The Harbinger's Voice and the Nightmare, Returned

[originally occurred 11/15/2023]
[obligatory disclaimer: I wasn't around very much at the onset buildup of this event, but I was at least around to capture the climax.]

Hall of Wyrden Mysteries.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. This hall is rectangular and long with a coved ceiling of black stone. Hanging from the rafters on leather cords and metal wires are charms of metal, bone, and glass, each carefully designed to represent some aspect of the wyrd, from the flora and fauna of the Glomdoring and fae to the Great Spirits and symbols evocative of the Pantheon. Stone spires support the arches of the ceiling, which have been carved and painted with various depictions of wyrden flora in rich, dark hues. Bookshelves of ravenwood line the walls, while sconces of shadowfire are the only available light source, casting odd, long shadows at all hours of the day. Tables and chairs of rowan wood have been placed here for readers and writers alike, clear and unadorned for ease of use. The room is otherwise dimly lit by flickering candles, allowing darkness to assert itself with ease.
You see exits leading north, northeast, and northwest.

You murmur softly to yourself.

(Glomdoring): Xenthos (from the Ethereal Plane) says, "Hmm. The temperature in Wydyr just... dropped precipitously."

(Glomdoring): Xenthos (from the Ethereal Plane) says, "Most of the beings here are awake again."

[path path pathing to Wydyr]

Within an icy bore.
A harsh change from the temperate glade beyond, this room is filled with a frigid frost which consumes every surface it touches. Layers of ice imprison the many roots that keep the structure sound, slowly killing the vegetation they sustain. As the bore inclines back to the lush area beyond, the frozen ground turns to slush mixed with the dirt and detritus of the Wydyr, each struggling to combat their way into the other. Bralki Redtooth paces about the area, a trail of blood following in his wake. A pillar of ice towers within the centre of the cave, vines stretching up from the ground to bind the imposing structure. 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. Clad in matte black leather, a golden-eyed savage lingers here like a living shadow.
You see a single exit leading east.
Lifting her head, Ilistala looks at you hopefully.

You begin to follow Xenthos.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to Bralki Redtooth, of the Frozen Altar, "Have you noticed anything odd here, aside from everyone becoming very sleepy?"

An icy mist slowly swirls around an imposing pillar of ice and vine. (<-- suspiciously blue)

P PILLAR
A column of swirled ice rises high above, the air about it filled with a biting cold. Tangled about the pillar are thorned vines which grab at the structure as they intertwine over its frozen surface. A shadow of a form lies hidden within the centre of the frosty prison, the pallor of its grey skin visible beneath the frigid confine. Haunting whispers hang heavy about the tower as a constant murmur echoes off of the walls, the ghostly sound cutting through the hazy air.
It weighs about 4000 pounds.
It has the following aliases: pillar.

You tilt your head inquisitively at an imposing pillar of ice and vine.

Bralki Redtooth, of the Frozen Altar says, "Aside the fae fallin' asleep? Well, usually its not so cold."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Aye, I noticed that as well. That is what drew me to you - and the pillar."

Clutching his bloody hat until fresh gushes of blood spill out, Bralki Redtooth, of the Frozen Altar says, "And the song, the song."

Bralki Redtooth, of the Frozen Altar dances about gleefully as blood streams down his face.

A malformed, corpse white crow enters from the east, flapping his shadowy wings.
Lifting her head, Ilistala looks at Skaza hopefully.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to Bralki Redtooth, of the Frozen Altar, "Do you recognize anything about the song?"

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "And Bralki is dancing to the song, now."

Clutching the hat over his ears, Bralki Redtooth, of the Frozen Altar says, "No, but it tries to make me sleep, it does."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Out of curiosity, Bralki, do you recall when it started?"

Bralki Redtooth, of the Frozen Altar says, "The Song? Mmm. Perhaps... five days ago."

You murmur softly to yourself.

You nod.

Skaza ponders the situation.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard chirps happily at you.

As the tenebrous embrace of Mother Night envelops the Wydyr Glade, small fireflies cast their bewitching glow throughout the wyrden forest.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "I will look around here a little more and say if I see anything else odd."

[wandering around a bit, following Xenthos while he influences Wydyr fae]

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Has anything else happened in the Forest?"

(Glomdoring): Skaza says, "Earlier this month yes. Small council with Ciardha, Brultk, and Juur."

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Ah, they are still there - we were talking to them just before you woke."

The song can be heard clearly now, its mournful tone lilting with a certain amount of mischief. Still its sources moves seemingly unseen through the Forest, but you are sure you heard the words, "You. Can't. Find. Me."

(Glomdoring): Skaza says, "Yes ye-."

You crease your brow in a frown.

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Did you hear that song in the Glomdoring?"

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Or was it only here in Wydyr?"

(Glomdoring): Ciardha, of Shackled Shadows says, "She uses the Veil to hide Herself."

(Glomdoring): Skaza says, "Who?"

(Glomdoring): You say, "The Voice of Mahalla, presumably?"

[path path pathing...]

You follow Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist southwest to amidst bones and rubble.

Ciardha, of Shackled Shadows creases her brow in a frown.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to Ciardha, of Shackled Shadows, "How might we find Her, if She is hiding in such a way?"

Ciardha, of Shackled Shadows says, "You need to consult with someone who can see into it."

You nod.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "I shall see if Lothwen is willing."

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

You nod at Xenthos.

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "She was working on a way to do so."

[more pathing]

You follow Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist north to north of the roots.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to Dominique Nightshade, "Greetings - we come to you in regards to this song, and the being who believes She we cannot find her."

You incline your head politely to Dominique Nightshade.

P DOMINIQUE
Dominique Nightshade is a female shadow faeling with hair of dark tresses and skin the colour of pale cream. Although her beauty is paramount in her features, which glimmer with an unnatural youth, her eyes are void of sight, which is evident in the milky white that covers her pupils. The black dress that adorns her form is loose-fitting now, as if she has endured much in her time with the wyrd, and she carries herself with a grim determination that threatens to mar her immense beauty.
Dominique Nightshade looks to be crushingly strong.
She weighs about 112 pounds.
She is loyal to the Free Forest of Glomdoring.
You cannot see what Dominique Nightshade is holding.
It has the following aliases: dominique, faeling, shadowcaster, nightshade.

Tirah inclines their head politely to those around them.

Speaking to the left of Xenthos, Dominique Nightshade says, "I thought I had heard something. How can I help then?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to Dominique Nightshade, "Ciardha says that She is using the Veil to hide herself, and as I recall, you have been working on that very problem for quite some time now."

Skaza glances surreptitiously over Xenthos's left shoulder.

Now looking at Skaza, Dominique Nightshade says, "Ah, yes. Far more complicated that it looks. What is it we are looking for? The difficulty is related to how hidden the object of our search is."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "We are currently seeking the being who is running around, making music and saying "You cannot find me"."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "We have reason to believe it may be the lost Voice of Mahalla, or at least someone connected to Her."

Skaza's mandibles click sharply as she returns Dominique's milky gaze.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "I'd like to think that something actively making noise somewhat undermines the Veil's ability to hide them, but perhaps I am wrong in that regard."

Skaza murmurs softly to herself.

Dominique Nightshade nods her head at Tirah.

Dominique Nightshade says to Tirah, "You are quite right, being noising is helpful for us to find Her."

Dominique Nightshade says, "Ahem, noisy."

Tirah blinks.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "She does seem to be moving, as well."

Dominique Nightshade says, "Very well. If I had the Ebonglom Crown, the outcome would be certain. However, we can make do with much less."

It is now the 18th of Klangiary, 663 years after the Coming of Estarra.
There are 19 days until the New Moon.

Turning towards nobody at all, Dominique Nightshade says, "Would you do me a favor and gather me crow feathers? As many as you can find."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Indeed we can."

Tirah spreads their arms wide and begins to pick at the oily, black feathers that cover their body with their mouth. As if finding one that suits their purposes, they yanks one out with a triumphant caw.

Skaza chitters to herself with speedy movement of her mandibles.

[fetching some feathers!]

You have emoted: Esei holds up a set of five crow feathers.

You tilt your head inquisitively.

You give a black crow's feather to Dominique Nightshade. (x5)

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Anything specific, or just something that glorifies Her?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "We also need 'something which glorifies Mother Night'."

Dominique Nightshade says, "Something you don't mind losing. I think this invocation will destroy the item."

Tirah ponders for a moment and says "Hrm..."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "I got...a shadow cauldron? Likely not good enough."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Perhaps we could craft something."

Skaza chitters to herself with speedy movement of her mandibles.

The song now continues unabated, its mournful tone a constant, rising and falling. "You. Can't. Get. Me. Heehee, keep chasing!"

Tirah ponders for a moment and says "Hrm..."
19:09:15.054 -

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Ah. A brooch of the Crowned Night."

Tirah nods their head emphatically.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "100 marble, 60 garnet, 60 beyl, 20 amethyst, 20 opal, and 5 shadow essence."

Chancellor Skaza says, "Can get some essence yes."

Dominique Nightshade claps her hands together merrily.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to Dominique Nightshade, "Does that sound like something which would suffice?"

Dominique Nightshade nods her head emphatically.

Xenthos nods his head emphatically.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Does anyone else wish to offer some of the ingredients to craft this?"

Xenthos tilts his head curiously.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Skaza is essence-gathering already."

You give a group of 100 marble blocks to Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "And now we have the marble."

[outrifting everything]

You nod.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to you, "You do not need to offer all of it yourself."

Xenthos tilts his head curiously at you.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Very well, then thank you."

You wrinkle your nose and sniff.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "We need just the essence."

[xenthos leaves, then returns]

Xenthos proudly shows off a brooch of the Crowned Night:
Black marble has been carved into a throne for this brooch, its smooth
lines curved and rising elegantly into a tall back. Flanking the throne
on the right waits a lithe slaugh while on the left a sleek barghest
sits on its haunches. Carved from garnet, the slaugh stands tall and
slim, her delicate chin raised and a faint, cruel smile on her perfect
lips. A crown of snoefaasia orchids circles her brow, the delicate
petals picked out in frosty blue opal. Golden highlights run through the
beryl of the barghest, bringing attention to the details of fiercely
intelligent eyes, long canines and bloody claws. Clasped safely in its
wicked teeth is a delicate amethyst nightshade. No matter how light hits
the brooch and plays off of the marble and gems, it does not touch the
seat of the throne, which remains shadowed.

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

Dominique Nightshade organizes the gathered feathers and the brooch together, arranging it together with the charm that she carries as well in some kind of pattern on the ground. "A moment, while I gather my thoughts. I think we should be able to look through and find your Voice with these."

A slight smile on his face, Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Excellent."

Skaza balances on the balls of her clawed feet, eagerly looking at the workings.

Dominique Nightshade says, "What do we know about this Voice? That should help me."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "She was the first Harbinger, but misnamed. She came to warn those of approaching death, and those She warned came to believe that She was the cause. That death followed Her. But death would have found them regardless, she merely brought the warning."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist smiles and says, "If only Eliron was here, he could speak of Her for days on end."

Dominique Nightshade says, "What does she look like?"

Skaza hesitantly makes the vague shape of a feminine form with all four hands.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "I do not have a sketch of Her. She stayed hidden within the Harbinger hall, and that was not a place I was generally allowed entry."

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Placing everything very precisely, and stepping into a very loose circle, Dominique Nightshade says, "Okay. I will do my best Glomdoring. Let's begin."

The mournful tone abruptly shifts to discordance, punctuated by a shrill scream. "No! Stop! I don't want it, get away from me!"

Tirah squirms uncomfortably.

Dominique Nightshade says, "I haven't started anything. Are we sure that's directed towards us?"

A mournful melody emanates from the Glomdoring Forest, but rapidly progresses into the voice of someone shrill and afraid.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "At this point we are not sure of anything."

The Voice of Mahalla shouts, "Stay away! I'm warning you! Help! Help me!"

You see Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist yell, "If you come to us, we can help you."

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

[pathing around, trying to find the Voice!]

The temperature within the Forest plummets precipitously.

A harsh, cold wind suddenly whips through the First World, concentrating into a violent frenzy high over the Glomdoring Forest.

The wind howls and screams, swirling rapidly into circles until it forms into a vortex above.

A heavy mist settles around your feet, rapidly filling the space between the trees until almost nothing can be seen beyond a few feet.

You crease your brow in a frown.

Rapid shards of ice, themselves bursts of immanidivinus energy suddenly rain down on the Glomdoring Forest.

The immanidivinus energy does not strike the Voice Herself, but rather just behind her, as though something gave chase. The Forest itself seems to exhale, as though the presence of something else has departed.

A biting frost crawls over your flesh, carried upon howling winds which steal all warmth from the air about you. Your movements slow as the ice weighs heavy upon you and a distant howl offers you reprieve, returning warmth to the skies as Manteekan, the Nightmare, coalesces above the Basin of Life, slowly descending from the Havens upon a bank of swirling mist.

An unsettling chill runs down your spine as Manteekan, the Nightmare whispers through the air, "Voice. Show yourself, so that Glomdoring may protect your from your pursuer."

[pathing to the MR]
Before the Master Ravenwood Tree.
The dark heart of Glomdoring Forest is almost audibly beating in this, its shadowy centre. Tall, blackened trees surround this clearing, pressing together into an imposing barrier of rotten vegetation. Moulds and fungi are smeared across the plants, their pungent stench suffusing the forest. The branches are coated in dark slime, slick tendrils that hang downwards. Although a variety of trees might actually grow here, the black tar that coats them renders them indistinguishable. A thin black mist creeps between the trees, hanging low across the ground. The floor of the clearing itself is simply bare earth, cracked and dry. Overshadowing all is the Master Ravenwood Tree itself, jutting into the sky like a twisted fist. The sound of laughing crows echoes down from the treetops, a harsh sound for the ears below. The atmosphere vibrates with a palpable power. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. A marjoram bush flourishes here, spreading its delicate scent. Sprays of chervil cover the forest floor. A sedge of galingale is firmly planted in the forest floor. Brennan Stormcrow paces here, his cadaverous body twitching with sudden jerks. An animated skeleton stands here with a ghostly outline of a bat around its skull. An animated skeleton stands here with a ghostly outline of a spider around its skull. An animated skeleton stands here with a ghostly outline of a beetle around its skull. An animated skeleton stands here with a ghostly outline of a wasp around its skull. The Master Ravenwood Tree towers over everything here, pulsing with an immeasurable yet dark power. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. Covered in bone armour, a giant bat hangs here, wings folded about its body and one beady eye open. A black direwolf is here, blending in with the shadows. Covered in bone armour, a green eyelash viper is slithering about here. A crudely crafted shrine of harsh black crystal stands here, thrumming powerfully. In the shape of an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here. Splintered from the Master Ravenwood, a massive branch lies here, spiders crawling along its rotting wood. There are 10 shadowlord widowriders here. There are 10 illithoid scourges here. There are 10 dark nighthags here. A mature rowan tree stands proudly here. Leaping about after its shadow, a curious young kitten playfully wanders about here. A vicious, magpie crow flies here with wings spread. The Voice of Mahalla floats in the air here. A golden oak tree depicted on his armour, a fae knight stands here, proud and shining. They are surrounded by a deflection bubble. Juno Mzithrei is here. He wields a putrid thornvine whip in his left hand.

The Voice of Mahalla's lower lip begins to tremble as her eyes fill with heavy tears.

Tirah blinks.

PROBE VOICE
The Voice of Mahalla is a disembodied presence whose material form is a floating violet light. The voice sings softly to herself, a beautiful melancholy sound filled with sorrow and hope.
The Voice of Mahalla looks to be crushingly strong.
She weighs about 125 pounds.
She is loyal to Harbingers.
You cannot see what the Voice of Mahalla is holding.
It has the following aliases: mahalla, voice.

(Glomdoring): Manteekan says, "Tell me, Glomdoring. Where may I find My Voice of Mahalla?"

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "She is here with us, at the Master Ravenwood."

You have emoted: Esei's wings fan out as they alight on the ground, tilting their head gently to one side.

Juno ponders the Voice of Mahalla thoughtfully, looking her up and down.

Maniacal whispers come in bursts as a hazy mist chills the air with its cool embrace. Amidst the frigid fog, two pale eyes glow as the incorporeal form of Manteekan, the Nightmare slowly coalesces within.

Tirah bows respectfully to Manteekan.

LOOK MANTEEKAN
He is a radiant immortal and gazes sternly about from behind His icy, pale eyes, rubbing His needle-like fingers together as He watches. Hanging in the air like a veil of fine mist, His presence is nothing more than a chill upon the skin. Transparent flesh is pulled taut over His frail, bony frame, revealing an empty void that lurks just beneath it. Chin tilted to the sky, He stands with an arrogance not afforded to Him by His form. A ghastly aura hangs about Him, manifesting in a cool fog that gathers at His feet, the miasma roiling like an impending storm.

Ghastly alabaster locks billow behind His head, each thread glowing white as it whips frantically through the air behind Him. Icy mist trails behind each strand as it thrashes about, slowly drifting to the ground to settle in a cloud of haze that churns about His feet.
He is wearing:
a torturous noose of thorn and vine
billowing robes of a chilled mist

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Welcome once more, Lord Manteekan."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Welcome, Lord Manteekan."

Skaza dips her head low, "Welcome welcome," she whispers in awe.

The words of a morose song resounds through the trees, as though the voice it belongs to is just out of reach. Listening close, you realize the words must be in the fae tongue, but can discern no meaning. The sound is sad and familiar and nostalgic all at once. It gets quieter, and softer, until it can be heard no more.

You have emoted: Their attention shifting away from the Voice, Esei dips into a courteous bow towards Manteekan. "Hail, Lord Nightmare."

Manteekan reaches a translucent hand out towards the Voice of Mahalla. "Come, Mahalla. Cease your song. I can feel your fear from here."

(The Shadow Kindred): You say, "Screaming in shee-slaugh."

Haunting echoes resounding after she speaks, the Voice of Mahalla says, "Stay away from Me Manteekan. You know that I want nothing to do with You."

Exhaling a gust of ice in a sigh, Manteekan says, "Do not be that way. You have been hiding from something, haven't you? I have come in response to Your cries for help."

Manteekan clears His throat in an attempt to gain everyone's attention.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Glomdoring, how long have I been absent."
The Voice of Mahalla says, "Glomdoring's beauty is sung with every rustle of leaves and howl of the wind. One day the true strength of Glomdoring shall be spread across the Basin and it's haunting song will be sung by every soul."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "... a very, very long time. Many years."

Tirah nods their head at Xenthos.

A frown forms over the spectral visage of Manteekan, His displeasure eliciting an involuntary shiver from your body.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "I see. I have spent too long, and learned nothing. Why does it feel as though the Wyrd has... changed?"

Skaza ventures, "Is nature of Wyrd to change yes?"

The Voice of Mahalla shrinks behind the Master Ravenwood Tree, obviously trying to put distance between herself and Manteekan, the Nightmare.

Tirah nods their head at Skaza.

Juno nods his head at Skaza.

Shifting to put themself between the Elder and Voice, for all good it would do, you whisper, "I find it likely, Lord Manteekan, that You sense the changes wrought by the Greev, many years ago now."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to Manteekan, "One of the largest, perhaps, was the coming of the Greev - and the fall of the guilds which existed at the time."
Fidgeting slightly, Brennan Stormcrow says, "The greev. It claimed the weakness of the forest and left us with soil to till. This is a necessary phase of Glomdoring's evolution."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Indeed it is, but much has changed in the absence of the Lord, it is hard to think of where to begin."

Manteekan narrows His icy gaze. "Greev." He repeats. "Well. More pressing matters. What gave chase to my little Mahalla?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "I believe only the Voice will be able to tell us. We spent much time searching, but She hid well."

A distorted laughter escapes Manteekan's throat, the forced amusement sending a shudder of discomfort rippling down your spine.

Juno shuffles his footsteps, his eyes trained to the ground from discomfort.

Musing, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "How interesting. I would ask that you learn more of this if you can especially from the Voice herself. She does not care for Me, as you can see."

A look of understanding crossing their features, Tirah nods their head slowly.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "I have sensed something quaint about the Dreaming, Glomdoring. Tell me, has something happened recently?"

You have emoted: Esei glances over their shoulder at the Voice of Mahalla, their wings fluttering silently.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "That depends on how recent you mean, Lord Manteekan, in the last month the Voices song has caused quite a bit of chaos, before that Brother Crow returned to us after a long absence."
Brennan Stormcrow exclaims, "Crow! Mighty Crow! Glorious Crow!"
Brennan Stormcrow grovels pathetically in the dirt.

Tirah nods their head at Brennan Stormcrow.
Brennan Stormcrow stares implacably at Tirah.

Chancellor Skaza says, "Fae falling asleep, unable to wake. Redcaps, barghest, slaugh, spriggan, others too."

Manteekan waves His hand dismissively.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "My children can take care of themselves. Is that all? How disappointing. I thought that what I had discovered would be more obvious here."

A sadistic chuckling rises from within Manteekan's throat, the estranged laughter escaping in both loud bellows and hushed whispers.

Tirah tilts their head curiously.

In a cold voice hoarse from disuse, Exeryte Stormcrow says, "A new organization called the Fellowship of the Roots has recently made themselves known. They claim to have experienced strange dreams."

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Aaaaha. Now we get to it. Indeed, something, or more likely someone has left a mark. There is evidence of Another all over the Dream. And not just the Whacher, or Dreamer, or whatever it is He calls Himself these days."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Whom do You speak of, if we may ask?"

You furrow your brow in thought.

His icy countenance becoming abruptly more serious, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "I do not know who or what this is. I have never seen it before, only... Well, I had hoped to stay longer, but it seems I have stayed long enough. My, this place is practically falling apart without Me."

Manteekan erupts into a horrendous cackle, the shrill laughter sending a slow chill down your spine as it peals into the distance.

You glance askance.

Skaza's mandibles click together sharply, an echo of the Lord's laughter.

Tirah stares implacably about themself.

listala, an enormous leopard tilts her head curiously at Manteekan.

Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "In all seriousness, I am not certain what it is that I saw. And I do not know what has given chase to My little Mahalla, either. I would hope that you will find a safe place for her, mmmm?"

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Naturally."

Xenthos nods slowly, pondering the Voice.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Of course, I can think of several options we shall discuss with Her."

Juno nods his head emphatically.

His spectral countenance spreading into a cruel smile, Manteekan, the Nightmare says, "Very well. I will be watching. I have... things to attend to."

Tirah nods their head emphatically.

Tirah bows respectfully to Manteekan.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Once more, welcome back, Lord Manteekan. We will be watching for that which has been intruding upon our woods, as well."

You incline your head politely to Manteekan.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard chirps happily at the Voice of Mahalla.

In a cold voice hoarse from disuse, Exeryte Stormcrow says, "Be well, Lord of Nightmares."

Skaza tap taps her antennae in a circle, bowing before the Lord Nightmare.

Inclining his head in deference, Juno whispers, "Be well."

Manteekan turns to leave, but stops mid-step. "Oh, and by the way. I am aware that She has left. Let us see what can be done in the absence of My Warden, shall We, Glomdoring?"

A distorted laughter escapes Manteekan's throat, the forced amusement sending a shudder of discomfort rippling down your spine.

The incorporeal form of Manteekan, the Nightmare, dissolves into a cool mist which creeps hauntingly away into the distance, leaving behind naught but an eerie silence and an unsettling chill.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Now then."

Tirah bows respectfully to the Voice of Mahalla.

Soothingly speaking to the Voice, Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Now that He is gone... perhaps You can speak with us?"

Tirah nods their head at Xenthos.

Trembling and melancholic, the Voice of Mahalla says, "He is never really gone, how can you be sure?"

You reach out and touch a phantasmal shroud of shadows.
As your fingers brush against a phantasmal shroud of shadows a cacophony of whispers fills your ears, murmuring of the past, the present and the future.

Chancellor Skaza says to the Voice of Mahalla, "Why such worry? What happened?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to the Voice of Mahalla, "You are amongst those who feel the beat of the Shadows. Your song. It is all right."

You have emoted: Esei turns to fully regard the Voice of Mahalla, wings aflutter. "Lady Mahalla," they murmur, voice soft with reverence. "It's good to finally meet You."

The Voice of Mahalla says, "I thought we were playing a game. Like, hide and seek."

Tears fill the Voice of Mahalla's eyes and begin to slowly run down her face.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Who was the other?"

The Voice of Mahalla says, "I... I don't remember, I don't know."

Chancellor Skaza says, "More memory thievery.."

Skaza ponders the situation.

Chancellor Skaza says, "Rife."

The Voice of Mahalla winces in pain.

The Voice of Mahalla says, "More?"

Roots coiling to the ground, Juno tilts his head inquisitively and mutters. "Do you remember anything before you came here? Are you completely without memories?"

The Voice of Mahalla says, "I remember playing a game with someone. I was singing, and it was looking for me... And then Manteekan was trying to attack me, I think?"

Xenthos shakes his head at the Voice of Mahalla.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "His attacks were aimed at something behind You."

The Voice of Mahalla sways back and forth.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "So, whatever was chasing You."

Her haunting voice punctuated by sobs, the Voice of Mahalla says, "I don't know."

Xenthos nods his head emphatically.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "That's all right. Perhaps you can remember, with time."

You nod at Xenthos.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "For now, you should go somewhere that's safe and out of the way, aye?"

Juno hums in consideration, nodding his head slowly in agreement before asking again. "You are not hurt, are you?"

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "I believe the Auguries may be able to help with that, fel'Greev."

Tirah nods their head at you.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Mm. I was thinking of the sanctuary within the Wyrdling, at least for the time being."

You hum thoughtfully.

Juno ponders the situation.

The Voice of Mahalla says to Juno, "Technically, I am dead."

Tirah's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Chuckling, Juno Mzithrei says, "Yet the dead cries so sorrowfully."

The Voice of Mahalla's amused chuckle twists back into melancholy sniffles, then back to manic giggling.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Indeed, though the Temple has a room dedicated to Her and Her Song, which may prove a comfort at present. I shall hardly enforce Her to stay if that is not Her desire, of course, if She chooses to go at all."

Juno nods his head at you, showing his acceptance.

The Voice of Mahalla says, "I was hiding very comfortably within Mother Night's embrace, but I guess the jig is up."

Skaza chitters at the Voice of Mahalla with energetic clicks of her mandibles.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to the Voice of Mahalla, "Is there somewhere in the Forest that calls You?"

"I wish to be safe-" the Voice of Mahalla starts. "Only, I do not think I wish to be anywhere near my Echo."

You nod your head slowly in understanding.

Enthusiastically, Chancellor Skaza says, "Swarm has swamp with lights, very safe, very pretty. Far from Shadowmaze."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Perhaps we can show You to a few places, and you can look around?"

A look of understanding crossing her features, the Voice of Mahalla nods her head slowly.

A look of understanding crossing her features, the Voice of Mahalla nods her head slowly.

The Voice of Mahalla says, "Who.. who should I follow?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Me, for now. We will go to the Wyrdling, then Esei can take us to the place recommended in the Augurs' hall."

The Voice of Mahalla begins to follow Xenthos.

[path path path...]

Xenthos bows respectfully to the Ebonglom Wyrdling.

You follow Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist west to a chiming, peaceful sanctuary.

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Skaza peers about herself unscrupulously.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "We lost the Voice."

Tirah stares implacably about themself.

Juno bends over suddenly, his hands on his knees as if the wind has been knocked out of him. With a resigned tone, Juno offers a soft "Oof."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "We just found it."

[pathing back!]

[we lose the voice for a second time!]

The Voice of Mahalla ponders for a moment and says "Hrm..."

Chancellor Skaza says, "Maybe feel safe with Crow, here at Ravenwood."

he Voice of Mahalla says, "Where are we going?"

Skaza points upwards.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to the Voice of Mahalla, "To a place I was thinking of that could be a respite. It is within one of the mightiest creaures of the Glomdoring, and thus quite secure."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Only those who are Savants of the Glomdoring are able to gain access."

The Voice of Mahalla says, "I think I can catch up. Why don't you go, I will see you there, I promise."

Xenthos nods his head emphatically.

[third time's the charm, only she is doing magical teleportation powers!]

You follow Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist west to a chiming, peaceful sanctuary.

The Voice of Mahalla floats in from the east.

The Voice of Mahalla stares blankly into space.

Hestitantly, the Voice of Mahalla says, "Aaah.. AAaaaaAAAAHH. LA LA LA."

Juno blinks.

Skaza's antennae wave around, catching the vibrations.

The Voice of Mahalla says, "The acoustics leave something to be desired. They're awful. But maybe there is something to be said for that..."

Tears fill the Voice of Mahalla's eyes and begin to slowly run down her face.

You murmur softly to yourself.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Inside a living creature is likely not the best place for sounds, aye."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist has lost you.
Xenthos begins to follow you.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Esei will take us to another place, if You would care to join us once we arrive?"

Juno nods his head emphatically.

A look of understanding crossing her features, the Voice of Mahalla nods her head slowly.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "It will be the Temple that the Auguries claim as our guildhall."

[path path pathing...]

Reaching out to an ancient archway wreathed in shadow, you offer your hand, leading it in a moment of supplication to the guiding Spirits and signs of the Wyrd. You share Their embrace with it as the melody, scents, sights, and sounds of the Wyrd suffuse you in the bounty of the Dark Heart.

And amidst the glory of the Wyrd, you hear words - not a voice, but knowledge, instilled within your mind as if you yourself had thought it. "Its destruction begins at the root, therein lies the demise of us all." The voice proclaims the shred of prophecy, and you nod your head in understanding.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you say, "Its destruction begins at the root, therein lies the demise of us all."

The fundamental truth of ages-old prophecy thrums within you, and the blurred forest beyond the archway changes: you see now that there is an ancient, crumbling temple that lies beyond it, wreathed in climbing ivy and roses. Smiling to yourself, you step confidently through the archway.
Dark forest path before a crumbling temple.
A gentle breeze whistles around you. The forest floor here is a chaotic mix of rotting leaves, dead wood and long grasses. Bare tree branches reach out only a few feet above the ground, clutching hands draped in dank, decaying mosses. The ashes and oaks that grow here are rotten and dank, split in many places and spewing mould and fungus from every pore. The huge form of a ruined temple lies before you, wreathed in the perpetual embrace of shadows. Flowering vines climb the ancient stone of the archway that towers here at the end of one branch of the path. An elder ravenwood tree thrusts up from the ground here, the air around it thick and dark. 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. A malformed, corpse white crow flies here with shadowy wings spread.
You see a single exit leading in.

Within the thrumming melody of Mahalla.
The air swells with a steady beat, the chittering and scuttling of numerous deathwatch beetles adding their staccato as the insects crawl to and fro across the lichen-covered ground. Stationed between two thick granite columns, an eerie sculpture of vaguely violet-hued stone stands upon a low platform, a strange aura surrounding it in pulsing fluctuations. Clearly once a carving of breathtaking beauty, the sculpture has been worn and weathered beyond recognition, leaving an empty, forlorn form behind. Still, the steady thrum emanates from the sculpture itself, filling the environs with the subtle, pounding rhythm of life, the everlasting song of the Wyrd echoed within its melody. At the feet of the sculpture, a shallow depression welcomes offerings, the dried, crushed petals of roses elegantly blanketing the hollow. 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. A malformed, corpse white crow flies here with shadowy wings spread.
You see exits leading north, east, and south.

The Voice of Mahalla floats in from the north.

You nod solemnly.

No sooner does the Voice begin to sing that the room resounds with her slightest effort, carrying her haunting sound.

The pointed tips of Tirah's ears twitch to some errant sound.

You smile softly.

Skaza murmurs softly to herself.

The Voice of Mahalla says, "I should like to stay here, but will I be safe?"

Ilistala, an enormous leopard tilts her head and listens intently to you.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Usually only members of the Auguries itself can enter and we will all gladly defend you should something happen."

You nod solemnly.

A throaty growl rumbling in her chest, Liadahn, Guardian of the Halls enters from the south.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "The monolith sigils shall prevent normal means of teleportation and similar entries. And Liadahn, of course, is here."

Liadahn, Guardian of the Halls casts a baleful stare at the area before trudging off to the north.

Juno blinks.

Chancellor Skaza says, "Body guard just visited."

Skaza chitters to herself with speedy movement of her mandibles.

Chancellor Skaza says to the Voice of Mahalla, "Very safe yes yes."

With a raspy, frail voice, Juno Mzithrei says, "Not alone here."

Juno nods his head emphatically.

The Voice of Mahalla says, "You don't know why I sing, do you?"

You tilt your head and listen intently to the Voice of Mahalla.

Juno shakes his head.

Chancellor Skaza says, "Said playing game? Hide and seek?"

Tears fill the Voice of Mahalla's eyes and begin to slowly run down her face.

Sobbing, the Voice of Mahalla says, "Well, this will either hide me, or it will not."

The Voice of Mahalla says, "Beware my song. Something bad comes."
20:42:19.093 -
20:42:28.343 Tirah creases their brow in a frown.
20:42:28.343 -
20:42:31.590 Chancellor Skaza says, "Again?"
20:42:31.590 -
20:42:38.848 Juno ponders for a moment and says "Hrm..."
20:42:38.848 -
20:42:39.993 Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Either way, the Wyrd protects its own, no?"
20:42:39.993 -
20:42:43.854 Skaza gives a concerned chirr.
20:42:43.854 -
20:42:48.713 The Voice of Mahalla says, "If it comes again."

Liadahn, Guardian of the Halls casts a baleful stare at the area before trudging off to the north.

Xenthos nods his head at the Voice of Mahalla.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Indeed - we accept Your warning."

You nod solemnly.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist smiles and says, "But we do not fear it - or You."

The Voice of Mahalla says, "I think you should."

The Voice of Mahalla shivers violently.

Juno creases his brow in a frown.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to the Voice of Mahalla, "There is little reason to fear. Whatever comes, comes, and we shall face it."

A look of understanding crossing her features, the Voice of Mahalla nods her head slowly.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Perhaps we shall die for the Glomdoring, but even that is nothing to fear."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Indeed, it is Your own Song that teaches us that death is not something to fear, and indeed, is a new beginning."

With a smile that never touches her eyes, the Voice of Mahalla says, "Thank you. Just, keep Manteekan away from me."

You nod.

Juno nods his head emphatically.

Juno ponders the Voice of Mahalla thoughtfully, looking her up and down.

Xenthos nods his head at the Voice of Mahalla.

With a raspy, frail voice, Juno Mzithrei says, "I must take my leave. Farewell and welcome to Glomdoring."

With a flourish of his arm, Juno bows deeply.

You nod.

[everyone, sans Tirah and I, leaves the guildhall]

The Voice of Mahalla thanks you profusely.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper to the Voice of Mahalla, "And again, it is good to meet You. My grandfather has spoken frequently of You."

A look of understanding crossing her features, the Voice of Mahalla nods her head slowly.

The Voice of Mahalla says, "It has been a very long time."

You nod solemnly.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "I fear I must take my leave now, however, to return to deeper meditations. Please, be well."