<Wandering into the area and chatting with Tyrus about some random things when...>

Tyrus says, "Oh!"

Tyrus points accusingly at an icy snoefaasia orchid.

Tyrus ponders the situation.

An owl hoots off in the distance.

Tyrus says, "It seems quite rooted to the ground."

You say, "Oh, it's a fae flower, I think."

Tyrus nods his head emphatically.

Tyrus says, "I was wondering how it would appear at the Lady's waterfall."

You tilt your head curiously.

You say, "Oh!"

Faythe brightens.

You say, "You mean, were it to go into the Font?"

The wind whistles eerily through the trees.

You say, "That is a thought."

Tyrus nods his head emphatically.

Tyrus says, "Maybe it would freeze..."

You laughingly say, "It's like an exercise into the mind of Lady Maylea's perspective."

Faythe crouches down over the flower, holding her hands out over the petals.

Tyrus says, "We should pick a bunch of flowers and experiment."

Dramatically, you say, "Ah, what colours do I see within your soul, little one? Reveal them to me!"

You say, "A study on the souls of flowers?"

Faythe grins up at Tyrus from where she kneels down on the ground.

Tyrus nods his head emphatically.

The light cloud cover develops further, bathing the firmament in a white blanket.

The chirping of crickets surrounds you in a medley of night-time music.

Midnight shadows coalesce around a new day, and Mother Night embraces the land in utter darkness.
It is now the 5th of Klangiary, 565 years after the Coming of Estarra.

You say, "I wonder, is it the flower's soul and shape that colors the waters of the Font and thus
the vision, or is the vision somehow tied to the petals color and then the water changes because of
that?"

Deep in thought, you lean your cheek on your hand.

Tyrus says, "Or they could be enirely independent of each other."

Tyrus coughs softly.

Tyrus says, "Entirely, even."

The wind whistles eerily through the trees.

You say, "Perhaps."

Secluded grove by the river.
Soothing shades of blue light shimmer through the air, cast from a healing shrine of Maylea nearby.
There is but a light breeze blowing. This small patch of grass lies under the shelter of a wide
variety of trees - elm, oak, ash, and beech, all growing mighty and tall. To the south and west, a
wide swathe of silver marks the course of Moon River as it continues to flow through the forest.
However, it is not the rushing waters that draw the attention here. The isolated grove has a feeling
of spirituality, as if some powerful spirit is close at hand. To the north, it is possible even here
to make out a glow of green and a mighty trunk some distance away, a huge tree that grows to a great
height. Hidden deep within the environment lies a mystic pathway. Covered in bone armour, a red fox
stands here, cautiously listening to the surroundings. A screech owl is here, surveying the
surroundings. Reaching up as high as the eye can see looms the awesome presence of a living totem.
Covered in bone armour, a striped badger is here, licking its paws. A birch sapling clings
tenaciously to the ground here. Its petals glistening with ice, a delicate snoefaasia orchid grows
here from a clump of snow. With a demure posture, a refined and iridescent swan graced with
alabaster wings flecked with opalescent pearls glides through the air here. Tyrus is here, pondering
thoughtfully. He wields a longsword of the stag and moon in his left hand and a steel broadsword in
his right hand.
You see exits leading north, south, and west.

You say, "I wonder why the Font only reacts to flowers."

Deep in thought, you lean your cheek on your hand.

You say, "Is it because it is so attuned to their souls?"

You say, "Is it somehow part of Lady Maylea, Her own touch that helped them realize their true
form?"

Tyrus asks, "She created them, did She not?"

You say, "Have you read the book yet?"

You tilt your head curiously.

Tyrus says, "I did, but my memory is not the best."

You look about yourself, rubbing your chin thoughtfully.

The howl of a distant wolf momentarily silences the crickets.

You say, "She doesn't... create them."

You say, "She colored them, but it's more like she studied their inner souls, their inner shard, and
brought it out."

You say, "So that the outside will reflect the inside."

You say, "What was it... the form follows..."

Faythe frowns, trying to remember the line.

Tyrus says, "Function?"

You say, "Is that what it was?"

You say, "The form follows the function?"

You say, "That doesn't sound quite right."

Tyrus says, "I've no idea."

You say, "It's something Lady Kae would say, I thikn."

You say, "Think."

Tyrus says, "But we can always check Her book."

You nod your head emphatically.

You say, "But basically, it seemed less like art, She wrote."

You say, "More like Awakening, as She studied their shards."

Rising to her feet and dusting off her knees, Faythe says "Perhaps the book is open
now. We could go check, if you'd like."

Tyrus asks, "That makes sense. Then who made the flowers, if not Her?"

You say, "They existed already."

You say, "She helped to paint them."

Turning and cupping her hands over her mouth Faythe calls out for her wolf
companion.

<Note for clarity:  Her wolf had wandered off earlier, before where this logs begins.>

You yell, "Duck, where are yooouu?"


Tyrus says, "Something that exists must come from somewhere."


Awanydd Lief Myeras-Silvermoon yells, "Acting like a dog, it would seem!"

A fierce timberwolf rushes in quickly, circling you briefly before settling at your side.

You say, "Oh, he must have gone off to bother Lief."

You peer at a fierce timberwolf unscrupulously.

A fierce timberwolf stalks you in a slow, cautious circle, eyes narrowed in contemplation.

You say to a fierce timberwolf, "So you run off from new friends to visit an old?"

Faythe looks at a fierce timberwolf in exasperation.

You say, "Dynara created everything, didn't She?"

The horizon glows with burnished shades of orange and red, heralding the imminent arrival of Father
Sun upon the rim of the world.

Streaks of violet light snake across the morning sky, colouring it a deep purple.
va

You beckon to Tyrus.

You say, "C'mon, we can go see if the book is open."

The sun has awakened from its long slumber. It is dawn.
The phase of the moon is the First Quarter.

You say, "It should be, Lief noted the logs about a day ago."

Tyrus begins to follow you.

<Traveling>

The Pool of Remembrance.
Petals spread in a stunning display of beauty, this lotus blossom floats serenely within the pool.
You see a single exit leading out.
The very scent of the water fills you with a sense of nostalgia. Your thoughts clear and sharpen as
you prepare to reminisce.

Moving slowly through the water to the floating lotus blossom, Faythe tucks her
hair behind one ear and begins to flip through the Book.

You say, "Let's see..."

"Ahah!" you exclaim triumphantly.


Tyrus asks, "What is it?"

Her finger marking the page, Faythe reads aloud from the Book. "The form follows
the spirit!" She turns up, grinning slightly at Tyrus. "The form follows the spirit, is what Lady
Kae said."

Nodding, you say, "Which is how I always imagined Lady Maylea to work upon the flowers. The form
following the spirit, and She brings the color of the spirit to the form."

Tyrus says, "It seems your memory is far better than mine."

You smile impishly and say, "Which can be a sort of art, I suppose. Like how a sculptor brings out
the creation from the marble, or how when you forge, you bring out the true shape of the metal... or
when you carve a bow from a section of tree."

You say, "It was always meant to be there, you simply nudged it out to the surface."

Faythe closes the Book, turning and walking back over to Tyrus through the water.
"Not necessarily a better memory, I've just read it more recently."

Tyrus says, "But any stone can be carved to be anything the sculptor desires."

You say, "True... but haven't you ever heard someone say that it came to them, like in a vision, or
that something in the stone called to them?"

You say, "It's like with our earlier discussion."

Faythe glances down at the wolves, each resting by their respective companion. "You
were surprised when I told you that I didn't name Duck. Duck already had a name. Some animals have a
name, some do not, and those that do not, we assist them by gifting one." She glances up at Tyrus.
"Same as sculptors, perhaps?" She grins slightly.

You say, "Some stones have a dream inside of them, and some do not - nothing wrong with either, but
both want to be transformed into something new! ...Or perhaps the stone simply was a stone."

Sunlight billows across the realm, revealing the full glory of the majestic sun's luminous presence
as he climbs higher into the sky.

Tyrus says, "So you think we gift rocks a form? What if the rocks just want to be all rock-y?"

You laughingly say, "Then that stone wanted to be a stone."

You say, "Like the cities, not being one with nature."

You wave your hand dismissively.

You say, "But like with animals, we do not name or shape every single one. There are stones that are
simply stones, animals that are simply animals - they have no name, or they choose not to share it
with us."

You shrug helplessly.

You say, "Nothing wrong with that."

Tyrus says, "We forgot to bring more flowers."

You ponder the situation.

You say, "You want to collect some and then play a guessing game on the colors the waters will
take?"

You say, "We can go get some from the forest or shops."

Tyrus nods his head emphatically.

You nod your head emphatically.

<Traveling, arriving at the Moonhart Mother Tree in Serenwilde.>

A fierce timberwolf scents the air.

A fierce timberwolf follows some invisible trail as it disappears, tracking its prey.

You have recovered equilibrium. (3.92s)

You sense through your bond that a fierce timberwolf has successfully found what it was tracking.

You sense through your bond that a fierce timberwolf has a Lossel's orchanet in its jaws, and awaits
your instructions.

You call out through your bond, urging a fierce timberwolf to return to you.

A fierce timberwolf rushes in quickly, circling you briefly before settling at your side.

You take a Lossel's orchanet from a fierce timberwolf.

A fierce timberwolf scents the air.

A fierce timberwolf follows some invisible trail as it disappears, tracking its prey.

You say, "They can get them."

You say, "Good training exercise."

You stretch languidly.

A fierce timberwolf rushes in quickly, circling Tyrus briefly before settling at his side.
bond retrieve flower

A fierce timberwolf drops a lily of the Maidens from its jaws, stretching its mouth slightly and
giving a quick bark.

Tyrus picks up a lily of the Maidens.

You say, "Hm."

You call out through your bond, urging a fierce timberwolf to return to you.

A fierce timberwolf rushes in quickly, circling you briefly before settling at your side.

You pet a fierce timberwolf ingratiatingly.
A fierce timberwolf glances about his surroundings, a ravenous glint in his eyes.

You say, "Perhaps we should buy a few others."

Tyrus says, "Let's try some other places first."

You nod your head emphatically.

<Removed a large chunk of traveling and gathering flowers from various places in the Basin for sake of brevity.>

You say, "We should hurry, Lief has a ceremony soon, I think."


You say, "We wouldn't want to interrupt it with our game."

Tyrus says, "We can buy those at least."

<Traveling to aethershops.>

You say, "Just maybe, one or two more flowers."

You say, "We can also get some from the willow, don't forget."

Tyrus buys a purple tulip.

You say, "Oh get the iris too!"

Tyrus buys a delicate iris.

You nod your head emphatically.

You say, "That should be enough."

<Traveling to realm of Maylea.>

You tilt your head curiously at Tyrus.

The Altar of Reflection.
A vaulted dome soars high overhead in this chamber, the circular perimeter marked with lines of
arched windows that admit shafts of light into this otherwise cool and shadowy chamber. Patterns of
blue and green tiles wind together along the interior of the vault and the curving walls, geometric
patterns giving way to spirals and circles that gather and disperse around ivory-tiled blossoms.
Darker blue tiles line the interior of a shallow pool at the centre of the chamber floor, rising up
to a shallow lip upon which small oil lamps rest, giving off a soft, resinous scent that lingers
sweetly in the cool air. A single plinth of white marble sits to one side of the pool, wrapped in
blue-flowered vines. Resting heavily upon the ground is an enormous earthen bowl twined with living
flowers that blossom from the clay. Reflecting a world beyond the humble temple surrounding it, a
bronze mirror stands here. With a demure posture, a refined and iridescent swan graced with
alabaster wings flecked with opalescent pearls glides through the air here. Hackles risen, a fierce
timberwolf prowls about here. Tyrus is here. He wields a longsword of the stag and moon in his left
hand and a steel broadsword in his right hand.
You see exits leading northeast, south, and northwest.

You laughingly say, "The font is the other way."

You follow Tyrus northwest to an arched chamber of lavender.

You follow Tyrus northeast to the Cloudless Sanctum.

Tyrus says, "I knew that."

You laughingly say to Tyrus, "So, shall we guess here, and then one of us can go and watch the

You display a Lossel's orchanet for all in the room to see.

Tyrus says, "Ill go by the falls, unless you want to take turns?"

You laughingly say, "What color does this flower's spirit show you?"

You say to Tyrus, "I'm fine, if you want to go watch. We can keep in touch via our tells."

A curious shrub, the Lossel's orchanet is a gathering of flowers that are twisted and tangled
together as to look like a larger sum than the individual blooms. The coiling stems are reddish in
colour and are fringed with thin, soft spines that travel up and down their entire length; serrated
leaves populate the stalks too, but their meager presence is overwhelmed by the spines. The flowers
themselves are quite dainty: wide petals of dawn-hued blush that come together in a cup-like
fashion, with a crimson star located at their very hearts.

Tyrus says, "I will guess orange or reddish."

Faythe ponders the orchanet thoughtfully.

You say, "I wonder what kind of vision this will bring."

You say, "Something..."

You look about yourself, rubbing your chin thoughtfully.

Tyrus has lost you.

Tyrus leaves to the northwest.

You say, "Something slightly aggressive."

You tell Tyrus, "Perhaps something aggressive, with these little spikes."

You tell Tyrus, "Let me know when you are ready."

You tell Tyrus, "My guess is crimson, for the falls."

Tyrus tells you, "I'm ready!"

You put a Lossel's orchanet into the Font of Creativity.
You pull apart a Lossel's orchanet and sprinkle the petals across the water in the font, listening
to the soft laughter of the falls as the current flows over the edge and into the world beyond.

The surface of the water turns a shadowed grey and then slowly clears, an image forming within the
boundless depths of sun-baked salt flats, where stands an elfen seer as he sits stoically upon the
ground. He looks upon a feathered quill faintly seen in the distance, an expression of sheer disgust
upon his face, before abruptly running away.

You say, "Oh! Grey visions."

After a few moments, the shadowed grey colour spreads across the image again, before it spills over
the edge of the Font drop by drop and out of sight, leaving only the pristine depths of the waters.

You say, "How odd."

You tell Tyrus, "How strange! What color did you see?"

You tell Tyrus, "I saw shades of grey in the vision."

Tyrus tells you, "We were both wrong. A shadowed grey hue."

You tell Tyrus, "The flower has its secrets! So perhaps the spirit is not the same as we thought."

You tell Tyrus, "Shall we try the moonflower next?"

Tyrus tells you, "Alright."

You tell Tyrus, "When I am out of my flowers, you can come and do your three."

You tell Tyrus, "What is your guess for the moonflower?"

Three small petals are borne from a small white center which glows with its own light. The petals
themselves are silken in texture although they seem to be securely anchored to the stem. The stem
itself is a blinding white that lacks any leaves and thorns to distinguish it. The flower glows with
a silvery light.

Tyrus tells you, "A brilliant white, like the moon."

You tell Tyrus, "My guess is.. hm. Yellow."

You put a glowing moonflower into the Font of Creativity.
You pull apart a glowing moonflower and sprinkle the petals across the water in the font, listening
to the soft laughter of the falls as the current flows over the edge and into the world beyond.

The surface of the water turns a blushing rose and then slowly clears, an image forming within the
boundless depths of a busy seamstress beside moss-strewn sycamores, clasping her hands together. An
expression of wishfulness passes across her face as she looks at an old toy soldier on the ground at
her feet. Suddenly, she falls to her knees.

You say, "Oh, rose!"

After a few moments, the blushing rose colour spreads across the image again, before it spills over
the edge of the Font drop by drop and out of sight, leaving only the pristine depths of the waters.

You tell Tyrus, "Rose!"

You tell Tyrus, "I think the Font is jesting with us, before it followed the flower petals!"

You say to the Font of Creativity, "Are you playing a little joke on us?"

Your eyes sparkle with amusement.

Tyrus tells you, "Indeed."

You tell Tyrus, "Now for the valley rose."

Brilliant crimson contrasts against bright green in this wonder of nature. The rose has an
entrancing and soft scent that emanates from within its velvet petals. A long stem with the thorns
still left on just below the blossom supports the rose, and sports a pair of green leaves with
jagged edges.

Tyrus tells you, "Red?"

You tell Tyrus, "I wlil say green, for the sake of the strange colours the font keeps giving."

You tell Tyrus, "Will, rather."

You say, "Let's see..."

You put a perfect valley rose into the Font of Creativity.
You pull apart a perfect valley rose and sprinkle the petals across the water in the font, listening
to the soft laughter of the falls as the current flows over the edge and into the world beyond.

The surface of the water turns a bright red and then slowly clears, an image forming within the
boundless depths of a kindly storyteller on a wind-swept peak before an indigo sky, rubbing the
scars along her wrists. An expression of utter yearning passes across her face as she looks at a
faded painting suspended in the air before her. Suddenly, she winks playfully.

You say, "Oh drat, Tyrus was right with his guess."

After a few moments, the bright red colour spreads across the image again, before it spills over the
edge of the Font drop by drop and out of sight, leaving only the pristine depths of the waters.

You tell Tyrus, "Drat, you won that one."

Tyrus tells you, "Bahahaa.."

You tell Tyrus, "Come switch with me."

Tyrus arrives from the northeast.

With a toss of her hair over her shoulder, you say to Tyrus, "Lucky guess, that last one. You were
wrong the first two times, as was I!"

You say, "I will go to the falls now, if you would wait a moment."

You nod your head emphatically.

Tyrus says, "A violet iris."

You nod your head emphatically.

You say, "Wait for me."

<Traveling to another part of the Realm of Maylea.>

You tell Tyrus, "Alright, I'm here. My guess is... purple!"

Tyrus tells you, "I will guess purple too."

You look skeptical and say, "Let's see who is right this time."

You say, "Hm, same guess."

The petals from a delicate iris cascade down the falls in a shower of colour, floating serenely down
the stream and out of sight.

Free-standing waterfall.
Superimposed over this location, an ethereal forest reaches up to the sky. A torrent of clear water
crashes down into a rocky pool with a constant, dull roar. This vast volume of water escapes the
confines of the pool in the form of a narrow, quick-running stream which cuts to the northwest.
Spray fills the air with the fresh scent of rainwater, as well as allowing enchanting miniature
rainbows to be seen wherever light shines through the mist. When one looks up, it can be seen that
the waterfall does not cascade down from a river on a higher cliff-top, but rather plummets straight
down out of the sky, from no readily apparent source. With a demure posture, a refined and
iridescent swan graced with alabaster wings flecked with opalescent pearls glides through the air
here. Hackles risen, a fierce timberwolf prowls about here.
You see exits leading north, northeast, south, northwest, and up.
tell tyrus how odd.

You tell Tyrus, "How odd."

The waters cascading from above shimmer and shine with a sky blue hue as they fall, tinting the
stream briefly before the colour fades quietly away.

You tell Tyrus, "Sky blue!"

You say, "Hmhm, both wrong again."

You tell Tyrus, "What is next, Glinshari?"

Tyrus tells you, "A purple tulip this time."

Tyrus tells you, "Your guess?"

You tell Tyrus, "More purple... I will guess pink."

Tyrus tells you, "I will guess purple."

The petals from a purple tulip cascade down the falls in a shower of colour, floating serenely down
the stream and out of sight.

The waters cascading from above shimmer and shine with a vibrant yellow hue as they fall, tinting
the stream briefly before the colour fades quietly away.

Your arms fall listlessly to your sides as you hang your head and intone a disappointed "Drat."

You tell Tyrus, "I suppose it is a good thing we are not in charge of the colouring of the flowers."

Tyrus tells you, "*laughs*."

Tyrus tells you, "I have a lily now."

You tell Tyrus, "Hm... I will say silver."

Tyrus tells you, "I will say.. sky blue."

The petals from a lily of the Maidens cascade down the falls in a shower of colour, floating
serenely down the stream and out of sight.

The waters cascading from above shimmer and shine with a deep green hue as they fall, tinting the
stream briefly before the colour fades quietly away.

Tyrus tells you, "We are horrible at this."

You look up into the air for divine inspiration.

You tell Tyrus, "Indeed."

You tell Tyrus, "I am telling you, the Font is playing tricks."

Tyrus tells you, "I have a moonflower. What was it last time?"

You tell Tyrus, "*An impression of laughter and a faint sigh filters through the aethers*."

You tell Tyrus, "Hm, let me think..."

In the still air you can hear the soft rippling of the waters and feel the gentle tug of the current
as it flows past you.

You tell Tyrus, "It was a blushing rose pink."

You tell Tyrus, "My guess is... ah... hm. I will say red this time."

Tyrus tells you, "I will say grey."

The petals from a glowing moonflower cascade down the falls in a shower of colour, floating serenely
down the stream and out of sight.

The waters cascading from above shimmer and shine with a bright red hue as they fall, tinting the
stream briefly before the colour fades quietly away.

Opening your mouth wide, you gape in wonder.

You cheer wildly!

You dance about in utter glee.

Tyrus tells you, "Congratulations!"

You tell Tyrus, "Aha!"

You tell Tyrus, "We are now tied. Was that all of our flowers?"

You tell Tyrus, "I will come back, if so."

Tyrus tells you, "I have a mistletoe but uncertain if that counts."

You tell Tyrus, "Well, you can always try."

Tyrus tells you, "If not, then perhaps the Lady gets a mistletoe."

Tyrus tells you, "I guess green."

You tell Tyrus, "Perhaps. I do not know if everything ends up with Her - I certainly hope that
everything doesn't."

You tell Tyrus, "I will guess green as well, if it falls."

In the still air you can hear the soft rippling of the waters and feel the gentle tug of the current
as it flows past you.

Tyrus tells you, "Seems it simply disappears."

You tell Tyrus, "Shame. I shall return."

<Traveling back to the Font where Tyrus is.>

You say, "We could try my moss, if you would like."

You laughingly say, "But I do not think it will react."

Tyrus says, "Nor I."

The corners of Tyrus's mouth turn up as he grins mischeviously.

You say, "Let us give the Font then, another gift."

The corners of your mouth turn up as you grin mischievously.

You say, "But just in case."

You say, "I will guess... blue."

You pat a flourishing tuft of moss in a friendly manner.

Jade green in colour, this tuft of moss resembles verdant hair with little curly tangles growing
rampant from a central root. The plant flourishes here with nary an imperfection or spot anywhere.

Tyrus says, "Grey."

You nod your head emphatically.

You say, "Here we go then... Godspeed, little moss."

You put a flourishing tuft of moss into the Font of Creativity.
As a flourishing tuft of moss sinks into the depths of the font, ripples diverge across the surface
of the water in concentric circles. In the next moment, the item is gone.

Tyrus creases his brow in a frown.

Her hands gripping the basin as she watches the descent of the moss, Faythe sighs.
"Ah, no such luck," she remarks.

You say, "We truly do not understand the souls of the flowers - or perhaps the soul of the Font."

Faythe smiles ruefully up at Tyrus.

The corners of Tyrus's mouth turn up as he grins mischeviously.

Tyrus says, "And maybe the Lady will enjoy some fine moss and mistletoe."

Faythe dashes her hands through the waters of the Font, and then flicks it over the
basin at Tyrus. "May you feel inspiration!" she exclaims.

Tyrus gives a horrified gasp.

You say to the Font of Creativity, "He needs all the inspiration he can get."

You nod your head sagely.

Wiping his face with his cloak,, Tyrus says, "I don't think that's how it works!"

You give a trillingly melodic laugh.

You say, "Sure it is!"

You reach out and touch the Font of Creativity.
You dip your fingers in the font, feeling the energy emanating from the depths as ripples shiver
across the surface of the water.

Shifting colours dance through your mind, forming new shapes and unknown hues as they tempt your
being and fire your imagination.

You laughingly say, "Don't you feel invigorated when you touch the waters?"

With a wistful look on his face, Tyrus touches the Font of Creativity.
Ripples move across the water of the font as Tyrus dips his fingers into it.

A smile on his face, Tyrus slowly inhales.

You smile impishly and say, "See? It even makes you smile."

Tyrus scoffs arrogantly.

You peer at Tyrus unscrupulously.

Tyrus says, "I wonder, what shall our next experiment be?"

Her hands on her hips, you say to Tyrus, "Are you going to deny it, Glinshari? You smiled, I saw
you."

You say, "I can tell you one experiment I've already tried that won't work - you can't reach the
quartz at the bottom. I stopped just short of jumping in, but only because Daiua already tried it
and failed."

You nod your head at Daiua Greenthorn.

Tyrus says to you, "Maybe a little."

You say to Tyrus, "No point in denying it. Are you afraid someone will think you less for smiling at
the sensation the waters bring?"

You smile wryly at Tyrus.

"It's a bottomless font?" Tyrus asks, ignoring the question.

You glance askance at Tyrus.

You say, "It has a bottom, we simply cannot reach it."

You say, "Daiua thinks there's some sort of magic."

You say, "Which wouldn't surprise me, given the visions we see."

You say, "It's a shame though, for I would have liked to touch the quartz."

Faythe wistfully fiddles with one of her gemstone beads, frowning down at the
depths of the Font.

You say, "I wonder if that quartz is in some way connected to a place that the Lady lives, if She
does get the things that fall into the Font."

Tyrus says, "I wonder, though. If you stick your head in and keep it under long enough, will it
disappear too?"

You give Tyrus the once-over, eyeing him suspiciously.

You say, "I don't know, why don't you stick your head in and find out?"

You have emoted: Faythe smiles sweetly at Tyrus.

Tyrus says, "Sounds risky. My head is far too valuable."

You say, "Inflated, you mean."

You say, "I doubt you could fit it in the Font."

You scoff arrogantly.

Tyrus says, "Then I'm guess I'm not a suitable one for this experiment! You on the other hand..."

Warningly, you say, "Finish that sentence, and your shin will make an acquaintance with my booted
foot."

Tyrus peers at your head as if to eyeball the measurements.

Shoving Tyrus in the chest, as though to push him further away from her head,
Faythe mutters, "Stop staring at my head!"

The corners of Tyrus's mouth turn up as he grins mischeviously.

Tyrus says, "But it's just the right amount of egg-shape!"
gape tyrus
Opening your mouth wide, you gape in wonder at Tyrus.

You say, "My head is not shaped like an egg!"

You say, "My head is - my head is a normal shape for me!"

Tyrus says, "Normally egg-shaped."

With righteous fury, you place a sharp kick upon the shin of Tyrus.

Tyrus winces in pain.

You say, "At least *my* head is of a normal size."

You say, "And not like a tae'dae's perched on a faeling's body."

You peer at Tyrus unscrupulously.

Faythe boggles at Tyrus, as though overwhelmed by the size of Tyrus's head.

Tyrus says, "It's to hold my huge brain! I was born like this, you know!"

You exclaim, "I told you, there's nothing but water sloshing up there, and your pea brain is just
bobbing around in a craze!"

Tyrus says, "That said - I wonder if we can fit a mammoth corpse into this thing."

You stare implacably at Tyrus.

You say, "You want to send a dead mammoth to the Lady?"

You say, "In the name of Maylea, you are really strange!"

Tyrus says, "We offer dead things all the time!"

You say, "It's one thing to send it through the altar, but not through the Font!"

You double over in laughter, wiping the tears from your eyes.

Tyrus shrugs helplessly.
.
Glancing cautiously over her shoulder at Kavindra, you whisper to Tyrus, "Besides, don't you think
they'd object? At least..."

<Looking about for Kavindra.>

You say, "Oh she's not here."

You say, "She must be at the willow."

You wipe the back of your hand across your brow in relief.

The corners of Tyrus's mouth turn up as he grins mischeviously.

You shift your eyes suspiciously from side to side.

You say to Tyrus, "Let's do it."

Tyrus says, "Really?"

You say to Tyrus, "Where's your sense of adventure, Glinshari?"

You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

You say, "Or were you all talk?"

Tyrus says, "We'd need to be quick."

You nod your head enthusiastically.

<Traveling, hunting a mammoth and then hurrying back to Maylea's Temple.>

Hurrying behind Tyrus, Faythe glances warily from left to right as they approach
the Font.

You say, "She's still not here."

Hissing, you say, "Hurry, hurry!"

Tyrus puts the corpse of a giant mosquito into the Font of Creativity.
As the corpse of a giant mosquito sinks into the depths of the font, ripples diverge across the
surface of the water in concentric circles. In the next moment, the item is gone.

You say, "Not the bug, you goose!"

You look up into the air for divine inspiration.

Tyrus puts the corpse of a shaggy snow mammoth into the Font of Creativity.
As the corpse of a shaggy snow mammoth sinks into the depths of the font, ripples diverge across the
surface of the water in concentric circles. In the next moment, the item is gone.

Tyrus says, "Wow!"

Faythe watches in awe as Tyrus shoves the giant corpse of the mammoth over, and
then leans forward and watches it sink and slowly vanish.

Tyrus says, "It took a whole mammoth..."

Glancing over at Tyrus, her olive-green eyes wide with curiosity and awe, Faythe
whispers to Tyrus. "Do... do you think we could fit a dragon in there?"

Tyrus says, "Maybe we shouldn't push it. Lady Maylea has to deal with enough corpses as it is."

You say, "It was *your* idea! Are you chickening out now?"

You laughingly say, "Go big, or go home?"

Tyrus says, "We already went big!"

Tyrus says, "Where we going to get a dragon?"

"Oh.. and..um.." Tyrus yells into Font as if hoping Lady Maylea will hear, "Those corpses are
offerings!"

Faythe throws her arms out wide. "Go BIGGER or go home!" she exclaims. Then she
pauses at Tyrus's question. "I don't know. There's others besides Drachou, aren't there?" She then
blinks, and peers down at the Font after Tyrus has shouted down into it, as though looking for some

Tyrus places his ear to the Font, listening intently, then after a long moment he says finally,
"Well, no shrieks of rage and the like at least. I think we're safe!"

You nod your head enthusiastically.

Faythe eyes Tyrus's position speculatively. "Good. Now stick your head in," she
urges.

Faythe gives Tyrus a little shove from behind as he is leaned over the Font.

Tyrus tumbles forward at your push, head suddenly dunking beneath the surface of the water clumsily.
He holds his breath instinctively and opens his eyes, peering towards the bottom.

Startled laughter escaping her lips as Tyrus actually does fall part of the way in,
Faythe leans forward over Tyrus's shoulder, as though watching to see what is happening in the Font
now.

Tyrus lifts his head from the water suddenly, wiping his face and blinking, he says, "I don't see
the bottom!"

You laughingly say to Tyrus, "I told you!"

You say, "And your head didn't disappear, so that answers *that* question."

You grin mischievously at Tyrus.

Tyrus says, "Maybe it needs to be dead or inanimate to be drawn in."

The corners of Tyrus's mouth turn up as he grins mischeviously.

With a flourish, you draw a crescent-moon bardiche of hardened steel from a simple leather frogge
inset with emerald gems.

Instructing him sternly, you say to Tyrus, "Hold still."

The corners of your mouth turn up as you grin mischievously.

With a flourish, you slip a crescent-moon bardiche of hardened steel into a simple leather frogge
inset with emerald gems.

You say, "It does accept living things."

You say, "I put a golden firefly squid in there the other month."

You say, "And it vanished to whereever the things vanish."

Tyrus says, "Not a live one!"

You nod your head enthusiastically.

You say, "It was alive! I didn't want to put something dead in there."

You say, "It breathes under water!"

You say, "I brought a chicken too, another time, but I didn't want to risk drowning the poor thing."

You say, "So I just let it loose here."

You nod your head emphatically.

Tyrus says, "That may be but to get here, you didn't swim, so it probably died and you didn't know
it."

You give Tyrus the once-over, eyeing him suspiciously.

You say to Tyrus, "Are you *trying* to make me upset? It's an underwater creature, it was fine!"

Tyrus says, "We must test the chicken."

Opening your mouth wide, you gape in wonder at Tyrus.

You say, "You want to risk drowning the chicken, but you don't want to put a dragon in there?"

After a long pause, you say, "Alright, fine, we can go get a chicken."

Tyrus says, "One is exceedingly much easier to procure than the other!"

You look skeptical and say, "But *you're* putting it in."

Tyrus says, "Fine by me."

You say, "We'd have to be quick though."

Tyrus nods his head emphatically.

You urge Tyrus onwards.

<Traveling to nearest village for chickens.>

You say, "We should each grab one in case they escape."

A chicken hops in from the northeast, scratching at the ground.

You pick up a chicken.
A chicken wriggles in your hand, trying to escape.

You say, "I have one."

Hooking his thumbs under his armpits and flapping his elbows, Tyrus bobs his head up and down and
clucks like a chicken.
Tyrus lunges down and grabs a chicken.
A chicken squawks loudly, but finally quiets down in Tyrus's hands.

<Traveling back to the Temple.>

Tyrus says, "Okay!"

You laughingly say, "Hurry, hurry."

You say, "Poor chicken."

Tyrus says, "Here we go..."

Tyrus yells into the Font, holding the chicken aloft high over his head. "This is also an offering!"
he yells, suddenly plunging the chicken into the Font.

Faythe chokes back laughter and dismay, covering her face with her hands as though
she cannot watch the sacrificial chicken.

A chicken jumps out of your hands!
A chicken clucks and hops off to the southeast.

Tyrus strains against some unseen force, chicken in hand barely touching the water.

A chicken hops in from the southeast, scratching at the ground.
g chicken
You pick up a chicken.
A chicken wriggles in your hand, trying to escape.

Running her quill through her hands, Kavindra steps in from the southwest.

Kavindra, Song of Transcendence leans against the side of the Font of Creativity, casting a critical
eye across the unsullied waters. Finding nothing of concern, she relaxes and smiles.

Peeping from between her fingers, her hands still covering her face, Faythe asks,
half-laughing, "Did it go in?"

A chicken jumps out of your hands!
A chicken clucks and hops off to the northwest.

A chicken hops in from the northwest, scratching at the ground.

A chicken clucks and hops off to the northeast.

Tyrus tries harder, grunting in effort, only resulting in the chicken sqawking in dismay and
fluttering its wings in panic, sending feathers everywhere. Tyrus glances up at Kavindra,
sheepishly, chicken still in hand. "Oh, hi."

A chicken hops in from the northeast, scratching at the ground.

Frantically grabbing at the escaped chicken, Faythe pauses as well, glancing up at
Kavindra, a matching expression on her face as she gazes guiltily up at the priestess. "Hi
Kavindra," she squeaks, still choking back laughter.

Tyrus whispers to Faythe "The Font repels living things, 'cept my head. Apparently it does not care
if I should drown."


Attempting to hide the chicken behind her back, standing next to Tyrus in front of
the Font, Faythe whispers back, "That's good to know."

A chicken jumps out of your hands!
A chicken clucks and hops off to the southeast.

You have emoted: Faythe squeaks in dismay as the chicken escapes again.

Tyrus quickly tucks his chicken back under his arm. "Will you hold onto your chicken, please?"

You whisper to Tyrus, "Mine doesn't like me, but I didn't even try to put it in the Font! How has
yours not run away yet?"

A chicken hops in from the southwest, scratching at the ground.

A chicken clucks and hops off to the southeast.

A chicken hops in from the southeast, scratching at the ground.

You say, "It's not my fault!"

A chicken clucks and hops off to the southeast.


A chicken hops in from the southeast, scratching at the ground.

You pick up a chicken.
A chicken jumps out of your hands!
A chicken clucks and hops off to the southeast.

You say, "Oh gods."

Tyrus gives a chicken to you.
ab hunting

Hooking your thumbs under your armpits and flapping your elbows, you bob your head up and down and
cluck like a chicken.
You notice a chicken staring up at you, and you lunge down and grab it.
A chicken squawks loudly and jumps out of your hands in a state of panic.

Hooking his thumbs under his armpits and flapping his elbows, Tyrus bobs his head up and down and
clucks like a chicken.

A chicken rushes out to the southwest in a state of panic.

Hooking your thumbs under your armpits and flapping your elbows, you bob your head up and down and
cluck like a chicken.

Tyrus says, "You look ridiculous doing that, by the way."

You say, "You look just as bad!"

You say, "Go get the chicken!"

You follow Tyrus southwest to an arched chamber of lavender.

In flickers of swirling apple blossoms, Maylea, Bloom of Serenity makes Her presence known to Her
faithful.

A chicken hops in from the southeast, scratching at the ground.

Hooking his thumbs under his armpits and flapping his elbows, Tyrus bobs his head up and down and
clucks like a chicken.
Tyrus lunges down and grabs a chicken.
A chicken squawks loudly and jumps out of his hands in a state of panic.

A chicken rushes out to the southeast in a state of panic.

(Yneli): Lief (from the Prime Material Plane) says, "My Lady! Hello!"

You follow Tyrus southeast to the Altar of Reflection.

A chicken clucks and hops off to the northeast.

You follow Tyrus northeast to an athenaeum of silent echoes.

A chicken hops in from the northwest, scratching at the ground.

Hooking his thumbs under his armpits and flapping his elbows, Tyrus bobs his head up and down and
clucks like a chicken.
Tyrus lunges down and grabs a chicken.
A chicken squawks loudly, but finally quiets down in Tyrus's hands.

You say, "Oh thank gods."

Tyrus says, "Finally."

(Yneli): Maylea says, "Hello, My Mayflowers."

In an urgent whisper, you say to Tyrus, "We have to hide the chickens, Lady Maylea is here!"

Tyrus asks, "But where?"


You say, "Oh no wait."

You say, "He might eat them."

You fret over everything that might go wrong.

You say, "The gardens?"

Tyrus says, "We can go turn them in and come back?"

You say, "Or we could set them loose outside the realms."

You say, "Yes yes, let's do that."

Tyrus nods his head emphatically.

You say, "Let's bring them back to where-ever they go."

(Yneli): Nialla (from the Prime Material Plane) says, "Hello, Lady."

You follow Tyrus northwest to the Cloudless Sanctum.

<Traveling to the Hifarae.>

Tyrus drops a chicken.

A chicken clucks and hops off to the east.

A chicken hops in from the east, scratching at the ground.

You say, "Oh no."

Tyrus suddenly scoops up a chicken.

You say, "I thought you were bringing them to the village."

(Yneli): Lief (from the Realm of the Bloom of Serenity) says, "I believe I had spoken to everybody
about this. For those who would like to, I would greatly adore your presence here by the ancient
apple tree in Kiunid Vruna."

Tyrus drops a chicken.

You say, "You can't leave the evidence on the doorstep."

You drop a chicken.

A chicken clucks and hops off to the northeast.

A chicken clucks and hops off to the west.

You say, "No time!"

You say, "Let's go."

<Traveling back into the realm of Maylea.>

Tyrus says, "Where's the apple tree?"

A fierce timberwolf scents the air.

Tyrus frowns in concentration, his facial expression changing into one akin to longing.

You follow Tyrus to gazing over orchard hill.

Panting slightly as she and Tyrus emerge into the area, Faythe follows closely
behind Tyrus. Strangely, they are both covered in chicken feathers, one of which sticks straight up
in Faythe's hair.

Gazing over orchard hill.
A solitary apple tree reaches towards the heavens here, its gnarled branches splayed out bearing
brilliantly red fruit. The tree is the oldest in the orchard, with a hollowed-out base; it still
produces an abundance of petals that glide down the hill. Looking out over the orchard, the
shimmering petals swirl en mass, an ocean of colour that waves with the breeze. A hornbeam sapling
clings tenaciously to the ground here. With a demure posture, a refined and iridescent swan graced
with alabaster wings flecked with opalescent pearls glides through the air here. Hackles risen, a
fierce timberwolf prowls about here. Awanydd Lief Myeras-Silvermoon stands here in a faint breeze of
rustling leaves and birdsong. She wields a viola of summer storms in her left hand. She is
surrounded by ten pale ancestral spirits. Tyrus is here. Oracular Elexia Myeras-Silvermoon is here.
She wields a rose-vine violin in her left hand and a silver-edged kite shield in her right hand.
Maylea, Bloom of Serenity stands here, prismatic light swirling around Her.
You see exits leading southwest and west.

(Yneli): Lief says, "Wonderful, wonderful! I hope to see you and Aiteal here, if she can make it
too!"

Tyrus discretely flicks off a few feathers from his clothing.

Elexia waves brightly to you and Tyrus, only to pause in her drifting through the air to - very
briefly - stare. Instead of pursuing the matter of the chicken feathers, however, she dips her head,
saying, "Hello!"

Lief hovers near Maylea with Elexia, her eyes glimmering with many, many excited colors. She waves
merrily to you and to Tyrus, beckoning them closer.

Maylea's golden gaze falls upon you and then Tyrus. A twitch plays about Her lips as She murmurs,
"Ah, hello, little ones." She leans in to pluck a feather from your hair.

Nialla arrives from the southwest.
A young peahen waddles into view from the southwest, cheeping softly.

Nialla curtseys gracefully.

Brushing the visible feathers off of herself, Faythe glances sidelong at Tyrus
before smiling in greeting at the others. "Hello!" she exclaims, nodding her head. She blinks as
Maylea pulls the feather from her hair, flushing in dismay.


Elexia offers Nialla a merry wave from where she hovers beside Lief, chirping, "Hello hello!"

Lief claps her hands together merrily and beams over at Nialla as Nialla_she crests the hill with a
young peahen. "Hello, hello to the both of you!"

Eyes glinting with an array of prismatic colours, Lief rests her hand upon her chest and inhales
slowly.

Tyrus just stands in gawking silence, gaze fixed on the Lady Maylea.

She is a radiant immortal and glows with effulgent life, a powerful sense of vibrancy emanating from
Her presence. There is something thoughtful and introspective about Her expression and Her brilliant
golden eyes, as though She gazes farther into the soul, brushing aside the impermanent layers of
existence to seek the truth within. Streaks of deep blue wind through Her chestnut hair as it falls
straight down Her back to the hips, several shorter locks dangling forward to frame Her heart-shaped
face. A thin line crosses the skin of Her left forearm, the only remnant of the scar from a savage
bite. An aura of power plays about Her slender frame and sets Her tawny skin aglow in faint,
prismatic hues.

She is wearing:
a woven sari edged in prismatic embroidery
a trailing rainbow sash
an armband of twining vines
a sky-hued bluebell
a translucent crystal bindi
an anklet hung with crystal chimes.

You whisper to Tyrus, "Close your mouth, Glinshari, you're attracting flies."

Maylea turns her attention back to Lief, softly murmuring, "Is this everyone you wished to have
present, Eldin?"

Nialla smiles happily at Lief as a young peahen has a brief exploration of the area. "Hello! We're
glad we could make it for this." Turning towards Maylea she dips into another brief curtsey. "And
wonderful yo see You, Lady."

A refined and iridescent swan graced with alabaster wings flecked with opalescent pearls dips her
head low.

Elexia's energetic drifting through the air is brought to a halting hover as she turns her eyes
towards Lief.

Tyrus snaps his mouth closed and nods, cheeks briefly flush.

Lief lowers her hand from waving to briefly cover her mouth, concealing a grin which nonetheless
brightens her gaze. To Maylea's question, she lowers her hand and clasps it before herself, joining
it with the other. Her eyes sparkling with joy, she answers softly, "Yes, my Lady."

Faythe hands a wayward chicken feather to Tyrus and then moves closer to the
others, her face still pink in her embarrassment as she listens to Lief speak.

Tyrus stuffs the feather into his pocket and listens for whatever may come next.

<This log ends here - you can read what happens next when/if Lief posts a log of her own!>