Difference between revisions of "Midnight RPG - Chapter 36.873"

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=== ALAMATH, council to the Queen, sister of Eranon the Stalker ===
 
=== ALAMATH, council to the Queen, sister of Eranon the Stalker ===
::  '''".. I know you..."'''  she says almost inquisitively in the most pure Elven speak.  .'''".You have done great deeds my Eranon.  Your name is now scattered amongst the heroes of the line.  They know the name as they knew our ancestors of old.  As they knew our father's name before..."'''    the girl pauses, looking down to a ring given her to remember the bond of father and daughter.  '''"... Were you to return to Mighty Erethor you would be harkened with a hero's welcome my Eranon.  You left an elven son and have become an elven prince, my Eranon."'''    Alamath's opalescent skin soaks in the sun as her silhouette fades from the sun, fading from view.  <br> <br>  And then a voice clean and stern sings in your left ear.  As you feel your sister's breath, her lip quivers slightly...  '''"..  but it is not of this compliment I come to you now brother."'''  <br> <br>  ''Does he know, has the Lady's magics filled his veins, can he answer''  Alamath thinks as she takes her brothers palm, as if holding hands as  when they were children so many many summers ago.    <br> <br>  '''"... I must know my Eranon, and if you've continued your studies..."'''  she says chiding with a smirk on her smile  '''"...you will reach back to me in dream as I call to you now.  I reach beyond the pale of Shadow's grasp to warn you, a shift has occured my Eranon...  Something... something has happened.  The trees... they do not creak as they did yesterday..."'''  [NOTE: referring to the days just before the time you know to be "the Battle of First-Hold"]]  '''"... while the Whisper spoke in strained voice yesterday, he does not embrace and flow this day.  Our people felt fear, the fear of being hollow for the first time and we do not know why.  From the Queen's Academy to the Hamlet, none of the sages have defined the cause.  Though our generals who know not of magic have wondered if this is a slight boon, with the unsure nature that has been caused of late with the Whisper's reported false witnesses.  Generals from the far norther fronts between the Highhorns have told tale that the Whisper's relays had fallen against their wishes in recent skirmishes!  The Elders looked to queery this,  but the Witch's Council condemned it -  noting that nothing could foul that which is timeless, our ancestors, the Eltheldar that breath the Whispers.  <br>  And though I do not trust this new faction's bile, their calming ways subsided as word from Mighty Erethor's distant west come to tell us that the magics of their storm mages bring great clouds.  It is the hope of all that soon the Burning Line will be soothed once and for all or if only for precious days needed to recover from the Maugrim beast..."'''
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::  '''".. I know you..."'''  she says almost inquisitively in the most pure Elven speak.  .'''".You have done great deeds my Eranon.  Your name is now scattered amongst the heroes of the line.  They know the name as they knew our ancestors of old.  As they knew our father's name before..."'''    the girl pauses, looking down to a ring given her to remember the bond of father and daughter.  '''"... Were you to return to Mighty Erethor you would be harkened with a hero's welcome my Eranon.  You left an elven son and have become an elven prince, my Eranon."'''    Alamath's opalescent skin soaks in the sun as her silhouette fades from the sun, fading from view.  <br> <br>  And then a voice clean and stern sings in your left ear.  As you feel your sister's breath, her lip quivers slightly...  '''"..  but it is not of this compliment I come to you now brother."'''  <br> <br>  ''Does he know, has the Lady's magics filled his veins, can he answer''  Alamath thinks as she takes her brothers palm, as if holding hands as  when they were children so many many summers ago.    <br> <br>  '''"... I must know my Eranon, and if you've continued your studies..."'''  she says chiding with a smirk on her smile  '''"...you will reach back to me in dream as I call to you now.  I reach beyond the pale of Shadow's grasp to warn you, a shift has occured my Eranon...  Something... something has happened.  The trees... they do not creak as they did yesterday..."'''  [NOTE: referring to the days just before the time you know to be "the Battle of First-Hold"]]  '''"... while the Whisper spoke in strained voice yesterday, he does not embrace and flow this day.  Our people felt fear, the fear of being hollow for the first time and we do not know why.  From the Queen's Academy to the Hamlet, none of the sages have defined the cause.  Though our generals who know not of magic have wondered if this is a slight boon, with the unsure nature that has been caused of late with the Whisper's reported false witnesses.  Generals from the far norther fronts between the Highhorns have told tale that the Whisper's relays had fallen against their wishes in recent skirmishes!  The Elders looked to queery this,  but the Witch's Council condemned it -  noting that nothing could foul that which is timeless, our ancestors, the Eltheldar that breath the Whispers.  <br>  And though I do not trust this new faction's bile, their worm-tongue ways laid a path for the word from Mighty Erethor's distant west come to tell us that the magics of their storm mages bring great clouds.  It is the hope of all that soon the Burning Line will be soothed once and for all or if only for precious days needed to recover from the Maugrim beast..."''' Eranon's sister spins around to face his front hand in hand in an elven calm.  <br> <br>  '''"Lady Aradil has grown a fever, I feel it comes from the worry lain on her from the heavy choices made in sending the Plague Elves into the wastes.  She paces wishing to take up the charge herself on the fronts.  Although details given to Ossion's men were secreted away by the Witch's Council I have learned that their course will take them to Rokan's Hold, the Dornish fort, a part of the great old Fortress Wall of the north.  It is told that should creators and crafters be able to infiltrate the Shadow’s defenses that lurk there now, at the heart of this Enemy's stronghold, the benefits would be powerful indeed - a magic so bright as to drive the darkest Shadow from dousing it...  It is there the Arrows will make their stage and move onward, perhaps to the BLACK WARREN ancient city was built in the Time of Years - that would be my best estimation.  I realize now it was the Queen herself that cast these worries in my mind.  Eranon... I believe it was she that asked me to call out to you in secret all these weeks ago!  If fear that she is now but a prisoner of the flood of fear created by the Witch's Council.  And with the revelations that your band have shared having discovered the Demonbane's (Ardherin) leverage in these matters...  If only there were a glimmer of hope to give back to her.  Have you made progress on discovering the fate of her ShadowWall?  As the deception of his crucifixion at the Spire was just a ruse, those closest to Lady Aradil look for any bit of hope to hold her in tune with the Elder Tree, rooted to reality.  Even now I see in her eyes the drifting call of the elven ports of Mithlond - the Shadow Havens.  When the Whisper fades, the trees will burn and the Elder roots will rot and so will go Aradil daughter of Benaedan - and with her our people ... when magic fades and Aryth becomes an earth void of wonder - light or dark."'''  <br> <br> Alamath pulls back from in front of Eranon stepping back and back toward the sun from which she entered his dream this night.  '''"Go then brother, it is known to me that the willful thunder-wing (another term for dragon) has made his way out of the guard of the Autumn Arrows..."'''  she says smirking as if knowing this was the secret will of Lady Aradil.  '''"...Care for Vor'zon brother, Aradil tells me now that you are connected to him as she once was with Lady Zardrix. Know this brother, this is a gift unlike any other - of ancient and ancestral tradition amongst the draconic to offer a piece of themselves to their closest compatriots, taken directly from that portion of the creature’s essence that ties it to the individuals that it trusts and cares for the most. Once given, Eranon, this intangible token cannot be taken back, and it will prevent the Vor'zon from ever intentionally or unintentionally directly bestowing harm on your person. So strong is this tie that even after her heart was taken by Izrador, Zardrix is still bound by her eternal friendship to Aradil and it is through that undying spirit that perhaps one day Zardrix will pierce the prison within to walk in the sun yet again - if only the key were to be found... The only thing that can sever the bond is the ultimate destruction of either of you."'''  Alamath smiles knowing that the man Eranon is becoming may one day be what the elven race looks to for inspiration.  And it is this that must be nurtured with care...
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== Questions ==
 
== Questions ==

Revision as of 15:46, 4 January 2008

Setting

The time is endless, the scene is vast and beautiful - of colors and textures known only in your dreams... The stage is set by Eranon in this time of rest.

(Steve, you can describe the setting if you like)


Conversation

Lady Alamath, council to the Queen, sister to Eranon the Stalker.
The light of the Lady's summer sun glares and fades, a silhouette beautiful and noble walks across the lush grass-bed floor of Mighty Erethor. As the sun whips through the elven gown of elven satins adorning elven councilor that you, Eranon the Stalker, know as your life-blood... your sister Alamath. So much does she look as your mother. So many years can be seen in her crystal eyes.


ALAMATH, council to the Queen, sister of Eranon the Stalker

".. I know you..." she says almost inquisitively in the most pure Elven speak. .".You have done great deeds my Eranon. Your name is now scattered amongst the heroes of the line. They know the name as they knew our ancestors of old. As they knew our father's name before..." the girl pauses, looking down to a ring given her to remember the bond of father and daughter. "... Were you to return to Mighty Erethor you would be harkened with a hero's welcome my Eranon. You left an elven son and have become an elven prince, my Eranon." Alamath's opalescent skin soaks in the sun as her silhouette fades from the sun, fading from view.

And then a voice clean and stern sings in your left ear. As you feel your sister's breath, her lip quivers slightly... ".. but it is not of this compliment I come to you now brother."

Does he know, has the Lady's magics filled his veins, can he answer Alamath thinks as she takes her brothers palm, as if holding hands as when they were children so many many summers ago.

"... I must know my Eranon, and if you've continued your studies..." she says chiding with a smirk on her smile "...you will reach back to me in dream as I call to you now. I reach beyond the pale of Shadow's grasp to warn you, a shift has occured my Eranon... Something... something has happened. The trees... they do not creak as they did yesterday..." [NOTE: referring to the days just before the time you know to be "the Battle of First-Hold"]] "... while the Whisper spoke in strained voice yesterday, he does not embrace and flow this day. Our people felt fear, the fear of being hollow for the first time and we do not know why. From the Queen's Academy to the Hamlet, none of the sages have defined the cause. Though our generals who know not of magic have wondered if this is a slight boon, with the unsure nature that has been caused of late with the Whisper's reported false witnesses. Generals from the far norther fronts between the Highhorns have told tale that the Whisper's relays had fallen against their wishes in recent skirmishes! The Elders looked to queery this, but the Witch's Council condemned it - noting that nothing could foul that which is timeless, our ancestors, the Eltheldar that breath the Whispers.
And though I do not trust this new faction's bile, their worm-tongue ways laid a path for the word from Mighty Erethor's distant west come to tell us that the magics of their storm mages bring great clouds. It is the hope of all that soon the Burning Line will be soothed once and for all or if only for precious days needed to recover from the Maugrim beast..."
Eranon's sister spins around to face his front hand in hand in an elven calm.

"Lady Aradil has grown a fever, I feel it comes from the worry lain on her from the heavy choices made in sending the Plague Elves into the wastes. She paces wishing to take up the charge herself on the fronts. Although details given to Ossion's men were secreted away by the Witch's Council I have learned that their course will take them to Rokan's Hold, the Dornish fort, a part of the great old Fortress Wall of the north. It is told that should creators and crafters be able to infiltrate the Shadow’s defenses that lurk there now, at the heart of this Enemy's stronghold, the benefits would be powerful indeed - a magic so bright as to drive the darkest Shadow from dousing it... It is there the Arrows will make their stage and move onward, perhaps to the BLACK WARREN ancient city was built in the Time of Years - that would be my best estimation. I realize now it was the Queen herself that cast these worries in my mind. Eranon... I believe it was she that asked me to call out to you in secret all these weeks ago! If fear that she is now but a prisoner of the flood of fear created by the Witch's Council. And with the revelations that your band have shared having discovered the Demonbane's (Ardherin) leverage in these matters... If only there were a glimmer of hope to give back to her. Have you made progress on discovering the fate of her ShadowWall? As the deception of his crucifixion at the Spire was just a ruse, those closest to Lady Aradil look for any bit of hope to hold her in tune with the Elder Tree, rooted to reality. Even now I see in her eyes the drifting call of the elven ports of Mithlond - the Shadow Havens. When the Whisper fades, the trees will burn and the Elder roots will rot and so will go Aradil daughter of Benaedan - and with her our people ... when magic fades and Aryth becomes an earth void of wonder - light or dark."

Alamath pulls back from in front of Eranon stepping back and back toward the sun from which she entered his dream this night. "Go then brother, it is known to me that the willful thunder-wing (another term for dragon) has made his way out of the guard of the Autumn Arrows..." she says smirking as if knowing this was the secret will of Lady Aradil. "...Care for Vor'zon brother, Aradil tells me now that you are connected to him as she once was with Lady Zardrix. Know this brother, this is a gift unlike any other - of ancient and ancestral tradition amongst the draconic to offer a piece of themselves to their closest compatriots, taken directly from that portion of the creature’s essence that ties it to the individuals that it trusts and cares for the most. Once given, Eranon, this intangible token cannot be taken back, and it will prevent the Vor'zon from ever intentionally or unintentionally directly bestowing harm on your person. So strong is this tie that even after her heart was taken by Izrador, Zardrix is still bound by her eternal friendship to Aradil and it is through that undying spirit that perhaps one day Zardrix will pierce the prison within to walk in the sun yet again - if only the key were to be found... The only thing that can sever the bond is the ultimate destruction of either of you." Alamath smiles knowing that the man Eranon is becoming may one day be what the elven race looks to for inspiration. And it is this that must be nurtured with care...



Questions

Conversations for information only, especially from the GM, go here.



LINKS

PORTAL | DURGAZ | ERANON | KYUAD | ZAL'KAZZIR