"I would advise that you listen to Him, Exemplar."

[sobs long lost tells discussion with Rancoura once Gurashi asked if she could tell him about Nocht and she said nothing was public, gotta ask someone from the order... so he did. She told him to meet her after the play]

The Roots of the Dark Forest.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. An enveloping sensation of deepest night pervades this massive subterranean chamber. The walls and ceiling are adorned with a spellbinding network of tree roots, which emerge from the corners as thick as two feet in diameter and gradually taper to hair-width along their tangled, twisting paths. Sycamore and birch, yew and fir, willow, beech, pine, and ash, chestnut, hemlock, blackthorn, rowan, and most of all, stygian ravenwood; every type of tree in the forest seems to be represented in the myriad hues of brown, grey, and black that crawl and intertwine over every surface. The soil between each root has been sealed in with tar, hardened and polished to a dusky matte finish. Upon closer inspection of the walls, rune-like symbols carved into the roots become apparent. Crows, spiders, bats, wasps, beetles, and scorpions are embellished in an intricate mural that seems to reveal a new icon at each glance. The only light in the theater comes from a chandelier of undulating roots. Globes of cold shadowfire are held aloft by the gossamer webbing which enrobes the structure, pulsing and swaying ever so gently to the rhythm of the nearby Drums. A gnarly couch wrought from fallen apple boughs stands here, its twisted frame covered in a blossoming throw. Blending in with its surroundings, a bench cleverly crafted of twisting vines and tree trunks is here. Emerging grandly from the shadows, a dark, majestic stage looms here. A milestone juts up from the ground here, wreathed in thorny vines. A wiccan broom floats here, vibrating with energy. A leopard lurks in the shadows, curiously watching anything that moves. Mischief personified, a patchwork calico kitten is here with head in her paws ready to pounce on anything that moves funny. Completely motionless, a slender leothin intently surveys its surroundings. Drone Lycidae, One of Many is here. She wields a glittering pink viola in her left hand and a silver-edged kite shield in her right. Rancoura is here, smiling faintly at Regat. She wields the graceful black-crystal athame of the Silent Umbra in her left hand and a fine spectral stylus in her right. Clad in matte black leather, a golden-eyed savage lingers here like a living shadow. Kilix sits here upon a gnarled applewood couch decked in a blossoming throw. She wields a steel claymore with both hands. Proselyte Regat Stormcrow, Shadow of Blood sits here upon an indoor bench of twisting vines and tree trunks. He wields a honed waraxe of bloody shadows with both hands. A baleful crow perches here, crimson eyes piercing in their glare. A baleful crow perches here, crimson eyes piercing in their glare. Clad in matte black leather, a golden-eyed savage lingers here like a living shadow. Augur Esei, of the Ascending Dusk sits here upon a gnarled applewood couch decked in a blossoming throw. She wields an athame dagger in her left hand. Drone Errente, One of Many is here, shrouded. He wields a nightmarish mace of a cawing murder in his left hand and a blood splattered hunting hammer in his right.
You see a single exit leading up.

Rancoura mutters an incantation and runs a hand across a page of a blood-inscribed booklet of shadows, lines appearing upon the parchment immediately.

Proselyte Regat Stormcrow, Shadow of Blood says to Xenthos, "Why does Haruspex Rancoura call you fel'greev?"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "It is my title. The leader of the Thornwatch is called that. It means "Knower of the Reaper.""

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across Rancoura's lips as she glances at Regat.

Showing that he understands, Regat nods his head slowly.

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Or also, possibly, Auspice of the Reaper."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Fae words are... mutable."

Proselyte Regat Stormcrow, Shadow of Blood says, "Much like wyrd, I suppose."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "They can have varying meanings."

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "For example, Nyx Daedema is "Death by Darkness" or "Destroyer of the Night"."

Regat puts his hands on his hips and goes "Hmmm!"

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist says, "Anything other questions?"

Xenthos tilts his head curiously.

[bunch of people emoting]

Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist smiles and says, "Very well. Thank you all for attending."

You have emoted: Gurashi's head tilts slightly to the side as he listens to those about him talking.

Staying near the doorway, you say to Xenthos, "Am going to have to come back and start over so can catch beginning."

Errente utters a deep, rumbling laugh at you.

Esei pats you in a friendly manner.

Kyalrhin pets you ingratiatingly.

You smile softly.

Entranced by you, Kyalrhin emits a long "Ooooh."

Muttering in a barely audible whisper, Kyalrhin Ysav'rai says, "I feel... you've reached some enlightenment."

Rancoura drifts to the threshold leading to the forest above, but pauses by you, affixing you with an inquisitive gaze, her countenance unreadable.

Confused, you ask Kyalrhin, "... enlightenment...?"

Muttering in a barely audible whisper, Kyalrhin Ysav'rai says to you, "Yeah, like you're really zen."

You blink.

Faintly buzzing, you say to Kyalrhin, "Oh, uh ... was not intentional. Am just tired, yes."

Muttering in a barely audible whisper, Kyalrhin Ysav'rai says to you, "Ah, so the key to it is to keep you exhausted?"

You stare blankly at Kyalrhin.

Kyalrhin raises her hand to her mouth and titters girlishly.

Errente chuckles long and heartily at Kyalrhin.

You have emoted: Gurashi finally looks over to meet eyes with Rancoura, head tilting the other way.

Rancoura glances back to Kyalrhin, then to you, before sweeping out of the theatre, disembodied whispers and wisps of shadow trailing her steps.

Rancoura tells you, "We may speak, when you wish to."

You tell Lady Haruspex Rancoura So'hthae, Ole'noc Caihel, "Where may meet?"

You tell Spirit Warden Xenthos An'Ryshe, the Ebon Strategist, "Am going to speak with Lady Rancoura about the Lord Silence... want to come with? Am sorry that have been so distant last few months."

Xenthos tells you, "I am already following you."

With a flourish of your arm, you bow deeply.

The illusion cast by your Brooch of Elemental Water ripples and falls away, revealing you.
You stumble as you feel invisible strands of force wrap around you, followed by a high-pitched thrum.

You blink.

A fountain of sparkling motes of light erupts at your feet.
The light whisks you away, unceremoniously dumping you at the feet of Rancoura.
Standing upon Night's Needle.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. There is a very light rain shower. Crafted from red chitin, and perched on the top of the Black Tower in a manner eerily reminiscent of the crown of the King of Redcaps, this structure clearly dates from a different time to the building beneath. No walls enclose the space, which is unadorned except for a engraved circle in its centre divided into segments. Around its edge, eight pincers rise from the points where the chords which delineate the segments meet the circumference, their tips raised in wicked salute. A circular brass astrolabe stands here atop a pedestal, inscribed with a ring of degree markings. A leopard lurks in the shadows, curiously watching anything that moves. Rancoura is here, folding the spatial fabric to travel. She wields the graceful black-crystal athame of the Silent Umbra in her left hand and a fine spectral stylus in her right.
You see a single exit leading down.

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across Rancoura's lips as she glances at Xenthos.

Rancoura inclines her head politely to those around her.

You have emoted: Gurashi looks up, then back down, offering a half-bow. "Many greetings." He reaches out, patting Xenthos on the arm. "...do mind that brought with?" His head tilts yet again, watching Rancoura curiously.

Still patting Xenthos's arm, as if checking to make sure he's still there, you say to Rancoura, "Have already told him some of things that happened."

Rancoura shakes her head delicately, but seems distracted as she glides towards the edge of the Needle, stepping up onto its edge, a hand upon one of the towering pincers curving in towards the others overhead. After a moment, her whispered words carry back to you on the breeze. "I listen."

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

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

You have emoted: Gurashi shuffles in his spot, folding his arms uncomfortably across his chest. "... am too friend-shaped."

Rancoura gazes back to you at this, an incline to her head belying her curiosity at the statement. With utter grace, she turns, her robes sweeping over the sharp edge upon which she expertly balances. "I am not certain I understand," she whispers silkily.

Xenthos jerks slightly as the air fills with sparkling motes of bright light.

Among the sparkling motes of light, a translucent figure appears in the air and then quickly solidifies as Lyora comes into view.

Lifting her head, Ilistala looks at Lyora hopefully.

You have emoted: Gurashi opens his mouth to speak, but stops himself short.

You see the following people here:
Xenthos, Rancoura, Lyora, Gurashi.

Rancoura inclines her head politely to Lyora.

In smooth, silken tones, Lady Haruspex Rancoura So'hthae, Ole'noc Caihel whispers, "Shall we find a more secluded locale?"

Lyora searches the air in front of her, then tugs upon an invisible strand of force.
Lyora turns translucent and then vanishes, leaving behind a cloud of sparkling motes of light.

You have emoted: Gurashi lets out a little chittering laugh. "No need."

Suddenly, you say to Rancoura, "Said was curious to see where gentle heart takes me... but."
You twiddle your thumbs.

Visibly embarrassed, you say to Rancoura, "Said was likely to be my undoing, as anything else...."

Looking towards his feet, you say to Rancoura, "Keeps... sitting, like little voice in back of head, when home alone..."

You have emoted: Gurashi reaches up to rub the back of his head, rambling on. "Seems is ... maybe feeling better." He continues. "Was, more coherent yesterday."

You think to yourself: Xenthos was wrong.

You think to yourself: Am not just nice enough for Glomdoring ...

You think to yourself: Am TOO nice...

A vague smile momentarily appears upon Rancoura's lips, but it vanishes as soon as it manifested. "A disposition like yours is... rare, within the Forest of No Mercy," she whispers, her enthralling gaze briefly shifting to Xenthos. "But aye, the Childe Esei has told me of her own recent encounter with the Silent One, that He was much more lucid. Good tidings, indeed."

Stray rays of sunlight reflect lazily off the surface stone of the Black Tower while the cool shadows swirl within the confines of the Tower.

Considering the kephera closely, her tone musing, Lady Haruspex Rancoura So'hthae, Ole'noc Caihel whispers to you, "You have caught His attention in a manner I have not seen for some time. He sees something in you, that much is certain."

You blink.

Faintly buzzing, you ask Rancoura, "W-what?"

You think to yourself: Do not think even LIKES me.

As she descends from the Needle's circular precipice, Rancoura extends a hand, trailing shadows in her wake as she draws her fingers through the darkness shrouding the apex of the Black Tower. Pausing but a few paces from you, her chin lowers, a swirling umbra ever present in her blue-violet eyes. "He is ever curious of mortalkind," her words are spoken lightly. "But you have adapted to the Dark Forest in a manner few others have needed to. It is no surprise that He shall consider you an... endeavour."

You have emoted: Gurashi watches Rancoura as she approaches, wringing his hands together. "... endeavor ... mean, maybe," He pauses, "is going to try to make less friend-shaped..." A look of awe and concern washes over his face.

Your mandibles twitch slightly as you voice a brief, curious chirr.

Slowly, you ask Rancoura, "... what sort of stuff... does He teach to do...?"

Rancoura watches the contraptions winging in and out with no change to her expression, though her athame began to rise towards the last just before it fluttered away. With the thing distancing itself now, she turns back to consider you. "To strengthen yourself, primarily. Admiration of your own potential, and your potential within the Glomdoring," she fluidly replies.

Her melodic tone bearing a dark undercurrent, Lady Haruspex Rancoura So'hthae, Ole'noc Caihel whispers to you, "His lessons incorporate the supremacy of the Wyrd, and of how you may refine yourself, shape yourself, to maximise your benefit to its ever-spreading glory."
The sun reaches the zenith of the firmament, pausing in his quest to allow the land to bask in his shining golden rays.

You have emoted: Gurashi listens intently, managing to hold gazes despite the many distractions. "Oh," He offers in reply, swaying ever so slightly on his feet.

Seeming dazed at the thought, you ask Rancoura, "Does teach us how to kill Hart and Moon?"

Rancoura appraches you with nigh-silent steps, spreading her wings ever slightly and causing their mistlike-adumbration to flutter behind her. Within reach now, the Haruspex lifts her hand to your beak, pressing against the underside of it and turning your head slightly, this way and that. "He grants His own the tools with which to do so," she whispers, considering what she sees within your face with intensity. "Along with the wisdom to know when it is best to employ such implements."

You have emoted: Gurashi stiffens at the touch, antennae fully raising as he is so closely examined. "...okay - how do know when is wisdom time?" He chitters.

You think to yourself: So have to wait.

You think to yourself: ...but, do not want to wait... ahhh this is why need patience!

Continuing her study, Lady Haruspex Rancoura So'hthae, Ole'noc Caihel whispers, "When the advantage in acting is greatest. When the tools which the Silent Lord grants to us would be most effective. They range beyond the physical; they sharpen our minds, our spirits... and aye, for those who listen to them, our hearts."

Doing his best to be so very still, you say, "...oh."

At last releasing your beak, Rancoura drifts a step backwards, though the evanescent shadow clinging to her form reach forward, as if seeking to continue what she had concluded. "I would advise that you listen to Him, Exemplar." Her wings fold back in, their fluidity rendering them more into the form of a cloak than a pair of feathered appendages. "Hear His counsel, find the portions of your spirit which resonate with it, and adapt, as you have done."

You have emoted: Gurashi's head bobs sags as Rancoura steps away, as if a string holding it upright had finally snapped. At the end of the trill's sentence, however, he pauses, lifting his head up and whispering to himself, "...adaptation is true power of Wyrd... O-K." He shuffles in his spot, offering a half-bow. "Many thank yous for thoughts."

You think to yourself: Can do the thing.

The heavens alight with a rich purple glow as dusk begins to settle in, preparing the First World for the coming night.

You think to yourself: Will do the thing.

Rancoura's head dips, remaining lowered for a long moment before rising. "Trust in me this," she whispers as her hands clasp together. "If He is offering advice to You, and has continued to do so for a time, it is because He wishes the best for you. The Silent Lord would not expend His efforts, particularly in times such as these, if He thought them likely to be wasted."

A chilling breeze caresses your face as Mother Night's shadows swirl about the forest below the Black Tower.

You have emoted: Gurashi bobs his head lightly in reply. "Do trust," He assures quietly, careful not to speak over Rancoura. "...O-K. Will." He exhales, then lets out a laugh. "Wowee. Sure am lucky," He says cheerfully. "Do not know what would do if did not have peoples like yourselves to talk to." He looks between Rancoura and Xenthos, folding his hands over his chest. "Am grateful. Many thank yous both."

The terrifying beauty of Mother Night lingers above, embracing the Black Tower in her shadows.

You think to yourself: Can be grateful for this.

The frigid, liquid shadowfire within the depths of Rancoura's eyes flickers briefly as she raises her gaze to the skies.

You think to yourself: Am grateful...

You have emoted: Gurashi's cheerfulness diminishes slightly. "Is ...something wrong?" He asks hesitantly.

Awkwardly continuing on, you say, "Was weird to say? Because if so will keep praises to self whoop."

As her gaze lowers and she shakes her head, Lady Haruspex Rancoura So'hthae, Ole'noc Caihel whispers to you, "No, Exemplar. You are always welcome, and my advice is always given willingly. And aye; trust in yourself, during these ordeals; and trust that the Silent Lord only wishes you to better yourself, so willingly does He offer His guidance."

You nod your head sagely.

Seeming relieved, you say to Rancoura, "O-K."

Rancoura looses a long, fluid breath, glancing to Xenthos. "I shall leave you both with those words," she whispers, turning to the stretching vista of the Dark Forest below. "May the shadows guide you both, forevermore."

Rancoura inclines her head politely to those around her.

You see the following people here:
Xenthos, Gurashi.

You have emoted: Gurashi doesn't follow Rancoura as she leaves, instead gazing out beyond the needle. "Really is the best," He says, gentle, adoring. "Glomdoring, mean. Wyrd. All of. Are very lucky."

Ilistala, an enormous leopard rubs up against you, purring like a cat.