"...am Gurashi An'Ryshe, of Glomdoring."

Beneath glimmering veins of amethyst.
The cavernous floor comes to an enclosed space here as it narrows towards a delicate veil of shadows. Dim light filters in from outside, barely piercing the shadows that cling to the cavern walls. Dark stones covers the walls, and the walls are lined with veins of shimmering amethyst. The violet gems wind along the walls in circuitous patterns, reflecting what little light there is in the area. Billowing like a cloth in a gentle breeze, a veil of shadows covers a wall of the cavern here.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, and through a delicate veil of shadows.

Swirling magic energies seethe across the cavern floor.

You reach out and gently brush your hand against a delicate veil of shadows. Your senses suddenly dull as you feel yourself pulled into the entrancing darkness. As your senses return, you find yourself beneath a beautiful night sky.
The Fulcrux of Nocht.
The image of a beautiful nighttime sky has been stretched across the fulcrux. Dim stars struggle futilely to compete with the terrifying beauty of Mother Night. The ethereal image wavers on occasion, the sky rippling like water in a pond. A lonely hill covered in tall grass leads up to a single shrine. Behind the shrine stands a large blackthorn tree. The tree is taller than most of its kind, extending upwards rather than outwards. Delicate blossoms shower down from its branches, creating a flurry of white petals and filling the air with the pungent scent of wyrden foliage. A complex series of stones orbit around a stygian orb here. A rippling image of a beautiful night sky has been magically wrapped around the fulcrux here. Partially hidden in the shadows, a formal pamphlet with a seven-pointed star has been lain aside here. In the shape of an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here. An eye-catching creature cookie with bright gold and violet highlights sits on the ground. A sinister wyrden blossom brandishes its wickedly serrated petals. A crude wooden bowl filled with a creamy soup lies here, tendrils of steam rising gently from the surface. A tangled, colourful bracelet lies here, a reminder of Glomdoring. Like a beautiful mahogany replica of the real fruit, a platter of delicately sliced chocolate oranges sits forgotten on the ground. A dusk-hued letter lies here. A painting of an Ode to White has been thrown on the ground here. An onyx pendant depicting Crow lies here, blending into the surrounding darkness.
You see a single exit leading through an image of the night sky.

You think to yourself: Oh gosh, really ARE a lot of things here.

Slowly, staying near the entrance, you whisper, "...uhm - many greetings, Mister Lord Silence."

You have emoted: Gurashi hesitates near the entrance, staring forlornly towards the massive Blackthorn tree. "Have had some thoughts about Blackthorn flowers... know should have answered back when asked, but - wasn't ready to. Thought, 'does not need others to tell it its strengths, or weaknesses'... But, am ready to tell now. And, maybe don't care, but thought should know anyway."

You have emoted: Gurashi slowly makes his way within the Fulcrux, taking note of the various offerings left here and there. His eyes settle on the now-questionable bowl of chicken soup near his feet. "Am thinking are perfectly Wyrd... ehm," He stoops down to gather the bowl, careful not to spill the coagulated liquid inside, "What mean is..."

You scoop up a bowl of creamy chicken soup.

Slowly walking closer to the shrine, you say, "Something that Miss Lief kept saying to, was how she could see 'my colors'... and, do not know exactly what meant. But took what she said, and tried it with some paints like Miss Esei uses, and turns out that -black- is -all- of the colors ... can believe that? Is amazing."

Trailing off, you say, "At least, think is amazing..."

You have emoted: Gurashi bends again, this time gathering up the stale mint-chocolate cookie in his other left hand, holding it aloft as he continues on. "The bark, as black as night sky. Black, like all of the colors. But the flowers - totally white?" He looks up to the boughs of the tree. "Am betting persons from Serenwilde might think, 'oh, are color-less, woe am me', but, do not think is a bad thing...!"

You scoop up a dark mint chocolate leothin cookie.

The image of the night sky grows terrifyingly dark as an icy breeze cuts across the lonely hill, spiralling patterns dancing across the tall grass.

Gently taking a fallen flower from atop the shrine, you say, "These flowers - they are kind of like the Wyrd too, yes. They are white, meaning, if needed to be, could become any color that wish to be. Could adapt, as needed - as Wyrd does."

You have emoted: Gurashi studies the flower in his hand before gently laying it back down where he found it. "Maybe blank is how need to be, to live, to thrive."

A young, brightly colored caracal lets out a playful little yowl, suddenly leaping from the ground and onto Gurashi's shoulders. It teeters awkwardly before jumping back down to the ground with a musical little chirp.

You clear your throat.

You peer at a young, brightly colored caracal unscrupulously.
A young, brightly colored caracal gazes up adoringly at Gurashi, enthusiastically kneading its over-sized paws against the ground.

Whispering, you say, "Are simple. And unassuming... and hiding the thorns beneath them."

You have emoted: Gurashi turns his back on the shrine, still carefully balancing the stale cookie and questionable soup in both left hands. Though quickly running out of hands, from an outer pocket of his pack he draws forth a fresh little peach blossom, holding it carefully. "My devotion to Glomdoring is unwavering, Mister Lord Silence," He says softly. "Whether am too friend-shaped, or am cruel like other kephera. Love my home." He pauses, closing his fingers around the bloom and crushing it within his grasp. "Love -Our- home."

You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

You have emoted: Gurashi finally breaks the tense atmosphere with a short, chittering laugh. "Oh, ehm," He gestures to the food he so carefully carries. "Promise am not stealing from..." He explains, "Came to collect these, because You are -God- and should not be trying to eat stale or months-old foods."

A soft voice suddenly whispers in your ear, so faint it could nearly be lost in the passing breeze, "You know what are you are then, little one..."

The image above wavers and ripples gently as a cold breeze howls through the fulcrux.

You have emoted: Gurashi bristles a bit, nearly spilling the soup. "...am Gurashi An'Ryshe, of Glomdoring," He offers.

You have emoted: Gurashi smiles weakly.

The voice falters, lapsing to incoherent murmurs several times before finally whispering, "Destroy those who would try to deny that truth..."

The favour of Nocht has worn off. <-- Noooo

Nocht, the Silent has bestowed His divine highfavour upon you. It will last for 3 months. <-- Yaaaaaaa!!!!

Your mandibles twitch slightly as you voice a brief, curious chirr.

You have emoted: Gurashi stares towards the shrine, contemplating the words internally. He shuffles about the foodstuffs, offering a short little bow. "Many thank yous..." He opens his mouth as if to say something else, but thinks better of it, shaking his head. "If ever want some fresh foods, know where to find me."

With a flourish of your arm, you bow deeply.

Beneath glimmering veins of amethyst.
The cavernous floor comes to an enclosed space here as it narrows towards a delicate veil of shadows. Dim light filters in from outside, barely piercing the shadows that cling to the cavern walls. Dark stones covers the walls, and the walls are lined with veins of shimmering amethyst. The violet gems wind along the walls in circuitous patterns, reflecting what little light there is in the area. Billowing like a cloth in a gentle breeze, a veil of shadows covers a wall of the cavern here.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, and through a delicate veil of shadows.
You have recovered balance on all limbs.

You sniff a bowl of creamy chicken soup, trying to decipher just what that smell emanating from it is.

Grimacing, you say, "Oof."

Muttering to himself and the bowl of soup, you say, "Am glad did not eat this... wowee lookit all those colors should -not- be."