Crow's Return

Originally occurred 10/26/2023

Folding their wings so they can reach them easily, Takhre preens their wings happily, straightening out the disheveled feathers.

Somewhere in the forest, a crow caws. Another mocks and adds a rattle. Slowly, these cries are repeated across the forest, the dark feathered forms of murders looming over the trees as they gather.

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

Takhre blinks.

You hum thoughtfully.

Takhre looks up to the canopy, their eyes glittering with curiosity.

PATH TRACK GLOMDORING
You have reached your destination.
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. 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. 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. 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. A ruby vial glitters on the ground. In the shape of an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here. A painting of upper Tridacna between Nautilus and Aegis Keep has been thrown on the ground here. A lush curtain of blue blossoms and vibrant green foliage hangs overhead, the faint aroma of forget-me-nots softly perfuming the area. There are 4 dusky brocade moths here. There are 3 curious young kittens here. Snarling and slavering, a massive mud-coloured rage worg with leathery black wings waits here. A bizarre, black crow flies here with shadowy wings spread. Aria, the rainbow kitsune has curled up into a bundle of fluff here. Nothing more than a puffball with cerulean eyes, a seal lynx point ragdoll kitten lies here lounging languidly. Slick hair hanging stringy from its scalp, a squat boggart prowls here with a feral gait. A leopard lurks in the shadows, curiously watching anything that moves. A vicious, spotted grey crow flies here with wings spread. A void darker than shadows lingers here, greedily surveying all with voracious, smouldering eyes. Proselyte Wrynn Mzithrei, of the Somber Lament is here. She wields a wickedly serrated, black steel katana with both hands. The shadowy form of a Daughter of the Night stands here, exuding wyrden power from within swirling black robes. Clad in matte black leather, a golden-eyed savage lingers here like a living shadow. Juno has a look of comprehension here. He wields a nature talisman in his left hand. A golden oak tree depicted on his armour, a fae knight stands here, proud and shining. Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise is here, shrouded. They wield a mystic cudgel in their left hand and a mechanical parasol in their right hand.
You see a single exit leading north.

Tirah inclines their head politely to you.

Comprehension flashes across Juno's face.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says to you, "It has been some time, have you been well?"

You incline your head politely to Tirah.

Laina inclines her head politely to you.

You whisper, "Well enough, aye."

Skaza chitters at you with energetic clicks of her mandibles.

You murmur softly to yourself.

Iazin inclines his head politely to those around him.

Murders of crows begin amassing in the trees, their collective sound quickly becoming cacophonous.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says to Brennan Stormcrow, "Do you know what is having the crows so agitated?"

Iazin raises an eyebrow questioningly.

In a soft, tenebrous voice, Nascent Laina Mzithrei says, "The crows seem very much noisier than they usually are."

In a soft, tenebrous voice, Nascent Laina Mzithrei says to Iazin, "Thank you!"

Iazin nods his head emphatically.

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "Many kabobs, with our Regent in mind."

Tirah nods their head emphatically.

Laina nods her head emphatically.

Takhre closes their eyes, seemingly basking in the noise of the increasing murder. They accept the kabob from Iazin and nod to him appreciatively before tilting their face back up.

Proselyte Wrynn Mzithrei, of the Somber Lament says, "Thank you."

The sound of fluttering and flapping comes loudly from above as numerous feathered bodies alight in the boughs of the Master Ravenwood, and Juno's wyrdenwood branches.

Tirah nods their head at you.

"Thank you." Juno gently holds a sizzling seafood medley kabob and eyes it with keen interest. He twirls the stick with his fingers, intrigued.

Ferelith calls out "Thank you."

Iazin nods his head emphatically.

Ferelith Villarreal smiles and says, "No poison too."

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "Must keep everyone fed. I don't do much else."

You tilt your head back and look up at the sky.

Laina studies the crows in the tree.

Ferelith's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Juno peers over his shoulder, stopping momentarily, where the crows perch. He stays still, observing with quiet fascination.

Iazin scans the boughs, clicking his tongue. "Do you think the crows are hungry?"

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Always."

Chancellor Skaza says, "Always."

Laina inclines her head at the bizarre, black crow.

Takhre flashes Skaza a toothy smile, their gaze widening beyond comfort.

Ferelith nods her head emphatically.

Skaza chitters quietly, looking mighty pleased.

Iazin peers into his pack. "Well, I mean more than usual." He pokes a finger in. "I don't know if I brought enough for all of -that-".

Pensively, Juno Mzithrei asks, "Do they enjoy seafood?"

Laina's eyes sparkle with amusement.

The sound of wings flapping heralds a screeching murder of crows flying overhead. (<- standard ambient, but seemed to be firing way more than usual)

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "They enjoy any food they see."

Tirah hides a grin behind their hand.

The boughs above Glomdoring Forest darken as crows from all around perch in trees and foliage alike. Their caws and rattles are loud enough to echo throughout the Basin.

Skaza chitters at Asphodel with energetic clicks of her mandibles.

With a slow nod to Wrynn, Tirah shows their understanding.

A tinge of hope entering their voice, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Perhaps Great Crow returns to us?"
Brennan Stormcrow exclaims, "Crow! Mighty Crow! Glorious Crow!"
Brennan Stormcrow grovels pathetically in the dirt.

You murmur softly to yourself.

Juno cautiously inches a sizzling seafood medley kabob closer to one of the crows but pauses midway amidst the clamour.

Asphodel stuffs the entire kabob into their mouth, stick and all, remarking, "The crows sing."

Iazin gives a horrified gasp.

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "I almost forgot to give a treat to Ilistala."

The noise of their calling reaches a fever pitch. In the distant sky, an inky black figure can be seen approaching the First World at an alarming speed.

"Oooooooooh!" Skaza says, eyes wide with wonder.

Juno offers a gentle "Hmm?" as he tilts his head curiously.

Takhre gives a short gasp of elation.

Juno tilts his head back and looks up at the sky.

Iazin turns his eyes back skyward, eyes widening.

Grooming their antennae as they look up, Asphodel Ysav'rai asks, "Shall we be devoured?"

In a soft, tenebrous voice, Nascent Laina Mzithrei says, "Something inky this way comes."

Using their tongue and the roof of their mouth, Tirah makes a quiet clicking noise.

Among the sparkling motes of light, a translucent figure appears in the air and then quickly solidifies as Noie comes into view.

Chancellor Skaza says to Asphodel, "Hopefully. Consume and be consumed."

Takhre narrows their eyes at Noie in an unnerving manner.

Ferelith nods her head emphatically.

You tilt your head inquisitively at Noie.

With a raspy, frail voice, Juno Mzithrei says to Skaza, "Reassuring."

Ferelith Villarreal says, "Maybe I should of warned everyone first."

Ferelith's eyes sparkle with amusement at Noie.

In notes of sibilant melancholy, Noie Villarreal says, "..Yes, likely."

In notes of sibilant melancholy, Noie Villarreal says, "I will leave if it is preferable."

Ferelith tilts her head curiously.

Ferelith flashes Noie a joyous smile.

Brother Crow, the dark-winged figure himself, casts a brief glance over the Basin as he passes. Like an arrow shot, his path is direct, taking him over Glomdoring, buffeting his home with the intense gale of his passage.

You whisper, "Though, perhaps, a matter for the wyrdenkin."

A void darker than shadows shifts surreptitiously from side to side.

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

Noie searches the air in front of her, then tugs upon an invisible strand of force.

Asphodel's lilac flame of hair swishes around in the breeze brought on by Brother Crow's wings.

CLIMB UP
In a nest above 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. A ball of mistletoe clings to the tree branches here. An enormous, putrid crow's nest stands here atop the totem pole below. Covered in bone armour, a giant bat hangs here, wings folded about its body and one beady eye open. A pimply olive squonkabonk stands here amidst a pool of foamy tears, rotten flesh wings protruding out from the many flesh folds along her back. Aria, the rainbow kitsune has curled up into a bundle of fluff here. Nothing more than a puffball with cerulean eyes, a seal lynx point ragdoll kitten lies here lounging languidly. Slick hair hanging stringy from its scalp, a squat boggart prowls here with a feral gait. A leopard lurks in the shadows, curiously watching anything that moves. A vicious, spotted grey crow flies here with wings spread. A bizarre, black crow flies here with shadowy wings spread. Asphodel Ysav'rai is here. They wield a mystic cudgel in their left hand and a grotesque scarab in their right hand. A golden oak tree depicted on his armour, a fae knight stands here, proud and shining. A void darker than shadows lingers here, greedily surveying all with voracious, smouldering eyes. Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise is here, shrouded. They wield a mystic cudgel in their left hand and a mechanical parasol in their right hand. Clad in matte black leather, a golden-eyed savage lingers here like a living shadow. Juno Mzithrei is here. He wields a nature talisman in his left hand.
You see a single exit leading north.

Spiraling upwards, the Great Spirit gathers murders to his form by his mere presence, the birds flocking to his form. A swift motion, Crow extends his wings, sending the surrounding forms flying away, loudly announcing his presence.

CA-CAW!

Takhre looks up to Crow with utter devotion, clasping their hands together as they murmur mantras under their breath.

Skaza's compound eyes glitter darkly.

Crow descends towards the forest, alighting on the Master Ravenwood, sending the roosted crows scattering in his wake.

You see Crow yell, "CA-CAW!"

Chancellor Skaza says, "Crow Crow mighty Crow!"

With a raspy, frail voice, Juno Mzithrei whispers, "K'ian Doim."

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "K'ian Doim."

Tirah bows respectfully to Crow.
Tilting his head back, Crow opens its beak and lets forth a terrifying caw, causing the very air to quake and forcing you to freeze in fear.
[Everyone is paralyzed. GROVEL only or he gets upset.]

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai says, "Crow Crow, Mighty Crow!"

PROBE CROW
Looking much like his smaller namesake, Crow appears as a bird with a sharp beak and black feathers that sheen over with a dark mauve iridescence. However, mighty Crow himself is larger than a wolf and has a doubled set of wings, each with a span reaching over thirteen feet. One eye has been scooped out, leaving a dark and empty socket, so that the bird needs to cock his head towards whatever catches his interest in order to focus on the subject with his remaining eye. Glowing a deep ruby red, his gaze gives the illusion of piercing straight through whatever Crow's eye rests upon, the gnarled talons as sharp as knives and easily able to tear into flesh and bark alike. A palpable aura of darkness radiates around Crow as light retreats from his presence.
Crow does not even register your presence as a threat.
He weighs about 471 pounds.
He is loyal to the Free Forest of Glomdoring.
You cannot see what Crow is holding.
It has the following aliases: crow, bird.

Brennan Stormcrow bows respectfully to Crow.

Brennan Stormcrow exclaims, "Crow, Glorious Crow! He makes his return!"

Turning his one, red eye upon Brennan Stormcrow, Crow exclaims, "Ck-caw!"

Brennan Stormcrow says, "I see, yes, Mighty Crow. Tell us of your return, and what you would have me do."

Tirah nods their head emphatically.

A void darker than shadows leans forward, eagerly.

Crow focuses his attention on Brennan Stormcrow, a staccato series of rattles and noises. Its a lengthy message. Brennan's face turns pale, a surprise to all.

Tirah raises their eyebrows and tilts their head at Brennan.

Brennan Stormcrow says, "THAT Witch? But, I don't understand."

Iazin glances askance.

Juno spares a glance but quickly directs his attention back on the ground.

Crow glares unnervingly at Brennan Stormcrow, who cringes at the very gaze. "Okay, okay, fine." He says, with a huff.

Takhre creases their brow in a frown.

Asphodel pulls an antenna down, rubbing over it with their fingers in a soothing gesture; it springs back up exuberantly at the conclusion.

Brennan Stormcrow clears his throat in an attempt to gain everyone's attention.

You tilt your head and listen intently to Brennan Stormcrow.
Iazin tilts his head and listens intently to Brennan Stormcrow.
Tirah tilts their head and listens intently to Brennan Stormcrow.

Juno tilts his head and listens intently.
Takhre tilts their head and listens intently to Brennan Stormcrow.

Their compound eyes fixated on Brennan Stormcrow, Asphodel's mandibles twitch to voice a brief, curious chirr.

Brennan Stormcrow says, "Very well. Crow returns. Lady Viravain's extended absence has weakened him. Bound as he is to the Forest, he needed to return, or suffer irreparable injury."

You murmur softly to yourself.

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

Brennan Stormcrow says, "Given time, he will recover."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Is there anything we can do to hasten his recovery?"

Glaring hatefully, but avoiding actually looking at Crow, Brennan Stormcrow says, "Perhaps. But we are bid to contact the Seers of Movran. Specifically, Seeress Morizwala."

Asphodel clicks their sharp fingers together saying, "We are gladdened to sees him, to basks in his presence."

Asphodel bobs their head in agreement, their antennae bouncing up and down.

Takhre creases their brow in a frown.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise asks, "... who?"

Skaza tap taps around Crow with her fluffy black antennae. "Recover swiftly, yes, all assistance will be had."

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

You whisper, "Ah. I suppose we haven't heard from the Seers since the debacle during the last Festival?"

You tilt your head inquisitively.

Takhre creases their brow in a frown.

Wrynn tilts her head curiously.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says to you, "I believe this was before my time?"

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "And many of our's."

You whisper to Tirah, "Only just."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Will you educate us, Haruspex?"

"Morizwala is a-" Brennan Stormcrow pauses, and without turning his head, feels the intense stare of Crow upon him. "A harpy. One of the old supplicants. A Raven Circle, who took up the form of harpies. I thought they were dead, but she made the pleasure of informing me of her continued existence."

Comprehension flashes across Tirah's face.

You nod at Brennan Stormcrow.

Takhre raises an eyebrow questioningly.

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

Juno rubs his chin thoughtfully, raises his eyebrow and says, "I see..."

Brennan Stormcrow says, "She is to be contacted, and a demand made, this he asks of us. We will give her the words, and she will know what to do."

Tirah nods their head emphatically.

(Glomdoring): Azo (from the Aetherways) says, "K'wal'ial."

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Where might we... find her? To enact K'ian Doim's will?"

(Glomdoring): Asphodel says, "Dark tidings, kindred."
(Glomdoring): Takhre says, "Mor'k'al."
(Glomdoring): Laina says, "Mor'k'al Brother."

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "Perhaps the harpy in the Swarm Guildhall might offer insight."

Tapping his cheek with his finger until it falls off, Brennan Stormcrow says, "She does not make it easy to be found. They are secretive."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says to Brennan Stormcrow, "Are you aware of a way to lure her out?"

Takhre glances at Brennan's finger now fallen to the ground with a raised eyebrow.

One of Asphodel's eyes tracks the finger as it falls, fixed on it pointedly; the other two linger on Brennan Stormcrow, one turned to Crow.

Raising his hand in greeting, Azo says "Hi!"

Laina flashes Azo a joyous smile.

Thoughtfully, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Well, we could always find a centaur for them to eat."

Skaza follows Asphodel's gaze, compound eyes watching them closely.

Brennan Stormcrow says, "I have been given the words to speak, but Crow bids us to figure this out ourselves. The Seers, evidently, can see through some portions of the Veil, and therein hide secrets."

Quicker than they can be stopped, Asphodel snatches up the finger and it disappears, both hands risen to their mouth where a grotesque crunching sound is heard.

Takhre narrows their eyes at Asphodel in an unnerving manner.

Brennan Stormcrow exclaims, "MY FINGER!!"

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai asks Brennan Stormcrow, "Does it need?"

Tirah stares implacably about themself.

Defensively raising his hands, Iazin backs away from the situation slowly.

Skaza chitters at Asphodel with energetic clicks of her mandibles.

Waving the stump missing a digit, Brennan Stormcrow says, "Yes, 'it need!'"

Wrynn rubs her temples in frustration.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says to Asphodel, "Spit it out."

Iazin tries very, very hard to stifle a laugh.

Tirah frowns at Asphodel.

Takhre slaps Asphodel's back between the shoulder blades in an attempt to launch the remains of the finger from their mouth.

You have emoted: Esei rubs their fingers into their temples, covering half their face to do so. "How may we be of assistance, Brennan?"

Amid the clamor Juno quietly shuffles off to the distance.

Taking up the chant, Brennan Stormcrow exclaims, "Spit it out, spit it out!"

Asphodel starts to make this revolting sound, something akin to the gut turning itself inside out. They spit out the finger and hand it back to Brennan Stormcrow; it's covered in bite marks.

Skaza chitters quietly, looking mighty pleased.

Ruefully taking his finger and returning it to his hand, Brennan Stormcrow says, "Ahem. How can you help? We must find a way to contact the Seeress. If I can have as little to do with it as possible, that would be my preference. And we are to give her a message."

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says to Asphodel, "Terrible idea. You have no idea where that finger has been. You could have gotten ill."

Laina presses her hand over her mouth to stiffle the giggles at Takhre.

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "Mmh. So we should attempt a search, then."

Brennan Stormcrow says, "Ah yes, I remember, someone was saying. Where is that one that had been kicked out? That seems like a way, if she will help, and the other will listen, mm?"

You whisper to Brennan Stormcrow, "Indeed?"

Iazin nods his head at Brennan Stormcrow.

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "The Swampghast."

Azo sucks thoughtfully on his teeth.

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "I can head there posthaste."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says to Iazin, "Will you do the honours of taking us there?"

Iazin nods his head emphatically.

The horrible wailing fades from the air as a gargantuan pimply olive squonkabonk waddles out to the north trailing a stream of foamy tears.
Tirah leaves, following Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow.
Aria, the rainbow kitsune prances out to the north, leaving the area looking much more dull than it was with her in it.
Azo leaves, following Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow.

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

Brennan Stormcrow says, "What was her name... Koircha?"

You whisper, "That would be correct."

(Glomdoring): Iazin says, "Apologies."
(Glomdoring): Iazin says, "Seems I lost everyone."

(Glomdoring): Iazin says, "We have entered. If any need me to fetch them, let me know."

Frowning, Brennan Stormcrow says, "Perhaps you should try that while I try to delicately remove myself from this situation I seem to have gotten myself into."

A wry smile spreads across Takhre's face.

Wrynn nods her head emphatically.

Proselyte Wrynn Mzithrei, of the Somber Lament says, "Good luck."

You turn your mind to the strange arts of death and the cold chill of the grave. A mist billows about you as you glimpse the eventual decay of Iazin.

The chill of the grave sinks into your bones as the mist envelops you. For a moment, you glimpse your own death and the fragility of all things. As it passes, you find yourself in another location.
Takhre follows you ether.
A rotting wooden hut.
Dense white clouds have spread completely across the sky. A low ceiling of branches held together by mould and mud shelters the inhabitants of this squat hut. Fresh animal skins and shrivelled, cured corpses litter the floor, perfuming the room with pungent decay and acrid brine. Surrounded by primitive alchemical implements, a crude sunken pit in the centre of the hut breathes an eye-stinging ochre smoke across the ground, which is naught but a mound of loosely-packed dung speckled with half-digested bones and straw. Lining the crude windowpanes are jars of pickled animals, curled up placidly like fetuses in utero. Once, maybe twice, a mauve-black jarred manticore opens its jaundiced eyes and blinks with incipient curiosity before shuttering its gaze again; though perhaps, it was simply a trick of the sickly green torchlight quivering against the shadows. A bush of bog myrtle thrives here in the swamp. A horehound plant thrives in the swampy waters here. A calamus plant enjoys life in the swamp here. Wings unfurled and standing tall, Ilara the Magpie carefully tends to an ingot of silver in utter fascination. A pimply olive squonkabonk stands here amidst a pool of foamy tears, rotten flesh wings protruding out from the many flesh folds along her back. Nothing more than a puffball with cerulean eyes, a seal lynx point ragdoll kitten lies here lounging languidly. Slick hair hanging stringy from its scalp, a squat boggart prowls here with a feral gait. A leopard lurks in the shadows, curiously watching anything that moves. Aria, the rainbow kitsune has curled up into a bundle of fluff here. Snarling and slavering, a massive mud-coloured rage worg with leathery black wings waits here. The shadowy form of a Daughter of the Night stands here, exuding wyrden power from within swirling black robes. Clad in matte black leather, a golden-eyed savage lingers here like a living shadow. A void darker than shadows lingers here, greedily surveying all with voracious, smouldering eyes. A golden oak tree depicted on his armour, a fae knight stands here, proud and shining. Asphodel Ysav'rai is here, shrouded. They wield a mystic cudgel in their left hand and a grotesque scarab in their right hand. A frost-touched savage waits here, garbed in black wolf pelts and emanating a deathly chill. Eyes aglow with a fierce, dreadful light, a slithering nagasith broods amid an aura of menace. Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow floats here, enchanting notes weaving ceaselessly about his form. He wields a spectral measuring cup in his left hand and a totemic teak spatula in his right hand.
You see a single exit leading east.

You incline your head politely to those around you.

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "You have. That does not make you free from the demands of the Wyrd."

Ilara the Magpie gives a pained sigh.

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "Or."

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "I can take the rest of your feathers."

LOOK ILARA
Dusky skin stretches over the lean musculature of this harpy figure, their limbs long and their wings grander in their unfurled glory. No clothing dresses them, but instead, black feathers textures over their thighs, trailing up their stomach, chest and neck, their face framed in dark, purple-tinted plumage but otherwise clear to see. Unlike their kin, Ilara stands to a full height, not hunched or crouched over, their spine straight to afford them an imposing sort of stature. Their eyes are watery and dark green in colour, and they widen with excitement and interest when they fall upon something shiny, dazzling or new. Sharp talons terminate the ends of their digitigrade legs, and clawed fingers rap against each other eagerly as their hands seek to palm something within them. Strung upon a silver, fine-link chain is a large, onyx amulet that hangs about their neck and gleams with some magical, indeterminable purpose.
Ilara the Magpie looks to be crushingly strong.
They weigh about 107 pounds.
They are loyal to The Swarm.
You cannot see what Ilara the Magpie is holding.
It has the following aliases: ilara, harpy.

Midnight shadows coalesce around a new day, and Mother Night embraces the land in utter darkness.
It is now the 14th of Urlachmar, 662 years after the Coming of Estarra.
There are 18 days until the New Moon.

A void darker than shadows leans forward, eagerly.

Faint lights flicker in the dark distance, trying to tempt you to walk towards them.

Ilara the Magpie says, "Very well. I will call, but I do not know if she will answer."

You tilt your head inquisitively.

You begin to follow Iazin.

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "That is all I ask, for the moment."

Some creature cries out briefly in the distance before its call is suddenly cut short.

Takhre blinks.

Takhre narrows their eyes to thin slits.

Iazin shakes his head.

Asphodel pulls an antenna down, rubbing over it with their fingers in a soothing gesture; it springs back up exuberantly at the conclusion.

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "Typical of the Guildhall."

Folding their wings so they can reach them easily, Takhre preens their wings happily, straightening out the disheveled feathers.

Ilara the Magpie says, "She will be angry. What do you need her for?"

Iazin ponders the situation.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "K'ian Doim returns."

Tirah nods their head at Takhre.

You whisper, "Brother Crow has returned, little magpie, and needs to give the Seer a message."

Ilara the Magpie clears their throat in an attempt to gain everyone's attention.

You see Ilara the Magpie yell, "Morizwala. K'ian Doim te'l kn'al'i'ka'qal."

Ilara the Magpie says, "You see, I am not so sure she will come. I am Ilara."

Ilara the Magpie purses their lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as they carefully gathers their thoughts.

Seeress Morizwala yells, "Koircha! How dare you use those words. M'az. M'az indeed!"

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "She does not come for you. She comes for Brother Crow."

Iazin turns to Tirah and you.

Seeress Morizwala yells, "Sh'azat. State your business, before I lose my patience."

Occasional Aphid Iazin Stormcrow says, "At this point it is probably best for one of you to take over the conversation. I have little authority."

You have emoted: Esei tips their head, regarding Iazin with a hollow expression.

Skaza chitters quietly, looking mighty pleased.

The endless song of the cicadas picks up in volume, becoming almost deafening for a while before once more fading into the background.

You yell, "Tis Brother Crow's mandate, Seeress, not the magpie's."

Takhre glances expectantly to Tirah, and then you.

Gesturing, Ilara the Magpie says, "Well?"

You see Chancellor Skaza yell, "Crow Crow Glorious Crow!"

Seeress Morizwala yells, "Q'wo'lan, do you think I do not know this? She has invoked a name which does not belong in her beak. State what it is, out with it."

Ilara the Magpie winces in pain.

Ilara the Magpie says, "What is the message?"

You shake your head.

Takhre mutters discontentedly.

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

You see K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon yell, "Join us atop the Master Ravenwood, Seeress, for Brother Crow has returned and wishes to relay something of importance to you."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "I will make my way there."

Proselyte Wrynn Mzithrei, of the Somber Lament says, "I don't think Brennan was of mind to pass the message on to us."

Iazin nods his head emphatically.

Distance to 'before the Master Ravenwood Tree': 2 Steps.

You reach upwards and concentrate on finding a sturdy branch, then lift yourself up with relative ease.

In a nest above 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. A ball of mistletoe clings to the tree branches here. An enormous, putrid crow's nest stands here atop the totem pole below. Covered in bone armour, a giant bat hangs here, wings folded about its body and one beady eye open. The gigantic form of Crow is perched on a nearby branch here, his dark shadow spreading across the ground and his single eye glowing a deep red. The shadowy form of a Daughter of the Night stands here, exuding wyrden power from within swirling black robes.
You see a single exit leading north.
Crow spreads his wings and caws at you, filling you with confidence and pride.

Tirah inclines their head politely to those around them.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Oh did Brennan leave."

You point downwards.

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

[climbs down]

Glaring at Brennan Stormcrow, Seeress Morizwala says, "What is the meaning of this, kaen'ti?"

Rolling his eyes, but not so much that they pop out, Brennan Stormcrow says, "I thought I told you all I didn't want to see her."

Drawling a snarling susurrus, Drone Azo Mzithrei, One of Many utters, "You also didn't give us the message to tell her ourselves, so it seems you played yourself."

Deadpan, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Indeed, you're the only one with the message."

Laina's eyes sparkle with amusement at Azo.

Shaking his head, Brennan Stormcrow says, "You didn't ask."

Takhre stares implacably at Brennan Stormcrow.

Drawling a snarling susurrus, Drone Azo Mzithrei, One of Many utters, "Well, now we don't have to."

Takhre's claws twitch.

Proselyte Wrynn Mzithrei, of the Somber Lament says, "I suppose we can all share the responsibility then."

Tirah stares implacably at Brennan Stormcrow.

Seeress Morizwala taps her foot claw with impatience.

Takhre urges Brennan Stormcrow onwards.

You have emoted: Esei places a light hand atop Takhre's head. "Perhaps we should spend less time arguing, and more time understanding what the Great Crow desires of the Glomdoring, yes?"

Takhre blinks, their feathers settling as they glance back up at you.

Sighing dramatically and making a show of eye contact with Morizwala, Brennan Stormcrow says, "Tzya t'qana'kza oari el'i i'ak'ya. K'sk'oalian'lom n'li'wa."

Their compound eyes fixated on Seeress Morizwala, Asphodel's mandibles twitch to voice a brief, curious chirr.

Stiffening to full height, Seeress Morizwala says, "K'zch. These words are not... They were not meant for you, kaen'ti."

A large shadow flits across the edge of your vision for a bare instant, vanishing between the trees.

Completely unaware of social standards, Asphodel Ysav'rai says to Seeress Morizwala, "We enjoy your veil, Seeress."

Slowly draws the veil down, exposing her hidden face., Seeress Morizwala says, "Do you? We will grant you the true visage, then. Be careful what you wish for. Now, then. The demand."

LOOK MORIZWALA
Weaves of spidersilk has been pulled back to reveal the true form of Seeress Morizwala; her statuesque figure made of muscle and feather, adorned with golden links that musically chime and jingle together as she purposefully and fluidly moves. Her wings remain folded at her back, their great and inky glory drawn closed but surely able to flare out with both strength and speed. Her arms and legs are covered in similar black feathers that climb up from her thighs to her chest and throat, framing even the sides of her head in delicate black down. Her cheekbones are sharp, her skin glassy smooth; the flesh of her palms and face is dark like rich earth. Noticeably, Morizwala possesses only a single eye: it a bright, icy blue; in the other socket, embedded deep into her skull, is a black emerald that churns with shadows and fierce magic. Golden rings with dark-hued jewels glitter upon her clawed fingers, which remain steepled as if she were considering the choices ahead of her. While the harpy's figure is imposing enough, an elaborate wimple festooned in gold and embroidered in beads adorns her head and keenly extenuates her posture like a knife.
Seeress Morizwala looks to be crushingly strong.

Repeating, her head tilting one way, and then the other, Seeress Morizwala says, "Tzya t'qana'kza oari el'i i'ak'ya. K'sk'oalian'lom n'li'wa. I see. I have seen. I know this moment, it is written in the auguries, and yet the subtle things, they are different. Very well. A trade. I demand a trade."

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

Tirah tilts their head curiously.

Seeress Morizwala says, "K'ian Doim demands that I lift the veil, that I give what belongs to the Seers to the Forest. I cannot refuse, but as he says, 'the deal is mine to make.'"

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Then what do you demand in return, Seeress?"

Tilting her head in one direction, as if hearing something, then leaning in to address Tirah, Seeress Morizwala says, "K'ahe'mor. I demand two things, and I will tell you what you earn."

Hushed to a near-whisper, Asphodel Ysav'rai says to Skaza, "We shall make you many jewels, shinies like Seeress."

Tirah tilts their head and listens intently to Seeress Morizwala.

Ferelith tilts her head curiously.

Skaza chitters at Asphodel with energetic clicks of her mandibles.

Chancellor Skaza says to Asphodel, "All treasures yes."

The sound of wings flapping heralds a screeching murder of crows flying overhead.

Seeress Morizwala says, "First, we lift the Veil on an old place, a place of Gloriana. D'oiliea'i, we have ruins, kept ruins, improved ruins. This shall be the gift to the Forest. In exchange, we demand you do business there."

Proselyte Wrynn Mzithrei, of the Somber Lament says, "Do business?"

Iazin shifts with a measure of curiosity and excitement.

irah narrows their eyes slightly. "What is the other demand?"

Her common obviously not the best, Seeress Morizwala says, "We demand that you store your knowledge there. You will receive your letters there. You will draft your novels there. Learning in the Forest will be conducted in this building, as the ancient ways decree it."

Seeress Morizwala glances askance at Brennan Stormcrow.

Seeress Morizwala says, "Not you."

Brennan Stormcrow lifts a dainty hand to his neckline, glancing about with uncertain disdain.

A void darker than shadows leans forward, eagerly, jostling for ephemeral space.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "I believe that can be arranged, given the necessary facilities are contained in this...improved ruin of yours."

Preceded by harsh caws, Seeress Morizwala says, "One thing for one thing. D'oiliea'i will move your things. Second, the thing for me, my end. My needs must be satisfied. There is one who lies outside the Veil, outside the forest. Do you know her?"

Seeress Morizwala clears her throat in an attempt to gain everyone's attention.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "I know many who could fit that description, you will need to narrow it down some, I am afraid."

Seeress Morizwala says, "I speak of the witch Amhika."

Takhre raises an eyebrow questioningly.

You tilt your head inquisitively.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Oh, her. What do you need of her?"

Skaza's antennae spring up in query at the name but the kephera remains silent.

A wicked smile spreading across her features, Seeress Morizwala says, "A child."

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

Seeress Morizwala says, "This child will be ours, for our purposes. You will deliver it - him, her, it makes no difference - into my care, into the care of the Seers."

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "... The child born of snakes and plants?"

Snapping, Seeress Morizwala says, "A child born of the graces of Mother Night."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "I see, this can be arranged, I am sure."

Takhre just blithely blinks in the face of Seeress Morizwala's frustration.

You nod your head slowly in understanding.

Skaza chitters quietly, looking mighty pleased.

Tirah clears their throat. "Any of you who are familiar with the process, will you go prepare the request the Seeress made?"

Seeress Morizwala says, "K'ahe'mor. I will wait."

Takhre nods once.

Tirah nods their head emphatically.

[nooming around for defs and the like, returning to MR]

Staring intently at Brennan Stormcrow with her emerald eye, Seeress Morizwala says, "You look like you could fall apart at any moment, kaen'ti."

Brennan Stormcrow says, "Do not call me that again. You will regret it."

Seeress Morizwala's head tilts back, her mocking laughter echoing like a crow's caw.

Seeress Morizwala says, "I will be waiting. T'iar."
Fluid like a shadow, Seeress Morizwala takes flight upon inky-black feathers as she departs to the north.

[path path]
Outside a tiny hovel.
Heavy hailstones smash down upon everything around you. Constructed entirely out of blocks of peat, this one-room hut leans to the left, its weight supported on one side by a wall of smooth, flat stones. Moss and swamp creepers flourish along its outer surface, a thick layer of dull grass sprouting from its roof. A gaping rectangle in one wall serves as a doorway, revealing an interior cluttered with bones, reed blankets, and strings of dried herbs. A horehound plant thrives in the swampy waters here. A calamus plant enjoys life in the swamp here. A bush of bog myrtle thrives here in the swamp. Amhika Rotwood lingers here, hands fidgeting, her body bent with age. With deep carmine eyes, a massive wyvern with ruby skeletal wings prowls around here. A vicious, spotted grey crow flies here with wings spread. Snarling and slavering, a massive mud-coloured rage worg with leathery black wings waits here. A frost-touched savage waits here, garbed in black wolf pelts and emanating a deathly chill. A blood-streaked savage armoured in plated bone towers here, cloaked in the shroud of death. He are surrounded by a deflection bubble. Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise is riding on a vicious, spotted grey crow. They wield a mystic cudgel in their left hand and a mechanical parasol in their right hand.
You see a single exit leading west.

Shifting her eyes back and forth, Amhika Rotwood says, "What makes you think I need help?"

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Because you have not done it yourself."

You whisper, "Most people do."

Amhika Rotwood says, "You wish to help me grow a child? Why now?"

Takhre ponders Amhika Rotwood thoughtfully, looking her up and down.

Takhre tells you, "Must we be truthful?"

Your soft voice reaches out to Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise, tickling their ear, "Not necessarily. She is not wyrdenkin, for all of her proximity."

Amhika Rotwood says, "Hmm?"

Proselyte Wrynn Mzithrei, of the Somber Lament says, "A delightful harpy requires one for an exchange."

Your soft voice reaches out to Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise, tickling their ear, "Though it may make things less... complex."

The weather continues to deterioriate as the snow turns to hailstones, smashing down on everything in sight.

Amhika Rotwood says, "A harpy? Mmmm. I don't know about that. Mother Night allows me this gift only on certain conditions. What would she use it for?"

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "To raise and grow as one of the Seers."

Amhika Rotwood says, "Seers? Seers. Where have I heard that before?"

You whisper, "Perhaps you have heard of the Seers of Movran."

Outside a tiny hovel.
Heavy hailstones smash down upon everything around you. Constructed entirely out of blocks of peat, this one-room hut leans to the left, its weight supported on one side by a wall of smooth, flat stones. Moss and swamp creepers flourish along its outer surface, a thick layer of dull grass sprouting from its roof. A gaping rectangle in one wall serves as a doorway, revealing an interior cluttered with bones, reed blankets, and strings of dried herbs. A horehound plant thrives in the swampy waters here. A calamus plant enjoys life in the swamp here. A bush of bog myrtle thrives here in the swamp. Amhika Rotwood lingers here, hands fidgeting, her body bent with age. With deep carmine eyes, a massive wyvern with ruby skeletal wings prowls around here. A vicious, spotted grey crow flies here with wings spread. Snarling and slavering, a massive mud-coloured rage worg with leathery black wings waits here. A blood-streaked savage armoured in plated bone towers here, cloaked in the shroud of death. He are surrounded by a deflection bubble. A frost-touched savage waits here, garbed in black wolf pelts and emanating a deathly chill. Takhre is here, pondering thoughtfully. They wield a mystic cudgel in their left hand and a mechanical parasol in their right hand.
You see a single exit leading west.

Amhika Rotwood says, "Very well, proceed."

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "I require a child for Mother Night."

Takhre creases their brow in a frown.

Takhre coughs softly.
Takhre coughs softly.
Takhre coughs softly.

Shifting her weight to one foot, Amhika Rotwood says, "Lets talk about these Seers of Movran."

Takhre raises an eyebrow questioningly.

You tilt your head inquisitively.

Amhika Rotwood says, "Who are they?"

Amhika Rotwood says, "Are you willing to help me?"

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Patience."

You whisper, "They were- still are, I suppose- Seers from a time before the Taint Wars. They were thought long dead until recently."

Amhika Rotwood says, "You may wish to answer out loud."

Takhre nods at you.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Some of us take time to gather our words so that they hold meaning."

Amhika Rotwood says, "Are you willing to help me?"

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "I will help you."

Amhika Rotwood coughs delicately.
Amhika Rotwood says, "I am attempting an experiment."
[starting the quest!]

[after acquiring cockatrices and various other things]

Amhika Rotwood reaches into a pocket of her robes and withdraws a handful of black seeds.

Crouching in the blood-soaked soil, Amhika Rotwood buries the seeds in the centre of the ring of mounds.

Standing up, Amhika Rotwood says, "Now we wait for the next dawn. The seeds will sprout then."

Your eyes raise to the heavens as a look of hope flashes across your face.

Proselyte Wrynn Mzithrei, of the Somber Lament says, "Couldn't be a more pleasant night for this."

Amhika Rotwood says, "We have to wait for dawn... normally."

Takhre raises an eyebrow questioningly.

In a melodic quaver, Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise says, "Might we hasten its growth?"

You tilt your head and listen intently to Amhika Rotwood.

Amhika Rotwood says, "A moment."

He is followed by a poofy, seal point ragdoll kitten, a boggart, and Ilistala, an enormous leopard.

Wrynn bows respectfully to Xenthos.
Takhre pets Ilistala, an enormous leopard ingratiatingly.
A loud rumbling emanates from Ilistala as she rubs against Takhre.

Nourished by the night, the blood-soaked earth stirs.

One by one, ten green sprouts shoot from the loam, twisting upwards, leaves and blossoms unfurling.

At first, they move about sluggishly, but become more animated as they soak in the blood and night-time air, their small mouths opening and closing restlessly.

Amhika Rotwood exclaims, "Ah, look! They've grown! Quickly, now. I will need to feed them snakes, for the poisons will nourish the young bloodroots. Bring as many as you can!"

[acquiring snakes. SO MANY SNAKES.]

[Exeryte gets a krokani, and another, and another. It takes maybe a dozen tries before, finally...]

A female krokani stomps in from the west.
A massive wyvern glides in from the west on his ruby skeletal wings.
Amhika Rotwood says, "Have you brought back a host for me? Give back the fruit when you have, and we'll begin."
Lifting her head, Ilistala looks at Exeryte hopefully.

Eyes glittering strangely, Amhika Rotwood says, "Excellent, excellent! Let us see if this is a suitable host..."
Amhika Rotwood grabs the unsuspecting krokani by the arm and shoves the fruit into her mouth, who instinctively swallows it.

The krokani blanches visibly, but otherwise does not react.

"Oooooooooh!" Skaza says, eyes wide with wonder.

Gleefully, Amhika Rotwood says, "Ah! We have found a suitable host! Now sit back, human. I shall show you how to birth a child."

Takhre's eyes raise to the heavens as a look of hope flashes across their face.

Amhika Rotwood slowly feeds the rest of the fruit to the krokani, who becomes increasingly compliant.
As she feeds her victim, Amhika Rotwood murmurs under her breath and draws magical glyphs on the krokani's chest.

In a cold voice hoarse from disuse, Exeryte Stormcrow says, "Show me how to birth a child, yes."

Once the krokani has consumed all of the fruit from the bloodroot plants, the glyphs on her chest vanish. She seems sated and content.

Then, without warning, the krokani's body convulses violently, and she clutches at her chest, face twisted in agony.

The bones and flesh of the unsuspecting krokani burst outward; she drops to the ground, and Amhika Rotwood laughs joyously as a bloodied mass crawls from the cavity.

A ball of sticky webbing catches the corpse of a female krokani in a gooey strand and draws it up into Xenthos's hands.
A ball of ghostly darkness catches a bloodroot baby in a twisting shadow and draws it up into Azo's hands.
A bloodroot baby wriggles out of Azo's hands!
A bloodroot baby crawls westward, leaving behind a trail of blood.
Amhika Rotwood exclaims, "I did it! Ahahah, I DID IT!! My baby!"
Amhika Rotwood scoops up the bloodied mass - a baby - and slowly twirls it around before lowering it back onto the ground.

Your eyes raise to the heavens as a look of hope flashes across your face.

You pick up a bloodroot baby.
A bloodroot baby wriggles in your hand.

(Glomdoring): You say, "Where is the Seer?"

You draw the Fingerblade of dha'Wyrden-cree across the inside of your wrist, causing a line of blood to well up. You then lift the blade into the air as shadows spill out of the wet crimson tip, swarming around you and taking you to the Realm of Shadows.
2You speedwalk ether to the Realm of Shadows.
You speedwalk down to before the Master Ravenwood Tree.

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. 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. 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. 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. A ruby vial glitters on the ground. In the shape of an open palm, a metallic sigil lies here. A painting of upper Tridacna between Nautilus and Aegis Keep has been thrown on the ground here. A lush curtain of blue blossoms and vibrant green foliage hangs overhead, the faint aroma of forget-me-nots softly perfuming the area. There are 4 dusky brocade moths here. There are 3 curious young kittens here. Brennan Stormcrow paces here, his cadaverous body twitching with sudden jerks. A void darker than shadows lingers here, greedily surveying all with voracious, smouldering eyes.
You see a single exit leading north.

(Glomdoring): Wrynn says, "They said they would be with the old coven in the southwestern part of the forest."

[path path path]

Wooded foothills.
A fresh gale whistles in your ears. A mixture of trees shelter this tiny trail as it climbs into the southern hills. Ashes, elms and maples cling to the sloping ground, their roots digging into steep slopes that no other being could stand on. The branches overlap high above, the light descending in a few well-placed beams to beat back the shadows. To the northeast, the track peters out before coming to a sparkling stream, whilst the slope descends to the northwest. Sprays of chervil cover the forest floor. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. A marjoram bush flourishes here, spreading its delicate scent. A sedge of galingale is firmly planted in the forest floor. A mature rowan tree stands proudly here. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. Her veil upturned, Seeress Morizwala watches keenly as shadows churn within the facets of the emerald embedded in her right eye socket.
You see exits leading northeast and northwest.

Anticipating their impending move, harpies take flight from the southwestern area of Glomdoring Forest, carrying unknown burdens between them elsewhere.

(Glomdoring): Azo says, "Seer at me."

A bloodroot baby wriggles out of your hands!
A bloodroot baby crawls northeastward, leaving behind a trail of blood.
You raise the brazier in the air while envisioning your target in your mind, and light seems to shine toward the southeast.

(Glomdoring): Wrynn says, "It seems the harpies are relocating."

[Cue internal screaming as looking for the baby.]

(Glomdoring): Exeryte says, "I have the child."

[BACK to the foothills]

You shed winterborne demigod changeling form and flow as a spirit through the verdant leaves, embracing the physical once more and arrive at wooded foothills.
Wooded foothills.
A fresh gale whistles in your ears. A mixture of trees shelter this tiny trail as it climbs into the southern hills. Ashes, elms and maples cling to the sloping ground, their roots digging into steep slopes that no other being could stand on. The branches overlap high above, the light descending in a few well-placed beams to beat back the shadows. To the northeast, the track peters out before coming to a sparkling stream, whilst the slope descends to the northwest. Sprays of chervil cover the forest floor. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. A marjoram bush flourishes here, spreading its delicate scent. A sedge of galingale is firmly planted in the forest floor. A mature rowan tree stands proudly here. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. Her veil upturned, Seeress Morizwala watches keenly as shadows churn within the facets of the emerald embedded in her right eye socket. Aria, the rainbow kitsune has curled up into a bundle of fluff here. A black direwolf is here, blending in with the shadows. Nothing more than a puffball with cerulean eyes, a seal lynx point ragdoll kitten lies here lounging languidly. Slick hair hanging stringy from its scalp, a squat boggart prowls here with a feral gait. A leopard lurks in the shadows, curiously watching anything that moves. A vicious, spotted grey crow flies here with wings spread. With deep carmine eyes, a massive wyvern with ruby skeletal wings prowls around here. Snarling and slavering, a massive mud-coloured rage worg with leathery black wings waits here. Clad in matte black leather, a golden-eyed savage lingers here like a living shadow. A golden oak tree depicted on his armour, a fae knight stands here, proud and shining. The shadowy form of a Daughter of the Night stands here, exuding wyrden power from within swirling black robes. A void darker than shadows lingers here, greedily surveying all with voracious, smouldering eyes. Ferelith Villarreal with an Angel face is here, surrounded by whispering, insubstantial figures that fade in and out of existence. A blood-streaked savage armoured in plated bone towers here, cloaked in the shroud of death. He are surrounded by a deflection bubble. Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise is here, shrouded. They wield a mechanical parasol in their right hand. Eyes aglow with a fierce, dreadful light, a slithering nagasith broods amid an aura of menace. A frost-touched savage waits here, garbed in black wolf pelts and emanating a deathly chill.
You see exits leading northeast and northwest.
Lifting her head, Ilistala looks at you hopefully.

Accepting the child carefully, Seeress Morizwala says, "K'wal'ial, I'la, yes. You have done well."

Narrowing her gaze, emerald eye and all at Tirah, Seeress Morizwala says, "K'ahe'mor. You are prepared to accept the remainder of my terms? The rest of my kin will see the Forest's belongings moved swiftly."

Skaza chitters excitedly, abdomen flashing in icy blue stripes.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "Aye, I see no problem with your terms, Seeress."

Cradling the bloodroot child against her, Seeress Morizwala says, "A'sh, A'sh. K'ian Doim te'l kn'al'i'ka'qal, my child. Good, good. We have taken the liberty to prepare the path for you. You will find a narrow trail into the hills. Up."

UP WE GO

A hidden courtyard.
Large, heavy raindrops splash upon the ground. A thin and winding path up the foothills, heavily shrouded by trees and foliage, leads to a small, shallow valley. An expansive courtyard of worn, stone paths and lavish gardens stretch away from the aged stone of an adjacent building to the south. One such path leads to a black dais in the center, upon which a fountain has been constructed, the sound of splashing water light and pleasant. Further south, a ravenwood tree takes over much of the space closest to the building, its roots sprawling out in every direction and threatening the masonry while its branches arch overhead to shade the courtyard. Dark, feathery leaves droop down like that of a weeping willow, reaching towards anyone who passes underneath. Crows can occasionally be seen flitting between its branches, their raucous cries forming a medley with the rest of the courtyard's wildlife, seen and otherwise. The rest of the courtyard is rife with wyrden flora, from nightshades and black rose bushes to night-blooming cereus and unidentified dahlia blossoms of purple and crimson. Bushes of holly, black pearl peppers, and shadowed loropetalum line the path and walls leading north. There are several other flowers growing here, whose heavy blooms glow faintly in the dark, and are even more vibrant and fragrant during the night. With deep carmine eyes, a massive wyvern with ruby skeletal wings prowls around here. A blood-streaked savage armoured in plated bone towers here, cloaked in the shroud of death. He are surrounded by a deflection bubble.
You see exits leading south and down.

A library atrium.
A twisting, narrow path up the steep slope of the hills here winds away from the courtyard, and toward the entrance of a large structure hidden from the forest beyond. A balcony above shadows dark, stone steps leading up into a wide atrium. Walls of the same stone curve and form the exterior. The ceiling above is vaulted, with a domed center, supported by concave pillars hewn of maple. Stained glass windows allow scant light from the outside between each support on the north side of the atrium. It is otherwise lit by candles left smouldering on ancient desks lining the walls, their arrangement such that visitors may pass back and forth freely. Short steps lead down and away to other rooms, each causeway framed by high arches of ravenwood. Directly ahead, a spiral staircase and its balusters and volute climb to an obscured floor above.
You see exits leading north, southeast, southwest, and up.

An ornamented lounge.
This lounge has been decorated with little trinkets and knick knacks of wyrden design and origin, ranging from simple ivory protection charms to intricate pieces of gold or silver that might be considered jewelry in another life, lending it a much more homey atmosphere. Glass of dark violet hues blocks the window on the exterior wall, creating swirling patterns across the rowan floor whenever light is cast through it. Several couches have been erected near the window, between which a table has been placed, ready for either game or discussion. Aria, the rainbow kitsune has curled up into a bundle of fluff here. A black direwolf is here, blending in with the shadows. A golden oak tree depicted on his armour, a fae knight stands here, proud and shining.
You see exits leading southwest and northwest.

Hall of Wyrden Mysteries.
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. To the north, a narrow doorway is closed off, and does not budge. With deep carmine eyes, a massive wyvern with ruby skeletal wings prowls around here. A blood-streaked savage armoured in plated bone towers here, cloaked in the shroud of death. He are surrounded by a deflection bubble.
You see exits leading northeast and northwest.

Passing resplendent wyrden murals.
This long chamber is decorated with beautiful wyrden murals end to end, depicting various moments of the Wyrd's history and its dark might. Some appear older and more weathered than others, cracks running through their images. Despite this, each seems to carry a unique weight. Various things are depicted from one end of the hall to the other: There are multiple depictions of Lady Viravain in various stages, one with Lady Isune. There are sun fae, and the Maeve, a battle between kephera and illithoid, and many others. The oldest seems to be a depiction of numerous druids supplicating before the figure of Crow, though He curiously possesses both eyes. The most recent mural depicts the towering figure of the Greev and its defeat by Lady Viravain. Aria, the rainbow kitsune has curled up into a bundle of fluff here. A black direwolf is here, blending in with the shadows. With deep carmine eyes, a massive wyvern with ruby skeletal wings prowls around here. A golden oak tree depicted on his armour, a fae knight stands here, proud and shining. A blood-streaked savage armoured in plated bone towers here, cloaked in the shroud of death. He are surrounded by a deflection bubble.
You see exits leading northeast and southeast.

Above the library.
This square room is the apex of the library. An arching frame of ash wood meets at a point overhead filled with dark, glimmering glass instead of a conventional ceiling; the glass itself is partially covered in mauve wyrden ivy, blocking out some of the murky light that bleeds through to play across the floor. The walls and floor are of sturdy ravenwood and rowan respectively, meeting seamlessly at the edges of the room. Doors lead further into this part of the library, housing spaces for the business of the forest, however most of them appear to be blocked. Curiously, the smell of wyrden flora, decay, and blood are quite strong in this room, and a perpetual draft from below consistently stirs the air.
You see exits leading northeast and down.

An adumbrated lecture hall.
At first glance, this room resembles a closed amphitheatre, resplendently dark in its construction. The pitched floor is largely made of cold black stone, with desks and chairs made of ravenwood, rowan, blackthorn and maple, to allow for easily fifty or more individuals to fit in the room unimpeded. The dark, wooden walls are carved with various scenes of wyrden triumph, left ungilded to allow the truest nature of the wood to speak for itself. At the bottom of the room, a lectern has been placed on the raised dais for presentations, upon which one could place texts. Heavy, shadowed swathes of fabric hang from the rafters at the far wall, not unlike a stage's curtains. These give the illusion of shadows swirling at the edges of the room. Looking more closely, the curtains contain tiny glittering bits of silver, evoking imagery of the night sky in all its glory when they are drawn shut over the wall. The cawing of crows can occasionally be heard, echoing strangely in the room's vaulted structure.
You see a single exit leading southwest.

(OOC): Laina says, "You left just before she said: Seeress Morizwala says, "I won't be showing you the secret of the veil this day.""

[Just wandering around taking in all in, then went back to the foothills.]

Wooded foothills.
It is quite mild. A mixture of trees shelter this tiny trail as it climbs into the southern hills. Ashes, elms and maples cling to the sloping ground, their roots digging into steep slopes that no other being could stand on. The branches overlap high above, the light descending in a few well-placed beams to beat back the shadows. To the northeast, the track peters out before coming to a sparkling stream, whilst the slope descends to the northwest. Sprays of chervil cover the forest floor. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. A marjoram bush flourishes here, spreading its delicate scent. A sedge of galingale is firmly planted in the forest floor. A mature rowan tree stands proudly here. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. Her veil upturned, Seeress Morizwala watches keenly as shadows churn within the facets of the emerald embedded in her right eye socket. A vicious, spotted grey crow flies here with wings spread. Aria, the rainbow kitsune has curled up into a bundle of fluff here. A black direwolf is here, blending in with the shadows. Eyes aglow with a fierce, dreadful light, a slithering nagasith broods amid an aura of menace. The shadowy form of a Daughter of the Night stands here, exuding wyrden power from within swirling black robes. Proselyte Takhre Inseira, of the Kept Promise is here, shrouded. They wield a mechanical parasol in their right hand. A golden oak tree depicted on his armour, a fae knight stands here, proud and shining.
You see exits leading northeast, northwest, and up.

Seeress Morizwala says to Tirah, "When my kin move your things, there will be additional space."

Comprehension flashes across Tirah's face.

Tirah nods their head emphatically.

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

Barely audible whispers permeate the air as Ferelith enters from the up, a cloud of translucent figures trailing after.

Seeress Morizwala says, "I'la, lest you think our deal incongruous."

Tirah nods their head emphatically.

Ferelith hums a happy tune.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "I will take a another round of it, make sure it suits all our needs."

Tirah departs upward, the strangled cries of the dying trailing in their wake.

Clutching the child close to her, Seeress Morizwala says, "I need to see to this one and... his shadow name."

You nod.

Azo sniffs disdainfully at the air with a snobby snoot, wrinkling his nose.

You incline your head politely to Seeress Morizwala.

Winging overheard, harpies begin the laborious process of moving things into the newly discovered ruins.

Azo inclines his head politely to those around him.

Azo leaves to the northwest, taking with him the thrumming rhythm of the Dark Heart.

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

You whisper, "Thank you for this gift, Seeress."

Seeress Morizwala says, "I should hope that we will not be seen again, but I know that I will. You will call upon us again."

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "I was just about to offer you to stay with us more long term, but if you desire your privacy, we will respect it."

Seeress Morizwala says, "The Forest is not ready for all that is hidden underneath the Veil, nor the labor of the Seers. But this is a step. Know you the meaning of the message?"

Azo ponders the situation.

In a raspy, androgynous voice, K'ahe'mor Tirah Mzithrei, of the Haze-Wreathed Ebon says, "I had not had the chance to fully discern it's meaning yet, myself, maybe someone else did?"

You whisper, "'K'sk'oalian'lom n'li'wa.', was it not?"

Seeress Morizwala says, "Indeed. The Age of Glomdoring moves forward."

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

Winging overheard, harpies continue the laborious process of moving things into the newly discovered ruins.

You whisper, "It sounds familiar, in a way, though I could not place it."

You hum thoughtfully.

Takhre purses their lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as they carefully gather their thoughts.

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

[wandering around the library again!]

Winging overheard, harpies continue the laborious process of moving things into the newly discovered ruins. (<- this ambient continues to occasionally fire)

Seeress Morizwala yells, "Mighty Crow. The deal is done, and the Forest possess what you ask. And we have received what we wanted. T'iar K'ian Doim."

You see Chancellor Skaza yell, "T'iar t'iar!"

[after some code finangling on the godmins' end...]

Arcane Library.
If you are the Librarian, or the Librarian's Aide, you may USE STAIRS here.

You briskly walk down the stairs, your credentials allowing you to pass through the closed doors into a quiet editing room.
A quiet editing room.
Dark ravenwood makes up much of this room, from its arched walls that form into a peaked ceiling to the floor underfoot. Desks have been placed at intervals, chairs before them, with various works in different stages of editing. A board has been placed on the far wall upon which planned projects for the library - past, present, and future - have been placed for all to see. Occasionally, the sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor of a room above sounds in loud thunks across the ceiling of this room. One wall is nothing but packed soil, small roots of unknown plants threatening the interior space, but never growing any further. Directly beneath that wall is a small set of stairs, leading down to a set of ornate, locked doors.
You see a single exit leading up.

[More finangling!]

A quiet editing room.

If you are the Librarian, you may USE OFFICE here. You may also head back to the library by going UP.

You pass through the closed doors into your office. You close and lock the doors, then take a moment to assess your affairs.
The Librarian's office.
Large columns of ravenwood delineate the four corners of this rectangular room, carved with depictions of wyrden flora and fauna. Roots from trees above crawl delicately down each one, separating them from the pale, stone walls. Bookshelves line the shorter walls to the left and right, their contents neatly organized in alphabetical order. The wall to the north has been almost entirely dedicated to a mosaic of colored glass depicting Crow mid-flight in the Night Sky. The arched ceiling is supported by further rafters of ravenwood, from which several crystal candle holders hang, supporting dark pillar candles. Despite being underground, the room betrays almost no hint of being separated from the Forest above.
You see a single exit leading south.

[after this point, I had to leave, but that just about concludes it]