"What really matters?"

You find yourself engulfed in a swirl of scintillating lights, drawn to your Patron's Master Shrine.

The Fulcrux of Nocht.
The image of a beautiful nighttime sky has been stretched across the fulcrux. Dim stars struggle futilely to compete with the terrifying beauty of Mother Night. The ethereal image wavers on occasion, the sky rippling like water in a pond. A lonely hill covered in tall grass leads up to a single shrine. Behind the shrine stands a large blackthorn tree. The tree is taller than most of its kind, extending upwards rather than outwards. Delicate blossoms shower down from its branches, creating a flurry of white petals and filling the air with the pungent scent of wyrden foliage. A complex series of stones orbit around a stygian orb here. A rippling image of a beautiful night sky has been magically wrapped around the fulcrux here.
You see a single exit leading through an image of the night sky.

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

You drop a painting of crown.

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

You have emoted: Esei inhales and exhales slowly, centering themself.

[probe painting]
This painting depicts Lord Nocht, the Silent. His face has been painted in profile, aristocratic features completely flawless as He stares off to something to the right of the painting. Shadows swirl about His shoulders as a living cloak, wisping off and mingling with the background like smoke in certain places. A crown of woven blackthorn branches has been placed upon His head, giving Him a far more regal look than usual. The background is dark, blackthorn petals drifting across an abyss of shadow. A small signature has been scribbled onto the bottom right-hand corner in silver ink, vaguely discernable as the painter's name.

You have emoted: Esei settles under the blackthorn tree, folding their legs under them.

You reach to your sense of the Ole'noc Caihel and begin to softly hum a low, dark tune.

You think to yourself: ** Silver, tessellating and refracting across the shadows of their mind, like light across water. **.

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

You think to yourself: ** A slow, languid melody, dark and sweet, drifting across their mind like a lullaby. **.

You think to yourself: But oh, did I know any of them at all?

You have emoted: Esei leans their head back, pressing the top of their head into the trunk of the tree behind them.

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

You have emoted: Esei brushes some petals from their lap, frowning.

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

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

Aloud, you say, "I think I just miss the idea of them."

You have emoted: Esei rolls a blackthorn petal between their index finger and thumb, staring into the middle distance.

Musingly, you murmur, "What really matters?"

You have emoted: Esei turns their wrist, gently laying the petal down. Their other hand runs along the beads hanging from their belt, gently feeling the details of each.

You whisper, "The Wyrd, the Glomdoring; the guilds, and the Hallowed. The commune's Divine, and Their teachings."

You have emoted: Esei lolls their head to gaze at the master shrine, dark eyes thoughtful.

Purposefully, you whisper, "Nothing matters but the Glomdoring."

You think to yourself: ...they don't really -matter- at all to me, do they?

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

You think to yourself: You are smarter and more knowledgeable than that - you do not want their friendships at all, do you?

You have emoted: Esei's dark eyes glitter, like gems or crystal.

You have emoted: Esei's fingers linger thoughtfully around their ribs, humming lowly.

You whisper, "The Twilight, and the Shadows."

You think to yourself: ** Silver and shadow sliding together, like thousands of beautiful, glittering puzzle pieces. **.

You have emoted: Esei's athame passes from one hand to the other, then back again.

You think to yourself: You do not want their friendships - just their connections, their ties.

Your dark eyes flash as you smile sharply.

You think to yourself: ...lessons - wilting flowers - doubts...

You furrow your brow in thought.

You think to yourself: ...what is this -leading- to?

You have emoted: Esei tilts their head back to the shrine, gazing thoughtfully at the circling white stones.

Softly, to themself, you say, "Alright."

You think to yourself: She wants me to be a liar?

You think to yourself: Very well. I'll be a liar.

You pet a cat of black ink ingratiatingly.

You think to yourself: I'll craft a mask out of everything light and delicate and beautiful, and lie.

You have emoted: Esei smiles, but it is a fragile one, delicate as glass and sharp as a blade.

You have emoted: Esei's thumb gently traces the pommel of their sword, safely sheathed at their side.

You murmur softly to yourself.

You furrow your brow in thought.

You have emoted: Esei's fingers tighten around the handle of their sword, head cocked to the side as if listening to something.

With a flourish, you draw a graceful bastard sword of shadowed steel from a silvered leather scabbard.

[probe sword]
Shadows seep around the edges of this sword's blade, the steel blackened
by coal. The blade itself is simple, with no carvings or adornment. The
cross guard is of the same blackened steel, tooled with faint stars. The
hilt is wrapped in dark leather, large enough to be gripped by two
hands. The pommel is the most opulent part of the entire sword; an opal
has been carved into a blackthorn blossom in full bloom, the petals soft
and rounded.

You have emoted: Esei settles the sword across their lap, frowning slightly.

You murmur softly to yourself.

You have emoted: Esei holds their sword, just so, that they might gaze into the reflecting and refracting opal on the pommel.

You furrow your brow in thought.

You crease your brow in a frown.

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

[classflexing to Ebonguard]

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

You whisper, "Hopefully my musings did not annoy You, my Lord."

You whisper, "Should You find them fruitful, however..."

Your dark eyes flash as you smile sharply.

You stand before the wavering image of the night sky, your arms spread wide. In an instant, shadowy tendrils shoot out and wrap around as they forcibly drag you into the image. All fades to black before you are suddenly hurled into a dark cavern.