Hushed voices bubble up from the shadows as midnight reigns...

Midnight shadows coalesce around a new day, and Mother Night embraces the land in utter darkness.
It is now the 7th of Estar, 609 years after the Coming of Estarra.
There are 14 days until the New Moon

Hushed voices bubble up from the shadows as midnight reigns, whispering of the return of Nocht, the Silent to mortal perception.

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

(Glomdoring): You say, "Hail, my Lord."

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Greetings, Lord Nocht."

(Glomdoring): Nocht says, "Good evening, My dearest Glomdoring."

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, absorbing the scent of your surroundings.
You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

(Glomdoring): Nocht says, "How fares the wyrd on this night, My little ones?"

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Mm. Perhaps a touch quiet, but our new Culture Minister has just submitted a play to the World Library. It's been a decade or two since the last."

(Glomdoring): Gael says, "Mor'k'al, my Lord."

(Glomdoring): You say, "I believe we are also bolstered by the Solstice-season lamp visions, my Lord."

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "And Elyd has been around and observing things, as well."

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "So that is how the Glomdoring fares, I suppose - and how do You?"

(Glomdoring): Nocht says, "Visions of what is to be, I would hope, My little one."

(Glomdoring): Gael says, "Fortuitous auspices of the Glory that is to come, aye."

You find yourself engulfed in a swirl of scintillating lights, drawn to your Patron's Master Shrine.
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. Reverently laid before the shrine in a sheath of starlight and shadow, the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris emanates Divine power here.
You see a single exit leading through an image of the night sky.

You give the master shrine of Nocht a respectful bow, one hand clasped over your heart.

(Glomdoring): Nocht says, "I endure, little ones. Though I needed some time to take steps to guarantee that I would not come undone before My healing."

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Ah... is there anything we can assist with, my Lord?"

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, absorbing the scent of your surroundings.
You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

Like the pulsing of a great heartbeat, the strength of the Master Ravenwood dims your surroundings for but a second, as hidden whispers spread the tales of merciless reaping and the Wyrd's slow consumption of the First World.

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

The blackthorn trembles, a rush of air, like a long-held breath being released, disturbing the normal calm of the fulcrux and filling it with the distinct sensation of renewed vigor.

Like the pulsing of a great heartbeat, the strength of the Master Ravenwood dims your surroundings for but a second, as hidden whispers spread the tales of merciless reaping and the Wyrd's slow consumption of the First World.

The ever-present sense of your heartbeat thrums, beating to the rhythmic pulse of the Drums of the Dead.

You have emoted: Esei's wings shiver slightly at the gale, their head bowing minutely before they lift it, gazing up at the blackthorn tree.

(Glomdoring): Nocht says, "Not yet, little one."

Shadows swirl around your arm as the Fingerblade of dha'Wyrden-cree digs itself more painfully into your finger.

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Understood. We do stand ready the moment You call."

You think to yourself: ...I am glad to hear Your voice once more, my Lord. I am glad You are well.

(Glomdoring): Kaplan says, "Hello."

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Greetings, Kaplan."

The surrounding shadows convulse, writhing within pinpricks of emerald light as Nocht, the Silent materializes from the aether.

You give Nocht a respectful bow, one hand clasped over your heart.

LOOK NOCHT
More silhouette than Elder, the way the shadows on the ground seem to grasp towards Him make it unmistakable that He is a radiant immortal. Standing a little taller than the height of an average elfen, all other aspects of the Elder's appearance are shrouded in veils and robes. Flashes of brilliant emerald and prismatic light occasionally light up the air around Him, accompanied with a sickly sweet floral scent that lingers in the air.

He is wearing:
a veiled blackthorn crown that obscures His face
concealing robes painted with the colours of Night that twist in the air around Him as if underwater

Nocht materializes amongst the last remnants of the swirling breeze, His robes and veil unmoved by the disturbance as He nods His head in greeting towards you.

Nocht, the Silent whispers, "Hello, My little one."

Softly, you say, "Hello, my Lord."

Nocht, the Silent whispers, "I have heard how the Wyrd fares, but I am curious. How do you? How does Mine?"

You have emoted: Esei's ears twitch slightly as their head tilts back to take in Nocht's visage in full for a brief moment. "I am well," they murmur after a heartbeat. "I think... a bit different, than before. But in such a way that it appears to be my natural evolution. And the Order... We have had one, Netra, turn away from the Glomdoring. Etra has returned to Your Order, which I believe she has wanted to do since reaching out to me to return to the Wyrd."

You have emoted: Esei's brow wrinkles in thought.

Nocht turns His veiled gaze away as if looking at something far off as His whispering voice fills the fulcrux, "Another blinded by the Light, I see." He returns His gaze to you as He adds, "I did receive your latest painting, little one..." The words coil about, lingering like smoke around the shrine and blackthorn.

You have emoted: Esei bows their head, wings shivering minutely.

Nocht, the Silent whispers, "Tell Me of what inspired you to create it."

Lilting in an atramentous, ethereal voice, you say, "...'twas inspired by the vision from the Mantle, Lord Nocht."

The image of the night sky ripples as the body of Gael suddenly emerges from its grasp.

Nocht turns His veiled gaze towards Gael. "And greetings to you as well, My little one."

(Glomdoring): Veikko says, "Oh, hello Lord Nocht."

The image of the night sky ripples as the body of Kalaneya suddenly emerges from its grasp.
The image of the night sky ripples as the body of Adrien suddenly emerges from its grasp.

(Glomdoring): Nocht says, "Greetings, little one. And the other wyrden ones who have awakened."

With a flick of his ear as his vision clears, the lone tree on the hill coming into view, Gael glances first to you and offers a small nod, then up at Nocht, to whom he offers a lower bow. Quietly, he sidles off to one side to sit on his knees in the grass, stray petals of blackthorn drifting and clinging to his hair as he whispers a soft, "Mor'k'al, my Lord."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "Mor'k'al, my Lord."

Emerging from the veil, Kalaneya dips her head respectfully to those present. "Tidings, all," she says, turning her attention to Nocht. "Tidings, Lord Nocht. We sensed Your presence and simply wished to bid You a greeting."

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, absorbing the scent of your surroundings.
You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

Nocht inclines His head in silent greeting as others enter the fulcrux. "My, My..." He whispers in His soft, echoing voice. "It has been some time since such a gathering has occurred within My fulcrux."

Kalaneya smiles wryly as her golden eyes glint with amusement.

Nocht, the Silent whispers, "I was speaking to Esei about their art. Perhaps they would explain the piece for those who have not seen it."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "It has been some time since I have looked upon You, and would not pass up this chance."

With several beats of his wings, Adrien alights upon your shoulder.

Kalaneya glides over towards Gael and seats herself near him, facing you, listening intently.

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

(glom ooc): You say, "Should I just paint it again or should I just describe it."
(glom ooc): You say, "Uhhh."
Nocht reaches into the ether and pulls out a painting of an Elder God under dappled starlight.
(glom ooc): You say, "Oh nevermind."

Nocht gently places a painting upon the ground for all to see as He turns His veiled gaze once more towards you.

Nocht drops a painting of an Elder God under dappled starlight.

A shadeplume caladrius trots in with head high, butting Kalaneya gently with her head.

Sparing a glance for Kalaneya, the barest impression of a smile passing his lips, Gael turns his attention to a painting of an Elder God under dappled starlight.

PROBE PAINTING
Constrained within the proportions of a traditional portrait painting,
the subject is that of an Elder God, One strangely, simultaneously,
familiar and unfamiliar. His face is turned slightly away from the
viewer, His expression warm. Short, curly hair of a pale hue frames His
long, dark-skinned features, little sparks of light fading in and out
around him like an aura of stars. His downturned eyes are a soft blue,
resting within smooth aristocratic features; long, slender ears stick
out from the sides of His head, unadorned. Full lips are pulled into a
warm smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, directed at someone
just out of view of the painting. Upon His shoulders is a resplendent
mantle, the very image of the Night sky, with a seven-pointed star
serving as the clasp. The lighting of the painting is dramatic, the
Elder's eyes and shoulders caught under direct, cold light, while the
rest is slowly swallowed under shadow, the edges blurring and fading
away. His shoulders and neck are further backlit by a soft, twilit color
in thick, angled globs of paint.

(Order): Adrien says, "Scourge, you should come see."

"An...oil? Is it?" Kalaneya murmurs, studying the painting.

The darkfall sculpts a shadeplume caladrius's indistinct silhouette into bolder lines and more solid shapes, drawing a more fully formed creature into this reality.

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

A shadeplume caladrius lands delicately upon Kalaneya's shoulder and peers at the painting with an odd tilt of the head.

Softly, you say, "The subject is an Elder God, largely unfamiliar to most of us here, of the creche Ailustris. A First, lost in the Void to the Heralds during Amberle's Folly. Dearly cherished, and now lost. I... I was inspired by a vision granted by His Mantle, which glimpses a fraction of His visage, although perhaps twas my own folly to attempt to capture it."

[Enter Evette, Xenthos]

Gael pets Ilistala, an enormous leopard ingratiatingly.
A loud rumbling emanates from Ilistala as she rubs against Gael.

You have emoted: Esei glances briefly aside.

Evette inclines her head politely to those around her.

Nocht, the Silent whispers to Evette, "Hello, My little one."

The boughs of the large blackthorn moan loudly as they shake, sending a new shower of petals cascading across the fulcrux.

With a nod, Nocht, the Silent whispers, "And to you, Spirit Warden."

Her eyes rising momentarily towards Lord Nocht, Scourge Evette Stormcrow, the Heartless says, "Tidings."

With several beats of his wings, Adrien alights upon Ilistala, an enormous leopard's shoulder.
A loud rumbling emanates from Ilistala as she rubs against Adrien.

Nigh oblivious to those entering, Kalaneya asks, "Ailustris?" She raises an eyebrow as she glances at you. "We have not heard of this creche before, no." She produces a notebook and flips through some of the pages, finally landing on a blank one. "Would you care to tell us more?"

A tenebrous leopard turns her ears quickly towards Adrien.

Nocht allows a vine-choked hand to outline the top of the portrait softly, seemingly lost in silent reflection for several moments before He whispers, "I had not revealed it until recently to My own, little ones, but it is Mine. Mine and My siblings."

Ilistala, an enormous leopard sniffs cautiously at the hand outlining the portrait for a moment, before backing away to Xenthos' side once more.

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.

Waving His hand imperiously, Nocht beckons vaguely to something unseen. The area before you parts strangely, revealing a glimpse of the aetherways before Tau is pulled suddenly through and the way closes behind her.

Comprehension flashes across Tau's face.

Tau curtseys gracefully.

With several beats of her wings, Tau alights upon the master shrine of Nocht's shoulder.

Nocht, the Silent whispers, "And greetings to you, My Enur Il'dal."

Kalaneya casts her gaze towards Nocht, her eyes nigh proptotic with disbelief. "A--" she sputters. "Y-your creche, Lord?" She blinks several times, processing the revelation. "Could...You tell us more about...this place?"

With reverence, Tau the Twilit says, "My Lord. I am sorry for lingering, I merely did not wish to intrude on a meeting that was not necessarily mine. Your presence is a delight."

Nocht, the Silent whispers, "Such a large gathering in My fulcrux is not so common. I would not deny any of the Wyrd attendance, let alone one of My own."

Watching a painting of an Elder God under dappled starlight as the discussion takes place, his knees shifting slightly where he kneels in the grass, Gael whispers, almost to himself, "It is a wonderful portrait.."

Nocht tilts His head at Kalaneya's question, seeming to ponder it for a moment before He finally whispers. "I would show you all a portion of it, if that is your wish. A tiny piece. Much more are secrets for Mine and Mine alone, however."

Adrien tilts his chin up at Nocht in clear interest, though he speaks not. He does nod, minutely.

Gael's good ear flicks upright, his attention tearing away from the painting to stare up at Nocht.

"W-we would welcome this, yes," Kalaneya says, resolute, though her voice betrays a shiver of excitement.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "I would have some interest in exploring, aye, my Lord."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "To know more of You, to Whom I devote my life, is a blessing."

Istela pauses as she enters slipping off to the side quietly. Her gaze drifting to Nocht briefly, curiously.

With several beats of her wings, Evette alights upon a tenebrous leopard's shoulder.
A tenebrous leopard rubs up against Evette affectionately.

You have emoted: Mutely, Esei gives a firm, if shallow, nod.

His echoing whisper softer than usual, Nocht, the Silent whispers, "Oh, there is no need to traverse the planes and visit it as it is now. Full of the memories of My dead siblings and choked with My Sister's regret... But I will show you a glimpse of it as it was when Creation was young, and We had not learned to be as strong as We are now."

Tau blinks slowly.

To no one in particular, Nocht, the Silent whispers, "And so long as you are of the Wyrd, you are welcome to stay and listen if that is your wish."

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

Istela's eyes drift to Nocht as He speaks, no words offered but she does seem to think on this.

Gael's attention never wavers as he stares up at Nocht, waiting, utterly still aside from a few stray strands of hair that dance about in the light breeze.

[Essoheli enters]

Essoheli bows respectfully to Nocht.

Istela ponders the situation.

Adrien's gold eyes flick to Essoheli, and back to Nocht.

As the dawnbreak light washes over a shadeplume caladrius, its silhouette becomes indistinct, occasionally lapsing into nonexistence, as if the Fates' weavings were avoiding the strange avian altogether.
Kalaneya winks conspiratorially at a shadeplume caladrius.
A shadeplume caladrius bobs her head several times just before trotting off.

Nocht raises His arms towards the magicked image that envelops the fulcrux, and it instantly churns - reacting to an unspoken command. No longer just an image of the Night sky, it becomes churning shadows mixed with the purples and deep blues of twilight. "Lusternia is not the first home Me and My Cousins knew. The first was the creches We were each born to..." The churning colours begein to come into focus, forming a new image. "Ailustris. My creche. Among the first created by Our Mother. Birthplace to those who some called the Starlit Gods." As He finishs speaking, the image comes into focus. A grove of tangled branches awash in leaves coloured with the striking violets and deep blues and blacks of twilight A soft fog clings along their roots, shimmering with pinpricks of starlight that wind their way through the seemingly unending forest.

Almost subconsciously, Gael leans ever so slightly further forward on his knees, gazing at the image in silent wonder.

Evette turns her head towards an image of the night sky, her eyes rapidly swimming as her gaze lingers.

Nocht glances about at the newly formed image as He finishes creating it, the last touch a sky of mingled purples and pinks decorated in glittering rivers of pitch black night that twinkles with unknown constellations. If He feels anything gazing upon the image, it is not betrayed by His tone of voice or veiled features.

Istela's eyes follow the movement and shifting of the image, her eyes going wide with some form of wonderment. She then looks back to Nocht, then back to the sky about them.

A sense of purpose and pride for the Glomdoring swells within you as a three-finger ring bearing an amethyst scythe pulses against your hand.

A look of mild embarrassment overcomes Kalaneya as she notices the sound of her furious scribbling punctuating the silence that befalls the magicked fulcrux. With a cough, she rests her quill upon the page, now covered in rivers of ink.

You have emoted: Esei mutely clasps their hands behind their back, staring at the image with a sense of intense curiosity.

You think to yourself: ** a soft murmur of appreciation at its beauty. **.

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.

Nocht, the Silent whispers, "Beautiful to look upon, indeed, but it's beauty did little for many of Us when the Soulless came. More important lessons were learned here on the First World, or out in the Void. Well... learned by those of Us who lived at least."

Evette seals a glance towards Nocht, a flicker of emptiness echoes within the shadowfire of her eyes before her attention turns back to an image of the night sky once more.

Nocht nods His head towards a portion of the magically crafted window into the distant creche, towards shimmering figures whose features are obscured by the twinkling mists that fill the grove. Two stand out in particular, one feminine in shape and garbed in flowing cloth that appears as a harsh white. The other, masculine and looking away, garbed in a mantle that looks like the one that lies before the shrine here. "Esei's painting was an interpretation of My Brother, I do believe. Our First."

You nod.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard studies the painting intently, her head cocked slightly to the side.

Istela's gaze lingers on the painting then she looks to Nocht, there lies more curiosity in her gaze, yet words remain held back, no noise made save for the occasional sound of her shifting, and her breathing.

Kalaneya casts a brief glance at the Sidereal Mantle, then the portrait, then back towards the manifested figures.

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.

Nocht banishes the entire image with a simple wave of His hand, and it returns to the normal night sky that embraces the fulcrux. "A short story, perhaps, but one that I hope you enjoyed well enough, little ones."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "It is a blessing to understand."

Tau's gaze lingers where once the image had been, her mind too full of thoughts to acknowledge anything else.

The boughs of the large blackthorn moan loudly as they shake, sending a new shower of petals cascading across the fulcrux.

You have emoted: Esei's wings shiver slightly, fanning open and closed for a moment.

Spoken in a dulcet whisper, Istela of the umbral woods says, "That was enjoyable, but leaves me with many questions."

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across Tau's lips.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Thank You for showing this to us, my Lord. It gives much to ponder."

Nocht, the Silent whispers, "An ancient place I have not thought much upon in many centuries now But now we all share the Glomdoring as our home, no? And, unlike Ailustris, it will be the salvation of Creation."

With a slow, thoughtful nod of his head, Umbral Evoker Gael An'Ryshe, Wyrden Idolator asks Nocht, "The other figure...that was Your Sister, the Lady Empyreal...but did Your Brother have a name?"

The shadows in the fulcrux twist and writhe briefly and the air grows colder as if momentarily disturbed by the mention of the Goddess, or perhaps something unspoken.

Tau purses her lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as she carefully gathers her thoughts.

Nocht says nothing for several moments, but when He finally speaks it is in the eversame soft and echoing tone, "Of course, little one. Zarhalt was His name."

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

Kalaneya murmurs, "...Zarhalt." A short scribble into her notebook. "Zarhalt...we do not recall ever hearing the name before, no," she proceeds, cautiously, eyeing the writhing shadows at the edge of her vision.

Staring up at Nocht in quiet contemplation, Gael offers a single nod before reaching an arm back towards his belt, tugging loose a sweeping, knotwork onyx dagger. In a single smooth motion, he slices his palm diagonally with the tip of the dagger, then holds it out over the grass and clenching a fist. Several drops of scarlet blood fall to the grass in silence before he whispers, "For Zarhalt. Long may He be remembered."

Eyes fixed upon the blood upon the grass, Kalaneya allows her voice to emerge as a curious whisper. "Remembered for...?" She trails off.

Adrien's eyes close, and a faint smile touches his features. "...I wonder." He murmurs, and does not elaborate. "We will not forget."

Istela watches Gael a moment, then looks to the blood, then to Nocht.

Tucking the dagger back into his belt, Gael eyes the spot in the grass that stands stark against the rest with his blood, offering only, "For making a choice He thought best."

Flatly, Nocht, the Silent whispers, "And for being wrong."

His eyes still downcast, Umbral Evoker Gael An'Ryshe, Wyrden Idolator says to Nocht, "All the more reason to remember it, my Lord."

The pointed tips of Tau's ears blush a faint, rosy pink.

Kalaneya's brow furrows, curiosity and dissatisfaction colouring her mien in equal measure.

An oppressive feeling creeps along the fulcrux, unsettling and unseen vines that begin to choke it.

Nocht, the Silent whispers, "Indeed, My little one. Let Us not repeat it like the Firsts. Like many of My Cousins. Love in your heart is not enough to shape or protect the world. Become strong. Strong for the Wyrd, and for creation itself though it may curse you for it."

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "In strength there is salvation. We will save the world, whether it wants us to or not."

Istela's lips pull up slightly, a small smile before it fades to neutrality.

Deep in thought, Tau leans her cheek on her hand.

Nocht, the Silent whispers, "But I must return to My own work for the time being, My little ones. Think upon the story you will tell, perhaps... What will the Glomdoring become for you? For the First World?"

Nocht, the Silent whispers, "Be well, wyrden ones."

The surrounding shadows wane, relaxing into their normal state as the form of Nocht, the Silent dissolves into the aether.

Tau tilts her head back and looks up at the sky.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "...always a pleasure, Lord Nocht."

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

In a quiet murmur, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Adrien Shee-Slaugh says, "And may we speak again, some time."

Nocht, the Silent has bestowed His divine truefavour upon you. It will last for 10 months.