Plans upon Plans

You place your hands on the Master Ravenwood Tree and find the link to the ethereal plane. Pulsating energy flares throughout your field of vision, and you find yourself tumbling through the aether pathways.
The resonating centre of Glomdoring's black heart.
Reigning over the utter destruction that once rampaged through this room is the presence of the Wyrd, which pulses with a rhythm that reverberates through every leaf and twig. The entire glade is dwarfed by the massive shards of tree that emanated from the centre of the change. Ebony sap streams down the bark, dark mauve toadstools growing in circles around the massive girth, glowing with a sepulchral luminescence that highlights the surroundings in a baleful light. The surrounding trees grow tall and dark, with the whispering praise and the howls of triumph of the winds. The silvery leaves of a faebush gently billow in the wind. The Master Ravenwood Tree towers over everything here, pulsing with an immeasurable yet dark power. Firmly set into the ground, a pulsating branch of the Master Ravenwood has been set here. There are 20 illithoid scourges here. There are 20 shadowlord widowriders here. There are 20 dark nighthags here. Settled within the branches of an ancient and skeletal tree roosts a murder of crows, their voices harsh and deafening as their caws peal through the air. A blackthorn sapling clings tenaciously to the ground here. An elder ravenwood tree thrusts up from the ground here, the air around it thick and dark. Nothing more than a puffball with cerulean eyes, a seal lynx point ragdoll kitten lies here lounging languidly. A leopard lurks in the shadows, curiously watching anything that moves.
You see exits leading south and up.
Lifting her head, Ilistala looks at you hopefully.

Soft whispers drift through the ethereal Glomdoring, circling its heart.

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard peers about herself unscrupulously.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to you, "Is Lord Nocht near?"

You have emoted: Esei blinks slowly.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard tilts her head and listens intently to you.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Hmm... perhaps."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "He is always watching, after all."

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "The whispers seemed a bit like Him."

You hum thoughtfully.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard looks around curiously, then sniffs at the air.

Muted murmurs flit through the branches, bits of some faint conversation.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Well, that's odd."

You have emoted: Esei tilts their head subtly, ears twitching.

[wandering around a bit]

(Glomdoring): Xenthos says, "Something... perhaps odd might be occurring on Ethereal Glomdoring? There are whispers and a muted conversation of some kind that I've not heard before. I've not seen anything yet, however, only heard it."

A swirl of glittering frost drives the temperature lower as a glorious snow phoenix with wings of sapphire ice soars into view from the ether.
Lifting her head, Ilistala looks at Iazin hopefully.

You hum thoughtfully.

Iazin pats Ilistala, an enormous leopard in a friendly manner.
A loud rumbling emanates from Ilistala as she rubs against Iazin.

Iazin glances askance at Xenthos.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard perks up her head, ears poised to catch any errant sound.

Fleeting images of a large oak in your mind's eye.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Has it only been heard here? At the Heart?"

You have emoted: Esei pauses, ears twitching.

You murmur softly to yourself.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "So far."

Contemplative, you whisper, "I do not suppose there is a large oak tree, somewhere here, on the Ethereal?"

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

You follow Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist west to cleared glade of a dark and powerful oak.

Cleared glade of a dark and powerful oak.
The loud, echoing caw of crows permeates the air, filling the area with a feeling of dread from a war shrine of Viravain nearby. There is the lightest of airs blowing through the locale. A large oak tree dominates the clearing with a dark influence, its twisting roots bursting from the ground in a circle around its trunk. Working with the force that has twisted it, the oak has gained clear dominance over its other brothers. Smaller trees grow in various states of height around the oak's massive girth as its lattice of feelers disrupt the very ground they attempt to grow within. The silvery leaves of a faebush gently billow in the wind. There are 3 Daughters of Darkness here. Sniffing the air for a scent, Gwyllgi, the Dog of Darkness looms here. A hemlock sapling clings tenaciously to the ground here. Nothing more than a puffball with cerulean eyes, a seal lynx point ragdoll kitten lies here lounging languidly. A leopard lurks in the shadows, curiously watching anything that moves. Nocht, the Silent lingers here, shadows coiling in the air about Him. Clad in matte black leather, a golden-eyed savage lingers here like a living shadow.
You see exits leading northeast and east.

You give Nocht a respectful bow, one hand clasped over your heart.

LOOK NOCHT
More silhouette than Elder, the way the shadows on the ground seem to grasp towards Him make it unmistakable that He is a radiant immortal. Standing a little taller than the height of an average elfen, all other aspects of the Elder's appearance are shrouded in veils and robes. Flashes of brilliant emerald and prismatic light occasionally light up the air around Him, accompanied with a sickly sweet floral scent that lingers in the air.

He is wearing:
a cluster of snapdragons erupting from the shoulder of His cloak
concealing robes painted with the colours of Night that twist in the air around Him as if underwater
a veiled blackthorn crown that obscures His face

Iazin blinks.

Xenthos inclines his head in respect, though says nothing so as not to interrupt anything.

At first whispering something softly Nocht falls silent upon the entry of others, cloaked form turning to greet the newcomers. "Greetings, My little ones."

Iazin steps further into the glade, head bowed slightly.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you say, "Hail, Lord Nocht."

Quietly, Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Hail."

Gwyllgi, the Dog of Darkness keeps his head bowed, no other acknowledgement given of the activity around him.

Nocht whispers, His empty-toned voice filling the area, "And what brings you here, little ones? Have you need of Gwyllgi?"

Iazin smiles softly.

Shadows swirl around Exeryte's arm as the Fingerblade of dha'Wyrden-cree shifts and turns around his hand.

Iazin opens his mouth briefly, then glances to Xenthos, deferring to the Warden.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "There were whispers which we were not accustomed to hearing here, and - concerned - we investigated. We can depart, if You wish a private conversation, but it is good to see You."

Iazin nods slowly in agreement.

You think to yourself: ** and a fleeting vision of an oak tree... **.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Ah, and Esei asked about the presence of an oak tree, I believe."

You have emoted: Esei clasps their hands behind their back, glancing briefly aside.

Nocht rests a vine-covered hand upon the mighty hound as He whispers, "Just preparations, little ones. For all eventualities. And always more to make..."

Nocht vanishes into wisps of shadow, soft murmurs of conversation drifting off into parts unknown of the ethereal.

Iazin blinks.

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Deep in thought, Iazin leans his cheek on his hand.

You hum thoughtfully.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to Gwyllgi, the Dog of Darkness, "Preparations, then. Is there anything we can do for you that might be helpful?"

Comprehension flashes across Iazin's face.

Exeryte grunts noncommitally.

Iazin turns his eyes to Gwyllgi, the Dog of Darkness.

Using his tongue and the roof of his mouth, Iazin makes a quiet clicking noise.

Iazin greets Gwyllgi, the Dog of Darkness with a sincere smile.
Gwyllgi, the Dog of Darkness exclaims, "The Fae of Faethorn can be bound in service to Mother Night, bring them to me. They must be still breathing, but I care not what other shape they are in!"

Iazin ponders the situation.

You hum thoughtfully.

[briefly solo wandering]

In a near whisper, Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says to you, "Did you investigate with the others?"

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Not in depth, yet."

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

Soft whispers drift through the ethereal forest, fragments of conversation with faint traces of haughty laughter.

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Well, we will also have to remain prepared, I suppose."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Thank you for coming to investigate."

Xenthos nods his head emphatically.

[eventually everyone else leaves]

Confusing and illusory forest surrounding pine trees.
The loud, echoing caw of crows permeates the air, filling the area with a feeling of dread from a war shrine of Viravain nearby. It is warm and quite pleasant. Twisting trees weave skillfully about each other forming a visual illusion that entrances the eye and confuses the mind, setting the pathway skitting about as if it is some living thing. Pathways seem to open and just as quickly close in every direction and the raspy brushing of the leaves echoes in an almost throaty chuckle. A triangular grouping of pine trees seems to be the only landmark that doesn't shift in every breath of the wind and provides at least a hopeful spot to help travellers keep their bearings. The silvery leaves of a faebush gently billow in the wind. Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh floats inches above the ground here, her deep purple eyes glowing. There are 5 Daughters of Shadow here. A hemlock sapling clings tenaciously to the ground here. Radiating with the power of the wyrd, the very presence of this champion darkens the room.
You see exits leading west and northwest.
Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh's black hair swirls around her as she curtseys gracefully before you.
Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh says, "You stand before the Queen of the Slaugh, Dark Savant. What is it you seek?"

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh's lips.

Softly, you say, "Greetings, Queen."

Looking you up and down, Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh says, "Greetings, Auspice... Have you lost something I wonder?"

You have emoted: Esei glances down at themself, then slowly returning their gaze to Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh. "Have I?"

Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh absently runs her fingers through the flowing strands of her hair, musing softly, as if to herself, "Oh, but I noticed several of you dashing back and forth in such a hurry. I only assumed..."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you say, "I believe that has relied more on our insatiable curiosity of the unknown, Queen."

Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh says, "Oh? He did mention something similar when He stopped to speak with me."

A swirl of glittering frost drives the temperature lower as a glorious snow phoenix with wings of sapphire ice soars into view from the northwest. [Iazin comes back]

You hum thoughtfully.

Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh smiles sweetly as Iazin enters. "Another curious one, hmmm?"

Your soft voice reaches out to Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, tickling their ear, "Ah... uncle, it seems the Queen is... speaking with me? In case if you wish to visit her."

Sauntering in languorously, a puffball enters from the west, revealing itself to be a ragdoll kitten with bright cerulean eyes.
Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh's black hair swirls around her as she curtseys gracefully before Xenthos.
Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh says, "You stand before the Queen of the Slaugh, Dark Savant. What is it you seek?"

Iazin smiles, nodding his head.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "If I may ask... would you be willing to share aught on what He said?"

Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh allows her sweet smile to turn into a haughty grin as Xenthos enters. "And the Warden. Such a grand gathering before me now."

Iazin leans on a nearby pine, keeping quiet and attentive.

(Glomdoring): Iazin says, "It seems Lhiannan might have something to say."

(Glomdoring): Iazin says, "To any who might want to hear."

Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh says, "Our Great Father?"

You have emoted: Esei tips their head in agreement.

Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh taps a finger against her lips as she replies in an uninterested tone, "Oh... just that this-and-that should be done if that-or-this should come to pass. Really just a reminder of our tah'vrai. He can be so serious at time, no?"

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Iazin smiles with a soft humor, pushing off of the tree.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "He is not One much for humor, yes."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "It is usually better to make sure everything is all planned out."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Planning we could assist with, if..."

Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh says, "Oh, I am sure... Though He does look awful wouldn't you agree? Snapdragons are a dreadful look."

You have emoted: Esei's ear twitches faintly.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist looks skeptical and says, "They are not an accessory I would choose to wear, though I understand that in this case it is not a choice."

Iazin ponders the situation.

Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh says, "If you were hoping for me to share the details, I'm afraid I cannot. Bound in silence on the matter am I."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Mm. But perhaps there is something that - even lacking the details - we can do to be of use to you?"

Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh turns her gaze skyward as she says with a smile, "Such is our Father's faith in me. Worry not, I am more than capable."

You hum thoughtfully.

Using his tongue and the roof of his mouth, Iazin makes a quiet clicking noise.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Very well. Thank you, regardless, for speaking with us."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says to Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh, "Apart from Lord Nocht's secretive plans, then. Is there anything that you would like to request of us?"

Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh looks towards Xenthos, a brief look of concern briefly marring her haughty smile. "Hmm... Ever ready to serve, loyal subjects to the Glomdoring. I know not what will bring His plans about faster, but I do hope He does not lose Himself in all that planning. In those cursed blooms. Perhaps there is something for you to do there, for I know your kind can often draw His attention..."

You tilt your head inquisitively.

Iazin speaks up, hesitantly "Are... are you suggesting that we..." He closes his mouth, cutting off his thought and shaking his head.

You reach to your sense of the many wyrden songs and begin to softly hum a low, dark tune. Your heart beats in tune with the Wyrd's melodies, soothing your spirit and calming your mind.

Finally, softly, you say, "I can take us to His fulcrux, if you'd like."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "If the Queen of the Slaugh has nothing further to say to us...?"

Caressing an Idol of Nocht gently in your hands, you focus your thoughts on Nocht, seeking out His Master Shrine and fulcrux.

You find yourself engulfed in a swirl of scintillating lights, drawn to your Patron's Master Shrine.
The Fulcrux of Nocht.
The image of a beautiful nighttime sky has been stretched across the fulcrux. Dim stars struggle futilely to compete with the terrifying beauty of Mother Night. The ethereal image wavers on occasion, the sky rippling like water in a pond. A lonely hill covered in tall grass leads up to a single shrine. Behind the shrine stands a large blackthorn tree. The tree is taller than most of its kind, extending upwards rather than outwards. Delicate blossoms shower down from its branches, creating a flurry of white petals and filling the air with the pungent scent of wyrden foliage. A complex series of stones orbit around a stygian orb here. A rippling image of a beautiful night sky has been magically wrapped around the fulcrux here. Reverently laid before the shrine in a sheath of starlight and shadow, the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris emanates Divine power here. Eddies of glittering frost swirl around the graceful form of a glorious snow phoenix with wings of sapphire ice. Nothing more than a puffball with cerulean eyes, a seal lynx point ragdoll kitten lies here lounging languidly.
You see a single exit leading through an image of the night sky.

You drop one knee to the ground, genuflecting in sheer reverence.

Iazin ponders an image of the night sky thoughtfully, looking it up and down.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "I have not been here. Anything.. new?"

You shake your head.

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

Iazin reaches a hand out, catching a falling petal in his fingers, examining it.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Perhaps... in?"

Comprehension flashes across Iazin's face.

You tilt your head inquisitively at Iazin.

Iazin blinks.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Lord Nocht?"

Using his tongue and the roof of his mouth, Iazin makes a quiet clicking noise.

Iazin ponders the situation.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Just realizing that's the exit, not an entrance."

The image of the night sky grows terrifyingly dark as an icy breeze cuts across the lonely hill, spiralling patterns dancing across the tall grass.

Iazin tilts his head inquisitively at an image of the night sky.

You have emoted: Silently, Esei breaks away from the other two to flutter up to the shrine, gently placing their hand upon the monolith.

You reach out and touch a phantasmal shroud of shadows.
As your fingers brush against a phantasmal shroud of shadows a cacophony of whispers fills your ears, murmuring of the past, the present and the future.

Iazin blinks.

Soft whispers drift through the fulcrux, fragments of some unknown conversation.

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

Iazin tilts his head and listens intently.

"But if I should not..."

Iazin tilts his head and listens intently.

"...destroy every piece, and..."

Iazin crosses his arms expectantly.

"...the Wyrd."

You have emoted: Esei's hand brushes gently against the carving of the altar, before their fingers curl into a fist.

You think to yourself: ** and suddenly, a yawning void in their stomach **.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Very apparently missing much that..."

The image of the night sky grows terrifyingly dark as an icy breeze cuts across the lonely hill, spiralling patterns dancing across the tall grass.

You think to yourself: ** ... surely, He is not speaking of ... **.

With a wistful look on his face, Iazin touches the master shrine of Nocht.
Kneeling humbly, Iazin presses his palms together before him and closes his eyes momentarily as he prays devoutly to Nocht, the Silent.
In a swift, fluid motion, Iazin springs up from his hands to land crouched on his feet.

Iazin purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

You have emoted: Esei turns away from the altar, lips flattened into a grim line.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Are there normally visions when touching the Shrine in prayer?"

Comprehension flashes across Iazin's face.

Soft whispers drift through the fulcrux, fragments of conversations from unknown times and places twist and turn their way through the air.

You tilt your head inquisitively.

Iazin returns to a kneeled position, placing his hand on the master shrine of Nocht.

"..but I do believe they will, Dearest..."

Iazin kneels onto one knee, demonstrating his humility and respect.

"The Maeve may not, but the Wyrd...."

"...Mine, and She will not take..."

Iazin raises his eyes at the latest snippet.

You have emoted: Esei remains silent, expression relaxing into something neutral.

Strange stars dance in the magicked image above, the bits of conversation trailing after them in their orbits, collapsing into each other and becoming incoherent murmurs.

It is now the 5th of Tzarin, 631 years after the Coming of Estarra.
There are 25 days until the New Moon.

Iazin mixes the tinctures together and creates a palette of fine paints.

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

You think to yourself: ** ...will you come to us? **.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "I wonder.."

Illyria arrives, following Umbral Evoker Gael An'Ryshe, Vicar of the Cult.
The image of the night sky ripples as the body of Gael suddenly emerges from its grasp.
Lifting her head, Ilistala looks at Gael hopefully.

You murmur softly to yourself.

Iazin ponders the situation.

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Using his tongue and the roof of his mouth, Iazin makes a quiet clicking noise.

Softly, you say, "I do not believe we will hear any more."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Should we go visit Faethorn?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Not without knowing what to ask."

Deep in thought, Iazin leans his cheek on his hand.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Reasonable."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Well."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Queen Maeve is associated with other Great Spirits than our own, and cannot always be relied upon - especially with vague queries."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "I suppose we hope something becomes clear. Though..."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "It seems whatever it is, it most certainly has to do with the fae."

You have emoted: Esei lifts their gaze, briefly tipping their head towards the new arrivals before politely skittering their eyes away. "I believe I know of what He speaks."

Xenthos tilts his head curiously.

Iazin glances askance at you.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you say, "When He wandered the Void, He awoke a creature which He named the myglae."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you say, "They are akin to the fae, in some measures. Less so, in others."

You have emoted: Esei trails off, tilting their head back to stare up at the night sky, where alien constellations had once shifted.

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Dark light flickers in Illyria's eyes as shadows dance at her feet, rising up as if to briefly shroud her from the world.

Iazin shifts his weight.

Finally, you whisper, "Thus, they are also different from nearly everything else in Creation."

Though the strange stars do not stray from their orbit, you sense that something stares back at you.

The image above wavers and ripples gently as a cold breeze howls through the fulcrux.

Xenthos nods his head emphatically.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "The Wyrd would accept them. But the Maeve is harder to say."

Comprehension flashes across Iazin's face.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "It could fit, aye."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Does Lord Nocht have a plan to... separate us from our connection to Faethorn? A new... breed?... of fae to aid the Glomdoring?"

You have emoted: Esei's gaze remains unwavering upon the image. "I do not believe so. Considering His Night and Brother Crow are also fae, as well as the Avatars, and many others."

The image of the night sky grows terrifyingly dark as an icy breeze cuts across the lonely hill, spiralling patterns dancing across the tall grass.

Iazin nods his head sagely.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Though not all fae reside in Faethorn. Only most."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Not all Fae are bound to the Maeve Collective, though the Great Spirits of the Forests are."

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

Iazin shrugs helplessly.

You hum thoughtfully.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "I don't know. This is for those more clever and learned than I."

Iazin sways back and forth.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "I.."

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "I can't keep just standing here. I am not built for it."

A wry smile spreads across Iazin's face.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says to Iazin, "It is not a bad idea to share thoughts, though. Sometimes it might shake something loose- and if not, it is good for learning."

You have emoted: Esei extends an open hand outward, allowing several descending blackthorn petals to collect there as they continue to stare at the stars. They remain silent themself, wings only fanning open and closed.

Iazin nods his head emphatically.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "There are... festivals, observances.. yes? That happen periodically?"

Xenthos nods his head affirmatively.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "I know of the Solstice. Been told of a Winter Court. Is there anything.. coming of similar nature?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "I believe Trader Bob might be opening his haunted house, soon."

Xenthos purses his lips pensively, gazing off into the distance as he carefully gathers his thoughts.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says to you, "And these... void fae. Would that be a.. fitting time to try to bring them to

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "They are already here."

Iazin blinks.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Oh."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "They linger with us even now."

You have emoted: Esei lowers their hand, scattering the blackthorn petals to the ground.

Iazin shifts his eyes suspiciously from side to side.

Iazin rubs his hands together.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Well. I have a few tried and true methods of getting results."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "One normally involves me dying eventually."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "I'd like to avoid that. So."

With a wistful look on his face, Iazin touches the master shrine of Nocht.
With a wistful look on his face, Iazin touches the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris.

Iazin blinks.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "That is.. different."

You tilt your head inquisitively at Iazin.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "A new vision from the Mantle."

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "What do you see?"

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

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "I see.."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Strange visions of a vast expanse of starlit mist that fill my mind, feeling the star-spun silk of the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris, the cosmic images evoking an alien beauty that is at once familiar to me... and not."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "To be.. very precise."

You hum thoughtfully.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard tilts her head and listens intently to the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris.

Using his tongue and the roof of his mouth, Iazin makes a quiet clicking noise.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard ponders the situation.

You lazily draw your wings to and fro through the air, fanning them slowly.

Ilistala, an enormous leopard chirps happily.

Xenthos's hands become a blur as he twists and turns an anomalous puzzle hyperpyramid until each side is made up of the same colour, solving the puzzle in mere moments. His eyes take on a glossy appearance as he begins to stare off into the aether.
Puffy white fur brushing the floor as she passes, a ragdoll kitten saunters out to the ether.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Is that vision.. normal?"

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "The visions? Quite."

Cupping their chin, you whisper, "Though I suspect that one will be the only one you would see, unless you chose to become His."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Ah. It was just.. different than the last time I touched."

A wry smile spreads across Iazin's face.

You have emoted: Esei tilts their head at Iazin, lifting a brow.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "I see."

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Last time, I had no vision, only the feeling of whipping wind, and the certain sense that I was under the eye of the Silent Lord."

Iazin shrugs helplessly.

You hum thoughtfully.

Iazin dusts his hands together.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Handle it with care, no?"

Iazin glances askance at you.

You have emoted: Esei gestures languidly to the Mantle.

Comprehension flashes across Iazin's face.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "Well, certainly. I'm not about to gain the ire of a Divine just because I was clumsy with something like that. Be an.. -awful- thing to try to explain."

Iazin bounces up and down.

Iazin Stormcrow, One of Many says, "I have touched everything in this place that I was pretty sure wouldn't stab me or bite me for doing so. I'm out of investigative ideas. I stab, and I touch. I'm a simple man."

Iazin ponders the situation.

You hum thoughtfully.

You incline your head politely to those around you.

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