burns itself in the darkness behind your eyes: the emblem of the Auguries - a five-branched ravenwood cradling a triple-ringed oculus surrounded by a wreath of shadowflame.

You untangle the skeins of spirit and mind, finding unity in your soul once again. You leave the visions and return to your body. You find yourself in the Mae'vrai cree-Laes once again.

"Uuuurrghnnn," Kalaneya moans, the shadows having left her form and leaving her now with just blood flowing freely out of her wounds. She collapses onto the floor.

Afollia kneels gently besides the Ma'lanas Runia, her eyes focused and her lips silent. She beckons towards the Wyrden Auspice as she lays her hand around her blade and removes it with care. Her fingers quickly extract selfcare cloth that she presses agaisnt the wounds.

"Grrrrrrhhg," Kalaneya groans, opening her eyes again to glance at Afollia, before she drops her head back onto the stone floor. "How..."

Kalaneya turns her head to the side and releases a hacking cough. "The visions...are completed...then?" Her tone sounds hopeful.

You have emoted: Having closed their eyes reflexively, Esei opens them, stepping forward to offer their assistance. They carefully remove the blade they'd sunken into Kalaneya's flesh, cloth at the ready to apply pressure after they discard it.

You cease wielding a black iron-hilted dagger in your left hand.

Afollia remains quiet, unwilling to break the silence, as she gently nods her head in agreement. Laying two fingers upon her own temple, a small smile drawing upon her black lips.

Kalaneya lays her head back and lets loose a soft chuckle that rattles wetly in her chest. "The visions...are never completed. Ha..."

Kalaneya's breaths continue to heave. "Th--" Another cough. "Thank you...both for witnessing. I hope...it was helpful."

You purse your lips, deep in thought.

A vaguely arboreal shadow-wraith coalesces from the darkness. She kneels by Kalaneya and grasps her hand.

Her form seeps slowly into Kalaneya's, and her wounds begin to slowly close.

Afollia closes her eyes for a moment, then responds " Yes, much to reflect upon." Her gaze flickers upon the wraith before she rises once more.

Kalaneya coughs softly.

The last vestiges of midnight shadows flee as Mother Night hides herself from the luminous arrival of her shining mate as he chases her across the bowl of the sky.
Sending curlicues of ethereal, shadowy smoke wisping into the air, the shadowflamed sconces set throughout the temple fade until they grow lifeless once more.
Streaks of violet light snake across the morning sky, colouring it a deep purple.


Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "...yes. I--."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "She is returned...I think I will okay."

Kalaneya nods solemnly.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Thank you both for tending to my wounds."

Afollia's faint flicker of concern vanishes from her demeanor as she nods gently.

You have emoted: Esei pulls away, bringing the bloody cloth with them. They give another shallow nod, dark eyes slightly narrowed.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "This...is all that I had to share this evening."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We...won't keep you here any longer, but we shall remain here...in the case that you wished to discuss anything in these visions."

Spinner Afollia Ebonrose, the Wyrden Haruspex says, "Thank you for sharing it, I am glad we could gather for this."

With a soft, darkly melodious inflection, you whisper, "Aye, thank you for sharing, Ma'lanas Runia. I believe they are certainly something to think about in the next few months."