January 2014 according to Iniar Nullheart

Iniar

In the year 36 AM, having recently joined the Deadwood from Stavenn, Iniar had yet to make contact with any of the ruling council save Lionas. He had been bumbling along to shardfalls without really giving the transition from city to forest much thought, until one day, a summons from the newly appointed Prophetess, Aleutia.

16th Aequitas, 36 AM @Aleutia, Iniar

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The Red Vixen Tavern.

A wheeled cannon rests here. A solid gold cask sits here, gleaming brightly in available light. A beautiful redwood chest sits here, covered in silvery leaves curling around it, sparkling in the light. A small silvery stone is here, surrounded in haze. A blackened redwood shelf sits along the redwood trunk behind the bar, standing out from the plain ones around it. Poised and alert, a young grey hound cautiously watches the area. Kit, barkeep of the Red Vixen Tavern waits on customers here, a grim look on her face. Balanced gracefully on its one leg, a fachan jabbers quietly to itself. A gritty sandling is here, munching on a piece of quartz. A small black cobra is flaring its hood here. A shaggy grey mustang roams warily nearby. Bristling in silent agitation, a russet and cream hound stands here. A peaceful aura fills the area, emanating from Aleutia, Aspect of Aryana. She wields a slender willow-etched broadsword in her left hand and a heavy shield of redwood and iron in her right. The effects of this location have been twisted under a demonic influence. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale. 

Calmly turning towards Aleutia, you bring your clasped hands to your forehead as you bow before her, slowly, at the waist.

Aleutia smiles politely, her gaze casting to the bar as she suggests, "Would you like drink, perhaps?"

You nod your head at Aleutia politely.

You say, "That would be nice."

Aleutia purses her lips, absently scanning the list before ordering in a low voice.

Aleutia gets some gold sovereigns from a money pouch.

Aleutia buys two thick mugs of Jackal's Bile.

Aleutia puts some gold sovereigns in a money pouch.

Aleutia gives a thick mug of Jackal's Bile to you.

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

You thank Aleutia profusely.

Stout black beer, a viscous libation as dark as it is dense, comprises the contents of this thick glass mug. Imbued with the caliginous nuances of congealed blood, the brew is tinted pitch-black, utterly opaque, as dark as sin. A foam-laced, creamy head of pale ecru tops the drink by nearly an inch, threatening to overspill the container at any moment. Infused with a delectable, tantalising aroma of candied oranges dipped in chocolate, and touched with the acrid notes of black-brewed ahwhe and pine, the bitter scent of the beer wafts heavily upon the air.

A pitch-black beer (Jackal's Bile) sloshes about in it.

Aleutia glances sidelong to you, a vague smile touching her lips before it vanishes. "You were a member of the Empire for some time, were you not?" She questions almost conversationally.

Iniar sniffs warily at the mug, before taking a sip. "Aye, that I was," Iniar replies, eyes crinkling at the edges in quiet mirth.

You tilt your head curiously at Aleutia.

Aleutia traces the lip of the mug with her hand, her gaze casting towards the doorway before she continues. "And, what, exactly, brought you here?"

You say to Aleutia, "Why do you ask?"

You look about yourself, rubbing your chin thoughtfully.

Aleutia smiles politely, replying, "If you do not wish to answer the question then do not."

Iniar sucks thoughtfully on his teeth, eyes glazing a little as he ponders his answer. "To tell you the truth, I have never really loved Stavenn," he nods slowly, "I was never inclined to mention that to anyone, but to me, the Noctusari, the fellowship was all there ever was. Stavenn was just something I had to deal with as part of the package."

You purse your lips contemplatively.

Aleutia asks conversationally, "And you're yet still a Noctusari, are you not?"

Iniar looks meaningfully at Aleutia, "But that doesn't quite answer the question, does it?"

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

You frown and say, "That I am, and yet we are less. Less than what we were."

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire asks, "Does that trouble you?"

Iniar frowns slightly before saying, "As to the reason I came to Khandava, I thought it was a good idea at the time... Lord Mykael had intended to join the Deadwood for sometime, and being fairly close, I too decided it would be best for me. Of the several reasons for that conclusion? Easily, the fact I had never left either Stavenn or the Noctusari, and Stavenn was much much easier to give up."

You chuckle long and heartily.

You say, "And yet, Mykael has since disappeared from the scene."

You give yourself a slow nod.

Your eyes twinkle enchantingly at Aleutia.

Aleutia purses her lips as she listens, her verdant gaze sliding instead to focus on you. "What would you say your purpose was, then?" She asks in a low, surprisingly gentle voice.

"Eh?" you say to Aleutia curiously.

You say, "You mean to come to the Deadwood?"

Aleutia says with a little smile, "However you wish to answer the question, dear Iniar."

You chuckle long and heartily.

Iniar clasps his hands contemplatively. "I think mostly I came because I had never experienced anything outside of Stavenn and the Noctu. That, to me, would be the reason."

You laughingly say, "To be fairly honest, it was a rather impulsive move."

Iniar looks warily around him before whispering conspiratorially to you, "Not something I'm prone to doing. I think."

Aleutia tilts her head subtly to the side, her gaze searching yours before she speaks. "What role do you fill within your guild, then. We've all something defining, do we not?"

You utter a deep, rumbling laugh.

Iniar looks at Aleutia with eyes dancing with laughter.

You say, "I'm not too sure to be honest, Prophetess."

You chuckle long and heartily.

Aleutia wrinkles her nose, her verdant gaze clearly displeased at the answer. "What a shame," she answers in an even tone. "To be so purposeless.." Her voice trails off as she speaks, her gaze slipping away from you.

You laughingly say, "I have served as the Head of Novices and the Commander in my guild. Some days I think of challenging the Singularity, and yet, who better to make rules and regulations and machinations, while I, I can move with freedom."

Iniar eyes Aleutia with tempered gaze, clearly framing his next answer carefully. "Purposeless is one way to put it." A twinkle dances across his eyes as he takes a long drag from his mug.

Khizan gives a pair of lycaean-hide slippers to Aleutia.

Khizan nods sagely.

You chuckle long and heartily.

Iniar peers into his mug, wondering at its contents.

Taking a long draught of a pitch-black beer, your senses are infused with the heavy notes of boiled hops, resiny pine, and burnt ahwhe. Allowing the quaff to linger upon your tongue, a subtle hint of citrus cuts through the acridness of the drink before you swallow, its taste enhanced by luscious accents of candied oranges and bitter dark chocolate. A pleasant, earthy bitterness washes over your mouth, settling upon your palate as a hedonistically sharp aftertaste.

Aleutia says in a low, even voice, "Do you know what I do, Iniar?" She pauses, though only for a moment, not waiting for the man to answer. "I mend things - but only when they are broken." Her hardened gaze slips back once more to his own, "But what am I to do with a meaningless ant? What role will you serve in my council?" Leaning closer, she murmurs in a ire-filled voice, "I do not like the idle." She pauses as she's handed the slippers, appearing dubious at the item.

Iniar frowns, irritated at a thought.

Iniar scans Aleutia with golden irises, his mouth pressed thinly, "I detest broken things. Nor idleness. And I am neither. Merely unconstraint by the old and slow methods of things past their time." He shrugs empassively, "And yet, it is your Council, and my home, and what you wish, I should acquiesce." A frown darkens his already hideous visage as he contemplates you.

Aleutia flashes Iniar a fleeting, ferine smile, her verdant gaze bright. "I very rarely give such directives.." Her gaze slips from your own once more, a little laugh falling from her lips before she speaks. "When you can tell me your purpose, 

concisely, within the council..." Looking back to you, she says meaningfully, "I don't like being disappointed."

Aleutia says in a gentle, motherly timbre, "Think on it. I've time. We shall speak again."

Iniar sucks thoughtfully on his teeth, peering at you with deadened eyes.

You give Aleutia a slow nod.

Aleutia stands from the bar, her smile thin as she casts a glance over you. "In due time." With that, she claspbows, her verdant gaze almost impish as she leaves the Tavern.

Aleutia, Aspect of Aryana leaves to the east, a feeling of peace leaving with her.

Taking a long draught of a pitch-black beer, your senses are infused with the heavy notes of boiled hops, resiny pine, and burnt ahwhe. Allowing the quaff to linger upon your tongue, a subtle hint of citrus cuts through the acridness of the drink before you swallow, its taste enhanced by luscious accents of candied oranges and bitter dark chocolate. A pleasant, earthy bitterness washes over your mouth, settling upon your palate as a hedonistically sharp aftertaste.

Iniar

Having assisted the rise of the new Sect of Jackals, Iniar is tentatively offered an active role in ongoing care of the Sect by its head, Kanthari. Whilst wondering whether to accept this proposal as he struggles with the gutting of the Noctu Dark Council, he is summoned by Nyrohi, the Lady Undying.

1st Tenebrae, 37 AM @Nyrohi, Iniar

================================

Atop a mountain of sand.

Occasional drops of rain fall to the ground from a sky grey with pregnant clouds. A towering mound of sand peaks majestically from the surrounding beach to form a dune. An unnatural cold lingers around the altar here, its gloaming marble held aloft upon a base of entwined bones; the osseous contours of the dead are braced in flourishes of gold. Looming at the northernmost point with a visage shrouded by the skull of a jackal, the semblance of a woman carved from stone looks down upon the altar, her pale and sapphirine eyes awaiting sacrifice. Dozens of jackals have gathered here in a great pack, snarling and pacing restlessly.

The chill of the grave overtakes your surroundings as the whispered voices of the dead echo beneath you, heralding the arrival of Nyrohi, the Undying.

You kneel before Nyrohi, swearing your allegiance to her.

You say, "Lady."

Nyrohi grins mischievously.

Your mouth turns up as your face breaks into a smile.

You say, "You wished to speak with me?"

Nyrohi tilts her head to the side and watches you intently. "Greetings, Jackal."

You say to Nyrohi, "Greetings, Lady Undying."

Calmly turning towards Nyrohi, you bring your clasped hands to your forehead as you bow before her, slowly, at the waist.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "I have risen two Priests thus far to help lead the Jackals."

You give Nyrohi a slow nod.

You say, "As befitting, the pack should have their Alphas."

Nyrohi circles you slowly before coming to stand before the altar. "Kanthari has also suggested your name to me."

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

You laughingly say, "A pyramid is stronger than a column, if uglier."

Nyrohi gives you a shifty little smile.

You say, "And an apex is better than a tussle."

You frown and say to Nyrohi, "But I know you not, my Lady, not well at the least."

You say, "Even whilst you were bound in that waif-form."

Nyrohi spreads her arms wide and offers you a chilling grin. "You were there, Iniar. You know what I am."

Iniar shudders and grins in secret delight. "This is true, Lady Undying... I have seen, and I bear witness."

You say to Nyrohi, "I have always sought power from the Demonic Realm, and yet it has never occurred to me that Undeath is a power unto itself."

Nyrohi gives you a satisfied nod, her dark eyes bright behind her mask. "The power of the dead is not something that is easily understood. It speaks in whispers and secrets, but it is this power that we will hunt."

Iniar kneels before Nyrohi, his face cast on the ground. "I would serve you to those ends then, Lady Undying, for the subjugation of powers that resist subjugation has always been the calling of my soul," he says, grimacing in some unseen pain.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "I am pleased to hear it, Jackal. Now tell me truthfully, do you wish to be named one of my Priests?"

You say to Nyrohi, "It would be my honor, Lady Undying."

Nyrohi grins wolfishly, her teeth flashing behind her blood stained lips.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "Very well. I charge you to help lead my Jackals."

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "You will speak with Kanthari when he wakes. He will inform you of your duties."

Iniar bows deeply before you, his head almost touching the ground.

Iniar stands up, arthritic joints making creaking sounds, his face aglow with an ardent fervour. "I will serve you to the best of my abilities, Lady Undying."

You laughingly say, "And Kanthari."

You cackle hellishly.

You say to Nyrohi, "This I will do."

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "You will walk with my favour for the next month. Perhaps it will assist you in feeding the altar."

Nyrohi gives you a shifty little smile.

You cackle hellishly.

You say to Nyrohi, "Your Jackals have been busy, my Lady."

You tap your nose knowingly.

You say, "I love how we hunt."

You utter a deep, rumbling laugh.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "I've noticed."

Nyrohi grins mischievously.

You say to Nyrohi, "And I thank you for your Favour."

Calmly turning towards Nyrohi, you bring your clasped hands to your forehead as you bow before her, slowly, at the waist.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "You are a tireless lot."

You smile with a wink and say, "Always."

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "I will have Kanthari adjust your rank accordingly."

Iniar gazes at your undead form, nodding slowly, "Thank you, my Lady."

Nyrohi, the Undying says to you, "You may call upon me if you have need of me."

You say to Nyrohi, "I will, Lady Undying. I do have a question though, pertaining my impending priesthood."

Nyrohi tilts her head curiously at you.

You say to Nyrohi, "Which of these Jackals should I sacrifice to you first?"

-- awkward silence --

You say, "Sorry."

Your eyes twinkle enchantingly.

Nyrohi squints suspiciously at you.

You frown and say, "I have a poorly timed sense of humor."

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Nyrohi points a bone halberd engraved with snarling jackals at you.

Nyrohi, the Undying smiles impishly and says, "Touch the pack and see what happens."

You give Nyrohi a slow nod.

You say, "This is good."

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "I will have no harm come to that which is mine."

You laughingly say to Nyrohi, "And what would not be yours, soon enough?"

Nyrohi gives you a shifty little smile.

You say, "All Aetherius should tremble before the whispers of the dead."

Iniar shifts his weight onto his good leg, a sparkle in his golden irises.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "They tremble, whether they know it or not. The whispers of the dead gnaw at the hearts of all living things."

You say to Nyrohi, "I am curious though... How did you... consume? The power that resided beneath the earth at Demon's Pass? It seems almost miraculous... It takes a mortal an eternity to become as powerful, if I may, as Silantor or Lhortae, and yet for you, it seemed almost as easy as breathing. Almost."

Nyrohi, the Undying says to you, "Do you know how I obtained my first form? The waif?"

You shake your head.

You say, "I don't, Lady."

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "It was the Empire that assisted me. I was mere essence. My form displeased me greatly."

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "They sought to find me a vessel. I did not know if I could take the power of something long dead at that point, so they brought me something fresh."

Nyrohi smiles wryly, a look of amusement passing over her features.

You chuckle long and heartily.

Iniar frowns, furrows creasing his brow - with a start, he glances up. "I vaguely remember you arriving and speaking to the then Imperator... Menoch".

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Nyrohi nods slowly, her mouth twisting in a snarl. "A traitor now, but yes. It was he who convinced the Empire to assist me at the time."

You smile and say, "And yet did the dead always call to you? Even in your fresh form at the time, or was it something that grew inside you?"

Nyrohi gives you a shifty little smile.

You tilt your head curiously.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "They brought me the body of an Archknight, a vessel chosen for her strength. Her bones whispered to me and even in my weak state I knew that her power was there to be taken."

You tilt your head and listen intently.

A particularly large wave throws sprinkles of water at your feet.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "I crafted myself a body from her bones and absorbed her strength into myself. I was very pleased."

Iniar mutters darkly, "An Archknight, hrm.. Arnatta is the only female Archknight I know of."

Nyrohi gives you a nod of acknowledgement.

Comprehension flashes across your face.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "I knew then that power lingered even after death."

You nod slowly.

(Sect): Iluv says, "Hail Nyrohi."

You ponder the situation.

"What occurred at the pass, well... it was much stronger." Nyrohi continues, her voice a soft snarl.

(Sect): Nyrohi says, "Greetings, my Jackals."

Iniar smiles in consternation, "They were the essences of Gods, understandably it would be much stronger."

(Sect): Caelya says, "Hello, Undying one."

(Sect): You say, "Greetings, Lady Undying."

Nyrohi gives you a slow nod.

Iniar chuckles before saying, "I was surprised the whole Pass did not explode, to be frank."

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "I admit that the results were unexpected."

Nyrohi smiles wryly, a look of amusement passing over her features.

You grin mischievously at Nyrohi.

You say, "Would you eventually be able to control completely beings like Silantor?"

You purse your lips contemplatively.

You say, "Having given his form through death and unto undeath, I would have suspected his will would be susceptible to yours, my Lady."

Nyrohi grins mischievously at you.

You rub your hands together as an evil grin creeps across your face.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "Perhaps that is something we should investigate."

You laughingly say, "Or is that already a thing."

You nod your head.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "For the mean time, at least he is silenced."

Nyrohi scoffs arrogantly.

You say, "Absolutely."

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "Be well, Iniar. We shall speak again soon."

Nyrohi grins mischievously.

You say to Nyrohi, "In time, should we plan for that Spirit that resides in the Forest? She is of course, anathema to undeath, and she has consumed the fighting spirit in the west."

You nod your acknowledgement of Nyrohi.

You kneel before Nyrohi, swearing your allegiance to her.

You say, "Thank you again for the favour, Lady Undying."

A gust of wind ripples across the water, carrying with it droplets of moisture that coat your skin, and dampen the ground.

Nyrohi, the Undying says to you, "Perhaps I will seek her out. We shall see."

You stand up and stretch your arms out wide.

You nod your head.

You say, "And gather our strength unto us."

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Jackals howl as the ground beneath Nyrohi, the Undying, splits with a violent crack, her twin shadows pulling her below.

Atop a mountain of sand.

Filling the firmament is a lattice of heavy grey clouds. A towering mound of sand peaks majestically from the surrounding beach to form a dune. An unnatural cold lingers around the altar here, its gloaming marble held aloft upon a base of entwined bones; the osseous contours of the dead are braced in flourishes of gold. Looming at the northernmost point with a visage shrouded by the skull of a jackal, the semblance of a woman carved from stone looks down upon the altar, her pale and sapphirine eyes awaiting sacrifice. Dozens of jackals have gathered here in a great pack, snarling and pacing restlessly. His amber eyes gazing serenely about him, a large cream colored Graytrem draft stallion stands here in a regal manner.

You say, "Return soon, Lady Undying. My days are dark without your presence."

Iniar

In 37 AM having proposed to Raya, Iniar requested for an engagement ring to be designed. After much wait, he is invited to speak with the Prophetess again.

25th Solis, 37 AM @Aleutia, Iniar

=================================

The Red Vixen Tavern.

A wheeled cannon rests here. A solid gold cask sits here, gleaming brightly in available light. A beautiful redwood chest sits here, covered in silvery leaves curling around it, sparkling in the light. There are 2 hazeward stones here. A blackened redwood shelf sits along the redwood trunk behind the bar, standing out from the plain ones around it. Poised and alert, a young grey hound cautiously watches the area. Kit, barkeep of the Red Vixen Tavern waits on customers here, a grim look on her face. Balanced gracefully on its one leg, a fachan jabbers quietly to itself. A gritty sandling is here, munching on a piece of quartz. A small black cobra is flaring its hood here. Snowy pelt laden with gently-pulsing blooms, a mare overgrown with moss grazes here. Ramitkal ponders his future while stroking his beard with his stubby fingers. The undead form of Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire is here. She wields a slender willow-etched broadsword in her left hand and a heavy shield of redwood and iron in her right. The effects of this location have been twisted under a demonic influence. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale. 

You see exits leading east, west, and in.

Calmly turning towards Aleutia, you bring your clasped hands to your forehead as you bow before her, slowly, at the waist.

You say to Aleutia, "Prophetess."

Aleutia looks up from her muses, a beatific smile touching her lips at the sight of you. "Ah, Iniar," she murmurs in a hushed tone. "You're keeping well, I hope?

You give Aleutia a slow nod.

You say, "I have been, and yourself, Prophetess?"

You tilt your head curiously at Aleutia.

"Oh.. Very well, I should say," Aleutia answers in an almost impish timbre. She gives a little laugh, her hand ducking into a pocket of her cloak. Withdrawing a ring, she holds it up to the light, seeming to admire the dark coruscations of the sapphire held firmly upon it. "I've finished your engagement ring, you see. Among other things." She smiles once more as she looks to you, setting the jewelry upon the bar as if for you to examine it. "I think it turned out quite lovely."

You blink.

Iniar reaches out with a clawed hand towards the piece, pausing momentarily and turning to glance sharply at you. "May I?"

Aleutia answers softly, "Of course." Her hands slip to fold before her, her head tilting to the side as she observes you.

Aleutia gives a dainty engagement ring of necromantic bone to you.

Iniar gives you a silent nod of appreciation, and almost gingerly takes the piece into his left hand. A sharp refraction of light gleams of the ring as his wizened hand lifts up under the boughs of the mighty redwoods, dappled sunlight casting light shadows along the length of the bar. He whistles low, and mark of his appreciation, "This is fine work, Prophetess, fine work indeed..." He pauses momentarily, considering the ivory ring, before turning to you and saying, "How did you manage to carve these minutiae reliefs?"

You are holding: a dainty engagement ring of necromantic bone

Crafted from a piece of finely polished necromantic bone, this dainty engagement ring coruscates with the delicate tinctures of iridescent violet and blossoming oleander. The slender band has been crafted with a feminine aesthetic, its facade graven with gracefully arching fronds of redwood interwoven with ovate leechleaves; cradled within this osseous foliage is a single mote of funereal sapphire, its depths redolent of a cold grave lit beneath the caress of Aryana. Flanking either side of the exquisite pear-cut gem are two rounded diamonds, their prismatic depths imbued with a wealth of glacial tonalities when beheld in ambient lighting.

It has 175 months of usefulness left.

It weighs 1 ounce.

A small crafter's mark suggests that it is of Aleutia's design.

Iniar pauses, turning the ring over in his palm. A twinkle lights up his eyes as he ponders the sapphire, "I hope she loves it." Iniar looks at you with joyous eyes. "I am sure she will."

Aleutia makes an absent motion with her hand, an almost charming smile touching her lips as she answers, "Patience, I suppose. And practice." The elf falls silent after that, her verdant gaze sweeping over you before her head tilts subtly to the side. "I do fear, however, there may be an issue with the wedding rings," she says in a low timbre.

"Eh?" you say curiously.

Iniar looks at you sharply, saying, "How so?"

Aleutia drawls out in an almost disinterested tone, "I've an idea, you see. I'm almost certain it shall come to fruition.. But.." Her voice trails off as she looks to you, her eyes bright. "I cannot foresee me finishing a craft for someone without purpose.." She pauses, a feral glint touching her eyes. "Unless, perhaps, you've found one since our last meeting?"

Comprehension flashes across your face.

You give Aleutia a wry, shifty smile.

Iniar smiles sadly at Aleutia, faint creases marring his brow. "I intend some day to understand your fascination with purpose," he sighs softly, "When I was but a youth, I thought becoming a worthy combatant was the best thing to live for, it consumed me, and became my whole purpose - the mastery of power and over Life." Tapping his finger on the wooden counter, his gaze becomes distant, "I found what I sought, and it left me emptier for it... The slaking of my lust for power, and contribution to my family, that is the Noctusari, left me with, how shall I put this, dry bones. From there, I have avoided... 'purposes' as they were. But if by purpose you mean something to look forward to and to work for, I certainly do have those." He laughs abruptly then looks at you with a singular focus, "My love for Raya, is one such thing. My revitalization of the Crimson Guard, another. And the will to strive for the Lady Undying's fulfilment, my other."

You chuckle long and heartily.

You laughingly say to Aleutia, "As for the Deadwood, I can only say that I have begun investigating the methods to further her seed."

The shifting form of Aulani, riding a sinuous sorrel gelding, Aspect of Moradeim enters from the east.

She is followed by Aulani and a pathfinder.

Aulani nods her head politely.

Aleutia narrows her gaze upon you, her expression appearing less and less pleased as he speaks. "What will you do for Us?" She asks bluntly. "What shall you do for the Tree? Its roots?"

Aulani gets some gold sovereigns from a woolen cloak.

Aulani buys a thick mug of Jackal's Bile.

Aulani, riding a sinuous sorrel gelding, Aspect of Moradeim leaves to the west, a feeling of confusion leaving with her.

She is followed by Aulani and a pathfinder.

You frown and say to Aleutia, "For the Tree, and its roots, I would see its corruption spread beyond this forest. How best to accomplish that, I do not yet know."

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Aleutia wrinkles her nose at that, murmuring, "Corruption is such a foul word." She pauses, suggesting instead, "Influence."

You cackle hellishly.

You give Aleutia the once-over, eyeing her suspiciously.

Iniar raises his eyebrow before calmly saying, "I did not know that foulness would perturb you, Prophetess. I intend to learn the method of Desecration from our Ultimatum and spread the... influence of the Tree to the far reaches of Aetherius, from Celidon to Kalaya, and wherever I would find Nature as yet untainted." You smile wryly, quite clearly amused.

Aleutia tilts her head subtly to the side, her voice low ask she asks, "Would you die for this council, Iniar? If I were to ask for your blood upon the ground. Throat slit. Would you comply without pause?"

Iniar stares at you unnervingly, "In a heartbeat. Never mistake me, Prophetess. I am loyal to those who understand me, and the forest understands me, better than the Empire ever did. I am loyal to Noctusari, because they have ever understood me. So yes, I would gladly die for this council." He pauses, then turns to you, his left hand grasping his wand, hilt-first; his right, his dagger, also hilt-first and offers both to you, "If I must prove it, incinerate me with my wand, or slit my throat with my dagger. But do not doubt my loyalty."

Aleutia's eyes brighten at the response, a smile creeping onto her lips as she looks to the mentioned items. "Well done," she states simply. Offering a mirth-filled laugh, she wrinkles her nose almost playfully at you. "I shall have the rings done before your wedding day is upon us. You've not disappointed me."

Iniar bows low before you, murmuring, "And I would never." He straightens up and pockets his weapons, "I have come to love this place, as do the others who live her. As funny as even it seems to myself," he mumbles the last bit quietly, almost as if talking to himself.

Aleutia winks playfully before straightening her bracelet. "We oft find surprises when we least expect them." Looking towards the east, she muses, "I've neglected my husband long enough, I believe. Thankye for your time. I shall have sketches soon enough of the rings."

You say to Aleutia, "I thank you, Prophetess."

Calmly turning towards you, Aleutia brings her clasped hands to her forehead as she bows before you, slowly, at the waist.

Calmly turning towards Aleutia, you bring your clasped hands to your forehead as you bow before her, slowly, at the waist.

You tell Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire, "Ah, we did not discuss payment, perhaps we can leave that to the next time?"

Aleutia tells you, "I believe I've been given payment enough."

You tell Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire, "A pleasure as always, Prophetess."

Iniar

Struggling with his newly found skills of Torment and Desecration, Iniar intends to fulfil his promise to the Prophetess by spreading the defiled seeds of the Deadwood across Aetherius. Whilst tending to his new trees, a call goes out to Khandavans to gather at the Square.

12th Solis, 38 AM @Nyrohi, @Aleutia, @Khizan, Iniar

===================================================

Monarch Square.

A rune resembling a horse has been sketched into the ground here. A small bronze grate seals an entrance to the warrens here. A thick tangle of twisted red roots pulses and groans, growing en masse along the ground. The towering form of the great Leechwood tree spirals into the sky, pulsing with aberrant life. Anchored firmly to the ground beside the Leechwood with labyrinthine systems of tiny black roots, a blighted rose of dark crimson grows here. Towering roughly two feet off the ground is a simple grey cairn. A small package, wrapped in a grey cloth and tied with twine lies on the ground here. A large card table is stationed here. There are 6 shard of black mithrils here. A noxious cloud hovers above a smelly woodling who ambles about, monitoring the soil here. A love-sick woodling is here, lost in a daydream. A bloody-faced woodling is here, posed in a menacing stance. Chewing upon a stem of leaves, a lanky giraffe ambles around the area. A fat woodling waddles about here, inspecting the bark of the Leechwood. A fancy woodling struts about here, wearing leaves upon his head. Nostrils flared, a black and white mare stands attentively here. A shrouded spore-thrower is manning a bolt thrower here. He has forty bolts. Standing in the shadows, a shrouded spore-thrower lingers here. A petite giraffe rests here gazing primly at her surroundings beneath long eyelashes. A length of ribbon secures the little creature to the trunk of the Leechwood. A silvered, blue-grey hound scents the air here, his fur bristling like a frost-rimed halo. Incredibly large and a rare white shade, a massive woolly mammoth stands here with confidence and aloofness. A very well-fed capcaun snuffles here, eyeing anything close enough to eat. Tossing his majestic silver head, a stallion of the Modin Valley stands here impassively. There are 22 elite ferine lycaean knights here. There are 14 elite smoldering treants here. There are 8 elite smoldering treants here. Stamping his golden hooves and tossing his crimson mane, this blooded warhorse stands here bearing a regal strength. A cross-eyed woodling dances amongst the leaves, kicking at them as he spins. A soberly depressed woodling is here, slumped and dejected. Heated breath flaring his nostrils, a massive warhorse stands here imperially. His supple form moving gracefully, a sinuous sorrel gelding is here. A buckskin shire with sooty dappling stands nearby, head held aloft as he calmly surveys the area. Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter stands here proud and alert, a distinct aura of strength emanating from his form. The undead form of Blackthorn Dryad, 

Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire is here. She wields a slender willow-etched broadsword in her left hand and a heavy shield of redwood and iron in her right. The undead form of Rowynn Sol'Anlumaire is here. She wields a truesilver sabre in her left hand and a rough-hewn blackthorn banded shield in her right. A peaceful aura fills the area, emanating from Khizan, Aspect of Aryana. He wields a lunar shield in his left hand and a mercurial sabre in his right. The effects of this location have been twisted under a demonic influence. 

You see exits leading northeast, east, south, and west.

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter says, "Yes..the ones that howl."

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says to Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter, "The Deadwood harbours the fae and those who can survive. They are hardly beasts."

Calmly turning towards Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter, you bring your clasped hands to your forehead as you bow before him, slowly, at the waist.

Khizan leans comfortably against Rowynn.

The ground shakes beneath you as jackals howl in the distance.

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter exclaims, "They are coming!"

Aleutia tilts her head curiously.

With a little laugh, Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says, "It's only jackals."

Khizan Vladin says, "Ah. Those ones."

You rub your hands together as an evil grin creeps across your face.

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter says, "They have been chasing me through that forest of yours, they wish to kill me."

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire asks you, "How would you feel, being fed to jackals?"

You say to Aleutia, "Shredded."

You smirk.

The chill of the grave overtakes your surroundings as the whispered voices of the dead echo beneath you, heralding the arrival of Nyrohi, the Undying.

Nyrohi narrows her eyes at Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter in an unnerving manner.

You kneel before Nyrohi, swearing your allegiance to her.

Khizan flashes Nyrohi a joyous smile.

Khizan Vladin says to Nyrohi, "Hello, you."

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter says, "No...no."

You say to Nyrohi, "Lady Undying."

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter attempts to flee but trips over his feet, falling to the ground.

Softly, Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says to Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter, "Do you not wish to empower them?"

Under her breath, Rowynn Sol'Anlumaire says, "Graceful."

Khizan grins mischievously.

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says to Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter, "A death by a jackal should be an honor, I would think."

"I see the little wretch found his way into the council." Nyrohi muses, her voice a soft snarl. "I found him skulking about earlier."

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter slowly begins crawling away, hoping to go unnoticed.

Nyrohi grins mischievously at Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter.

Khizan Vladin says, "If you keep trying to squirm away, I will pin you to the ground."

Khizan Vladin says, "Just a warning."

Nyrohi, the Undying smiles impishly and says, "He seems afraid."

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says to Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter, "You really shouldn't fear the forest."

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter exclaims, "You all are bringing an end to this council! I will not have a part in it!"

You give Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter the once-over, eyeing him suspiciously.

Aleutia frowns at Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter.

You frown and say to Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter, "Everything that begins, ends. And every end is a new beginning. I cannot understand your distress."

The drunk woodling is affected with unusually loud hiccups that causes his tiny ligneous body to clack and crackle. He 

approaches the great hollow of the Leechwood and attempts to climb in for a nap, but is snatched away by a scowling fancy 

woodling.

Nyrohi weighs her halberd in one hand while regarding Aegnor with an unsettling smile. "Do continue."

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter says, "You have all been touched with this... taint. You are all delusional."

You say to Khizan, "I'm certainly not delusional."

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Khizan Vladin says to you, "You kind of are, hate to break I to you."

You cackle hellishly at Khizan.

Sharply, Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says, "If you wish to be gone from this council, then do so."

You laughingly say, "Perhaps."

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter says, "I will leave then..."

A lush cherry and clove tinged aroma winds through the air like a thread of smoke.

You pet a bleeding treant ingratiatingly.

Khizan sucks thoughtfully on his teeth.

Khizan Vladin says, "It is not a corruption."

Rowynn Sol'Anlumaire smiles impishly and says, "Do tread lightly, lest the jackals hear you trip again."

You snicker softly to yourself.

Khizan Vladin says, "If anything, it is an improvement. The Council has purpose, for perhaps the first time in mortal memory."

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter slowly rises to his feet, and starts backing out of the room, nearly falling several times.

Aleutia frowns subtly, her gaze slipping towards the Leechtree.

Khizan Vladin says to Aleutia, "If you're going to feed him to something, the jackals have dibs."

Khizan gives himself an acknowledging nod.

You give Khizan a slow nod.

Nyrohi smiles wryly, a look of amusement passing over her features.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "The pack does hunger."

Nyrohi looks thoughtfully at Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter's profile, pondering the situation.

The woodlings huddle together, clacking at one another in their strange language. Using emphatic gestures, erratic grunts and occasional shoves the woodlings appear to be in serious debate.

Khizan gives a smelly woodling the once-over, eyeing him suspiciously.

Iniar claps his hands and his treant reaches over casually and trips Aegnor.

The ground shakes violently as the howling of the great pack reaches an alarming volume.

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says, "Ah.."

Softly, Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says, "They're nearly on him now..."

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire whispers something to Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter.

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter turns to run, tripping over his feet once again, flinging himself through the air to land with a bump.

Rowynn glances after the hunter, a faint smirk touching her features.

With a frown, Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says to Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter, "You should delight.. Your body will nourish the jackals, and they the Tree, when they pass."

Iniar barks a command and his treant hurls itself at Aegnor, clasping his ankles with shrivelled stumps and pinning the writhing hunter to the ground.

"Tsk, tsk," Khizan says as he waggles a finger and scolds the world.

Dozens of jackals begin to slink in, their teeth bared in terrible snarls.

Khizan Vladin says, "If you don't let him run, they won't get to chase him."

Khizan gives himself an acknowledging nod.

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter claws at the treant, scratching the flesh from his legs in hopes to escape.

Khizan Vladin says, "It's always more fun to play with your food."

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire asks Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter, "Is that not beautiful? To become part of Nature?"

Nyrohi grins mischievously at Aleutia.

Iniar looks meaningfully at Aleutia and then Nyrohi, "Is it your pleasure to watch him run, or squirm?"

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter exclaims, "This is not Nature!"

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter exclaims, "This is an abomination!!"

Nyrohi, the Undying says to Aleutia, "I do not think he will appreciate such beauty."

Nyrohi cackles hellishly.

Aleutia whispers unkindly, "This is the Nature of Khandava."

You chuckle long and heartily.

Khizan shrugs helplessly.

Khizan Vladin says, "It's Nature in general."

You give Khizan a slow nod.

Khizan Vladin says, "Big fish eat little fish."

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter cries out in pain as he rips one leg out of the treant's grasp, his ankles bleeding from the muscles being torn out of his leg.

Khizan waves at Aegnor. "Goodbye, little fish."

Softly, Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says to Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter, "I think your mind has narrowed, and turned from Our purpose.."

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says to Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter, "You are bound in service. To your towne. Your council.."

Aleutia frowns at Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter.

The jackals begin to circle Aegnor, several darting forward to snap at his limbs.

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter exclaims, "I am not your servant!"

A hideously warped treant rises from the ground, covered in dirt.

The body of Aydamis appears in a flash and his soul descends to fill it, causing the previously expressionless face to fill with emotion.

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter exclaims, "Let me be! Let me leave!"

Sharply, Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire exclaims, "You are Khandavan!"

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter exclaims, "I refuse to live in this infestation!"

While perhaps centuries old, Aegnor's Sylayan features lend him the bearing of a younger man full of life. He is distinctly rugged and handsome, and wears a stoic expression upon his face. His hairline runs high along his forehead, while the rest of his grey-splashed black hair is swept back in a strip of leather, leaving a tail flowing long down his back. Physically, Aegnor is larger than his ancestor's, with broad shoulders and strong legs, and appears to be in prime physical condition. His earth-toned clothing is light and loose beneath his armour. He wears a beautifully tailored hooded cloak, the tones blending to create a vision of the wilds he is oft times required to become one within. A sleek longbow is slung across his back, and he wields a intricately carved javelin in his hands.

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter appears to be extraordinarily strong.

Iniar smirks as the treant extends the other stump up Aegnor's good leg, the tendrils writhing slowly up his calf. Small shoots begin sprouting forth from the tendrils and penetrating into soft mortal flesh.

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter continues to work on his second leg, clearly not caring for the damage he is doing to his leg.

With growing anger, Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says, "My forest is beautiful. She harbours My uncle's designs. You, of all, shall not slander it."

Nyrohi gives a harsh laugh as she regards Aegnor, her dark eyes gleaming behind her bone mask. "Shall I give him to the jackals, Prophetess?" She inquires politely, a wicked smile tugging at her blood stained lips.

You give a dwarven battleaxe to Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "He refuses to live, after all."

You smirk at Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter.

You say to Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter, "Try that."

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter throws the battleaxe to the ground, refusing to fall into Iniar's trap.

Her eyes bright, Aleutia replies to Nyrohi, "Consume him."

Khizan Vladin says, "Brilliant move, there."

You give Khizan a wry, shifty smile.

Khizan Vladin says, "Throw away the axe when you're being attacked by living firewood."

You frown and say, "I'm not the sharpest."

Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter begins thrusting his leg into the treant.

Monarch Square.

A rune resembling a horse has been sketched into the ground here. A small bronze grate seals an entrance to the warrens here. A thick tangle of twisted red roots pulses and groans, growing en masse along the ground. The towering form of the great Leechwood tree spirals into the sky, pulsing with aberrant life. Anchored firmly to the ground beside the Leechwood with labyrinthine systems of tiny black roots, a blighted rose of dark crimson grows here. Towering roughly two feet off the ground is a simple grey cairn. A small package, wrapped in a grey cloth and tied with twine lies on the ground here. A large card table is stationed here. There are 6 shard of black mithrils here. A noxious cloud hovers above a smelly woodling who ambles about, monitoring the soil here. A love-sick woodling is here, lost in a daydream. A bloody-faced woodling is here, posed in a menacing stance. Chewing upon a stem of leaves, a lanky giraffe ambles around the area. A fat woodling waddles about here, inspecting the bark of the Leechwood. A fancy woodling struts about here, wearing leaves upon his head. Nostrils flared, a black and white mare stands attentively here. A shrouded spore-thrower is manning a bolt thrower here. He has forty bolts. Standing in the shadows, a shrouded spore-thrower lingers here. A petite giraffe rests here gazing primly at her surroundings beneath long eyelashes. A length of ribbon secures the little creature to the trunk of the Leechwood. A silvered, blue-grey hound scents the air here, his fur bristling like a frost-rimed halo. Incredibly large and a rare white shade, a massive woolly mammoth stands here with confidence and aloofness. A very well-fed capcaun snuffles here, eyeing anything close enough to eat. Tossing his majestic silver head, a stallion of the Modin Valley stands here impassively. There are 22 elite ferine lycaean knights here. There are 14 elite smoldering treants here. There are 8 elite smoldering treants here. Stamping his golden hooves and tossing his crimson mane, this blooded warhorse stands here bearing a regal strength. A cross-eyed woodling dances amongst the leaves, kicking at them as he spins. A soberly depressed woodling is here, slumped and dejected. Heated breath flaring his nostrils, a massive warhorse stands here imperially. His supple form moving gracefully, a sinuous sorrel gelding is here. A buckskin shire with sooty dappling stands nearby, head held aloft as he calmly surveys the area. Aegnor Inlorion, the Veteran Hunter stands here proud and alert, a distinct aura of strength emanating from his form. His amber eyes gazing serenely about 

him, a large cream colored Graytrem draft stallion stands here in a regal manner. A treant meanders aimlessly here, weeping tears of blood. Dozens of jackals have gathered here in a great pack, snarling and pacing restlessly. Its body shuddering in anticipation, this twisted treant warps the very land about it here. The undead form of Rowynn Sol'Anlumaire is here. She wields a truesilver sabre in her left hand and a rough-hewn blackthorn banded shield in her right. The undead form of Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire is here. She wields a slender willow-etched broadsword in her left hand and a heavy shield of redwood and iron in her right. A peaceful aura fills the area, emanating from Khizan, Aspect of Aryana. He wields a lunar shield in his left hand and a mercurial sabre in his right. Nyrohi, the Undying is here with a wicked grin, her skeletal form casting two flickering shadows. Aydamis is here. He wields a banded shield in his left hand and a wicked looking flail in his right. The effects of this location have been twisted under a demonic influence. 

You see exits leading northeast, east, south, and west.

You snicker softly to yourself.

Moving to stand beside Aleutia, Rowynn gives her mother's arm a light squeeze, her gaze yet fixed on the hunter.

Khizan Vladin says to a host of snarling jackals, "Well?"

With a gesture from Nyrohi, the jackals lunge towards Aegnor at once. Screams fill the air as the pack begins to rip apart the man's flesh with an unsettling ferocity.

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

Iniar shudders in ecstasy, mirth dancing on his lips.

Khizan Vladin says, "This is good. The whining was getting tedious."

Aleutia peers impassive at the carnage, her gaze cold.

Iniar pats his treant as it extricates itself from the mess of flying skin and flesh and returns to its master's side. "I love your work, Lady Undying. As always, it is beautiful."

Carefully, Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire asks Nyrohi, "You hold sway over the undead, do you not?"

The jackals slowly draw away from the body as Nyrohi steps forward to inspect the corpse.

Nyrohi gives Aleutia a wry smile, her eyes lighting up deviously.

You give a mischievous grin.

The sanguine fragrance of red resins muddled with soporific poppy and cherry subtly curls through the air like a ribbon of smoke.

"I have not tested the extent of my power." Nyrohi admits as she paces around the corpse.

Khizan Vladin says, "You can test on Iniar if you like."

Khizan gives himself an acknowledging nod.

Quietly, Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says, "Perhaps you ought."

You cackle hellishly.

You say, "I love science."

Nyrohi offers Aleutia a sly smile before lowering her gaze to the dead man.

She is a radiant diabolus. She is a tall and willowy creature, her frame unnaturally skeletal and gaunt. Her bloodless flesh appears cold and eerily pale, causing her to resemble a corpse risen from its tomb. The very air around her seems unnaturally cold, as though the chill of the grave clings to her. Further adding to her harrowing image, her eyes are jet black and utterly devoid of any white. They gleam brightly behind the top half of a jackal skull she wears as a mask. She has adorned herself in morbid pieces of armour crafted from bones held together with strips of dried flesh, while patterns in blood-red war paint have been traced along her pallid skin. Her waist-length, ivory hair drifts about her on an ethereal breeze, the wispy strands trailing behind her as she moves. Her lips have been stained with blood, and when she speaks she reveals an unsettling set of wickedly pointed teeth. The strange being casts two shadows that seem to constantly flicker and move behind her regardless of the light, one tall and one waif-like.

The temperature plummets as Nyrohi reaches down to grasp the corpse about the throat. Rising to her feet, the diabolus lifts the dead man in the air and tilts her head to the side.

Marching resolutely towards the cleft of the Leechwood, the bloody woodling tosses the body of small animal into the gaping void.

Aleutia pulls her cloak tighter around her slight frame, her verdant eyes bright.

Iniar strokes his treant idly as he awaits the results of the deadly experimentation, his lips pursed slightly while he whistles a silent tune.

The hushed voices of the dead begin the scream beneath the ground as Nyrohi bares her teeth in a ferine snarl. The corpse 

begins to tremble in her grip, the limbs moving with a jerky motion.

As one, the great pack howls as the corpse begins to scream.

Aleutia winces subtly, her hands moving to shield her ears from the noise.

Iniar

Cont.

A sirenflower ghoul rises to its full height, looking about the council with a glazed stare.

You give a sirenflower ghoul the once-over, eyeing him suspiciously.

The curvature of his ears the only indication that he was perhaps once elven, the angular features of this man are tinged with grey as those of one destined for the grave; a pallid, ashen note to his faintly bronze complexion. Parasitic blossoms have long-since claimed his vision, masking the upper portion of his aquiline countenance beneath the sable of their blooms and tangling with the silken strands of his ebon tresses. A labyrinthine web of scarlet traces over their waxy petals, pulsating a life likely derived from their host, and, on occasion, darkening with subtle tincts of amaranthine. Smears of earth and the rusted ochre of dried blood stain his flesh, tracing indistinct patterns that mimic those on the foliage that adorns him, whilst the prevalent scent of loam and rotted leaves clings to his sinewy frame like a veil. As if grown as part of the musculature beneath, a coating of moss encroaches over much of his torso in chartreuse fronds, whilst smaller buds of sirenflower have not quite bloomed upon them; it holds an unsteady grasp where it touches the pitted metal of his armour, bits of foliage flaking off as though unable to derive sustenance from it. One gaunt hand remains curled about the hilt of a bronzed khopesh, a spidery pattern of roots traced over its smooth metal. On the opposite forearm, a shield emblazoned with a sirenflower has been strapped, its sable blossom harbouring a striking resemblance to those that have grown upon him.

Nyrohi steps back and regards the ghoul with a delighted grin.

You nod slowly.

The sound of rushing water is heard in the distance as an aloof river selkie shaman enters the square.

Aleutia tilts her head subtly to the side, her hands lowering from her ears as she observes the ghoul.

The sanguine fragrance of red resins muddled with soporific poppy and cherry subtly curls through the air like a ribbon of smoke.

Standing little more than five and a half feet, this selkie maiden blends into the redwoods around her seamlessly. A sense of abject disinterest surrounds the fae, her gaze often drifting westward in the direction of the Khandavan river. With eyes the colour of tarnished silver touched with vibrant hints of citrine, a river of messy curls in dark copper falls down her back like the errant waves of river rapids over the rocks. The slight woman is clad in an airy shift dress of stained white, her bare feet and fingertips caked in river silt. Strapped securely around her waist are several pouches of pungent herbs from the forest - paired with the magick sparking from her fingertips in an idle manner, this shaman inattentively awaits to be called upon.

An aloof river selkie shaman says, "My, the Council is lively today. I came to see what all the commotion was about."

Aleutia glances from the ghoul to the selkie, soon answering, "Nyrohi has been having a bit of fun with a weakling."

Khizan Vladin says, "Nothing much."

Khizan Vladin says, "Feeding elves to jackals."

Khizan Vladin says to an aloof river selkie shaman, "You?"

Nyrohi smiles pleasantly at the selkie.

Iniar bares his teeth in a wolfish grin.

Aleutia steps closer to the ghoul, her hand lifting to lightly stroke at one of the flowers growing upon it.

The sanguine fragrance of red resins muddled with soporific poppy and cherry subtly curls through the air like a ribbon of smoke.

An aloof river selkie shaman spots the ghoul and turns her attention to it. She steps up to its deformed form and purses her lips as she studies it.

Rowynn's brow furrows a bit as she eyes the ghoul, head tilted faintly to one side.

Nyrohi, the Undying smiles impishly and says, "I think it is a great improvement."

An aloof river selkie shaman says, "This is marvelous."

Aleutia asks in a hushed voice, her expression curious, "Aegnor?"

You nod your acknowledgement of an aloof river selkie shaman.

An aloof river selkie shaman says, "Are you able to duplicate this?"

Nyrohi gives an aloof river selkie shaman a slow nod.

A sirenflower ghoul twitches lightly at the sound of his old name, then shrugs it off, his new form bringing him new meaning.

An aloof river selkie shaman says to Aleutia, "I have a proposal for you, Prophetess."

Aleutia's lips twitch into a smile as she leans closer to the ghoul, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire whispers something to a sirenflower ghoul.

An aloof river selkie shaman circles the ghoul, her eyes lighting up with delight.

Khizan Vladin says to an aloof river selkie shaman, "She won't leave her husband for you. I've asked."

Khizan nods sagely.

Aleutia turns her attention to the selkie, asking, "Aye?"

An aloof river selkie shaman slaps Khizan on the cheek.

Aleutia gives a trillingly melodic laugh.

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Khizan utters a deep, rumbling laugh.

An aloof river selkie shaman says, "Men, their mind only ever in one place."

Nyrohi points a bone halberd engraved with snarling jackals at Khizan.

Rowynn smirks.

Khizan Vladin says, "It's a nice place!"

Khizan gives himself an acknowledging nod.

An aloof river selkie shaman says to Aleutia, "if Nyrohi agrees to make more ghouls like this for the Council, I will speak with my sisters to come and assist as well."

An aloof river selkie shaman says, "They would make great warriors, and we would heal them in their efforts."

The fat woodling greedily takes up a handful of desiccated leaves and soil, and stuffs it into his mouth hungrily. He chews briefly and then looks up at the higher boughs of the Leechwood. With a shameful expression, he regurgitates the mulch into his hand, and places it within the hollow of the tree.

You poke at a fat woodling.

You say to a fat woodling, "Stop."

Aleutia looks contemplative to Nyrohi, a smile touching her lips. "I think that would be lovely," the elf agrees. "To serve the council as Aegnor seems quite an honor.."

Marching resolutely towards the cleft of the Leechwood, the bloody woodling tosses the body of small animal into the gaping void.

An aloof river selkie shaman says, "I will go speak with my sisters. I will leave the rest to you all."

The woodlings resume their usual tasks with a frenetic energy and only pause occasionally to make obeisance to their Mistress within the Leechwood.

Nyrohi grins mischievously at an aloof river selkie shaman.

With a haughty sniff, an aloof selkie shaman leaves to the west.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "I shall enjoy the practice."

Nyrohi's eyes sparkle with amusement.

Khizan Vladin says, "I think I like her."

Khizan gives himself an acknowledging nod.

You give Nyrohi an unequivocal thumbs-up.

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says to Nyrohi, "We can sow the flowers in Mylani, if you are agreeable."

A sirenflower ghoul twitches lightly as he stares about the square.

Nyrohi gives Aleutia a slow nod.

Aleutia looks once more to the ghoul. "I think Mylani could stand a new crop to grow," she muses.

The elegant redolence of resins and ruddy poppy subtly fill the air.

Iniar stares warily as his treant marches up to the sirenflower ghoul. The bleeding treant stares blankly at the sirenflower ghoul for a moment, before stretching out a gnarled branch to stroke the petals on the resurrected body. Iniar raises an eyebrow before turning to Nyrohi, saying, "I think it approves."

Nyrohi gives a sharp laugh as she regards the ghoul thoughtfully. "As do I. It no longer whines and cowers."

You grin and nod at Nyrohi.

Aleutia says quietly, "The flowers remind me of my uncle's mare.. Do you know where they grow?"

Khizan throws a tarot card at the ground and it quickly grows into a portal through which Caelya quickly appears.

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "No, I've never seen anything like it before."

Khizan sucks thoughtfully on his teeth.

Aleutia gives a little nod, murmuring more to herself than anyone present, "The towne can cultivate them.."

Nyrohi glances at Aleutia, her dark eyes gleaming behind her mask. "When I turned him, I felt the forest tremble."

You tilt your head curiously.

Aleutia says quietly, "The Deadwood keeps its own.."

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "I raised him, but it was the forest the determined his new form."

You ponder Nyrohi for a moment and say "Hrm..."

Nyrohi, the Undying says, "At least, that is what I believe. I have not done this before."

Nyrohi grins mischievously.

You cackle hellishly.

Aleutia lightly strokes her fingertips over one of the purple flowers. A fleeting smile touches her lips before she murmurs, "It is beautiful work."

Nyrohi nods her head.

Khizan Vladin says, "Ah, well."

Khizan Vladin says, "Practice makes perfect."

Nyrohi smiles wickedly, her pointed teeth flashing behind her bloodied lips. "It went well, I think. I did not explode this time."

Aleutia smiles wryly, a look of amusement passing over her features.

Khizan Vladin says to Nyrohi, "Exploding is generally bad, yes."

Nyrohi, the Undying says to Khizan, "In most cases."

You frown and say, "I like explosions."

The drunk woodling is affected with unusually loud hiccups that causes his tiny ligneous body to clack and crackle. He approaches the great hollow of the Leechwood and attempts to climb in for a nap, but is snatched away by a scowling fancy woodling.

Khizan Vladin says, "Well."

Khizan Vladin says, "It is not good when you explode yourself."

Khizan Vladin says, "In most cases, at least."

Khizan looks thoughtfully at Nyrohi's profile, pondering the situation.

You give Khizan a slow nod.

Nyrohi grins mischievously.

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says to Rowynn, "I'm afraid I need to be off for a bit, dear."

Aleutia gives Rowynn a peck on the cheek.

Blackthorn Dryad, Aleutia Sol'Anlumaire says to Nyrohi, "Thankye."

Rowynn gives Aleutia a peck on the cheek.

Nyrohi gives Aleutia an acknowledging nod.

Nyrohi, the Undying smiles impishly and says to Aleutia, "It was my pleasure."

With gentle calm, Aleutia brings her clasped hands to her forehead as she bows, slowly, at the waist.

Aleutia grows still and her lips begin to move silently.

Khizan gives Aleutia a peck on the cheek.

Iniar says to Nyrohi, "So, how did you raise not-Aegnor? Did you..." He pauses, searching for the word, "Inject your essence or substance into the body? Or channel your power through it?" Iniar frowns in consternation.

"I don't know if I would use either to describe it." Nyrohi answers slowly, her tone thoughtful. "It is difficult to say. I commanded him to rise and he did. I pulled upon the power of his bones and my own power, and that of the forest."

(Missing the rest of the log)

Iniar

After hearing news that the Revenants acquired the Defiler profession, Iniar seeks out the Harbinger, Raykel, to extend the goodwill of the Noctusari.

15th Bellum, 38 AM @Raykel, Iniar

=================================

Near a large city. (road).

The stars twinkle in the clear night sky. An ornately inscribed sign has been hung upon a black lacquered post. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned is riding on a black and white mare. He wields a claymore in his hands.

You see exits leading northeast, east, southeast, southwest, and northwest.

You give Raykel a slow nod.

You say, "Harbinger."

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned asks you, "How goes?"

You say to Raykel, "Well. And you?"

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "I can't complain."

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned asks, "You wished to speak to me about something?"

Raykel stares thoughtfully at you, his barbed tail swaying rhythmically.

You say to Raykel, "The Noctu are moving to actively pursuing active heads. Previously, we preferred them to volunteer but given our recent spate of no-shows, we're being slightly more aggressive."

The night sky is clear, and the stars twinkle like diamonds.

Raykel nods slowly.

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned asks, "And how may I help with that?"

Raykel tilts his head curiously.

The night sky is clear, and the stars twinkle like diamonds.

A smattering of clouds fills the sky, lacing it with spiderwebs of grey.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says to you, "I haven't been a Noctu in more than two centuries."

Raykel smiles wryly, a look of amusement passing over his features.

Iniar strokes his chin as he furrows his brow in concentration. "By what criteria do you choose your help? I'm paranoid that most peoples would say whatever they would to get into positions of responsibility only to abrogate it. I tend to find that the ones I drag screaming and squealing into work tend to do better at it" He shrugs helplessly.

The firmament grows darker as the clouds begin to smother the light.

You chuckle long and heartily.

You shrug helplessly.

You say, "Good help is hard to find these days."

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned asks you, "You're asking me how I chose my own Secretaries?"

You give Raykel a slow nod.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "I like to observe people, and I almost always speak in person with everybody. There might be a slight difference between our guilds, seeing as only Knighted Officers may serve as Secretaries. But out of those eligeable I chose the ones who already have taken the responsability of the job, without its merits."

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "It was the case of Lady Emileigh, who rebuilt the Cabal Path starting from scratch."

Waking from sleep, the morning sun casts bright rays of light, filling the land with its majesty.

You laughingly say, "That is a good way, but initiative is sorely lacking. Perhaps we should invite you over to whip us into shape."

Raykel smiles wryly, a look of amusement passing over his features.

You say, "Initiative from the part of my guild members that is."

You chuckle long and heartily.

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

You say, "Ironically, we're called Initiates."

You snicker softly to yourself.

He is an athletic akrabi. He is tall at around six feet with broad shoulders and well-muscled arms, chest and back. His carapace is of the darkest ebony, except for certain patches of azure hue. His head is adorned with several tattoos written in an ancient desert language. His segmented tail stands different from the rest of his body, covered in pure ivory scales and always  seemingly tensed. He is wearing a sturdy vialbelt of forest hues, a gnarled willow pendant with an absinthe-green phial, a jack-o-lantern shaped bag, a pocketbelt, a shadowring, a shadowtorc, an onyx hued Revenants uniform cloak, the stache of Demonology, a cream coloured rose tinged in violet bound in silver, a silver-sapphire Akrabi tail ring, a skeletal wedding ring of silver, a pair of plate greaves, a pair of plated vambraces, a suit of polished field plate armour, a plate helm, polished black military boots, black Revenants uniform trousers, and a black Revenants uniform tunic. He 

wields a claymore in his hands.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "Brand them all Slackers."

You chuckle long and heartily.

You laughingly say, "I may have to."

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned asks you, "What position do you hold with the Noctu?"

You say, "I am glad we got Caelya from Kinsarmar, however, she has proven to be fairly active."

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says to you, "You got Caelya from the Revenants."

Raykel's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.

You snicker softly to yourself.

You say, "This is true."

You say, "I serve as the Sanguine Commander, and the Singularity has recently chosen me to be her right hand, a great honor."

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "I believe this is in order, then."

Raykel gives you a respectful salute.

You give Raykel a respectful salute.

You say, "Thank you, Harbinger."

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "I hold great respect for the Noctu."

You say, "And we, the Revenants."

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "They showed me the way when I came from the desert."

You tilt your head curiously.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "Born in the desert, enrolled as a Justicar and indoctrinated."

You chuckle long and heartily.

You say, "Hard to break from away from indoctrination."

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "The Noctu cleared the veil that was covering my eyes."

You chuckle long and heartily.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "Then I continued as a Diavlous, taking the ancient oath to serve and protect the Noctu."

You say, "What drove that decision to hearken to our ways?"

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "My father, Tasalauran."

Comprehension flashes across your face.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "He used to be a noble in Stavenn."

You say, "I did not know Tasalauran is your father."

You nod slowly.

You suck thoughtfully on your teeth.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "But enough of that."

Raykel smiles wryly, a look of amusement passing over his features.

You chuckle long and heartily.

You smile and say, "I don't remember if I'd met him, but from what I've heard he was a good man."

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "Indeed he was."

You crease your brow in a frown.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "I almost regret hunting him down when he deserted."

Raykel's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.

You chuckle long and heartily.

You say, "We do what we must, eh?"

You say, "I understand you've recently acquired the Defiler profession?"

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "Orders from Lord Alitis. He was the Knight in charge of my own Knighthood."

"Ahah!" you exclaim triumphantly.

You chuckle long and heartily.

You say, "Another old name."

You chuckle long and heartily.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "That man..."

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "Anyway, yes. I am waiting on the Imperator to approve it."

Iniar grimaces as he crushes a diamond in his fist, then blows the bloody glittering dust into the air, watching carefully.

You nod your head.

You say, "That is good news."

You say, "Stavenn will be strengthened by this."

You ponder the situation.

You give a defiled willow seed to Raykel.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "In part, thanks to the Noctusari."

You say, "As you plant the seeds for the future, so too should we plant the seeds of trust and collaboration anew between Revenant and Noctusari."

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "The Singularity was generous and aided us in achieving this goal."

You nod your head.

Raykel looks thoughtfully at a defiled willow seed's profile, pondering the situation.

You say, "It is a good decision."

Raykel shakes your hand with a firm grip.

You give Raykel a firm handshake.

You ponder the situation.

The deep red moon pulsates as it fades slowly into the clouds.

A deer bounds across the road in front of you.

You say, "Perhaps we could create a shared area for the Revenants and Noctu to train and learn."

You ponder the situation.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "Interesting proposal.."

You say, "You know the tunnels we have...? What if we created another corridor above it that expands into an antechamber?"

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "I know our guildhalls are already connected."

You nod your head.

Comprehension flashes across Raykel's face.

You look about yourself, rubbing your chin thoughtfully.

You say, "Somewhere our young could find repose and read and spar, perhaps."

You purse your lips contemplatively.

A deer bounds across the road in front of you.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "I haven't heard such an excellent idea in a long while. However we still need to recover financially from our recent purchase. It may take a while."

You nod your head.

You say, "Time is not a pressing issue."

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "Also, if we do manage to build such a place, I would like it to be guarded."

You say, "Design could take up a large time of the more creative among us."

"Aye," you mutter to Raykel, shaking your head unhappily.

You say, "That is a good idea."

You ponder for a moment and say "Hrm..."

You say, "Let me take this idea back to the Singularity."

You say, "I think she would be quite pleased."

You nod your acknowledgement of yourself.

Lord Raykel Aertsen, Harbinger of the Damned says, "Of course."

Iniar

That wraps up January. Stay tuned for February.