Request Denied

Slowly emerging from the shadows, a hooded dracnari nods his head. "Good. You're quick."

A small graveyard amidst the trees.
Warm blood trickles over the ground as it seeps away from a shield shrine of Manteekan nearby. Superimposed over this location, an ethereal forest reaches up to the sky. It is uncomfortably cold. In this small field, rows of low stone markers jut from the ground like so many broken teeth. Dried flowers are piled beneath some: others are adorned with strings of twine and cloth prayer flags. At the western edge of the clearing, a massive outcropping of basalt rises, carved into an indistinct female form: in her hands, she bears a vast stone lantern on which lotus blossoms are carved. His face hidden beneath a deep hood, a hooded dracnari carefully considers a small book here.
You see a single exit leading east.

Crisp, white robes clad the form of a tall dracnari, numbering him as an ascetic of some sort. At his breast, something has been removed from his robe, only a faint outline left behind. A deep hood disguises his face, baring only the dull brown of the scales of his neck. His physique is entirely obscured underneath the voluminous fabric, leaving his figure entirely to the imagination. His hands, however are slender and delicate, and he moves with a practiced deliberateness.
A hooded dracnari looks to be crushingly strong.

Backed by the sound of gentle waves, you say, "I wasn't particularly busy with anything, and I was curious about what exactly was happening with that altar."

Midnight shadows coalesce around a new day, and Mother Night embraces the land in utter darkness. It is now the 25th of Estar, 663 years after the Coming of Estarra.

A hooded dracnari chuckles, the gesture very slightly lifting the hood and showing a glimpse of green underneath. "You're smarter than any of the others so far. So, you're here because you want more, right? Or maybe its answers you want."

A hooded dracnari scratches absently at his forearm, momentarily pushing the sleeve of his pristine robes further up. The spot where he scratches appears to have been scratched many times before, devoid of a scale and reddened.

A chorus of frogs produce a panoply of midnight distraction.

You have emoted: Tridemon looks up to the sky for a moment, and gives a deep sigh. "Mostly the answers. That crystal felt like it hated the fact that I exist."

A hooded dracnari utters a deep, rumbling laugh.

Brushing his hands back and forth over the sleeves of his robes, a hooded dracnari says, "I have the answers, but first you must prove yourself. To do so, there is a favour we ask of you. If you accept and fulfill it, we will meet again. If you do not, you will have squandered your chance at true power and we will not contact you again."

A chorus of frogs produce a panoply of midnight distraction.

The perception of time momentarily slows to a fraction as Clotho takes up the Tapestry of Fate and studies the weft of the fabric, lengthening and smoothing errant threads. Time rushes forward as the memory fades, yet the understanding unfolds that a myriad paths in Lusternia have opened up before you, some leading to noble deeds and others to dark triumphs.

You have emoted: Tridemon's left hand twitches once, one of his fingers cracking fractionally, though the damage is sealed after about half a second. The lucidian appears to ignore the fact beyond a slight shifting of his eyes toward his hand. "And what might that favour entail, hmm? There have been ever so many dark conspiracies through the centuries, and I can't think of many that didn't end in outright disaster."

Aquamantic symbols suddenly project themselves upon the very air in dark blue light, fading after a brief moment.

A hooded dracnari lowers his head and looks up towards you, his intense green eyes agleam in the half-dark of the lodge. "Ah a simple favour, I assure you," he replies with a hint of a smirk, "You need only... Assist Marani Veloske. Can you do that?"

With a lengthy, wintry sigh, the clouds above release a small flurry of snowflakes.

The last vestiges of midnight shadows flee as Mother Night hides herself from the luminous arrival of her shining mate as he chases her across the bowl of the sky.

You have emoted: Tridemon's eyes go hard at that request. "Denied," he says in a flat voice as he stares at the dracnari before him. "Quite obviously, you are looking for people whose curiosity and thirst for power go far beyond the loyalties of centuries and just plain common sense."

Ablutant Cheliyi Lunarose, Seeker of Wisdom has entered the realm of Lusternia.

Scratching at his neck, a hooded dracnari says, "Ah, then you do not wish to be initiated into the
mysteries. You will be bound by laws made by others and squander your chance to learn what we know, and of the power we wield."

A hooded dracnari shakes his head, allowing the hood to fall from his head. His intense green gaze meets yours.

You have emoted: Tridemon gives a sudden grin that is distinctly more sharp-toothed than what his previous expressions would suggest. "Yes, Summer Heat. I am bound by the laws I have chosen to follow. Here are two more: All things mortal can be made new. And there is nothing that cannot be killed if you know the way of it."

You touch the Mantle of Starlight and are surrounded by a brilliant white light. The distant song of an angelic choir can be heard as you feel angelic hands lift you up and carry you away.