Magpie

(Glomdoring): You say, "Shall I wait for anyone else?"

Scuttling in on four paws, Skendelly sniffs about in search of oddments and knicknacks.

You incline your head politely to Skendelly.

The altar to the Wyrd.
It is rather chilly. This wide clearing is ringed with trees, black and imposing against the sky. Around the perimeter are seven entry points, each marked with cairns of varying heights at the compass points, with a space directly south noticeably empty. Directly overhead is only open sky. Towards the south is a low altar wreathed in living shadow, its dark pall casting a gloom around the area even in the daylight. Upon the altar's surface a symbol of five interwoven loops overlaid with a single circle is deeply carved, and flowing within the symbol an oily substance, glistening and shining, the essence of the Wyrd itself. Beyond this, a blackened haematite vessel, wide and round and shallow is filled with the same oily substance, black as tar, but emitting the heady smell of rose and musk. A faint purple mist hangs low upon the ground here. Hidden deep within the environment lies a mystic pathway. A marjoram bush flourishes here, spreading its delicate scent. A sedge of galingale is firmly planted in the forest floor. Sprays of chervil cover the forest floor. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. At the edge of the clearing, a large stone dais spanning four tiers has been erected. Wisps of pale smoke drift from the earthen bowl placed atop a plain rock altar. A mature rowan tree stands proudly here. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. Surrounded by an eerie silence, an unfinished monument of black stone has been erected here. Kiyan Darkeye stands here, his grey eyes pensive. Clattering softly in any given breeze, a string of blackened bone charms sways here, metallic accents and trinkets glittering in the available light. Perfuming the air with dark scents, a subtle garland bearing black blossoms has been strung up here. Scratching incessantly at dirt in his whiskers, Skendelly loiters here, looking for interesting scraps to scavenge. Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Zenara Murkgrove is here. She wields an ornate flail of silver filigree and snow blossoms in each hand. Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Motyl Stormcrow is here.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, southwest, west, and northwest.

Zenara places her left hand on her stomach and flares her right arm behind her, bending into a graceful bow.

Motyl flaps her wings quickly and begins to hover in the air.

You purse your lips, deep in thought.

Skendelly's eyes widen as a feral grin cuts along his muzzle. He does not bow or wave, though his fur bristles with apparent excitement.

(Glomdoring): You say, "Very well. I shall begin, then."

Shivering in an errant breeze, the string of blackened bones here clatters together in a brief cacophony of sound.

Zenara's attention is drawn momentarily by the clattering of bones as a thoughtful smile curls her lips.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "The Wyrd shall always have its lulls, its silences. Warriors and artists alike must rest and recuperate their energies before sallying forth once more. In these festivities, we have come together to celebrate Wyrden Supremacy, which is known but oft rarely discussed in-depth." They clasp their hands together, rubbing their thumb over their knuckles. "With sincerity, I hope you all have enjoyed the festivities, and look forward to future ones."

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

The sound of a distant scream echoes between the trees, only to be suddenly cut short.

Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Zenara Murkgrove whispers, "Glory be to the Glomdoring."

Cheerfully, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Motyl Stormcrow says, "Glory be to the Glomdoring!"

His voice a snarl, Skendelly says, "Glory be to the Glomdoring."

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, absorbing the scent of your surroundings.

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

You nod.

Slyly, Skendelly withdraws a wand of granite and pyrite from his belongings, tucked to his side between the waist of his trousers and hem of his tunic. He grins, flicking his hand negligently, as something violet and burning erupts from it and sears across the stone of the monument.

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

You tilt your head inquisitively.

Zenara watches the monument with a mix of awe and amusement, the violet light reflecting in her ebon eyes.

The amethyst flames coruscate across the stone, singing the air and limning the carvings, engravings, and embellishments wrought of dream and wish. Soon, the monument itself is aglow in this shadowy flame, a bonfire that draws in the Wyrden air.

You have emoted: Esei takes a single step back from the monument, head remaining tilted slightly.

The fresh flowers swinging from the garland stir in a faint breeze, heightening their rich, wyrden scent.

Zenara closes her eyes and inhales deeply, absorbing the scent of her surroundings.

A crescendo of sound, the engulfing of the shadowfire, fills your ears, dying away promptly, to be filled with the lingering melody of Shadowbeat. The monument, finished, stands bolder, darker, and enveloped in fine mist.

LOOK
Rising from wyrden mist, the Monument of Wyrden Supremacy stands here.

PROBE MONUMENT
In the shape of a wall nine feet tall, twelve feet wide, and three feet thick, this monument is wrought of black stone, surrounded by the purple mist of the Wyrd. Upon its dark surface are dozens of carvings dedicated by and to the Glomdoring, each helping depict a wyrden Basin of Life, the occasional line of color helping to draw and lead the eye about the mural. Brother Crow and His murder coalesce in the unblemished night sky above the Master Ravenwood. To the far left is a scene of conquest: dark warriors of the Swarm battle those who would reject the Wyrd, blood staining the ground below; a trio of Harbingers playing after battle's end; poisonous smoke pouring forth from the Undervault. The canopy in the center guards the denizens of the Glomdoring as they feast in celebration of the Age of Wyrden Supremacy: an artist stands in a clearing, carefully carving a feminine figurine; three members of the Auguries leading a sermon within darkened boughs; a harpy offers a bloody heart upon a shrine. On the far right, beyond the main canopy, is a scene of regrowth and domination: saplings slowly sprouting in the bloody soil of the Blasted Lands; members of the Thornwatch guiding the growth of plants within the Skarch; black roses crawling delicately up a moonhart tree, deep in the once-Serenwilde. Minuscule visions and grand dreams of the manifold ways of wyrden supremacy are carved deep into the surface of the wall, each beautiful in its own right. The wall is surrounded by a faint, eerie hum, the melody hanging just out of reach.
You see words have been written on the Monument of Wyrden Supremacy.
It weighs about 1750 pounds.
It has the following aliases: monument.
[HINT]: The stone harbours the magic of dreams, hopes, and wishes for Wyrden Supremacy. To witness such grandeur, you need only to TOUCH the MONUMENT.

Motyl flutters her iridescent wings in anticipation and excitement as the monument begins to transform beneath the shadowfire.

A wry smile spreads across Skendelly's face.

Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Zenara Murkgrove says to Skendelly, "It truly is a fine sight."

"I merely helped it along," Skendelly observes. "The forest supplied everything."

Zenara nods in a silent acknowledgement.

You hum thoughtfully.

Touching their fingers briefly to their forehead, you whisper, "Thank you, Master Skendelly."

Skendelly nods his head emphatically.

Motyl gives an enthusiastic wave of her hand as she disappears into the branches.

Skendelly says to you, "To honour the celebrations one last time, if any of Glomdoring seeks a cosmolabe or a night lotus, I will keep my wares open for one more month."

Gael arrives, following Listener of the Silent Knell, Illyria An'Ryshe.
Illyria arrives, following Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia.
Barely audible whispers permeate the air as Kalaneya enters from the north, a cloud of translucent figures trailing after.
A creature of starlit shadow suddenly purrs at Kalaneya as she enters, kneading the ground beneath his paws for a moment.

Skendelly attempts to grin, but something goes terribly wrong.

Shifting his attention towards Skendelly, Gael's good ear twitches faintly.

Kalaneya smiles wryly as her golden eyes glint with amusement.

You nod your head slowly in understanding.

Skendelly puffs up his chest. "Which means, I must away to my store, in case more crows try to steal things!"

Deeming this place devoid of any remaining interest, Skendelly scuttles north.

Zenara's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Disciple of the Tah'vrai, Zenara Murkgrove says to you, "Thank you for hosting the festival. For the small bit I could attend, it was lovely."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Of course."

TOUCH MONUMENT
Buoyed by the song of the wyrden forest, a soft, haunting sound echoes from the monument at your touch. Soon, the note coalesces into a voice, whispering directly into your ear: << We would wish for our Glomdoring to thrive, not just in its flora and fauna, and the shadows that stir in its earth. No, we have long believed that what makes the Glomdoring so vibrant is its people. We hope that our commune members shall be happy, healthy, and that they all find their place and purpose within the boughs of our wood. >>

As Zenara touches the monument, a soft, haunting sound rises from the stone like music.

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, absorbing the scent of your surroundings.

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

Kalaneya glances sideways at you, the Monument looming tall over her form. She casts a soft smile towards Gael and Illyria. "Perhaps a touch too fashionably late, it seems," she quips. "Master Esei - we presume another one of Skendelly's works?"

Seeress Morizwala yells, "K'wia'she'kza!"

You have emoted: Esei bows their head subtly. "Ah-".

You tilt your head inquisitively.

Zenara tilts her head curiously.

Seeress Morizwala yells, "Ey kyu o'm'tao'za."

Gael's good ear gives a sudden twitch, rising and lowering quickly.

[path path path]

Incline under the trees.
A soothing darkness and the scent of Wyrden foliage suffuse the area, indicating a healing shrine of Nocht nearby. It is uncomfortably cold. The forest begins to slope downwards here, falling away to the west. Tall ash and beech trees cling to this slope, their roots digging into what soil they can find. Hawthorn and bramble bushes pepper the ground, limiting the possible paths. 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. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. A mature blackthorn tree stands proudly here. An elder ravenwood tree thrusts up from the ground here, the air around it thick and dark. Beneath a veil of shadowy spidersilk, the imposing figure of Seeress Morizwala watches with calculated patience. A black-feathered harpy crouches here, wings beating lazily.
You see exits leading east, southeast, southwest, and west.

PROBE SEERESS
Spidersilk swirls around the statuesque form of Seeress Morizwala; like churning shadow, the harpy is covered in a lengthy veil that descends from the crown of her head to her taloned feet. Only her wings are exposed fully, though their glory remain hidden as they are drawn and folded back like a cloak. Though the veil obscures her in tendrils of gloomy weave, the impression of her body can be made out: the shape of her limbs, the feathers that dress her from thighs to neck, even the vague shape of her face and its sharp cheekbones. Burnished links of gold glint through the fabric, heavy against feather and flesh and worn decoratively across her chest and shoulders, jingling and clinking together in a musical way as she moves; rings aplenty too adorn her clawed hands, stones of atramentous hues flaring with colour when they greet the light. Upon her head rests an elaborate headdress, a structured wimple festooned and embroidered in beads and gold, which extenuates the imposing figure that her posture maintains.
Seeress Morizwala looks to be crushingly strong.
She weighs about 125 pounds.
She has a slight weakness to cutting damage.
She has a slight resistance to blunt damage.
She has a moderate weakness to fire damage.
She has a slight resistance to cold damage.
She has a moderate weakness to electrical damage.
She has a moderate resistance to poison damage.
She has a slight weakness to psychic damage.
She has a slight resistance to excorable damage.
She has a moderate weakness to divinus damage.
You cannot see what Seeress Morizwala is holding.
It has the following aliases: morizwala, harpy, seeress.

(Glomdoring): You say, "Ah, I have found her."

Though her face remains obscured, Seeress Morizwala acknowledges your arrival, her body leaning forward as the faint swish of spidersilk emanates from her.

[people incoming]

Zenara places her left hand on her stomach and flares her right arm behind her, bending into a graceful bow.

Drone Iazin, One of Many says, "Sorry we are late."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "On the contrary, perhaps we are right on time."

Drone Iazin, One of Many says, "Excellent. What is required?"

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Nothing, yet."

Not muffled, but with a crowing voice, Seeress Morizwala says, "Who here speaks for Glomdoring?"

Iazin nods his head sagely.

Shifting his attention towards Kalaneya, Gael's good ear twitches faintly.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We suppose we shall, Lady Seeress. We are the Dark Regent of Glomdoring. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Appearing a touch skeptical, Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "This is of course, assuming you come in service to the wyrd."

Only what seems to be the head, of the being before you moves, eliciting a gentle jingle of sound. "Ey kha dydhis oari K'ian Doim il'a'lahiy. Why would I not come in service of it?" Seeress Morizwala hisses, her head soon canting in a bird-like fashion.

Drone Iazin, One of Many says, "Surely you can appreciate caution in guardianship of the Glomdoring."

Iazin steps back, suddenly aware he may have spoken out of turn.

Gabe tilts her head and listens intently.

Seeress Morizwala's head moves, presumably to stare at Iazin. There is not a sense of what their appearance looks like beneath the shroud that envelops them, but a sense, of sneering disappointment is felt, almost tangibly.

Iazin lifts his chin.

"Many wander the Basin, Lady Seeress," Kalaneya states, her hands held palms up as her expression softens at the grating caws emitted from Seeress Morizwala's gullet. "One merely must ensure their intentions are made known. We welcome any who come in service to the wyrd and Glomdoring."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "If this is your intention, we shall be pleased to have you walk amongst us."

Seeress Morizwala mutters, what words audible are vaguely discernible beneath the shroud. It is then, hands pull from the veil to pull it over her face, revealing the visage of the harpy seeress.

Gabe lowers her hood and ever so slightly, politely bows in the direction of Seeress Morizwala to provide her full attention.

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; the other socket is empty and dark, from which shadows drip like spilling blood across her cheeks and down her chin. 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.

You have emoted: Esei's gaze shifts from speaker to speaker, then focuses on the Seeress once more as she removes her veil.

Zenara gives Zorek a peck on the cheek.

Iazin glances his eyes sideways at Gabe, then relaxes his posture, turning his eyes back to the Seeress.

Harsh, her voice is harsh to the ear, the harpy announces, "I come not to walk amongst you, Dark Regent. I come to deal with a traitor. K'wia'sho'kza. One who takes from their siblings, from the Seers. From me." She folds her arms across her chest, the jewelry Seeress Morizwala wears flashing against the dark of her feathers.

Gabe nods her head at Iazin.

Zorek smiles softly at Zenara.

Iazin looks at Seeress Morizwala and comprehension flashes across his face.

You tilt your head inquisitively.

Gael's good ear perks a little higher, though his expression hardly changes.

Kalaneya likewise lowers her hood, snow settling upon her brow as the clouds release the fury of winter upon the trees. She settles her gaze upon Seeress Morizwala's facade. A slight smile tugs at her lips even as the wrinkling of her brow indicates her concern. "We believe," she says, looking at the gathered each individually, "And I do mean all of us. That we have long been awaiting this opportunity as it has likewise been charged to us by our Lady and our Lords."

Iazin nods his head at Kalaneya.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We bid of you, Lady Seeress. Do elaborate."

Again, Seeress Morizwala's head cants, abruptly snaps to one side in such an avian of fashion. "This opportunity? Of what? To deal with liars? Cheats? Worms?"

Simply, Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "A traitor, as you have said. Their other characteristics are not known to us."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "But it seems like you perhaps might be familiar."

With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One says, "Of one whom would be so despicable to steal from their own kind, if that is the case."

You have emoted: Esei slowly raises their fingers, as if offering to speak.

Seeress Morizwala's one good eye narrows, positively squints. She says nothing, her lips parting to release a gentle 'caw,' not words but mere noise. She nods.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says to you, "Go on."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "You mentioned this one was a... thief, correct?"

Zenara tilts her head curiously.

In the cold light of day, the chains and jewelry across Seeress Morizwala's form gleam with icy brilliance as she shifts slightly, one digitigrade leg lifting and setting down, then the next. "I'la, yes. They took from their siblings. And from me."

Speaking up more softly, Drone Iazin, One of Many says, "And what did they take from you, Seeress?"

You have emoted: Esei offers a nod. "I believe I have been stolen from by them as well. Perhaps well-skilled in mischief and cunning, as well as swift?"

"Mm, yes. And Lady Motyl as well. Feathers, we believe, she felt?" Kalaneya asks, turning to you.

"A treasure most dear to me, but also needed for our workings, our prophecies. K't'kwa'dkh," Seeress Morizwala offers answer to Iazin, her good eye cutting to him. Then, with that same bird-like quickness, her head moves to you. "So you do know them. Have they used the shadowcraft of Movran? Our magic?"

You purse your lips, deep in thought.

You nod at Kalaneya.

Seeress Morizwala's head again flicks to Kalaneya, lips curled into a tight line.

Gabe folds her arms, ruffling the crow feathers of her cloak, a disgruntled look in her eyes. "What is more - How can we also be of assistance? It would appear we would all benefit from hunting down this thieving menace.' Gabe firmly states in her echoing-resound. Eyes glancing briefly to those having left, Gabe scowls before turning her attention back to the present.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "I believe so - I saw a surge of shadows and heard a cackle, like a crow cawing, as they stole from Motyl."

Gabe folds her arms, ruffling the crow feathers of her cloak, a disgruntled look in her eyes. "What is more - How can we also be of assistance? It would appear we would all benefit from hunting down this thieving menace." Gabe firmly states in her echoing-resound. Eyes glancing briefly to those having left, Gabe scowls before turning her attention back to the present.

Acknowledging Gabe's point to be true, Iazin nods his head gravely at her.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Master Skendelly saw a shadow steal a cosmolabe from his hand, and heard a cackle as it departed. Master Kiyan saw nothing, but heard the laughter as his coat was taken."

Seeress Morizwala rubs her hands together and grins at Gabe with evil satisfaction.

Gabe smirks.

A 'caw' prefixing her words, Seeress Morizwala says, "I wish to hunt them down, yes. But I seek a punishment worse than death."

Iazin tilts his head inquisitively at Seeress Morizwala.

You tilt your head and listen intently to Seeress Morizwala.

"A Seer of Movran, then, is it..." Kalaneya murmurs, eyeing Seeress Morizwala. "Describe to us your preferred method of punishment."

Gabe begins to wield a putrid thornvine whip in her left hand.

"Ahh, finally, someone of the woods remembers the old ways," Seeress Morizwala croons.

Kalaneya smiles wryly as her golden eyes glint with amusement.

With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One says, "We are the merciless forest, afterall."

A brow arched high, her tone questioningly, Seeress Morizwala says, "Pray then, K'ahe'mor, what do you know of my people? D'oiliea'i? The ones you call 'harpies'?"

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "As we recall, they were Ravenfolk who were transformed when the Taint met the Gloriana."

As Kalaneya speaks, Seeress Morizwala absently checks her nails, her talons. "Is that all?" Her voice is a mocking one, not unlike the many crows of Glomdoring. "Siblings live here, and yet, Glomdoring forgets even us? Precious children of Cruel Crow?"

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says to Seeress Morizwala, "We would be interested to hear what you have to say."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We additionally invite any others to speak if they have information as well."

You have emoted: With a subtle frown, Esei shakes their head.

Grim faced, Gael merely offers a shake of his head, though his eyes now consider Seeress Morizwala with open curiosity.

Iazin clasps his hands behind his back, remaining silent, listening.

You hear a rustling and turn to see Takhre emerging from the undergrowth.
Takhre begins to follow you.

Amidst her compatriots' silence, Kalaneya's gaze settles again on Seeress Morizwala, her golden eyes patient, though probing.

Iazin smiles softly.

[Motyl enters as well]

Takhre tells you, "What did I miss? Why are we silent?"

Motyl flaps her wings quickly and begins to hover in the air.

Iazin nods his head at Motyl.

Raising her hand in greeting, Motyl says "Hi!"

Takhre glanced around awkwardly as they arrive, preening their wings out of habit.

Your soft voice reaches out to Nascent Takhre, Attendant to the Wyrd, tickling their ear, "Seeress Morizwala has been the subject of a theft, similar to Motyl's and mine. I believe she may tell us more of the harpies, but she may ask for our assistance first."

Seeress Morizwala sneers. "Well," the seeress croons, "A pity. Glomdoring forgets. And this day of Wyrden Supremacy." She lets out a laugh, cawing. "We blessed children, we once read the prophecies of Cruel Crow's shadow-self, the weak bird, the ink-feathered fool. And when the time of our transformation came, we continued to pursue such with His guidance."

Iazin meets the eyes of Motyl then glances to Seeress Morizwala.

Then with a hiss, Seeress Morizwala says, "My punishment for this wayward magpie hones close to this fact, our history, our lives. I seek to steal their shadow-name."

A look of understanding crossing his features, Iazin nods his head slowly.

Seeress Morizwala's lips curl once more, not into a thin, straight line before, but the uncomfortable curve of a smile.

In a melodic quaver, Nascent Takhre, Attendant to the Wyrd says, "So it is not a crow that steals from us, but a magpie?"

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We are but a humble monk and have little familiarity with the stealing of shadow-names. Do tell us how we might go about this act."

Gabe tilts her head curiously.

You hum thoughtfully.

Seeress Morizwala says to Takhre, "Q'wo'lan, Kah'doim'cha'i oari kha k'oim'zai. All of the same."

Takhre tilts their head curiously at Seeress Morizwala.

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

Gabe nods her head sagely.

Seeress Morizwala's good eye flicks to Kalaneya, then her whole head moves in a sharp snap. "It is simple. I seek items for a spell. To lure Night's shadows here, to beckon them from across the Veil, to barter for the name."

Iazin lays a gentle hand on Gabe's shoulder.

"A bone like a staff; feathers of the offender; something precious of their's to give away; flowers to entice the shadows," Seeress Morizwala rattles off, like an ingredients list, like something that she has done countless times before.

Visibly struggling with their excitement, Nascent Takhre, Attendant to the Wyrd says, "Gathering items? I love gathering shiny things."

You have emoted: Esei pauses, turning their gaze to Motyl.

Seeress Morizwala quirks her head to one side, moving it so to get a panorama sight of all of you. "Blood, of course, for all magic requires sacrifice," she croons.

Comprehension flashes across Motyl's face.

You nod at Seeress Morizwala.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We agree. We do believe that most of these shall be a fairly simple affair to gather, save for perhaps one. Something precious of theirs..."

Iazin bows his head, his voice with a tinge of confusion, "If we do not know.. yes, Regent, that."

With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One says, "An egg...?"

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We perhaps could hope that we shall know it when we see it, but have you an idea what this might be?"

You tilt your head inquisitively at Gabe.

In a melodic quaver, Nascent Takhre, Attendant to the Wyrd says to Gabe, "If it is theirs... eggs are always precious."

Again, Seeress Morizwala caws a laugh. "I know not where it might be. Likely their nest. Where else would a thief hide something so cherished?"

Takhre ponders the situation.

Takhre coughs softly.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says to Gabe, "A reasonable idea, yes. But a crow's horde, similar to that of the Thornwatch's, likely contains many items."

Kalaneya glances askance.

Drone Iazin, One of Many says, "Then we shall take it all."
20:12:55.838 -
20:13:00.261
20:13:00.261 A look of understanding crossing her features, Gabe nods her head slowly.
20:13:00.261 -
20:13:00.954
20:13:00.954 Kalaneya nods her head at Iazin.
20:13:00.954 -
20:13:05.159
20:13:05.159 A black-feathered harpy scowls before flapping off to the east.
20:13:05.159 -
20:13:08.574
20:13:08.574 Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We too were about to suggest as much."
20:13:08.574 -
20:13:12.611
20:13:12.611 Motyl flutters her wings approvingly at the sound of blood as she pulls her mouth into a thoughtful hum.
20:13:12.611 -
20:13:21.852
20:13:21.852 Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Very well."

Pensively, Nascent Takhre, Attendant to the Wyrd says, "That may be a lot of things."
20:13:31.569 -
20:13:48.956 Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "The flowers would likely be the easiest - unless... you require a specific sort of flower, Seeress?"
20:13:48.956 -
20:13:52.775
20:13:52.775 Odd sounds echo through the gloomy forest, their source undetermined.
20:13:52.775 -
20:13:58.109
20:13:58.109 The shadow of a crow seeps in from the east.
20:13:58.109 -
20:13:59.263
20:13:59.263 Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says to Takhre, "We are also many."
20:13:59.263 -
20:14:10.717
20:14:10.717 The shadow of a crow seeps off to the east.
20:14:10.717 -
20:14:14.769
20:14:14.769 A black-skinned harpy lurches in from the west.
20:14:14.769 -
20:14:18.324
20:14:18.325 Takhre grins mischievously at Kalaneya.
20:14:18.325 -
20:14:20.992
20:14:20.992 Takhre grins mischievously at Kalaneya.
20:14:20.992 -
20:14:23.597
20:14:23.597 The shadow of a crow seeps in from the east.
20:14:23.597 -
20:14:36.301
20:14:36.301 The shadow of a crow seeps off to the west.
20:14:36.301 -
20:14:47.256
20:14:47.256 Her head snapping to you, Seeress Morizwala smiles something dark. "Something favoured by Night, of course..."
20:14:47.256 -
20:14:52.235
20:14:52.235 With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One says, "We shall descend like the swarm."
20:14:52.235 -
20:15:02.868
20:15:02.868 A black-skinned harpy lurches in from the east.
20:15:02.868 -
20:15:03.882 You nod your head slowly in understanding.
20:15:03.882 -
20:15:19.414
20:15:19.414 Drone Iazin, One of Many says, "Perhaps the roses that grow so widely in Her Garden."
20:15:19.414 -
20:15:29.237
20:15:29.237 Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We agree."
20:15:29.237 -
20:15:29.327 Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "I believe I know where to find one, if I may...?"
20:15:29.327 -
20:15:29.672
20:15:29.672 Gabe smiles wryly at Iazin.

Cheerfully, Nascent Takhre, Attendant to the Wyrd says, "Or the lotuses beneath the bridge."
20:15:36.831 -
20:15:40.259
20:15:40.259 A black-feathered harpy scowls before flapping off to the east.
20:15:40.259 -
20:15:44.622
20:15:44.622 Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Let us bring both, then."
20:15:44.622 -
20:15:46.028
20:15:46.028 Iazin nods his head at Takhre.

Iazin ponders the situation.

Takhre nods their head at Kalaneya.

"I grow tired, find me these things. I will wretch that name from Night's tomes." Then, Seeress Morizwala looks to Kalaneya. "Does the old Druid still linger by the Great Tree?"

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "He does."

Seeress Morizwala nods her head at Kalaneya.

Motyl grins mischievously at Iazin.

Seeress Morizwala says, "I will tarry with him whilst you search."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Very well. We shall begin the search."

And without little else to say, Seeress Morizwala proceeds to wander away.
Fluid like a shadow, Seeress Morizwala takes flight upon inky-black feathers as she departs to the east.

Furrowing his brow slightly, Umbral Evoker Gael An'Ryshe, Vicar of the Cult says, "A bone-staff..."

[wandering around for a bit...]

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. 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 dark nighthags here. A black direwolf is here, blending in with the shadows. There are 10 shadowlord widowriders here. There are 10 illithoid scourges here. A mature blackthorn tree stands proudly here. 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 bat around its skull. An animated skeleton stands here with a ghostly outline of a spider around its skull. A dark banner bearing wyrden imagery imposes its presence here. An animated skeleton stands here with a ghostly outline of a wasp around its skull. Her veil upturned, Seeress Morizwala watches keenly as black shadows drip from the empty socket of her right eye. Nascent Takhre, Attendant to the Wyrd is here.
You see a single exit leading north.

[I missed the first line here. Woe!]

It is only when Morizwala speaks does Brennan Stormcrow fully register her appearance. He sneers. "I thought you all perished," he spits, venom on his lips.

Cawing a laugh, Seeress Morizwala says, "We continue to read, Old One. Unlike you, it seems."

You tilt your head and listen intently to Takhre.

Takhre watches the banter with an awkward stand, wielding the shovel before glancing questioningly at you.

Your soft voice reaches out to Nascent Takhre, Attendant to the Wyrd, tickling their ear, "Follow me, Nascent?"

"And what is it that you read?" Brennan Stormcrow wonders aloud, "It seems that whatever visions you might have, whatever prophecies, none seem fortunate enough to share with Glomdoring's own."

Takhre tells you, "I feel like someone has to watch this so that they do not eat eachother."

Your soft voice reaches out to Nascent Takhre, Attendant to the Wyrd, tickling their ear, "Hmm... I see. Give me the shovel, if you like?"

"That is because the forest has not yet been on the path," Seeress Morizwala remarks, a casual hiss on her lips. "The forest seeks its Age, and we knew it would not come until things had come to pass."

Keenly eyeing the harpy, Brennan Stormcrow says, "So you knew of the Greev? Its coming?"

Iazin blinks incredulously at Brennan Stormcrow.
Brennan Stormcrow completely ignores Iazin, not even registering his existence.

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

You hum thoughtfully.

Drone Iazin, One of Many says to Kalaneya, "Was a nest found?"

The sliest of grins takes shape on Seeress Morizwala's face. "The Seers of Movran know all, Old One. Or have you forgotten what we know?"

Comprehension flashes across Iazin's face.

Iazin chuckles quietly.

Drone Iazin, One of Many says, "I suppose not."

Kalaneya shakes her head at Iazin.

A look of understanding crossing his features, Iazin nods his head slowly.

Brennan Stormcrow snorts, loudly, disgruntled, and disinterested in further conversation.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says to you, "You were able to locate the flowers?"

You shake your head.

In a melodic quaver, Nascent Takhre, Attendant to the Wyrd murmurs to you, "Now where did you say those bones are, Mentor?"

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "A moment."

[no flower under the bridge, back to the MR]

Kalaneya gives an amaranthine night lotus to Seeress Morizwala.

Comprehension flashes across Iazin's face.

[trying to find some bones]

Kalaneya nods her head at Seeress Morizwala.

Seeress Morizwala says, "And where is the rest? The bone, the feathers, the gift?"

You murmur softly to yourself.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We still yet search for those."

(Glomdoring): Kalaneya says, "Morizwala is pleased with the night lotus. Have we any ideas for the others? Or, what have we tried thus far?"

Under the sycamores.
Black, roiling fog hangs thick upon the air, originating from a shield shrine of Shikari nearby. Hundreds upon hundreds of thick white snowflakes are falling from the heavens. Tall trees shelter this thin trail as it passes through the underbrush. The sycamores, although appearing healthy at first, are streaked with black veins that run up their trunks. Dead brown and black leaves are mixed in with dark green in the canopy, adding to the impression of disease. Long grasses rest in the shade, nestling with the fallen leaves and winged seed-cases. Sprays of chervil cover the forest floor. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. A marjoram bush flourishes here, spreading its delicate scent. A mature rowan tree stands proudly here. A grotesque ravenwood tree stands here, branches twisted and knotted. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. Scratching incessantly at dirt in his whiskers, Skendelly loiters here, looking for interesting scraps to scavenge. You notice a variety of WARES for sale here.
You see exits leading east and southwest.
Whiskers twitching, Skendelly wriggles his nose and turns his attention to you. "You!" he calls in a low snarl, waving a muddy hand. "Wares for festivals - many wares of curious natures. Come see, come see. Ask and I shall show."
[1] Tell me about your wares, friend.

(Glomdoring): Gabe says, "I am assessing the treetops with my Wyrdenwood eyes."

(Glomdoring): Kalaneya says, "Ah, kind thanks."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you ask Skendelly, "Greetings, Master Skendelly. I do not suppose you have come across a staff of bone in your scavenging?"

Skendelly says, "A bone staff?"

You nod.

Skendelly ponders the situation.

Skendelly says, "Why don't you just make one?"

You have emoted: Esei pauses, tilting their head.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "...hm. That had not come to mind."

Pondering, Skendelly says, "There's got to be a lot of bones here in the forest."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "I thank you. I hope that the day goes well."

You nod.

Skendelly says, "Me too! I think it's gone well so far."

Woodland rise.
A biting cold fills the air, seeping away from a healing shrine of Manteekan nearby. A strong gale has developed here. The forest slopes upwards towards the southeastern hills. Chestnuts, pear trees and scraggly pines fight for room on the slope, branches and trunks mottled with disease. Thin branches hold only a smattering of greenery, whilst the ground is scattered with decaying debris, fruit and nuts amongst the leaves. The trees thin as they move up into the hills, whilst two northern trails split as they head down into the woods. Sprays of chervil cover the forest floor. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. A sedge of galingale is firmly planted in the forest floor. A marjoram bush flourishes here, spreading its delicate scent. The rotting corpse of a dracnari lies here. A mature hemlock tree stands proudly here. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. An elegant shadeplume caladrius lingers here, surveying its surroundings with cool indifference. Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia is here.
You see exits leading northeast, east, and northwest.

You cough softly.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Ah. tidings."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you say, "A moment?"

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Please."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you say, "Master Skendelly has given some insight."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Go on."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "We could -make- the staff of bone."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We could make the staff of bone...?"

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Bones are in the commune aplenty, no?"

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "In a sense, we suppose. The deer, these zombies..."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Do you suggest we extract the bones from those?"

You nod your head slowly in understanding.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Shall Skendelly assist us in this endeavour?"

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We are not a professional butcher."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "I could ask..."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Though, perhaps he is not either."

(Glomdoring): You say, "Ah... perhaps we might make the staff of bone?"

(Glomdoring): Kalaneya says, "What would you suggest?"

(Glomdoring): You say, "Perhaps a combination of old and new bones? There are a variety of decomposing corpses that come to mind, as well as the deer and bats."

(Glomdoring): Kalaneya says, "Very well."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Let's find a deer, then."

[back to the MR]

Barely audible whispers permeate the air as Kalaneya enters from the north, a cloud of translucent figures trailing after.
The subtle fragrance of medicinal herbs and flora heralds the arrival of an elegant caladrius from the north.

Kalaneya drops the corpse of a starving deer.

Kalaneya begins to wield spectral psiblade claws in her left hand.
Kalaneya begins to wield spectral psiblade claws in her right hand.

You murmur softly to yourself.

Seeress Morizwala says no words, but only the gentlest of 'caws' rises from her chest, her feathers shivering.

Xenthos greets Seeress Morizwala with a sincere smile.

Seeress Morizwala regards Xenthos with a glance, her good eye focusing upon him.

Raising her nekai in the Angknek style, Kalaneya brings it mightily down upon the deer and begins to butcher it.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you ask Motyl, "I do not suppose the thief left any of their feathers in your pockets when they passed you by?"

Suddenly, Seeress Morizwala's attention is caught by Kalaneya's actions, her lips parting into a widened smile.

Motyl shakes her head.

Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Motyl Stormcrow says, "No, I only felt it."

Gore and chunks of deer splatter across the ground as Kalaneya digs into the deer's haunch, tearing the flesh away from its bones.

You murmur softly to yourself.

You nod.

[wandered off briefly]

Seeress Morizwala's clawed hands takes fast the bone, hefting the femur like a mace, even swinging it freely in the air. "This is good," she caws, her voice harsh, loud. "Let us strap it to something else, bind it. To be a shepherd's crook for Night's shadow."

And with that, Seeress Morizwala passes the femur back to Kalaneya.

Ilistala emerges from the shadows, curiously looking around.
Sauntering in languorously, a puffball enters from the north, revealing itself to be a ragdoll kitten with bright cerulean eyes.

Xenthos pats the corpse of a grotesque ravenwood tree in a friendly manner.

Crooning, Seeress Morizwala says, "And what of the feathers? The gift?"

Xenthos begins to wield a blackened battleaxe with crow feathers in his hands.

You murmur softly to yourself.

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "It seems that the bones of a creature were enough - we are gathering other components now?"

(Glomdoring): Gabe says, "Trying to find the nest, still."

(Glomdoring): Kalaneya says, "We must gather the feathers from the thief, and find something precious to it that we can take."

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Ah, I see."

(Glomdoring): Kalaneya says, "We suspect the thief is a crow, thus Lady Gabe searches our treetops for its nest."

Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Perhaps the other way around - find something precious to it, and then follow it back to its nest when it flies back to deposit its treasure?"

Kalaneya nods her head at Seeress Morizwala.

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "It is a large forest."

Wryly, Seeress Morizwala says, "You nod, but no words pass from your lips?"

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Lady Gabe still yet searches our trees for the thief's nest. We shall hope to return with it in short form."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "And by 'it', we mean its...precious possession."

(Glomdoring): Kalaneya says, "An interesting proposition. What would you judge as a crow's most prized possession?"

Comprehension blooms across Seeress Morizwala's dark face. Her good eye shines brightly. "Good. Be sure to tell your Lady Gabe that, a thief is nothing without their secrets. If she seeks their nest, I imagine she must have a discerning eye."

(Glomdoring): You say, "Mayhaps we should lure them with something else?"

(Glomdoring): Gabe says, "Perhaps some carrion?"

(Glomdoring): Motyl says, "I wish I knew what it stole from me..."

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Mmm. Crows are likely to have different tastes, so it may take a few guesses."

(Glomdoring): Motyl says, "What did it steal from others?"

(Glomdoring): Kalaneya says, "Lady Gabe, the Seeress has asked us to pass along a message to you. She notes that a thief is nothing without their secrets, and should you be searching for its nest, she advises a discerning eye."

(Glomdoring): Kalaneya says, "We trust that is true of the eyes of the Wyrdenwood, of course."

(Glomdoring): Gabe says, "Hmmm...very well. Many thanks."

[after some more wandering]

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Ah... Seeress, I do not suppose you would tell us a bit more of this thief?"

A hiss escapes the harpy's lips. "They are of no consequence," Seeress Morizwala shares. "A crow that flies foul of their doim'cha'ur."

You nod your head slowly in understanding.

[more wandering around]

(Glomdoring): Kalaneya says, "Incredible!"

Top of the rise.
A biting cold fills the air, seeping away from a healing shrine of Manteekan nearby. A blizzard rages through the locale. A small patch of bare ground stands at the top of the sloping woodlands. To the north, the branches of pines and chestnuts have parted to give a view across the top of Glomdoring. A thin mist swirls about the treetops, although it is still possible to see a black tower rising above the trees in the distance to the northwest. To the north, the trees drop away shortly, where it appears a large chasm has split through the trees. Along the eastern horizon runs the jagged mountain range of Avechna's Teeth, whilst to the south the land slopes up steeply into the hills. Sprays of chervil cover the forest floor. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. A sedge of galingale is firmly planted in the forest floor. A marjoram bush flourishes here, spreading its delicate scent. A mature rowan tree stands proudly here. Casting darkness all around, a shadow totem thrusts up from the ground, chilling the air. Drone Iazin, One of Many is here, surrounded by a flurry of dancing cherry blossom petals. He wields a brittle crystal-blue viola in his left hand. Umbral Evoker Gael An'Ryshe, Vicar of the Cult is here. He wields a mystic cudgel in his left hand. Gabe Ladyn's trunk is visible here.
You see exits leading northeast, southeast, and west.

You tilt your head inquisitively.

In the trees above top of the rise.
A biting cold fills the air, seeping away from a healing shrine of Manteekan nearby. A blizzard rages through the locale. A small patch of bare ground stands at the top of the sloping woodlands. To the north, the branches of pines and chestnuts have parted to give a view across the top of Glomdoring. A thin mist swirls about the treetops, although it is still possible to see a black tower rising above the trees in the distance to the northwest. To the north, the trees drop away shortly, where it appears a large chasm has split through the trees. Along the eastern horizon runs the jagged mountain range of Avechna's Teeth, whilst to the south the land slopes up steeply into the hills. A ball of mistletoe clings to the tree branches here. A leopard lurks in the shadows, curiously watching anything that moves. Nothing more than a puffball with cerulean eyes, a seal lynx point ragdoll kitten lies here lounging languidly. An elegant shadeplume caladrius lingers here, surveying its surroundings with cool indifference. A baleful crow perches here, crimson eyes piercing in their glare. Umbral Evoker Gael An'Ryshe, Vicar of the Cult is here. He wields a mystic cudgel in his left hand.
You see exits leading northeast, southeast, and west.

You sweep your trained eye across the room for the hidden exits.
Uncertain of what you are looking for or at, your eyes casually comb through the thickness of the trees and their seemingly impenetrable branches. You almost miss it... but then, wait! What is this? These branches seem too close together... Might this be hiding something?

[some finangling and taking several tries before...]

Gently enough so you do not break them, you push yourself through the conspicuous branches to find yourself in a nest on the other side.
A thief's hidden nest.
A blizzard rages through the locale. Obscured by the thicker boughs of the nearby trees, this nest is well-insulated from both the forest floor below and the skies above. It is, quite simply, enormous; not meant for an average bird, but someone more humanoid sized, with a sturdy floor of woven branches that has been thickened with mud and decorated with flowers, while oily black feathers line it like delicate padding or carpeting. What the nest truly accommodates are various trinkets and pilfered goods that the owner has procured over time: sovereigns, beads, and other shiny baubles, all of which hang from branches or simply like strewn about in a disordered mess of treasures. Some branches have been pushed together here, keeping the nest secluded and the outside world at bay. Around the size of a human palm, an intricate cosmolabe lies nearby, pyrite frame gleaming with innate power. Absently lost, a silvery chain-link bracelet sparkles here upon the ground. Thrown haphazardly upon the ground, a simple grey coat lies here. A deadly looking onyx wand lies here abandoned. A painting of the great murder has been thrown on the ground here. A ring of beryl lies here etched with five-pointed stars. Twinkling and gleaming, a large pile of golden sovereigns rests on the ground. Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia is here. She wields spectral psiblade claws in each hand. Clad in matte black leather, a golden-eyed savage lingers here like a living shadow.
There are no obvious exits.

You peer at a painting of the great murder unscrupulously.

Kalaneya points to each of the possessions, bidding others to take theirs.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "...might I take Kiyan's and Skendelly's?"

A ball of ghostly darkness catches a silvery bracelet of fine links in a twisting shadow and draws it up into your hands.
You pick up a simple grey coat.
You pick up a mercurial cosmolabe.

Kalaneya nods her head at you.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "It seems..."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Ah, there we are. We have found our voice again."

You nod.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Perhaps Motyl's stolen possessions as well?"

Xenthos proudly shows off a smattering of oily-black feathers:
The long plumes of these feathers are deep black in hue, tinted with the subtlest hint of purple throughout their oily hue. Merely displaced from the comings and goings of the nest, they are remarkably all in tact, simply left ignored from their loosening altogether.

Kalaneya proudly shows off an eye of black emerald:
Shaped and carved with an exacting hand, a large chunk of black emerald has been sculpted into the vague shape of an eye: nearly a sovereign's diameter all around in perfect geometry. The many facets of the stone glitter with gentle translucency, the ghostly shade of forestal gloom, and the darkness of tree boughs; yet, it is not just the hue and colour of the gem that is dark, for real shadows writhe and churn within the depths of the stone. A chill touch engenders the precious eye, like the cool balm of midnight.

You pick up an onyx wand.

You crease your brow in a frown.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "My gust wand..."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "That seems like something precious."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Indeed."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "But truly, a gust wand. The most prized of possessions."

The wisdom of age furrows Kalaneya's brow as she nods solemnly.

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

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Shall we make our grand entrance, then?"

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "I will return the cosmolabe and coat, first."

[to Skendelly first]

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you say to Skendelly, "We have retrieved your cosmolabe."

Skendelly's ears perk up with a sudden interest.

Skendelly says, "You have? You found the thief?"

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you say, "Not their actual person, but their nest, yes."

You give a mercurial cosmolabe to Skendelly.
Skendelly eyes a mercurial cosmolabe with a beady gaze. "Hmm," he says, humming low under his breath. "There are many things I could make with - but no. No, you must keep this." He returns it to you with a perfunctory shove, the gleam in his eyes the only suggestion of reticence.

21:12:02.483 Using your tongue and the roof of your mouth, you make a quiet clicking noise.

You begin to wield a mercurial cosmolabe in your right hand.
Placing the cosmolabe on your palm, you hold it out upright, ready to be adjusted. As it settles, a faint violet sheen ripples over the pyrite and granite, indicating the readiness of its inner magics.

You quickly toss a mercurial cosmolabe to Skendelly, who catches it nimbly.
You reach out and carefully adjust the dials of a mercurial cosmolabe, ensuring that it is in a neutral position before tucking it away again. As the hands come to rest, the faint violet glow that suffuses the device fades away.

You have recovered balance on all limbs.

You nod.

Skendelly says, "Wait, was that mine or yours?"

You shrug helplessly.

Skendelly exclaims, "Oh! This one is mine!"

Midnight shadows coalesce around a new day, and Mother Night embraces the land in utter darkness.
It is now the 2nd of Urlachmar, 629 years after the Coming of Estarra.
There are 10 days until the New Moon.

Skendelly says to you, "I am in your debt, Auspice. Thank you."

Skendelly bows respectfully to you.

You wave your hand dismissively.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "With what you have done so far, it is very little."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Now, to return Kiyan's coat..."

Skendelly tucks his cosmolabe in a pouch, grinning from ear to ear.

[path path]

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you say to Kiyan Darkeye, "I have your coat, Master Darkeye."
Kiyan Darkeye smiles faintly, a small quirk of his lips. "I am certain you have met my sister by now? Peculiar girl, is she not? Dreadfully afraid of the sun." He pauses in thought and then smirks. "I suppose all who are changed after their death by the Hallowed Ones are bound to be a little strange."

You tilt your head inquisitively.

Musingly, you whisper, "So you -are- related."

A wry smile spreads across Kiyan Darkeye's face.

Kalaneya tells you, "A moment, Master Esei."

Kiyan Darkeye says, "We do not always claim each other, but perhaps."

Kalaneya tells you, "Have you returned the items?"

Your soft voice reaches out to Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia, tickling their ear, "The cosmolabe, not the coat."

You have emoted: Esei begins to hand the coat over, but pauses, cocking their head.

Kiyan Darkeye blinks, glancing down at the coat in your hands. "Is that the coat that was stolen?"

Kalaneya tells you, "The eyeball was not what Seeress Morizwala sought."
Your soft voice reaches out to Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia, tickling their ear, "I have a few of the other stolen items..."

Kalaneya tells you, "Go on."

Your soft voice reaches out to Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia, tickling their ear, "A bracelet, mayhaps? I do not recognize it from anywhere."

You nod.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "They had stolen quite a collection of items."

Dryly, you whisper, "Including one of the paintings from the exhibit, I think."

Softly, Kiyan Darkeye says, "That's the last time I leave my things around on the ground, that's for sure."

Looking downtrodden, Kiyan Darkeye sadly shakes his head.

You hum thoughtfully.

You give a simple grey coat to Kiyan Darkeye.

You nod.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Be well."

You shed winterborne demigod changeling form and flow as a spirit through the verdant leaves, embracing the physical once more and arrive at before the Master Ravenwood Tree.

With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One says, "Beautiful to behold, Seeress."

You have emoted: Esei carefully lifts up a silvery bracelet of fine links, tilting their head curiously.

You display a silvery bracelet of fine links for all in the room to see:
So light that it feels more like lace than metal, this bracelet is rather simple in its design and sports a tiny clasp so as to hold tight against the wrist. Silvery, tiny links form the basis of the bracelet in an even, unbroken chair; the only other sign of decoration is a slender rectangular bar which the links attach to its two longer sides. The bar's surface is smooth, almost mirror-like, though it has been marked with a blackened image of a star.

"I feel once more the whispers of shadows, the crowsong," Seeress Morizwala grins, her teeth feral and bright.

And when her eyes catch the bracelet, she inclines her head toward you. "What is this?" Seeress Morizwala asks.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Something found in the thief's nest, along with everything else."

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

For the first time, the harpy does not laugh, but simply chuckles. A throaty, guttural sound. Seeress Morizwala extends a taloned hand. "Give it to me."

You give a silvery bracelet of fine links to Seeress Morizwala.

Bringing the bracelet close, the seeress stares at it--not with her good, regular eye, but the one of emerald. The shadows within the stone churn, writhe, seethe, as if assessing the item, which only sparkles in the slowly gathering light of dawn. "Good," Seeress Morizwala remarks. "The time to call upon the shadows is nigh."

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "It seems we have everything collected now, and the Seeress is about to call upon the shadows if any are wishing to make their way back here."

Gripping the bone staff in her right hand, the lotus in her left, Seeress Morizwala says, "Ey Delmoir kn'al'i'kza."

Seeress Morizwala translates, smoothly, "Inevitably, I call out to Mother Night."

Her Common tongue harsh like a crow's caw, Seeress Morizwala says, "Inevitably, for all His children seek shelter under you."

Comprehension flashes across Motyl's face.

Gabe winks conspiratorially at Iazin.

Raising the staff above her head, Seeress Morizwala shifts her shoulder blades to allow her wings to unfurl in their inky-black down. She lowers the staff, pointing it toward those of you gathered, one of you in particular, Kalaneya. "K'ahe'mor. I request blood. Who will spill it?"

Iazin smiles softly at Gabe.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "I am always ready to spill my blood for the Forest, unless the Regent wishes to do so."

Xenthos tilts his head curiously at Kalaneya.

alaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We shall, certainly."

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

Nodding, Seeress Morizwala says, "Then offer it. Douse the bone in blood."

Seeress Morizwala remains holding the staff toward Kalaneya.

Reverently, Kalaneya takes the bone from Seeress Morizwala, then lays it upon the ground. "Nothing matters but Glomdoring," she intones, slicing into her scarred arm with her fingerblade. Blood runs freely from her severed veins, covering the bone with slick sanguine.

With her other hand, Kalaneya picks the bone back up and hands it to Seeress Morizwala.

Quite pleased, Seeress Morizwala accepts the staff of bone, gliding the crimson substance across the petals of the lotus. "Delmoir, your perfume fills the air. Blood nectar, lotus scent. Ey kyu kn'al'i'kza".

Almost in a chant-like caw, Seeress Morizwala says, "Q'mor'i i'qo'cht."

Almost in a chant-like caw, Seeress Morizwala says, "Q'mor'i n'lar'wa."

Seeress Morizwala looks to those of you present. "Chat it," the seeress states. "Shadows hiss. Shadows rise."

Coughs, for common is not her first tongue, Seeress Morizwala says, "Chant, of course."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist chants, "Q'mor'i i'qo'cht. Q'mor'i n'lar'wa."
In a quiet, lilting voice, Umbral Evoker Gael An'Ryshe, Vicar of the Cult chants, "Q'mor'i i'qo'cht. Q'mor'i n'lar'wa."
Drone Iazin, One of Many chants, "Q'mor'i i'qo'cht. Q'mor'i n'lar'wa."
Thumping their heel, you chant, "Q'mor'i i'qo'cht! Q'mor'i n'lar'wa!"

Though it is morning, one by one as you speak, that limpid darkness within the glade begins to move, writhe.

With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One chants, "Q'mor'i i'qo'cht. Q'mor'i n'lar'wa."
Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Motyl Stormcrow chants, "Q'mor'i i'qo'cht. Q'mor'i n'lar'wa."
Chanting in a chorus with you, Seeress Morizwala says, "Q'mor'i i'qo'cht. Q'mor'i n'lar'wa."
With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One chants, "Q'mor'i i'qo'cht. Q'mor'i n'lar'wa."

[brief pause]

"I did not say stop!" Seeress Morizwala crows.

[more chanting...]

In a fevered pitch, the shadows continue to move, your chants vibrating in the air that starts like syncopation but soon, moves into a singular voice.

[chanting]

"Q'mor'i i'qo'cht. Q'mor'i n'lar'wa." This is your voice. One voice. One Glomdoring.

[a bit more...]

Raising the bone staff once more Seeress Morizwala brings it down to the ground, cracking its head against the hard earth of the forest. She hisses, bidding you to silence.

Iazin coughs softly.

Gael cuts off to silence, watching, waiting.

And when the harpy lifts the staff once more, it is the case: shadows hiss, shadows rise, as a lone flicker of shadowstuff moves with the graceful tendrils of a flower, blooming soon into the vague, ephemeral shape of a child.

The shadow of a child disperses into a black mist and seeps into the ground.

Gabe breathes deeply, her eyes glimmering with dark anticipation.

Comprehension flashes across Motyl's face.

You tilt your head inquisitively.

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

Gael's ear perks upright, pale eyes staring at the ephemeral shape.

Iazin tilts his head inquisitively.

In an echoing voice, a shadow of a child speaks, not present, but felt deep in your bones. "Night hears you even in the day, Seeress. What do you seek?"

Once again, in her harsh sounding Common, Seeress Morizwala says, "I seek retribution, shadow! One of mine, a chosen of Crow, steals from their kin. Steals from your own forest. But most of all, steals from me."

Motyl tilts her head curiously, fluttering her wings in anticipation.

Iazin crosses his arms expectantly.

The shadow laughs, a lilting sound. "And what of it? Paint their actions with their blood. You show mercy."

The lotus flower falls from Seeress Morizwala's taloned hand, as the harpy shakes her head with vigorous intent. "I do not. I seek vengeance."

"Seeress," the child's voice rings out again, your blood chilling with its high-pitched, musical voice. "You seek something more than vengeance. What is it that you speak?"

"You are right, shadow. I speak not of vengeance, but something older, crueler. I demand their shadow name. That which none knows but them," Seeress Morizwala calls out, her voice throaty and raw.

"What shall you give me to pay for their name, Seeress? To bid the Librarian to search from these tomes?"

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

It is at this point that Seeress Morizwala produces the bracelet once more, offering it to the darkness. "This is their's, shadow. Stolen from their own nest. A gift, I know."

A child's hand manifests, of shadow and cold, snatching the bracelet from the harpy's taloned fingers. Both it and the jewelry disappear in seconds, almost as if they were never there in the first place.

"The Librarian is pleased. This gift is redolent with memories."

Motyl beams broadly.

Seeress Morizwala smiles darkly.

It is then, the shadow of a child appears. You feel their presence pass by your side: perhaps at a moment a chill touch on your hand, as it moves toward Morizwala. There is a whisper of sound, so quiet none save the harpy can hear. And then, the shadow winks away in wisps of shadowstuff.

Gael's good ear gives a sudden twitch, rising and lowering quickly.

Cawing, Seeress Morizwala says, "I bid thanks, shadow."

What magic in the air that was brought about by your chanting ceases, dissipating until all feels calm again.

To you all, Seeress Morizwala nods and cranes her head to the treetops.

Gabe drums her fingers slowly at her sides, dark motes weaving endlessly about them. A ghost of curiosity dances in her eyes as she watches on.

You see Seeress Morizwala yell, "Pretty little thief. Magpie. I bid you come!"

There is silence in the forest. The mute response of refusal.

Iazin peers into the boughs.

Seeress Morizwala narrows her eyes to thin slits.

You see Seeress Morizwala yell, "I bid you come, bird, hatchling. I will not repeat my request."

For a second time, there is silence.

Seeress Morizwala's eyes flick to the assembled folk here. "Might you hazard a guess, what is a shadow name, brethren of the woods?"

Iazin ponders the situation.

You hum thoughtfully.

"Ayah," says Kalaneya, stroking her chin.

Using her tongue and the roof of her mouth, Evette makes a quiet clicking noise.

With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One asks, "That which keeps them hidden from being known?"

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Perhaps a name for one's shadow? Something deeply intimate, at any rate, given how it has been treated thus far. Not something you wish to share with just anyone..."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We would posit that it is the name that completes the person. We are Kalaneya, and thus is the name for our body. We likely possess names unknown to us, one that describes our souls, and it is these that make us whole."

You nod at Kalaneya.

"Close," Seeress Morizwala remarks to Gabe, and then to you, she smiles and replies, "Closer," and finally to Kalaneya, "Closer still."

With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One asks, "Once spoken...they are revealed? It takes from us what we value most. It could cause great pain to be spoken allowed?"

Seeress Morizwala says, "All d'oiliea'i have a shadow name. It is precious. It is us. It makes us whole, it makes us unique. We do not share it to others, not beloveds, not to family either."

Crowing, Seeress Morizwala says to Gabe, "Not just great pain. Never just pain."

With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One says, "Despair."

Gabe tilts her head and listens intently.

In a quiet, lilting voice, Umbral Evoker Gael An'Ryshe, Vicar of the Cult says, "When one cannot hide in shadow, there is no protection. No sanctity from merciless retribution."

"If someone knows your shadow name, if a Seer of Movran knows it, can know the truth of your fate," Seeress Morizwala continues. "And if you know someone's fate, then you can ruin them."

Again, Seeress Morizwala cranes her head to the treetops above.

Gabe smiles darkly and rolls her shoulders.

You see Seeress Morizwala yell, "Koircha! Star-child! I speak your name, I know your shadow. I will read your stars, your signs, the gore of all the feasted beasts. I spell out your doom in them all. For I have powerful over you!"

Gabe's eyes sparkle with amusement at Iazin.

Motyl tilts her head and listens intently.

Shrieking still as a black-feathered harpy descends from above, the harpy lands trembling. "No! No! Seeress! Do not speak! That name is not for you!"

Pointing the bone staff, still in hand at the harpy, Seeress Morizwala says, "It matters not. Magpie. Liar. Thief. You are known as Koircha, and not just I know it, but all these people know it too. You are ruined."

Filled with disgust, Seeress Morizwala spits directly in a black-feathered harpy's face.

Gabe smirks.

Tears begin to grow at the corners of the harpy's eyes, a black-feathered harpy exclaims, "How unfair! How unfair! Seeress, please!"

Cawing a laugh, the Seeress waves a hand, dismissive of the other harpy's protestations. "Please? And what?" Seeress Morizwala questions, her voice low and terrible. "You steal sacred things from siblings and kin. You steal from the brethren of the woods. Thief of pretty things. Pretty little thief. I mock you. I mock you with a new name, Ilara, pretty thief.

Ilara the Magpie whines pitifully.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard sniffs Ilara the Magpie, trying to decipher just what that smell emanating from them is.

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.

With a hiss, Seeress Morizwala says, "And I shall cast you out. From the Eyrie of Movran, from all sight. You shall be known as a fool, k'wia'she'kza, to all of Crow's children."

Again, Ilara the Magpie whines. "Seeress, please! I will do better, I will not steal ever again!"

"No!" Seeress Morizwala screeches. "Your gluttonous ways will never find quarter in our home, our roost." She snaps her eyes to Kalaneya. "K'ahe'nar. I give this delinquent fool to you. I abandon them. Either teach them to serve greater purposes, or feast on their bones."

Ilara the Magpie's eyes widen as they pull their gaze back and forth between Morizwala and Kalaneya.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard tilts her head curiously in Kalaneya's direction, but her gaze doesn't leave Ilara the Magpie - fixated hungrily upon the harpy.

Wryly, Seeress Morizwala says, "Ahh, see, Ilara, Koircha, all the names that you have been given, will be given. Even Glomdoring does not want you."

Motyl flutters her wings energetically as she watches the scene from the branches above.

You have emoted: Esei clears their throat softly, shifting their weight from one foot to the other.

Seeress Morizwala's head snaps to you, bird-like and quick.

A shadeplume caladrius flaps up to a higher branch and pointedly looks away from Ilara the Magpie.

You have emoted: Esei goes still, staring back at Seeress Morizwala, their hands clasped neatly behind their back.

"So be it," Seeress Morizwala murmurs, her eyes moving back to the other harpy. "Find purpose in the woods of our brethren, Koircha, Ilara, or be dead. I care not." The Seeress then brings her hands to her head, pulling down her veil until her figure is obscured once more.

Iazin ponders Ilara the Magpie thoughtfully, looking them up and down.

With the obfuscation of Seeress Morizwala's face, Gael offers a solemn sort of inclination of his head, then turns his attention back to Ilara the Magpie with a flat, neutral expression.

With a quick beat of her wings Evette rises to circle slowly around Ilara the Magpie, studying them curiously.

Seeress Morizwala says, "T'iar, K'lian'lom. Cruel Crow guide you well."

Fluid like a shadow, Seeress Morizwala takes flight upon inky-black feathers as she departs to the north.

Softly, you ask, "...may I voice my thoughts on this matter?"

Using her tongue and the roof of her mouth, Gabe makes a quiet clicking noise.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Go on."

Evette nods her head at Xenthos, showing her acceptance.

Like prey caught ringed by predators, Ilara the Magpie's eyes shift with uncertainty, watching those present.

Iazin idly turns his viola in his hands, checking its strings. With the departure of the Seeress, he turns his eyes to Esei.

There is nothing neutral about Motyl's expression as she widens her amber eyes and looks on with a curious excitement.

Iazin nods sharply and winks at Gabe.

Iazin blinks.

With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One says, "Perhaps something beneficial can come of this...something good, by learning from their shameful mistakes. Put them to work, to service the Wyrd. Make them earn their next collection of treasures, but not by means of theft, Ilara."

Iazin nods his head at Gabe.

"Perhaps we should mention something we mentioned to the Lady Seeress in the beginning, Ilara," Kalaneya states, circling around to the grove's entry point to fill in the space left by Morizwala - and effectively cutting off any escape. "We do not turn away one who seeks to serve the wyrd and the Glomdoring with their heart and soul. But you have wronged several of us, and will not escape judgment tonight. Consider this carefully." She turns to you. "The deliberation begins now. We await Master Esei's thoughts firstly." She turns to the gathered. "Each of you shall have your word as well, should you choose to speak."

Gabe lifts her eyebrow as she tilts her head at Iazin, offering a deeply curious expression.

You have emoted: Back straightening to regard Ilara, Esei remains silent for several long moments. "As it stands, it appears the Movren take no kindness towards thieves. Nor does the Glomdoring as a whole - thieving from fellow communemates is outright banned by law." They take a slow, steady inhale, then let it out in an equally controlled fashion. "I understand that being outcast from the Movren is punishment well enough. And the Wyrd is not kind, but it also dislikes to waste... potential, as I understand it." Black gaze remaining steady upon the harpy, Esei finishes quietly with, "Though you stole from me, I retrieved my items, and you were punished by the Seeress, as was her right."

Gabe's mouth turns up as her face breaks into a smile.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "I would allow them to stay - to find purpose, if not a sort of redemption, to know it is not easy, but rarely things worth doing are."

You have emoted: Esei steps back, bowing their head and returning to silence.

Heartless Scourge Evette Stormcrow whispers, "Perhaps if theft is as much apart of their identity as is their name, their skills could be applied to other interests. The northern forest, the cities that do not ally themselves to the Wyrd."

Iazin nods his head at Evette.

Motyl nods her head in agreement.

Gabe nods her head sagely.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We understand that Ladies Gabe, Motyl, and Evette, as well as Masters Iazin and Esei would favour...retaining the services of one Ilara."

Heartless Scourge Evette Stormcrow whispers, "It would not need be material things stolen, but perhaps ideas, strengths, weaknesses."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "This reaches a majority of those present. Have we any objections?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "You would take them for the Swarm, then?"

Heartless Scourge Evette Stormcrow whispers, "Would you rather have them for the Thornwatch?"

Kalaneya smiles wryly as her golden eyes glint with amusement.

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

In a quiet, lilting voice, Umbral Evoker Gael An'Ryshe, Vicar of the Cult says, "No objections...if their life is forfeit already, the only use they might glean from their life is in service to the Wyrd."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "No, I do believe that you have correctly identified that their strengths lie elsewhere. I just wished to be clear - and make it clear to them, as well."

Iazin's voice rises in a soft chill. "Should that prove futile... if we can bind countless fae to service, I'm sure we can do something similar to a lone harpy."

Evette nods her head affirmatively at Xenthos.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "If we may ask Ilara a question, then."

Heartless Scourge Evette Stormcrow says, "I believe it fits well then."

Uncertainty wells in Ilara the Magpie's eyes as they turn to Kalaneya. "Yes...?" they croak in a hoarse whisper.

With a dream-like echoing resound, Gabe Ladyn, The Silent One says, "Should she betray us? We pluck out her feathers and carve out her pretty face."

A caliginous leopard licks her lips.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says to Ilara the Magpie, "The Scourge has proposed quite an interesting task for you. Do you find this an acceptable role for you, in service of the wyrd?"

Gently, you whisper, "I do not believe Ilara is a woman."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "If you do not, what would you propose instead?"

In a whisper, though their voice is tinged with fear and despair, Ilara the Magpie says, "Ayes, I accept service, ayes! But what role I have...! Ey kah'm'tak'za."

Motyl beams broadly at Ilara the Magpie.

Ilara the Magpie exclaims, "I have many things, ayes. But I will try to be of service!"

Kalaneya shakes her head, a soft chuckle escaping her throat.

Turning her head to view Ilara from another viewpoint, Heartless Scourge Evette Stormcrow whispers, "What roles would you wish for yourself?"

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "You perhaps misunderstand, Master Ilara. You shall not try. You will be of service."

Patiently, Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Lady Evette has proposed you retain your tendencies as a thief, to steal ideas, information, and the like from our enemies. Is there aught you would rather do?"

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "We would not like to set you up to fail, after all."

A twinkle in her eyes reveals Kalaneya's amusement. "Your life, after all, depends on it."

Suitably chastised, Ilara the Magpie nods in Kalaneya's direction before craning their head toward Evette. "I am quick, five-fingered. What role does this Lady need of me?"

Iazin strides toward Ilara, moving to the side of the harpy. With a quick hand, he plucks four feathers from their form.

Ilara the Magpie yelps in pain.

Heartless Scourge Evette Stormcrow whispers, "Flutter your feathers, to the northern forest and the cities that ally with them. Bring us back something from each that would be useful to the Wyrd. An idea, a thought, a weakness."

Kalaneya shoots Iazin a withering glare.

Gael's ear perks up at Evette's suggestion, and he nods his head slowly at the idea.

Heartless Scourge Evette Stormcrow whispers, "This will be your service, as long as you remain living."

Iazin steps back, nodding sheepishly in acknowledgement.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says to Ilara the Magpie, "Do you agree?"

Ilara the Magpie slowly nods their head, not sure whether they have a choice in the end.

Kalaneya smiles wryly as her golden eyes glint with amusement.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "You shall take the oath of service to Glomdoring, then. Your hand, please, Master Ilara."

Eyeing the leopards within the area, Heartless Scourge Evette Stormcrow whispers, "If the things do not suffice..."

Ilara the Magpie shudders at Evette's subtle threat, as they extend their arm and hand out to Kalaneya.

A caliginous leopard flicks her tail from side to side licking her lips in anticipation of a hearty meal.

With one swift motion, Kalaneya slices Ilara the Magpie's palm with a shallow cut, drawing blood, then presses their hand to the Master Ravenwood, pinning it beneath hers and allowing her blood to seep into the tree. "Repeat after me," she begins, a sudden intensity in her eyes replacing the placid patience there before. "To the Wyrd, I vow my loyalty, to its children, my service."

Motyl is in the background attempting to quietly entice a leopard with a fish wrapped in paper that she sets gingerly upon the ground.

A wince escapes Ilara the Magpie's lips as their hand is pressed against the Great Tree. They glance about, still unsure, still uncertain, but relent, ultimately. In a hoarse whisper, they repeat, "To the Wyrd, I vow my loyalty, to its children, my service."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "The forest is my hearth and the commune, my home. I shall defend it with every part of me."

A caliginous leopard scoops the fish up, pouncing into a low-hanging branch of the Master Ravenwood Tree to eat.

Continuing, Ilara the Magpie says, "The forest is my hearth and the commune, my home. I shall defend it with every part of me."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "For ever I am able, I shall know this as my duty. These things I swear before Mighty Crow and Mother Night, by the Wyrden Idols and the Voice of Mahalla - may I be cast out in Their names if I am ever found false."

Motyl beams brightly before refocusing her attention upon the oath.

Ilara the Magpie says, "For ever I am able, I shall know this as my duty. These things I swear before Mighty Crow and Mother Night, by the Wyrden Idols and the Voice of Mahalla - may I be cast out in Their names if I am ever found false."

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "I am one of many, and we many are all one."

"I am one of many, and we many are all one," Ilara the Magpie repeats.

Kalaneya Shee-Slaugh, Ma'lanas Runia says, "Nothing matters but Glomdoring."

In a hoarse whisper, Ilara the Magpie says, "Nothing matters but Glomdoring."

Heartless Scourge Evette Stormcrow says, "Glory be to Glomdoring."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you say, "Glory be to the Glomdoring."

Kalaneya releases Ilara the Magpie's hand and dips her head in acknowledgement to them. "Glory be to Glomdoring," she concludes.

Cheerfully, Devotee of the Tah'vrai, Motyl Stormcrow says, "Glory be to the Glomdoring."

Still in a whisper, Ilara the Magpie remarks, "Glory be to the Glomdoring."

In a quiet, lilting voice, Umbral Evoker Gael An'Ryshe, Vicar of the Cult says, "Glory be to Her Glomdoring."

You nod.

Iazin walks casually to Motyl, and quietly slips Motyl one of the feathers.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Glory be to the Glomdoring."

Drone Iazin, One of Many says, "Glory be to the Glomdoring."

"Serve well, Koimcha," Kalaneya states, the Crowtongue still tasting foreign on her tongue. "We depart."

A cloud of translucent figures trails after Kalaneya as she leaves to the down, the incomprehensible whispers finally fading.
Leaving delicate wisps of shadow in its wake, an elegant caladrius wings away to the down.

(Glomdoring): Kalaneya says, "Farewell, Glomdoring. Glory be."

** TRANSLATIONS. **
[does not include anything that Morizwala translated herself, like the chant]

Morizwala = (personal rough translation is 'wordsinger' or possibly 'shadowsinger')
Koircha = star (perhaps even 'little star)
Ilara = (personal interpretation is this derives from za'lara - 'crescendo')
K'wia'she'kza! + K'wia'sho'kza = slight variations of the same word; likely 'traitor'
Ey kyu o'm'tao'za. = I have found you; I have discovered you.
K't'kwa'dkh = t'kwa'dkh is a jewel or gem, k' refers to something related to the eye(s); an eye gem.
K'ahe'mor = Dark Reegent
Q'wo'lan, Kah'doim'cha'i oari kha k'oim'zai. = Fledgling, birds of a feather.
doim'cha'ur = murder, as in the group of crows kind
Ey kah'm'tak'za = I don't know