Ritual of Eyes

(Thornwatch): Xenthos says, "Thornwatch. The Glomdoring has need of you. Something from the past,
long buried, struggles to surface, and we must call it forth. Find - or make - something of meaning
to you. Something that you can offer to the Forest. And then come to me, within Rotbark's canopy. We
will use these sacrifices to burrow into what once was, and see it anew."

Within Rotbark's canopy.
Surrounded by a corona of shadows, a pair of multi-faceted eyes made of bones and leaves hang here,
suspended in midair. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A
leopard lurks in the shadows, curiously watching anything that moves. Nothing more than a puffball
with cerulean eyes, a seal lynx point ragdoll kitten lies here lounging languidly. In the shape of
an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here. Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Gabe Ladyn floats here with a
dream-like quality, her form shrouded in a perfumed, lavender mist. A baleful crow perches here,
crimson eyes piercing in their glare.
You see a single exit leading down.

Xenthos tilts back his head and inhales deeply while twitching a wolf's snout.

Gabe smiles softly at Ilistala, an enormous leopard , running her hand across her flank as she does
in greeting.

Clambering easily up into the canopy, Rhalkyr's eyes dart from Gabe, to Xenthos,
then to Ilistala, an enormous leopard, and away, as he utters a terse grunt of greeting.

Mulling over her words, Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Gabe Ladyn says to Xenthos, "Any token which has
meaning, yes?"

Gabe dips her head in greeting toward you.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Indeed - it is that meaning, and the
willing sacrifice of it to the Forest, that will fuel our efforts."

Gabe turns over the ring within her hand several times, nodding slowly. "Then thy will be done.
Allow this token to create something new" she murmurs, before handing it to Xenthos.

Xenthos keeps his gaze upon the quiescent orbs nearby, his fist lightly clenched around an object
hidden between his fingers. He inclines his head in acknowledgement - and appreciation - of Gabe's
gesture.

Gabe keeps her features set in a fashion so not as to display any emotion that might surface.
However, a subtle eagerness dances fleetingly through her emerald eyes as if she awaits what might
come to be.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard paces away from Xenthos for a moment, as if looking to the forest
beyond, awaiting another arrival, before she returns to Xenthos' side.

Giving the enormous eyes of the Greev a wide berth, Rhalkyr pads a short arc from
where Xenthos stands to crouch, resting his weight upon the balls of his feet as he studies the
things with an unreadable expression. The entire time, his fingers run across the blanket that is
tied about his waist in slow, loving strokes - a constant series of touches, as if to reassure
himself that it is still present.

Xenthos inhales deeply, nodding to himself as he looks away from the orbs, towards both Gabe and
you. "Thank you for attending. Mendacium will be joining us shortly. I have one final thing I must
collect, as well. I will return in but a moment."

Mendacium inclines their head politely to those around them.

Gabe glances briefly toward you, more in a studious and intrigued fashion. Clicking her tongue once
she clasps her hands behind her back. Turning upon Mendacium's entrance, she inclines her head
politely.

Xenthos nods as he ascends once more into the canopy. By his side, Ilistala looks pleased with
herself, splattered in a fresh coating of blood and small pieces of carapace.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Rhalkyr. Mendacium. Your offerings?"

Gabe turns her dark gaze upon Ilistala, an enormous leopard, clearly amused by the look she carries.

Held delicately between twig fingers, paper already showing signs of puncture, Mendacium gives a
sketch of a thorn beast to Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist.

Stirred from his reverie at Xenthos's words, Rhalkyr turns his head down to glance
at the fabric wrapped snugly about his waist. It is a long moment before he rises, but he does so,
stepping soundlessly over to Xenthos. Thick fingers moving slowly, he unfastens the purple expanse
of cloth from his waist and, with evident reluctance, holds it out for Xenthos to take, chin tucked
down and aside, as is his gaze.

Mendacium shifts, wood creaking as they lift a hand to try and subtly cover their mouth.

You think to yourself: A memory, spurred by the contact of soft wool beneath calloused, brutal
fingers - A twisting, coiling barb of self-recrimination, of sickening fear of rejection, of flight.
A familiar, adored figure, baring steel. The same figure, approaching with palms turned out in a
pacifying gesture, an song flowing from their lips like dark, cool honey - A balm, to soul and
heart, soothing him, comforting him. The same blanket, draped about his shoulders, woven through
with the song, inextricably tied to that sensation of comfort, of acceptance, of being loved,
despite his failings.

Xenthos nods one more time as the final sacrifice is given to him. He examines them all, and then
places them on the ground. A woollen blanket is laid down first, of a rich violet hue. Upon it is a
sketch of a thornbeast, punctured through, a lovingly-crafted ring of pristine white gold with a
thin line of diamonds, and the freshly slaughtered corpse of a kepheran king, enormous rents in his
carapace and a rictus of fear and agony - vivid evidence of his final moments - etched on his face.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Would any of you care to describe your
offering? You may choose to keep it between you, and the Glomdoring, if you wish."

Gabe nods her head at Xenthos.

Xenthos rests one hand on Ilistala, an enormous leopard's flank as he listens. The leopard looks
around at everyone gathered, her ears pricked up attentively.

Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Mendacium Inseira says, "I thought... that the creature most similar to me,
drawn on pulped wood would be the closes I could come to offering myself."

Ilistala, an enormous leopard pads over to Mendacium, nudging her nose against them encouragingly,
before looking at the others.

Mendacium reaches up to break off a small branch, detangling it from the cobwebs before offering it
to Ilistala, an enormous leopard as a chew toy.

The blunt ends of his left hand's fingers rasp across the bared hem of Rhalkyr's
ragged trousers, as if seeking something - and not finding it. Discomfited, he steps away from
Xenthos, the immense muscles of his shoulders bowing in arches of taut bronze, striped with black -
a shrug, of sorts. "Will wait, for others, to explain."

Gabe silently steps forward and squats before the blanket spread out before her. Laying a tentative
finger upon her ring for the final time, she swallows hard, a cold look suddenly shrouding her eyes
and a cutting edge to her voice. "What once held great meaning, promise, truths- Lay festering upon
my hand without any use, a falsehood..." she rasps, gritting her teeth. "Now? Now it will have an
important meaning and be put to better use" she quietly adds, before rising slowly and stepping
back, her head bowed in silence.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard accepts the branch from Mendacium, before walking over to the blanket.
She rests one paw upon the slain kepheran king, the twig in her mouth, as she looks up at Xenthos.
"Ilistala offers her next meal - a strong foe, an enemy of the Glomdoring. One who would have seen
us burn, but instead shall feed us."

Gabe's eyes twinkle enchantingly at Ilistala, an enormous leopard.
A loud rumbling emanates from Ilistala as she rubs against Gabe.

Rhalkyr angles his head so that his ear is directed at Gabe, during Gabe's
explanation, though his gaze remains fixed upon the blanket throughout - as it does while Xenthos
elaborates on Ilistala, an enormous leopard's offering. There is no trace of amusement evident in
the subdued gleam of his eyes as he nods at this, silent still.

Xenthos pauses, his hand still folded around its contents, before looking at you. He nods, then
waits.

Gabe lifts her head slightly and focuses intently on Xenthos.

Making no move to approach the offerings, Rhalkyr's stare is fixed upon the rich
purple cloth upon which the others rest. His powerful fingers flex and curl into claws, trembling
faintly with some suppressed urge, and then relax, in a cycle that continues without cease as he
begins to speak - Slowly, more haltingly than even is his norm, a thick thread of emotion weaving
its way through his ragged speech. "Have, not...Received. Things...Before." He jerks a shoulder up
in a curt shrug. "Meaningful, things. Blanket, was...Gift." A tendon juts out from his wide neck,
the shadows stark against the tan of his skin. "From, beloved Warden. Acceptance. Forgiveness."
Softer, now, his voice a rasping murmur, "Comfort." Abruptly, his fingers clench into fists, the
craggy knuckles growing white with the pressure applied to them. "Offer this, for, duty. For, the
Glomdoring."

Xenthos solemnly stands motionless, absorbing the words of the gathered Thornwatch. "Thank you,
all." After another long, slow inhale, he opens his fist, palm-up. Upon it rests a recreation of an
eyeball, cast in a darkened steel. "Many years ago, I offered my sight to the Glomdoring. I have
recently been experimenting with metals of the Glomdoring - combining metal, the essence of shadows,
and the oozes of the Swamp, to make weapons and items that are imbued with the Wyrd. This is one
such - and then quenched in my own blood. Through it, I once more declare that my body is the
Glomdoring's, to do with as it will."

Xenthos reaches out to the eyes with his free hand, unhesitating, as a sudden tension fills the
canopy.

With a wistful look on his face, Xenthos touches enormous eyes of the Greev.
Xenthos holds his hands above the eyes of the Greev and closes his own eyes. When he opens them
next, you feel a dangerous presence staring outward from the eyes of the Greev.

As the eyes open, the canopy rustles violently, causing the assembled offerings to shift upon their
blanket - yet it provides enough stability to keep them from being lost.

Upon hearing your and Xenthos's words does, Gabe finally show any emotion, but only briefly. "Glory
Be to the Glomdoring" she whispers, her breath catching in her throat when the atmosphere thickens.

Red eyes aglow Mendacium glances at Gabe, before whispering "Glory Be to the Glomdoring."

Xenthos fixes his one remaining eye upon the myriad eyes of the greev, as they begin to roll and
shake. The presence grows ever stronger as he holds forth his hand, tightly clenching his fist
around his offering - the eye. A tortured sound can be heard from within his fist, the metal
crumpling, and slowly blood begins to drip from between his clenched fingers. Blood, and little
motes of shadowfire, dropping down onto the blanket and other offerings below.

The tension that permeates the area seeps into Rhalkyr's form as he stares at the
enormous eyes of the Greev, his own growing brighter, the gleam of passion setting them to
glittering with a fey light.

The presence continues to grow stronger.  Hungry.  Demanding.

Now completely still, Xenthos keeps his gaze locked on the eyes, as their movement slows. They turn,
each one locking on his hand, at the object within. Caught, trapped. A faint light flickers in each
of the orbs, mirrored from one to the next. The same in each, but hazy and indistinct.

Shadowfire flickers within Xenthos's eyes as the skulls hanging from a shadow-limned wreath of
stygian feathers sway of their own accord, like macabre wind chimes without wind.

Gabe steadies herself against the shaking evident from the Greev, her arms raised slightly where
shadowfire motes spin and weave endlessly around her hands, twining around her arms with a frenetic
energy. Inhaling the scent of blood, she tips her head back slightly, a breeze stirring her hair in
an eerie manner to make it float somewhat. Slowly lowering her arms back to her side, the pulse
jumps in her neck at a rapid pace as she locks her enraptured gaze upon the shifting eyes.

You notice Mendacium's eyelids are beginning to droop.

Xenthos speaks, his words betraying the tension with which he is holding himself as he remains
motionless, his knuckles whitening, the blood vivid against them. "We offer ourselves, so that we
may know what was. Take it, and show us."

Thorny vines envelop a wedding band of white gold and diamond angel wings, drawing it away.

Tensing his jaw, Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Show us."

The hunger that claws within him reacts to that of the presence, burgeoning
into a burning, caustic writhing of ravenous desire - To fulfill his task, to complete his duty, to
/know/.

Thorny vines envelop the corpse of Hive King Nefomotep, drawing it away.

The flickering light in the eyes of the greev grows, becoming more distinguishable.  The hazy
outline of a figure can be seen, an elfen, holding a book.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "SHOW US."

Thorny vines envelop a sketch of a thorn beast, drawing it away.

Mendacium shudders, watching their offering be enveloped. The red glow of their eyes briefly
disappearing as they release a long creaking sigh.

Gabe exhales heavily at the sight of the ring being absorbed by the thorny vines, and, wraps her own
thorn-vine around her hand. Droplets of blood drip from her hand to the floor, feeding that which
lies in wait.

Rhalkyr's hands twitch forward at the outline that coalesces within the fell light,
fingers jerking inward in a reflexive grasping motion.

Xenthos bares his teeth, brow furrowed in concentration. One final time he speaks, the words
grinding their way through a throat now sounding as if it is nearly clenched shut, and barely
discernible, but confident. Demanding - and expecting. "Show. Us."

Thorny vines envelop a violet woollen blanket, drawing it away.

Gabe narrows her eyes upon the figure within. "What comes" she rasps.

You think to yourself: Within the expanse of his mind, the tiger snarls, baring its curving fangs as
its tail lashes back and forth like a whip, even as it stalks back and forth with frustrated,
impatient hunger, need. A frenzied desire, a maddened appetite to know, to serve, to wrench the
knowledge from the eyes and gouge out what They desire from them.

The image within each of the eyes snaps into sudden clarity.  Within, a beautiful elfen woman can be
seen.  And yet, she is not, for the Forest sees through the magic.  An ancient crone, a hag, she is
in truth.  Rowena.  The trees watch, the trees wait, the trees listen.  And they see as Rowena,
before the Greeving, whispers an incantation from a book entitled, "The Horror of the Fae."  Each
eye shows the same vision, repeating, over and over.

Xenthos suddenly reaches out with his free hand, touching the eyes, and the presence in the air
suddenly winks out of existence, the light dimming to nothingness as the eyes return to their
slumber.

With a wistful look on his face, Xenthos touches enormous eyes of the Greev.
Xenthos holds his hands above the eyes of the Greev and closes his own eyes. When he opens them
next, you feel that the dangerous presence locked within the disembodied eyes now sleeps.

Xenthos inhales deeply, shaking his shoulders, as he casts aside the now-twisted lump of scrap metal
that was his offering. The vines quickly catch it, too, and lovingly draw it away.

Gabe widens her eyes, before her shoulders sag slightly when the pressure within air diminishes.
Pursing her lips she lets out a lengthy exhalation. Tucking her hair behind her ears, they glance
between Xenthos and the eyes.

Rhalkyr's focus lingers upon the quiescent eyes for a long moment, before sliding
grudgingly away to glance questioningly at Xenthos, head angled slightly to one side.

Shifting their weight Mendacium stands straighter, branches rustling.

Xenthos slumps slightly, though Ilistala is immediately there to support his weight. He rests his
hand on her side, smiling fondly.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Rhalkyr - I believe that this, too, is
related to your task."

Gabe hesitantly wraps her hand around Xenthos's forearm, almost reflexively so. Canting her head at
an angle to peer up at him, "Are you alright?" she whispers.

Rhalkyr takes an immediate, rolling step towards Xenthos, hand snapping out towards
him - only to pause as Ilistala, an enormous leopard catches Xenthos's weight before he can.
Lowering his hand, he jerks his chin down in a swift nod. "Think so, as well. Confirms, pursuing,
correct angle, with fae. Will ask, again, of them, for tales." A pause, a flicker of his fingers in
Xenthos's direction. "Know, of book?"

Xenthos nods. "I will be. Trying to force the Glomdoring into something is... trying. This memory is
old. Buried deeply."

Xenthos nods. "I will be. Trying to force the Glomdoring into something is... trying. This memory is
old. Buried deeply."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "But important, I feel."

Gabe lowers her hand back to her side, nodding once in affirmation.

Mendacium watches the others, headed tilted to the side.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Would one of you care to enlighten
Mendacium on what we are pursuing? I suspect that this is somewhat more confusing, to one new to
this."

Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Mendacium Inseira says, "It seems at least that we are looking for a book.
Which interests me."

Rhalkyr shoots a glance at Mendacium, then utters a wry grunt, before flipping his
wrist towards Gabe. "Better."

Gabe rolls her neck and shoulders, muttering to herself. Turning toward Mendacium, Gabe clears her
throat and begins. "Rhalkyr was tasked with finding the origins of the Greev, by the Lady of
Thorns..Lady Viravain.." she voices, her voice echoing around the room in her dreamweaver-like
resound. "There was a vision where the Greev was possibly created in the form of the Weaver..?" she
hesitantly adds, before continuing. "The Greev was something which sought to destroy the forest, it
is all encompassing, a mindless manifestation of the forest which appears when the forest is in
danger, but it does not discriminate when it comes to death and destruction.." she pauses for
breath. Licking her dried lips and glancing up toward the canopy, she frowns. "There was a voice
within a vision, that the Greev is not just one entity, but there is another part of it - Almost
akin to one side has a soul and the other does not, the soul side wishes to explain why it did what
it did and asks whether we would except them if they did explain...then there is a book we search
for which may hold the answers to the Greev's origins, tucked away in a library we do not know of.
As for it being Fae, well Lord Manteekan can awaken the Fae. From that latest vision, it would
appear that Rowena holds a book of the Fae with an enchantment...perhaps?" she questions, raising
her brow at Xenthos.

Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Mendacium Inseira says, "While I will think on this, and do what I can I
must give my apologies for if I stay any longer I think I will fall asleep on you all... again."

With a flourish of their arm, Mendacium bows deeply.

Mendacium leaves to the down.

Rhalkyr appears to pay no mind to Gabe's explanation, his attention instead
drifting back to fix upon the enormous eyes of the Greev, which he stares at with an unnerving
degree of intensity.

Appearing to have recovered him self a bit, Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist
says, "Mm. It looks as if she was involved, in some manner. Either with waking it, or with
controlling it. Redirecting it, perhaps?"

Rhalkyr's voice is a rumbling, tearing rasp as he utters a terse, "Tampering."

Gabe curls her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms - Perhaps her patience waning
slightly as she glances at the back of your head. "May'haps not tampering, but knows something and
seeks the same answers" she muses.

Rhalkyr's hand flicks aside in a swipe of stiffened fingers, curled into claws.
"Old memory."

Mulling over her words, Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Gabe Ladyn says to Xenthos, "Perhaps we should
start with questioning Rowena?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Very."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to Gabe, "That might set things in motion
which we are not prepared for, yet. If she knows for a fact that her secret is exposed..."

Gabe nods her head sagely.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "I do not know what she will do, but I
suspect it will be trouble."

With a dream-like echoing resound, Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Gabe Ladyn says, "Agreed."

With a dream-like echoing resound, Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Gabe Ladyn says to Xenthos, "Then the
book and where it came from."

Gabe lifts her eyebrow slightly, curious.

You think to yourself: Unlikely that the vision depicts Rowena seeking for the same answers they do,
now. If it is an old, difficult memory, as Xenthos states - And there is no reason to believe
Xenthos would deceive them - then it is exceedingly unlikely that it portrayed such. More likely, to
him, is that Rowena utilised the knowledge contained within the tome to...What? Warp the Greev,
somehow? Take its purity of purpose and twist it, just enough, so that it would stray from its path?
Why, though? A misguided clutching for power, to destroy a rival? Did she seek to tame the Greev for
herself, to use it as a tool for her own gain? he did not know her well enough to judge - But the
memory of Xenthos's hand gripping his blade, a tension in the man's form that Rhalkyr had never seen
before, is suggestive enough.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Yes. I think discovering the book, and
its contents, would be an ideal next step."

Angling her head in a questioning manner, Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Gabe Ladyn says to Xenthos,
"Where might we start, then?"

Rhalkyr's head tilts in Xenthos's direction, though his eyes do not so much as
quiver aside. "Will pursue, fae myth, still. Can ask, of book, as well."

Xenthos shakes his head slowly. "I do not know. Perhaps somewhere amongst Rowena's personal
belongings... in a chamber of her own. I suspect she would not let it stray far."

Hesitantly, Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Gabe Ladyn says to Xenthos, "Then we must prepare a plan to
keep her distracted while one of us looks."

You think to yourself: A coiling sense of impatience, a spring wound taut and straining, desperate
for a venting of pent up energy. The hunt awaited. He has been patient enough. He does not know
Rowena enough to be of use here. Other quarry calls to him.

Rhalkyr shifts abruptly from where he stands, twisting about to fix Xenthos with a
glittering, ravenous gaze. "Can, go, now?"

Xenthos nods his head emphatically.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Aye."

Rhalkyr lingers just long enough to jerk his chin down in an abrupt nod, before
diving down through the twisted branches, flowing through their tangled clutches like a monstrous
shadow.