Distant As The Furthest Star

((Previously, at the conclusion of his performance for the Devotion task))

He, too, hesitates, though in the manner of one wary of presenting a potentially
undesirable notion. Avaris's fingers trace minuscule lines atop the curving expanse of his
breastplate as he considers. "Well. I have been thinking about this one for some time, my Lady. I
wish to leave You with no doubt whatsoever as to my conviction, and that You can rely on me."
Clearing his throat, the sound oddly melodic in its vibrating harmony, he forges on, "I would like a
trial. Have me guard something of value - A place, an object, whichever You decide. Something
sufficient to tempt some of Your Cousins into trying to take it from me." He holds up a finger,
forestalling, as he explains, "If it could be made to only be given over willingly, should I falter,
that would be ideal. Twelve days, and twelve nights, of enduring whatever can be sent to assail me."

Avaris pauses, uttering a faint, brief laugh. "I will need Your help with this, I
think, else I will simply be standing somewhere, pointlessly."

Soft laughter as light as a gentle rain spills from Lantra's lips, the melodious sound accompanied
by a faintly amused smile.

The mirth in Her celadon eyes unmistakable, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "You do not ask for much, do
you?"

Avaris's antennae bend at odd angles as Lantra's laughter brightens the room, a
faint blush of pink caressing the eyes of his wings. "Ah. Well," he begins, self-consciously,
"I...Thought it might be a good idea."

Avaris waves a hand aside hurriedly, stating, "I am happy to show it otherwise, my
Lady, if You wish. I do not want to trouble You overmuch."

Undeterred by the notion, though Her amusement at it remains palpable in a way that is refreshingly
frank for the usually reserved Goddess, Lantra says, "There are precious few belongings I Myself
possess that I can imagine My Cousins covet. However, I believe I understand the source of your
desire, and the spirit of its request. I shall meditate upon this, but I shall repeat My earlier
statement: know that you need not break yourself in your attempts to prove yourself to Me. Your vows
are meant to be proof, not necessarily a trial."

Evenly, Her words devoid of judgment but merely stating an observation, Lantra says, "And I confess
I am not partial to the idea of you becoming the regular subject of My Cousins' torments."

Despite the decidedly stubborn tilt of Avaris's jaw as he lifts his face to look
upon Lantra's, there is the distinct sense that he is relishing every precious moment of Lantra's
freer expressing of sentiment, every minute, infinitesimal detail appreciated in the manner of a
priceless work of art. "My Lady, I know that You think me a child, but I am not one. If I do not
risk being broken, in this trial especially, than I will not be content in having expressed my
dedication to You. For my sake, please - Do not be gentle in this. Set everything that You can
against me, so that You know without the faintest whisper of a doubt that You can trust in me, in
all things."

Avaris's left shoulder rises in a modest shrug, as he states, "Better I than You,
my Lady, or any other. I can withstand it. I will be a lodestone for it, if it spares others."

The levity in Her presence fades at the severity of your words, taking them with the measure of
solemnity that they are spoken. Lantra nods, pursing Her lips as She weighs Her reply. "Perhaps not
a child," She replies, kindly, "but mortal still. Nonetheless, I will keep your request in mind, My
Avaris, and your desire for it to be punishing in nature."

Watching Lantra for a time, Avaris eventually lowers his chin in a slow, gracious
nod of acceptance. "I have some faint flicker of Divinity within my soul, my Lady. Mortal, but
sufficient. I will endure." The sparkling motes within his eyes burgeon in a brief expansion of his
version of a smile, which warms the chords of his resonating voice. "Thank You, my Lady. I
appreciate it, sincerely."

Her eyebrow faintly lifted, as if assessing your expression, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "You are
welcome, My Faithful Avaris, even as you seem intent on making your every path a thorned one. I do
not hold you to that in your vows. I merely acknowledge it is what you seem to desire."

Unperturbed - If anything, buoyed at the prospect of the potential horrors that may
await him, Avaris dips his head in an amiable nod. "I know that You do not, my Lady. I do, however.
You are very kind, but I will hold myself to the highest standards imaginable in Your stead, for
that is what I expect of any that claim to love You."

With a deep, almost exasperated sigh, Lantra looks to you and nods. "To serve Me is not to be a
magnet for suffering," She says, a glimmer of jest in Her words as She adds, "I hope."

Pleased, it seems, at the hint of humour that his Lady shows, Avaris's antennae
flick up to wave back and forth in languid, drifting motion. "To serve You is the sweetest pleasure,
my Lady. I simply wish to play magnet to suffering so that it misses You, and Yours." Freeing a
hand, he taps a pointed finger to his breast, a touch of levity to his own words as he says, "Why do
You think I worked so laboriously to make myself giant, golden, and impossible to miss? Gaudy as I
am, I make a fine magnet."

A disarming gentleness in Her reply, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "And yet far better for none to
suffer at all, no matter how bright a lightning rod they choose to be."

Lantra silently shrouds Her face from view with a cascading veil of mist and water lilies,
withdrawing behind a curtain of sheer, sparkling mist.

Leaning his head aside in a brief, bobbing acknowledgement, Avaris replies easily,
"That is the future I aspire to manifest, my Lady. Until then, I shall be the very brightest of
lightning rods." Regarding Lantra with undisguised warmth, the very picture of adulation, he
breathes out a faint, appreciative sigh, nodding. "I have taken enough of Your time, my Lady."

((A few months later))


Breathing into existence, tongues of incandescent flame manifest before you, setting a trail ablaze
to the Font of Fortitude as you sense the Empyreal's inscrutable gaze upon you.

Avaris claps his right set of hands to his breast, bowing his head.

You think to yourself: "At once, my Lady."

The Font of Fortitude.
Cold, argent light filters through this chamber, which is upheld by stark white pillars illuminated
by starry torchlight. The frescoes painted upon this water-filled chamber are haunting in their
black-and-white shading as they depict the horrors of the Elder Wars. Here, countless Elder Gods
hold Their ground before the likes of Kethuru, Crazen and Zenos, held in proud formations perfected
by the Second Circle. Yet the wounded and dying have begun to pile up behind Them, and while many
faces which grace these walls seem familiar, far more are blurred, as if the memory of Them has
finally begun to fray. A statue of Lantra, the Lady Mediatrix looks upon all these images in
silence, surrounded by startlingly bright red lotuses which blossom at Her feet and crown Her regal
brow. A single crimson lotus blooms eternally in Her outstretched hands as water and light flows
forth from beneath its sanguine petals, as if stained with blood.
You see exits leading northeast, south, and northwest.

Sanguine lotuses blossom before the flowing waters of the Font of Fortitude as a calm, feminine
voice emanates from the statue of Lantra, the Lady Mediatrix, "Light's blessings upon you, My
Avaris."

Lowering himself automatically to one knee, Avaris assumes his customary posture of
reverence, hands overlaid atop his heart, head bowed. "And upon You as well, my Lady. How does the
eve find You?"

Sanguine lotuses blossom before the flowing waters of the Font of Fortitude as a calm, feminine
voice emanates from the statue of Lantra, the Lady Mediatrix, "How indeed? That is a question I am
not certain how to answer."

Avaris's lower left antenna twitches at this, the gesture hesitant. "Why might that
be, my Lady?"

Sanguine lotuses blossom before the flowing waters of the Font of Fortitude as a calm, feminine
voice emanates from the statue of Lantra, the Lady Mediatrix, "These whispers from the Silent Lord
do not bode well for My prospects for future company. And amidst this, you have placed a task upon
Me that I do not much relish."

Sanguine lotuses blossom before the flowing waters of the Font of Fortitude as a calm, feminine
voice emanates from the statue of Lantra, the Lady Mediatrix, "It seems I am beset with bearing
unpleasant missives, one way or another."

The sanguine swathes that extend up from behind Avaris's bladed crest curl back as
he lowers his head further in contrition. "I am sorry, my Lady. I did not wish to add to Your
burdens. Would You have me do something different? I do not desire to have You distracted, when the
Silent Lord and His minions disturb You."

You think to yourself: A coiling thread of regret - He has been selfish in his eagerness to prove
himself to Her, and accomplished the opposite of his goal.

Sanguine lotuses blossom before the flowing waters of the Font of Fortitude as a calm, feminine
voice emanates from the statue of Lantra, the Lady Mediatrix, "Let Us say only that I am not
accustomed to finding ways to inflict difficulty on others."

Sanguine lotuses blossom before the flowing waters of the Font of Fortitude as a calm, feminine
voice emanates from the statue of Lantra, the Lady Mediatrix, "Yet there are ways in which the
Silent's plight and My own are intertwined with your request."

Pinpricks of celestial light coalesce into the faint outline of a star lotus, which blossoms open to
reveal the regal figure of Lantra, the Empyreal.

Her slight and statuesque figure exuding a sense of restrained dignity, She is a radiant immortal
and possessed of a quiet and unassuming stillness. The Goddess's olive-skinned complexion shines
with the dusky radiance of youth, and yet the ancient burden of duty weighs heavily upon Her
shoulders, carried with a silent and practised grace. Lost to contemplation, She appraises Her
surroundings with a distant air; the grey-tinged gaze of Her celadon blue eyes remains as fathomless
and inscrutable as the hazy mists of a waterfall. Despite the seriousness of Her first impressions,
however, a gentle smile graces Her lips with an almost maternal tenderness. Her every movement is
characterised of an unhurried elegance and poise, reflective of an inner peace as She emanates a
soothing white light.

Shimmering tresses of palest starlight spill down Her shoulders in a curtain of white to end at Her
waist, nary a strand out of place. Motes of silver and celadon blue interweave through Her
immaculate coif, their whispers of colour evoking a breathtaking celestial radiance.
She is wearing:
immaculate vestments of purest white starlight that wreathe Her in a celestial glow
a cascading veil of mist and water lilies that trails at Her feet, shrouding Her face from view
elevated sandals of woven willow leaves that leave lambent motes with each step
a gold damask cope clasped with a radiant star lotus that covers Her shoulders in a heavy mantle
a bracelet of woven water and starlight shimmering upon Her wrist.


Avaris's sharply angled chin dips in a slight nod, though the gesture, small as it
is, slows midway at the mention of the Silent. The effulgent eyes that adorn his wings thin minutely
as he considers this, then widen immediately upon perceiving Lantra's form, which draws the full
attention of every one of the countless markings at once. "My Lady. It is good to see You, despite
circumstances."

Bathed in the sanguine light of the chamber, Lantra stands before the Font with Her hands pressed
before Herself, Her expression difficult to glean as She looks upon you. If She is deterred by your
words, the Goddess does not express it. "Tell Me, Avaris. What does Fortitude mean to you? For how
you prove it is reflected in your interpretation of its meaning."

For once lit in the shades of red by an external source, rather than the fires of
his own angry markings, Avaris's golden carapace is tinged towards a lesser metal, more copper in
hue. He considers the question for a time, turning his thoughts carefully over within his mind as he
formulates his response, which comes in a measured, sober cadence. "Persistence, despite adversity.
In all of its forms. Of the body, of the soul, heart and mind. Enduring, and remaining true to
oneself despite that which assails you." The fingers of his outermost hand curl slowly, clawed
points scraping over the flat chitin beneath. "To be unyielding, no matter what comes."

The Goddess Lantra wordlessly raises a hand, Her expression inscrutable as She smiles thinly.
In answer to the Goddess's summons, the sacred spear of Atonement manifests before Her in a burst of
water and light.

Lantra begins to wield Atonement in Her left hand.

A number of the luminous, stylised eyes drift inexorably towards the sacred spear,
as Avaris's head lifts fractionally, antennae flicking up alertly. He says nothing, however, and
remains otherwise still.

You think to yourself: A whisper of trepidation - A weapon is never bared without purpose.

Taking the weapon in Her hands as gently as one might lift a sceptre, Lantra says softly, "Fortitude
is to be unyielding, yes. And yet it is a strength that remains when all other things fail Us, and
all other lights go out." She frowns slightly, Her veil reflected in the spear's blade, as She
continues, "You have sought to throw yourself before My Cousins to prove your conviction before Me.
And I have professed that I do not wish for you to become the target of My Cousins' ire." Her voice
is quiet, considering as She asks, "Which Divine do you fear more than any other, Avaris?"

As yet unmoving, save for the subtle shift of the luminescent eyes' pupils tracking
the motion of Atonement's blade, Avaris stares at the floor, visored face immobile, expressionless.
Only the faint rise and fall of his chest betrays his status as a living thing, so long does he
remain kneeling, dwelling on the question posed to him.

You think to yourself: More than any other? A series of images, some more vivid and sharp than
others - The Lady of Lagoons, blurring through water as he drowns. The Even Bladed, furious, framed
in the shining arc of Her descending, bloodied blades, a beat before his death at their edge. The
Silent One, a nebulous mass of shadows, patient and subtle. Others, as yet unmet, but monitored,
studied, very aware of, and the dangers They present. At last, the Goddess before him.

Endless cascades of water and light flow into this luminous pool, enchanting in its celestial glow.

Eventually, in a whisper of voices barely approaching a murmur, Avaris answers, as
if confessing a great and terrible shame, "You, my Lady."

You think to yourself: "Though it is a strange fear."

Atonement's spear gleams in the starlight as Lantra asks gently, "And why do you fear Me, Avaris?"

The sharp joints of Avaris's layered fingers arch and flex as he rubs at the
burnished plates of his chitin in a distracted fashion, visibly reluctant to answer. Despite this,
he does so, each word drawn from him like a blade lodged in his flesh. "Because I love You more than
anything, my Lady. The thought of You being hurt, or leaving, or...Or ending, it- It terrifies me.
More than any other Divine ever could."

The Goddess's figure appears to diminish at your words, as if a great weight has lifted from Her
shoulders. The sacred spear of Atonement falls to rest upon the ground as Lantra looks upon you, Her
veil flickering in the starlight. "Yes. You have given Me great and terrible power over you,
Avaris." There is a quiet resignation in the Empyreal's reply, as if She has long reached a foregone
conclusion that She resists stating aloud. "You would relish any difficulty I placed before you,
were it to protect Me. This is what I believe."

The hiss of wickedly sharp fingertips drawn along the back of a carapace-clad hand
slows at Lantra's words, as Avaris's hands grow quiescent, poised in an arch of red-tinted, shining
chitin. The wings that cloak his back shift uncomfortably in a soft rustling of feathers, as the
dense, curving lines of his antennae coil in on themselves in discomfort. It seems, for a time, that
he will not answer Lantra, but as ever, he does, with great reluctance, the resonance of his voice
destabilised by the uncertainty that wavers through it. "I...I do not know what to say to You on
this, my Lady. I am sorry, if this displeases You."

The spear remains loose within the Goddess's grip, although its precise and exact point remains
lethal in its sharp fixation as Lantra says, "Fortitude is to persist in the darkness, even in the
absence of light. It is to trust in what is unseen, even as the shadows encroach upon you, ever
seeking to place doubt within your weary mind. It is to trust your own voice, even when the world is
bereft of all kindness." She exhales softly, turning to you to say, "You wish for Me to ask the most
difficult task I can of you. And I have considered what such a thorned path might be for you,
although it is not one I would ask you to walk."

Her voice soft and gentle, Lantra, the Empyreal says to you, "For I am the light in your darkness,
Avaris. Am I not?"

You think to yourself: A seeping, insidious sensation of black dread. He did not like the
connotations that held, on the heels of Her earlier observation. He did not like it at all.

The antennae uncoil, flicking about in sharp, agitated motions, all steep angles
and spasmodic lunges, though Avaris himself remains as motionless as a statue. Though he strives to
offer up a strong and steady voice in answer to Lantra's, he falters, the musical hum of his words
turned strained, imbalanced, almost discordant. "You are, my Lady."

The Goddess raises a gentle hand, and in answer, the starlight coalescing about the Font weaves in
upon itself to form a sparkling mantle within Lantra's hands, shimmering and gleaming with radiant
power.

Taking the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris in Her hands, Lantra asks softly, "You wished to know if I
owned anything another Elder might covet. There is one, at least."

Grasping shadows linger and take hold of this exquisite cloak of Night, a constellation of stars
drifting across its tenebrous silk with an empyreal beauty. Like misty diamonds, each captured star
twinkles brilliantly in the darkness as if plucked from the heavens, arranging and rearranging in
endless, ephemeral formations. There is an enchanting quality to the fluid way the cloak ripples
with its every movement, at once inky, opaque, and shimmering in its fragile resplendence. A single
radiant star serves as the clasp for this heavy mantle, its seven points glaring with cold
illumination.

The tenebrous shadows of the mantle flickering amidst countless minute stars, Lantra, the Empyreal
says, "However, I would not have you resist the Elder's desire for this token. Rather, I would have
you deliver it to the Silent Lord yourself, as My emissary."

Inevitably, the focus of Avaris's light-forged eyes are drawn to the mantle, fixing
upon it with a helpless sort of fascination. He does not speak, for a time, as he lifts his head to
stare at it with the solid, azure orbs of his natural eyes, his antennae frozen in the midst of
their anxious jerking.

You think to yourself: "Seven. Shadows. I do not like what this suggests."

His visored faced drawn down as if by a great weight, Avaris regards the floor in a
decidedly stony fashion, the chitin of his torso creaking quietly as he presses his hands against it
with great force. "May I ask the purpose, and nature of this item, my Lady?"

Her fingers lightly brushing against the mantle, Lantra says, "Fear not, My Avaris. It is no weapon,
nor is it an artifact of any deceit or artifice. It is merely..." She pauses, and in the silence of
Her contemplation, there seems a galaxy of unspoken answers. "The Silent Lord will understand its
purpose," the Goddess says at last.

Her voice as firm as it is quiet, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "There are conditions to this request,
of course."

You think to yourself: That was what he was afraid of. A compression of his feelings, crushing the
dread, the strange, disquieting discomfort birthed by the whispering possibilities of the mantle, of
the symbols, of what it might imply - All of it, squeezed and compacted until they are a cold, flat
plane of light, slicked by an umbral patina.

The noise emanating from his armoured chest deepens briefly to a groan of
complaint, before Avaris gradually diminishes the pressure, lifting his hands free to place them,
instead, upon his upraised knee, as if to steady himself. He listens with a grim intensity, his
antennae flattened into blades forged of bloody liquid that angle back and away from Lantra, and is
silent.

Taking in your response in silence, the Goddess Lantra takes the star-woven mantle before Her and
continues, Her voice clear and soft, "You asked for a test of your Fortitude. You wished to defend
Me. I ask instead for you to do something that speaks against all that you believe your duty to Me
to be. And until this missive is complete," Lantra's words hush to a severe whisper, "My light would
be absent from your side. I would be as distant as the furthest star, and My silence as deafening as
the Void. You would stand before the Silent Lord with My displeasure marked across your form,
allowing Him to believe that you had gained My ire. And in this, He will speak to you of Me in words
that are unkind, and perhaps cruel. Yet you must not rise to His bait of your anger."

You think to yourself: It is not the sudden, abrupt shock of a path suddenly ending, but rather the
sick, heart-hollowing fall that is slow - The type you see coming, but can do nothing to prevent as
you slide towards the abyss. No light. No warmth. Distant as the furthest star. He reels,
internally, like a drunk, grasping desperately for the solid handholds of logic, of reason.

As the cold, barren nature of his path is laid out before him, absent of Lantra's
light and warmth, the colour slowly drains from Avaris's antennae, bleeding away until they drift,
pale as bone, to drape across the ridges of his skull. The soft, ever present luminescence of his
wings bleaches away from a hearty gold to a sickly pallor, the faintly yellow-tinged white of dead
leaves. The fingers upon his knee tremble, so slight as to be nearly indiscernible, and he is
otherwise still. When he speaks, however, there is no music at all in his voice, all melody ripped
from the choir that forms his words, hoarse and harsh, quiet as tearing paper. "Yes, Lady. As You
will it, so it shall be. What will I have done, to warrant Your displeasure, for when He asks?" The
knuckles arch as he squeezes his knee tight, a detatched, almost dazed quality to his voice. "My
love for You is well know. It will have to be convincing."

When Lantra next speaks, it is with exquisite tenderness: "You need not accept this if you do not
wish it, My Avaris. You had asked for the most difficult path I could ask you to walk. I remind you,
once more, that it is not the only path you possess." At your hoarse words, the Goddess says, with
either bitterness or cynicism, "That may not prove as difficult as you imagine, for the Lord Silent
holds those He loves and hates in equal company."

Coolly, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "He has enough reasons to imagine My displeasure, without you
offering any. His imagination is vast."

You think to yourself: Not the only path? "Ah, Lady. You do not understand me, yet."

Visibly marshalling the scattered fragments of his will, Avaris straightens, his
back growing rigid as he sets his shoulders, lifting his head to regard Lantra directly. Though the
colour is still absent from his form, and the music has fled from his voice, his words are firm,
almost hard with the dissonance of his tones, but ever respectful. "No, Lady. I will do this for
You, as I would do anything You wished of me. I will not shrink from it." Clearing his throat in a
rasping buzz, he asks, hollowly, "Will I be leaving Your Order for this, Lady?"

There is a long pause as Lantra considers the question, light gleaming off of Atonement's shaft.
"You wish to plunge yourself into the darkness unheeded," She says at last, sighing.

There is an equal delay while Avaris processes this - Or strives to, if the
uncertain twitching and coiling of his antennae is any indication. Eventually, in an uncertain
manner, he asks, "Lady?"

"I would hold you to your vows, My Avaris. Those are sworn to Me and binding in their oaths. For
eternity," Lantra echoes. "How thorned do you desire this path to be? How many obstacles do you
require to prove your vow of Fortitude? I will not ask you to venture deeper into the shadows than
you wish. Yet," the Goddess says, "I would say that when your task is done, you will find My light
no longer absent, and your place among Mine where it ought to be."

The long slivers of bone-white that his antennae have become curve down at a steep
angle as Avaris frowns, giving Lantra's words an intensity of consideration that delves far into the
severe. With quiet, steady force, delivered in a nonetheless gentle manner, he emphasises, "I would
do anything for You. Anything. I would leave the Order, the guild, the city - All of it, everyone,
if it meant that You would trust in me after I have proven myself to You. No number of obstacles
will stop me, nor a path more thorned than any that has come before it. Simply tell me how it must
be, and I will make it manifest for You."

There is a long, pained silence as Lantra contemplates you, as if attempting to understand you,
though the mists surrounding Her churn in frustrated silence. "I do not wish such a drastic path for
you as that," the Goddess says, voice clear and firm. "It will be enough for you to walk with My
disfavour, and without Me at your side. Yet if you wish to experience the true absence of hope, and
withstand despair in Fortitude, I will remove you from My Order. Know, however, that you will still
walk as Mine and you will not be released from your vows to Me."

The currents of frustration that wreathe Lantra in mist are met with an obduratewill, as Avaris
maintains his stance, stolid and stubborn as a stone. His voice growing more even, now,
as he masters himself, he replies, calm and level, "You walked the Void, Lady. I want You to
know, in Your heart, without any doubt at all, that I could walk it with You."

A solemn intonation in Her words, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "Then walk within the darkness of that
Void, and should you not seek My warmth before the end closes upon you, I shall see the trial
accepted."

Moved by the incandescent wrath of Lantra, seven spears of sharpened starlight manifest around you
to encase you within a prison of blades. An unforgiving brilliance emanates from their revealing
light, purging your surroundings from view. When at last the blinding white recedes, you find
yourself trapped and alone before a desecrated healing mound.
A desecrated healing mound.
Seven spears of sharpened starlight form a domed prison here, beneath which the nauseating stench of
death and disease overwhelms every inch of an unforgiving desert. Beneath where the blades meet lies
a single healing mound, broken and torn asunder beneath a slick pile of viscera and gore. Flies buzz
over the wastes of reeking corpses, mangled past all recognition by thousands of vicious teeth and
claws. Scarred a violent, throbbing red colour, the angry sky is rent apart and torn open like a
gaping wound, weeping bloody rain on the soiled ground. The sheer desolation of the expanse beyond
the blades reveals no living soul except yours, save for the unsettling presence of monstrous
shadows lurking in the distance, scavenging for fresh carrion. Absurdly, every path leads to this
memorial of suffering and misery, no matter how far it stretches into the distance.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, and northwest.

Despite yourself, you feel a strange force pushing you to move forward, even as there is nowhere for
you to go.

Stumbling upright in his shock, Avaris loses his footing and slips forward, falling
to his hands and knees in a wet impact of visceral liquid. He recoils, rising, antennae curled back
in revulsion, and takes stock of his surroundings. Distaste emanating from him in a near palpable
aura, he sets off, shoulders hunched, wings steadily stained red by the bloody rain.

You think to yourself: "This is...An awful place. Where am I?"

Avaris tries to flick the coating of sanguine fluid from his hands, shaking the
clawed appendages out repeatedly, to no avail.

((Containment period ends))

The Font of Fortitude.
Cold, argent light filters through this chamber, which is upheld by stark white pillars illuminated
by starry torchlight. The frescoes painted upon this water-filled chamber are haunting in their
black-and-white shading as they depict the horrors of the Elder Wars. Here, countless Elder Gods
hold Their ground before the likes of Kethuru, Crazen and Zenos, held in proud formations perfected
by the Second Circle. Yet the wounded and dying have begun to pile up behind Them, and while many
faces which grace these walls seem familiar, far more are blurred, as if the memory of Them has
finally begun to fray. A statue of Lantra, the Lady Mediatrix looks upon all these images in
silence, surrounded by startlingly bright red lotuses which blossom at Her feet and crown Her regal
brow. A single crimson lotus blooms eternally in Her outstretched hands as water and light flows
forth from beneath its sanguine petals, as if stained with blood. Lantra, the Empyreal stands here
with a restrained dignity, Her aura radiating a celestial light. She wields Atonement in Her left
hand.
You see exits leading northeast, south, and northwest.
The seven spears of sharpened starlight that imprison you disperse in a flash of light as Lantra
releases you from the suffering of your containment.

Her expression calm, patient as She looks upon you, Lantra asks, "Are you so resigned to the path of
suffering?"

The resplendent, angelic nature of Avaris's form is sullied by the red that stains
his form, rivulets of liquid gore trickling over his carapace, slivers of viscera stuck to the cruel
arcs of his talons. Gathering his bearings once more, he does not kneel before Lantra, only bows -
Though the gesture is as deep as he is able to make it. In a voice that is quiet, but thick with
conviction, he replies, "I am. Let me prove myself to You, Lady. Please."

There is another sigh, marred by the slightest sound of frustration as Lantra says, "Do not
relinquish your vows to New Celest and your guild for My sake. I would not have you tear such
foundations asunder to prove yourself to Me." Then Her voice softens as She brings the Sidereal
Mantle of Ailustris forth, pausing. "Avaris," She begins again, "is there aught I can do to give you
the strength you require before you begin upon this foolhardy path? For I will not speak with you
again until its conclusion."

"Respectfully, Lady, they are but mortals. They will forgive, or forget. Affiliations are as
changeable as the weather. I will quit both, and they will accept me back when I am done.
I will be fine." Avaris rises from his bow, standing upright for the first time in Lantra's
presence, his head tilted down to regard Lantra with eyes and a face that are incapable of
expression - Save for the faint glitter or light that manifests in the azure orbs that stud his
visored visage. Gently, he answers, "Lady, still, you do not understand me. It is I who will give
You strength, not the opposite. That is how I would have it be, between us." With this said, he
holds out his upper right hand, patient and steady.

Lantra, the Empyreal says, "You do not listen to My demands."

Avaris breathes a faintly frustrated sigh of his own, lowering his head.
Resignedly, he answers, "Yes, Lady. I will not quit them."

Relief flickers across the Goddess's features as Lantra says, "I still hold you to your vow of
Devotion. Do not forget this."

A slight dip of Avaris's pointed chin meets this. "I will not. Unto eternity, Lady."

With great care, Lantra brings forth the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris, the radiant power shining
forth from it in lambent waves of light. "When your task is done, pray unto Me," the Goddess says
softly. "And all shall be restored as it was."

Gathering the item into his hands with a peculiar mixture of carefulness and
distaste, Avaris secures it beneath his wings, fastening it to something there, before turning, and
bowing once more. "I shall. Your harshest disfavour, Lady, if You would be so kind."

With a disdainful move of Her hand, Lantra wordlessly strips away the mists that veil you, replacing
them with a cold, unforgiving brilliance that leaves you pale and wan.

Lantra, the Empyreal has bestowed Her divine truedisfavour upon you. It will last for 30 months.

Her calm demeanor at odds with the frustration in Her words, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "I
understand your desire to prove yourself, My Avaris. And yet in some small measure, you have earned
the mark upon you honestly. For your suffering gives Me no pleasure to witness."

Swaying where he stands, Avaris pales further still, the gold of his carapace
bleaching to a washed-out, unhealthy hue that loses its lustrous quality. Jerking his head down in a
brief nod, he says, "I know, Lady. I hope only that You will forgive me, in time." He pauses, then
asks, "Ah. How am I supposed to have...Acquired this?"

Avaris gestures beneath his wings, to the hidden mantle.

Lantra, the Empyreal says, "You may speak honestly, if you wish, and say it was given with the
intent for Him to receive it."

Lantra, the Empyreal says, "Or you may rely on subterfuge, and learn perhaps more from the Silent
Lord than you would otherwise. For His interest in My affairs is concerning as of late."

Avaris tilts his head in acknowledgement. "I do not like to lie, but if You deemed
it necessary, I would do so. I have been growing concerned of His interest, myself, lately." Lifting
a hand, he turns it aside, explaining, "I received a visit from Illyria, one of His. Warn the others
of her, if You would - She is the most dangerous one I have met yet."

Avaris clasps his hands together, stating, "If there is naught else that You
believe I should know, Lady, I will depart Your presence, and the Order."

The Goddess shrugs lightly, Her immaculate vestments shimmering in the sanguine light as if stained.
"I do not much care what He thinks of Me," Lantra says at length. "He has never changed much from
what He was, and My opinion of Him has seen no reason to improve."

Endless cascades of water and light flow into this luminous pool, enchanting in its celestial glow.

Her voice now tired, as if playing out a part She has long resigned to, Lantra, the Empyreal says,
"Yes. I believe that role is Mine."

Through your bond to a glass ampoule of bottled starlight, you feel it crumble away to dust.
You sink to your knees in despair as you realize that you have been cast out of the Divine Order of
Lantra, the Empyreal.

Lantra, the Empyreal unbaptises you from the Before the Veil of the Divine Order of Lantra, the
Empyreal.

Receding into the mists, Lantra, the Empyreal says, "May you find what you are looking for in the
shadows of this thorned path, My Avaris. I shall see you at its end."

A quiet breeze sweeps through the vicinity as Lantra, the Empyreal dissolves in a luminous swirl of
white lotus petals, leaving only twinkling motes of starlight in Her wake.

[Essence Change]: -500000
An unforgiving white light crests over the horizon, burning with incandescent wrath. There is a
scream, then blessed silence.
An unforgiving white light crests over the horizon, leaving you transfixed in a state of eerie calm
as a burning spear hurtles in a precise, lethal trajectory towards you. The strike is brutal and
immediate as you collapse backwards, writhing as the metal buries itself deeper into your heart to
pin you helplessly against the ground. "Atone," you hear Lantra whisper, and the spear erupts in
an inferno of holy flame. You scream as your flesh is purged in the Goddess's incandescent wrath,
reduced to ash.
You have been slain by Lantra.
The mortal threads of your being severed, you scream in agony as the Divine spark within you enfolds
your body with scorching flames.

Avaris's hand immediately moves to his hip in a reflexive gesture, to touch the
ampoule that has rested there for years - Only to pass through empty air, as no fine, silver chain
hangs from the pierced chitin. He makes a very quiet sound, the soft note heavy with ineffable
distress as he wraps the fingers of his searching hand about the wrist of its mate, squeezing. He
remains thus for a long, long time, until he turns his gaze towards the prayer beads that loop about
his forearm, colourless, no longer celadon, barren of tiny lotus flowers. With the numb, detatched
manner of a man tearing strips from his flesh, he peels them off, leaving his form bare of any sign
of a Divine's touch - Save for the searing light that envelops him, rendering him sickly and pale.

You think to yourself: An emptiness inside his heart, where once the steady, pure light of Her
favour kept all darkness at bay. He probes at it with the sick, morbid fascination of one who has
lost a limb, and can do nothing but stare at the stump in dull horror.

You think to yourself: "Fortitude. Cling to that. She is the light at the end of this path. Hold to
that. Persist."

You reach out and touch the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris.
Strange visions of a vast expanse of starlit mist fill your mind as you feel the star-spun silk of
the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris, the cosmic images evoking an alien beauty that is at once familiar
to you and not.