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Post by Elvira, Wandering Cleric on Jan 10, 2024 23:35:15 GMT -5
As the sun sets over the ship-dotted horizon, most of the beachgoers had begun packing their things to head home. Elvira, however, decided to stay late and bask in the glory that was the night sky above Charon. Sitting amongst the mounds of silky sands, she watched the small animals of the shore skitter about, burrowing and building their shelters. She had chosen to wear her white blouse and black leather leggings once more, feeling that she would draw more attention to herself should she have worn her robes. As she glanced around the beach and noticed the others were leaving, however, she slipped the monochrome robes on, keeping the hood lowered, and knelt down in the sands once more.
The brilliant orange hue of she sky slowly began it's shift into the blues, greens, and reds of the night. The beauty of the night was accentuated by the soft glow of lanterns on the departing ships in the nearby ports and the their reflections on the water. A cool breeze flowed through the elf's long, flowing, dark gray hair which had been styled in a half-up-half-down French braid hairstyle. Next to her was her longbow, which she had inscribed with an old elvish language and a singular fire rune.
With a final glance around, she leaves her things where she had been seated and began to gather what dry wood she could find for a fire. A moment passes before she returns with a heaping stack of twigs. Feeling something underneath her foot, she pauses, drops the twigs, and kneels down. Brushing the sand away, she finds a large sea shell, specifically a nautilus shell. She inspects it for a moment before smiling softly. "Tats would love this," she declared before sitting down once more, placing the shell in her lap, and beginning to build a fire.
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Jan 11, 2024 12:15:10 GMT -5
The past few months after the destruction of Mount Drakolt in the Ash Lands have been agonizing. Not only did the environment change drastically due to the awakening of an ancient primordial god, the events leading up to the catastrophe saw the life of Eameia’s brother snuffed out like a mere flame burning at the end of a candle’s wick.
Zarius.
Her older brother.
A man she looked up to and a cherished member of her family. Someone who seemed untouchable and even invincible at times. His death a cruel reminder of the fragility of a mortal life and just how finite their existence is in this plane of reality.
Their family had many discussions about the possibility of sudden tragedy. It wouldn't be the first time they had suffered such a grim loss. But even if she could understand and accept the risks logically, her heart still aches all the same.
It's almost too much to bear, especially when they have never had a moment of solace, a moment to grieve. Darkveil is a den of jackals with the ashen Fathers all eagerly waiting to tear one another apart at the slightest sign of weakness. They could not afford to grieve. They could not afford to let anyone know of their loss. To save themselves and save the legacy of the one they've lost, they have to pretend nothing is wrong, that everything is business as usual. No matter how painful it is.
That, amongst other personal reasons, is why she chose to leave. Their family couldn't survive like this. Zarius’ work was integral for their safety, so she would continue it in his stead at least until she could find a way to bring him back. Despite her father's warnings, despite her mother and younger brother's concern, she set out into the world herself to do what they could not.
Retracing her brother's steps thanks to his personal journal she spent weeks decoding page by page, she arrives on the sparkling shores of the Crescent Isles with Eirynor at her side. The older half-elf has always supported her and is closer to her than any other. His silent loyalty the only thing grounding her as she sees the world outside of Darkveil with her own eyes instead of those of an Astral Projection or the stolen memories of others.
While her priority in journeying from Darkveil is to get in contact with the Witch of Moonglade, she couldn't help but feel it necessary to make this detour first and foremost. Her brother always took detailed notes on the places he visited and logged his activities. While the notes are usually pretty cut and dry, the most recent entry about the Crescent Coast is different. It is more personal, and reflective, and reading it is the closest she can get to hearing his voice again. Maybe that's why she needs to see it for herself, to feel anything anymore, and wash away the numbness away like footsteps in the sand.
As she walks along the sand and stares out at the waters, she still feels nothing. Though she'd always dreamed of seeing all the wonders of the world, now that she can stand here herself it all loses its luster. It just feels so distant. Empty. Or maybe that's just her.
She's already made peace with giving up her childish dreams. What more could possibly disappoint her at this point?
Her toe catches on something sticking out of the sand. Glancing down, she sees a seashell poking up through the sand. Gingerly, she picks it up and holds it between her hands. What must have once been a protective home to a snail now lies vacant and broken, abandoned on the beach. With time it would no doubt erode into nothing more than dust to be added to the endless stretch of sand.
Seems like the world wants nothing more than to constantly remind her of the futility of everything. No matter what one accomplishes in life, it will always be reduced to nothing in the end.
Eirynor stands next to the fellblood as she runs her thumb across the shell’s fractured surface. He's done what he can to comfort her, support her, and watch over her since her brother’s passing. He misses her laugher, her smile, and the hopeful child he guarded over the past 25 years. Seeing her like this, he hates it. But all he can do is stand by her, like he's always done.
The tall half-elf’s ear twitches as he picks up on some noise from down the beach. Looking in that direction he just makes out the flicker of a fire being started out on the sand. His vision isn’t as strong in the dark as Eameia’s, but he thinks he can just make out the silhouette of someone moving around near the new source of light. He nudges Eameia gently to get her attention.
Glancing in the direction he points, Eameia picks out someone on the beach building a fire. No one else seems to be around now that the sun has disappeared behind the sea's endless horizon. It's not odd to see someone out here on their own. They probably have their reasons for seeking solitude. But something about their clothing catches the fellblood's attention.
After a few moments, Eameia and Eirynor approach the lone cleric, appearing out of the darkness in relative silence.
"Excuse me," the fellblood speaks. "Are you a servant of Lunala's?"
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Post by Elvira, Wandering Cleric on Jan 11, 2024 21:09:35 GMT -5
Elvira hadn't noticed the fellblood and her half-elf assistant approach, yet the sudden voice to her side didn't seem to startle her. She simply looked up to her with a curious tilt to her head and a soft, warm smile. Fellbloods weren't exactly foreign to the cleric as she had seen them many times before, though it was mostly during public trials where they had been accused of some wrongdoing. Many times it was obviously a lie or a setup, likely to protect the status of some high-ranking noble who had committed a heinous act and wished to shift the blame to someone they saw as a lesser being. Somehow, despite the race being quite literally demonized in her society, Elvira couldn't help but find the fellbloods rather stunning to look at. Eameia was no exception to this. "You are correct in your observation," the elf stated. "I must say, is it not rather bold to be around these areas for someone such as yourself? Many times have I seen your kind falsely accused of theft, murder, and other heinous crimes against beings." She shifts as her eyes dart around Eameia, it was as if she was reading the life story of this sorcerer just from the quick glance-overs she did. Of course, she knew hidden pain when she saw it, and this fellblood was certainly going through insurmountable amounts of it.
"I sense you have been traveling for some time. Of course, this only deepens the mystery surrounding you! Is there something, or perhaps even someone, you seek?" Her eyes seem to glint from the question. Suddenly, she lets out an exasperated gasp. "Ah! Where are my manners? I am Elvira, cleric from the Temple of the Moon. I travel to heal those who most need it. Those who are too far gone, I guide their spirits to the afterlife. You, my friend, don't seem to be in dire need of either. This only raises the question I seem to be asking myself since you made yourself known mere moments ago." She gives a sly smile to Eameia and squints her eyes slightly. "What is causing your pain, lantayár?"1
1. "Fellblood" | Lit. fallen blood
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Jan 11, 2024 22:02:19 GMT -5
Eameia smiles with a bit of a laugh. "Well, not all accusations against my kind are necessarily false. It is the same how not all elves are wholly innocent."
The tall half-elf behind her keeps a close eye on Elvira, one hand resting on the hilt of his longsword just in case it's needed. It's not hard to guess that he must be some sort of hired guard given how he watches over the fellblood.
"Your intuition is good. I have traveled quite far from the lands I call home." She sits down across from Elvira, keeping the fire between them and not getting too close.
In a way, it feels like she's keeping up a wall between them out of caution, mistrust, or paranoia, or maybe something even more simple than that.
Fear.
"That is quite alright, it is nice to meet you Miss Elvira. My name is Eameia."
Eirynor glances down at her and shifts his weight from one leg to another before returning his gaze to Elvira.
A more forced smile crosses the fellblood mage's face in response to Elvira's question. "I suppose I am not as skilled at hiding my feelings as I would want," she says softly.
"I am looking for someone or something." She digs the tip of her boot into the sand a bit and her focus shifts from the elf's face to the crackling fire between them. The orange flames flicker and reflect in her eyes.
"As a cleric of Lunala, perhaps you can help me. However, what I need is the opposite of what you say you do. I need someone to pull someone back from the afterlife."
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Post by Elvira, Wandering Cleric on Jan 17, 2024 7:21:24 GMT -5
Elvira placed her hands on the ground next to her and leaned forward. Her face was contorted into an offended expression. She looked as if Eameia had just asked her to kill someone in the most brutal way possible. Her normally calm, posh accent thickened with so much venom that it was extraordinarily hard to decipher what she was saying. "Excuse me for my tone, but do you know what you had just asked of me? I am a guardian of the cycle that is life and death itself! You have asked me to give up all the morality that holds me where I am today. You ask me to disrupt the natural order itself, thus spitting in the face of the gods, for... whom?!?"
Almost as quickly as she had been set off, she leans back and looks up to the stars. Her hood falls down, revealing the golden headpiece of her order and the flowing gray hair from earlier. She opts not to put it back up. Luckily for the other two, her accent had subsided partially and her tone was much more caring. The venom had disappeared. With a deep breath she sits back up properly. "I am sorry. That was... improper of me. I understand loss, lantayár, perhaps more than others. My parents were slain over a decade ago, when I was simply a child. I wished upon every god there was that they could come back, but my wishes fell upon deaf ears. I must tell you, disrupting the cycle, the order, it has dire consequences. I am unsure of which magic you intend to use to bring back whomever it is that you have lost, but most magics I know of can force the subject into endless suffering. Sometimes, it is more than just them who suffers. I implore you, think about this before making a decision. If you are still set on this, I might be able to direct you to those who subvert death. Just because I have my morals doesn't mean I don't have friends who digress."
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Jan 18, 2024 16:30:40 GMT -5
Elvira's reaction is both surprising and not surprising at all. It's a reasonable reaction. Most people would react poorly to being told that. On the other hand, Lunala is the deity most closely associated with the dark domain of magic, the same domain used by necromancers and can be used to raise thralls from the dead. The woman probably gets this a lot.
"There was nothing natural about it," Eameia mutters under her breath with a bit of a hiss through her teeth. She has to catch herself as she feels her fists clench and a bristle of anger well up inside her.
Even if she can understand Elvira's words, she can't help but want to point out that the gods have been long dead so who gives a crap about spitting in their faces. They haven't been around to help those who prayed for them in ages. Surely she knows that? Surely this cleric knows the truth? Or perhaps she is just another sorry soul who believes the Crown over those who returned from the Arid Mesa.
She can't blame someone for being in denial. The revelation of the Sol Stone is still hard to believe even today. Scern hardly seems like the most reliable source of information with how well he plays the villain. If it was just his word against the monarchy, maybe the Crown could have covered things up much easier. But it wasn't just the words of a raving madman with a cult backing, her brother had a first-hand account of what happened with the Sol Stone. Her brother fought Ziev in the Arid Mesa alongside many other adventurers. All of that happened. And given the Crown's long history of creating scapegoats for their own shortcomings, it's not too difficult to have doubts about their intentions.
Elvira seems to regain her composure pretty quickly, which is good since Eirynor had started to inch his blade from its sheath in case the cleric tried to smite the fellblood in her anger.
"You have my sympathies. Though, you must know now that your prayers were never reaching Lunala's ears. The only gods that hear any prayers now are just liars and forces of nature that do not care for our lives."
Not that any gods that came before were likely any different. For all they know, everything they know about the gods could be completely made up.
It's not that Elvira is wrong in what she is saying. The fellblood has already heard all the same concerns and warnings from her own father. She knows necromancy comes with strings attached. She knows coming back in any capacity does. She knows that.
She knows.
But...still...
She takes a slow breath after Elvira finishes lecturing her. "I am not interested in raising the dead as a thrall. Understand that I have not asked you do to anything. I have merely stated what I need. If you can help, we can work out a mutually beneficial deal. If you cannot, we part ways never to speak of it again."
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Post by Elvira, Wandering Cleric on Jan 20, 2024 23:29:42 GMT -5
"You have my sympathies. Though, you must know now that your prayers were never reaching Lunala's ears. The only gods that hear any prayers now are just liars and forces of nature that do not care for our lives."
These words seemed to strike Elvira right in her insecurities. She tried her best not to show it, but she couldn't help but furrow her brow. She had always had that nagging feeling that she was committing herself to some sort of massive lie, but didn't everyone? With a defeated sigh, she places her hands on her lap. She sees Eirynor standing uneasily and shakes her hand, as one might do at the poker table to hold, signaling that she wished not to harm anyone. Turning back to the fellblood, she gives a dejected look. "What makes you say that the gods have been smited... smitten? What makes you say they have been struck down for good? Surely... surely they have ways of returning. We wouldn't have a natural order without the gods and their celestial beings!"
The poor elf was struggling internally. Truthfully, she actually believed Eameia. The issue was that she had spent all her life fighting for the cause that Lunala signified. Of course, she knew that she could just as easily follow Lunala's teachings, whether the goddess be dead or alive, but that wasn't the point.
Another sight, another defeated look. "Alright, but I need information. Who is this person you wish to revive, and how did they die? Also, what are your goals for reviving them? I may know a few people who can help."
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Jan 21, 2024 10:13:19 GMT -5
"They were killed thousands of years ago," Eameia explains plainly. "One of the ones responsible used their power to become a god himself, and then he made it so everyone still believed the others were around. It was all a scheme to strengthen himself and keep anyone from finding out that it is possible to kill a god."
It's not that crazy of a scheme really. She could see others coming up with the same idea, but just lacking the means to execute it. Taking down a pantheon of gods is not something the average person could accomplish, and even the exceptional would likely struggle with such a feat. Those adventurers surely were legendary in their own right. Unfortunately, greed and betrayal saw their names lost to time.
She looks down at Elvira, meeting her dejected look with a more blank expression. Faith is a tricky thing. Some people need to believe in something greater than themselves, then others can find spiritual contentment in other ways. It's not like the gods never existed. They surely did. It's just that the world as they know it now was not shaped by them as everyone was led to believe. So did the world even need gods? She can't answer that. She doesn't know, and judging by Elvira's reaction, neither does the cleric.
"I cannot say for certain that it is for good. Perhaps there is a way to bring them back now that the truth is out there."
Anything seemed possible. That's why she's out here in the first place. She could have stayed home and continued her brother's work in his stead. But if the gods could be brought back, couldn't he be brought back too? If Caedes and Vail returned to life, why not her brother?
Eameia makes a face that is hard to discern the meaning of, but she moves closer to the fire and then folds her legs to sit across from Elvira. Eirynor doesn't look too sure about the situation but does relax his posture slightly.
The fellblood rests her chin in her hand as she watches Elvira through the flickering flames. "What do you define as the 'natural order'? Maybe the gods have had nothing to do with that and the world is just like that."
As educated as Eameia is, she cannot deny that sometimes it is just easier to accept that things are the way they are even if you do not understand exactly why. There is so much to know about the world and how it works, one could waste an entire lifetime uncovering the truth but then not having the time to do anything meaningful with it.
Talking about this other stuff comes easy, but it's when Elvira directs the conversation back to the fellblood's purpose of speaking to her in the first place that she hesitates.
"A family member. They...died during a volcanic eruption. We need to revive them fully. They need to have their free will and memories."
That would be the ideal, but she knows that even in cases like Caedes and Vail that coming back often has some unpleasant strings attached.
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Post by Elvira, Wandering Cleric on Jan 21, 2024 11:30:50 GMT -5
Elvira's eyes widened, revealing the crisis in her own mind. "That... That would explain the inconsistencies in, well... everything as of recent." With a sigh, she lowered her hood and ran her right hand through her hair. "I suppose Lunala's teachings might live on, but it does sting to have dedicated one's life to serving a long-passed god. This... this will require some contemplation on my part. Regardless, you have opened my eyes to a truth that should have been obvious given recent events. I won't let your help go unrewarded so, despite my apprehensions, I will help you get your family member back."
"However" - she starts with a slight smirk - "I know you hide some truth from me. Would a volcano not destroy the body making it much harder to restore? If I am to step out of my comfort zone for you, I simply ask you carry full honesty around me. I care for your cause, despite my clashing morals I find it rather honorable to seek out the rebirth of a loved one. I wish for you to carry the same care for my cause, Miss Eameia."
She stands up now, stretching slightly. Looking down, she makes a slight face at her robes. It was clear the revelations had completely turned her life upside down. She forces these emotions down, however, and pulls out some preserved meats. "Are you hungry? I have a few foods from each region. I'm sure you have been traveling for some time, love. I can cook whatever you should choose, now that our tensions have broken and we have chosen the finer path together. If you choose, I can also offer you a spot to sleep for the night. I carry extra supplies should I stumble across someone in need."
She smiles softly, the offer was genuine. On the array of meats was spider, deer, rabbit, beef, and a myriad of other species from each region. Each was salted and wrapped for preservation, but somehow had still carried most of the juice for flavor.
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Jan 21, 2024 12:21:11 GMT -5
"There is no body," Eameia states flatly.
Try as they might, there had been no hope of recovering any of her brother's remains from Mount Drakolt after everything that happened. According to Caedes' first-hand account, Zarius' body had been destroyed from the inside out and left far too fragile to move. Then the chamber had come crashing down, burying anything left under hundreds of tons of stone. Then the volcano itself was reduced to a smoking crater.
It was like the universe just wanted to rub as much salt in the wound as possible.
Poor Askr...the kid had tried to dig up whatever he could...but it was asking far too much. Zarius was gone.
"I cannot give you my full honesty. It is a complicated situation. I do not mean any disrespect to your cause. If things do not work out...the fewer people who know the whole story, the better."
She wouldn't tell the cleric that she was going against her family's wishes. She wouldn't tell the cleric that her brother had been a few steps away from being an Ashen Father in his own right. She wouldn't tell the cleric that it was a friend's blade that ultimately ended everything. None of those details were for the public, and certainly were not for a stranger she just met on a beach.
Elvira's offer of food is a bit sudden, and Eameia's eyes linger on the offerings of salted meats for a moment. She feels a prickle in the back of her mind, a reminder of how her brother never trusted any food or drink while out on the road. It was a silly thing to be paranoid about, she used to think, but now...
Now she was the next one in their family most likely to take over their father's work. She was the one most at risk of being assassinated. The worry about being poisoned seems a whole lot less silly.
"No. Thank you."
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Post by Elvira, Wandering Cleric on Jan 27, 2024 23:01:26 GMT -5
"Very well. As much as I would like, I unfortunately cannot help. I may recommend heading to someone, however. Have you heard of the Witch of Moonglade, Lady Kamille Verlithax? I have not yet met her personally, but some members of my order have. The rumors say you cannot miss her, as she is the most charismatic being in any room she stands in. Nevertheless, if you meet her then you might find the answers you seek. For now, I invite you to remain with me. I have traveled all my life, and thus I am no stranger to how weary the trek makes one. Also, if I wanted to poison you, it would have been done already. Poisoning food is far too risky, as I would have to consume it as well." She smiles despite the dark words. Was it implicitly a threat? Perhaps some sort of strange joke?
Either way, the elf offers the food once more, perhaps not in any way helping her case. She opts to leave it out for the fellblood to grab this time, though. Keeping the smile up, she looks directly in the eyes of Eameia. "Should you choose to stay, I will offer you a hammock or a bedroll. My companionship does have a price, though. No coin is pricey enough for my time, for I rather wish for knowledge. Any knowledge is fine, whether it be current affairs or those of the past. Again, this is your choice. Feel free to leave at your discretion, I will never hold one unless they pose a threat."
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Post by Eameia (Zarius unavailable) on Jan 30, 2024 22:48:43 GMT -5
Eameia's ears perk up at the sound of a familiar name. "I am familiar with Lady Kamille. We have somewhat met previously."
She could only say somewhat, since when she 'met' the Witch of Moonglade she was just an astral projection.
"I plan on heading her way soon regardless."
If anyone would be willing to help, it would be Kamille. Her brother took special care to keep a good relationship with the mage, and she's proven that she's willing to help before.
Even if it turns out that Kamille couldn't help, perhaps she could at least give her a way to track down someone who might. According to her brother's notes, he had suspicions that Kamille was well connected with a certain powerful necromancer. However, that same necromancer was not exactly someone her brother got along well with. Just how willing the Lord of Ghouls would be to help is unknown currently. She'll likely need to either shower the undead man with flattery or offer him something extremely valuable. Most likely both.
"I appreciate the offer..." she glances towards Eirynor who gives a slight shrug. As far as he could tell, Elvira didn't seem like much of a threat, and he would keep watch throughout the night regardless.
Eameia looks back at Elvira. "A bedroll would be nice." She pulls her knees up and rests her arms around them. One of the logs in the fire shifts and rolls off the pile. With the flick of a finger, magic surrounds the burning log and moves it back into place.[1]
"Hmm. I suppose I could tell you more about what I mentioned before...about Ziev, Scern, and the death of the gods. Unless you have something else in mind?"
[1] Telekinesis
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