Roles

Twisting shadows briefly darken the morning skies as Nocht, the Silent returns to mortal perception.

(Glomdoring): Kreon says, "Darkest of Greetings, Silent Lord."

(Glomdoring): Nocht says, "And greetings to you, My dearest Glomdoring."

(Glomdoring): Exeryte (from the Astral Plane) says, "Mor'k'al, Silent One."


(Glomdoring): Kreon says, "How are you this fine day, my Lord?"

(Glomdoring): You say, "Hail, my Lord."

(Glomdoring): Nocht says, "Interested to see how the Dark Forest fares after My time away. How fares the Wyrd?"

Proselyte Takhre, of the Kept Promise, your protege, has entered Lusternia.

(Glomdoring): Kreon says, "I myself have been on the cusp of a long slumber since the Lady of Thorns' absence, but from what I've seen it seems quiet but hard working still."

(Glomdoring): Kaliolean says, "Ever-striving. Ever-fighting."

(Glomdoring): Tyke says, "I'm Tyke!"

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.
You see a single exit leading through an image of the night sky.

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

(Glomdoring): Nocht says, "Greetings to you, little one."

(Glomdoring): Takhre says, "We work to spread the Wyrd wherever it can reach, Lord Silent. Myself and a few others are relatively recent additions to the Wyrdenkin."

(Glomdoring): You say, "I understand that we grow ever stronger, my Lord, both within those already present and those that have recently joined the Wyrd."

(Glomdoring): Nocht says, "And I am certain Viravain would be quite pleased to see Hers still laboring for the Wyrd while She tends to other matters."

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

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

The air in front of you begins wavering and shimmering.
A piercing shriek fills the air momentarily as a shimmering portal appears.
A shimmering portal glows brightly as Barrin emerges from within.

Grampy Barrin says, "Hey."

A shimmering portal collapses on itself, leaving glistening sparkles in the air that slowly dim into nothingness.

Grampy Barrin says, "Right, chat later. Grimpkeep."

Barrin spreads his arms wide, and the air between his hands begins to warp and twist, dancing with brilliant multicoloured light as he bores a hole through the fabric of the planes.
A swirling gateway of brilliant light pierces the air before Barrin, boring a hole through the very fabric of the planes. Barrin ascends confidently through the rotating gate, which shimmers and snaps shut behind him.

You glance askance.

The blackthorn shudders, sending showers of white petals across the fulcrux as a soft voice whispers, "Hello, My little one..."

(Glomdoring): Kreon says, "Your words do me great honour Silent Lord, my will is and always for the Glomdoring's sake."

A pointed pause lingers in the air at the entry and exit of the one from Serenwilde.

You have emoted: Esei tips their head up towards the shrine, crystalline skin gleaming with soft shades of thistle and gold. "Hail, my Lord."

You feel an icy breath brush across your cheek as a hushed voice says, "And how do you fare in particular?"

Voice containing glacial tones, you say, "I have been well, my Lord. Thought still acclimating to my new role within the Wyrd, as Haruspex."

You have emoted: Esei's flesh flickers slowly between a murky teal and gold, the gleam subtle in the darkness of the fulcrux.

The blackthorn shudders, sending showers of white petals across the fulcrux as a soft voice whispers, "And how do you find your new role is suiting you, My little one?"

It is now the 19th of Vestian, 645 years after the Coming of Estarra.
There are 14 days until the New Moon.

You have emoted: Skin flashing a deep, raincloud gray, Esei finally says, "It is not anything I have expected to be. I am perhaps a bit overwhelmed." They pause. "And... I've never had such leadership experience. It feels odd to be part of the Shadow Court proper."

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

You feel an icy breath brush across your cheek as a hushed voice says, "You are of Mine, Esei. You will [wear] the role well without doubt."

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 have emoted: Esei dips their head. "I know, my Lord. Thank You."

Lifting their head once more, you say, "And how have You fared, my Lord?"

The image above churns violently as a hollow voice whispers, "Well enough... I have spent some time now in contemplation about the future of the Wyrd and My own"

You tilt your head inquisitively.

The boughs of the large blackthorn moan loudly as they shake, sending a new shower of petals cascading across the fulcrux.

Voice containing glacial tones, you say, "Ah... I fear I must go for now, my Lord. But I will admit I am curious to hear of Your thoughts."

Nocht, the Silent has bestowed His divine truefavour upon you. It will last for 1 month.

You give the master shrine of Nocht a respectful bow, one hand clasped over your heart.

Voice containing glacial tones, you whisper, "Fare well, my Lord. Though I have an inkling my protege will come to speak with 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.