"So I am a gold-crowned avian now, am I? Perhaps a king fisher or a turn?"
"Hmm," the big man muses, "even king of fishers still a fisher. Maybe egret?"
"Hah!" The princess laughs lightly, "I doubt that I could be consider tall or graceful enough to do justice to the noble egret."
Alis gives a sigh of relief to see that her twin sister is indeed well and still safely at sea upon The Nereid.
Biting her lip, she casts another spell into the glass and says teasingly, "Without a doubt, my dear Alechsularis, you are definitely... most double-decidedly... a booby."
Alexis' blue-violet eyes go wide and she sits bolt upright shaking the crow's nest so suddenly that she gives Ravarath a start. "I am not a booby!"
Ravarath's gaze falls to her blouse before returning to meet her gaze. "Would not imply that single aspect of Rajkumari's appearance defines her."
"Wha– no! I–" Alexis turns beet red even as she puts a hand to her forehead. "Thank you, Rath, but is my quite dear and endlessly troublesome twin sister, evidently scrying upon us from her palace in Port Eldarion."
"Ah. This should merit privacy so if Rajkumari Alexis would excuse me..." The monk starts to go but then hesitates, gazing for a moment at the ring of braided golden hair upon his left hand. "If it is no trouble. Say hello to Rajkumari Alis for me and if not too bold, ask her please to give embrace to Meri-Devi, Lureene for me."
With that, he launches himself over the edge of the basket, making his way down the rigging as easily as a monkey.
"Aww, Lureene will be happy to hear that. And no, 'Sis, I've not yet reached Dafar, we had..." Her voice trails off for a moment as she looks about at the others resting nearby, the serenade of monkeys and cicadas in the nearby jungle doing nothing to disturb their rest. A wry smile comes to her as she finishes, "We had a bit of an adventure!"
For the next few minutes, Alis regaled her sister on everything that had transpired even as she learned from Alexis of the attempted blockade off the coast of Jehiril, and the assassins upon the Lady Iona who had nearly poisoned Lord Brycen and Falcon Grey to death. By Alexis' calculations, they were only a few weeks from Wildethar at most, and spirits were high.
At last, as the magic of the spell began to fade, Alis smiled and said, "It's good to hear your voice and see your face again, 'Sis. I thought I'd lost you. I– I–"
"I love you, Lissi. You will be fine, we both will."
With the exception of Sasha calling her that earlier today on accident, only Alexis and their parents had ever called her that. The very word itself meant 'sweetness' in elvish. Smiling with tears in her eyes, Alis replied softly, "I love you too, 'Sis..."
Giving a gentle sigh, the slightly younger of the two princesses replaced the priceless hand glass in its box and loving ran her fingers over the intricately carved wood tracing the gold wires inlaid seamlessly into its surface. Then thinking on her journal, she removed from her pack her well-loved songbook, a quill, and ink, and began to catalog all that had transpired noting what they had accomplish and all that yet remained to be done.
It was the zero-hour of Daybreak when the crash of surf awoke Darvesch for his turn at watch. As the intrepid dwarf waved off the elven princess he expected to be kneeling beside him, he rubbed the sand from his eyes to find her asleep nearby, lying with her head upon the open pages of a book, a quill still in her hand.
At her side, King Tut sat dutifully stroking her hair until he turned to put a finger to his lips indicating quietude was in order.
Looking around, Darvesch could see that it must have rained yet again and not long ago. Not surprising given what he had seen here over the past few weeks. Yet rising quietly and walking over past his {she-cousin}, his eyes spied something truly remarkable.
Down below in the lagoon, the waters had returned and the surf was still aglow with the luminescent algae that lived in the waters here. Yet the ghostly green color had been replaced by a brilliant blue. Even as he stood and stared for several minutes, nowhere could he see the tortured apparitions that had for so long haunted the shores of Reaver's Shiv. No beckoning maidens, no drowned sailors, no grief-ridden captains — all of them were gone. Their sorrow and pain had vanished!
"An incredible sight, that." He thinks to himself as he looks at the luminescence of the water. Darvesch waits patiently for the sun to come up, deciding to let the rest sleep, and take everyone elses watch for them. "They deserve the rest. After what we went through.. Nobody should have to go through that."
Theme: Nothing Can Be Explained
Lureene opens her eyes to find herself in a seemingly limitless sky amidst mountains of impossible height. Far below their peaks, the waves of a great sea surge to and fro. At the center of it all, this world seemingly folding back on itself, is a vast dark whirlpool that continuously siphons away the waters yet never drains them completely. Rising from it center is a lofty tower, its foundations lost in the inky depths below, its parapets striving towards the clouds above.
For a moment, Lureene is lost in the wonder of it all before something whizzes past her — a small, winged snake with scales like sapphire and translucent blue wings. It cavorts around her before diving below. As she looks down, she realizes that there is nothing below her. She is standing upon neither a mountain top nor a parapet but adrift in the sky!
Immediately, she can feel a tightening in her chest and ice in her veins as she starts to plummet, her wings doing little to slow her inexorable descent towards the whirlpool.
"Lureene," the voice is faint, nearly inaudible.
She continues falling even as another winged snake, this one larger and mottled grey and green, soars overhead looking down at her in curiosity before continuing on its way. As the golden-winged succubus continues to fall, each moment bringing her closer to the tower, she can see that its height has been scarred countless times by lightning yet the higher she looks, the newer the construction becomes. The parapets, in fact, seem as though they must be brand new.
"Lureene," the voice is stronger, more insistent. Was it coming from the tower?
The ligaments in her wings straining from bearing her up for so long, Lureene desperately tries to fly and spies another snake passing nearby. In desperation, she reaches out and manages to just catch its tail. The amethyst-scaled creature squawks once in surprise, beating its wings urgently.
Up ahead, Lureene can see that the tower is nearly within reach and there, look out over the void is a lone figure garbed in tattered black garments holding aloft a gleaming lantern. Yet as she watches, the winged serpent starts to veer away, fearful of the dark clouds that surround the tower. Knowing she has one chance, Lureene gives a single, powerful thrust of her wings, and sails toward the tower.
She has nearly enough altitude to land safely, when dread of what she will find there takes her momentarily. A sudden down-draft catches her at the last instant and it is everything she can do to catch hold of the stonework as she slams into the side of the tower, fingers gripping onto the edge.
Above her, the old man whom she has seen before, her father, looks down with his dark eyes, his features stark in the light of the lantern he holds. In a hollow voice that seems to echo off the clouds themsleves, he asks, "What are you doing? Stand up, be strong!"
With a great force of will, Lureene exerts herself forcing her arms to comply against the protest of her aching muscles. At last, she manages to pull herself up and she kneels panting on the parapets of the tower, pallets of bricks and mortar visible within.
"What burdens you so? What keeps you from rising up? What is it Lureene?"
"What is it Lureene?"
"What is it Lureene?"
"What is it Lureene...?"
"What is it Lureene?"
"What is it Lureene?"
"What is it Lureene?"
"What is it Lureene?"
The succubus opens her eyes to find herself face-to-face with a very surprised Sasha, hands upon the red head's shoulders pinning her up against the cool, smooth surface of the Tide Stone.
The huntress smiles as recognition finally dawns on her friend's face, and a long, pale hand brushes her cheek affectionately.
"Shhh!" She holds up a finger, "Some of the others are still sleeping. Darvie said we should let them be..."
Theme: Apostate
As he stood overlooking the lagoon, Darvesch thought back to the dreams he had that night. They were not something that came often, the souls of dwarves did not range into the realms of the astral and the ethereal as the frailer races did. What was it then that caused them to surface when he was around {she-cousin}?
He was in Khelboz, with his father and sister at the forge of Hrothgar, his grand father. Yet the powerful old blacksmith, his white beard banded with iron that had fallen from the sky, was not there. The forge was silent, the furnace cold for the first time in 50 years.
Nearby, he could hear Dara, whom their grandfather had nick-named 'Ironshanks' for her intractable temperament, fidgeting restlessly. Her hair was still as coal-black as her attitude, her fingers drumming along the cold iron head of Fiendrazer, the waraxe forged by their grandfather.
"Durnhoth," Morgaard said at last, his calloused knuckles bringing for a ringing sound as they rapped upon the surface of the anvil. "not every day a Hellhammer has an audience there. I think the old man took your uncle and I maybe once and we were half as tall as you at the time, Dara."
A sigh escaped the girl, green eyes smoldering with impatience, "Well that's great an' all, Pop, but why's we here?"
Lureene gasps in a mixture of surprise and terror before she realizes she is back on the Shiv, clinging desperately to her newfound best friend. She slowly releases her grip and sinks to the ground, a wave of exhaustion passing through her.
Another VISION? And Father was there, on the lightning-struck tower?
She glances towards Alis, but sees the Princess is fast asleep. Sighing deeply, and fighting back tears, she whispers to Sasha, "I...I had a vision...about my Father, Sash. He wanted to know why I am not able to 'Stand up and Be strong'."
Seeing a confused look on Sasha's face, she offers her friend a wan smile. "I will explain at another time, Sash. It is a long story, and 'Lis should know of this vision once she awakes."
She lays back down and tries to finish resting, so as to be able to recover her spells for the coming day. "Hold me, Sash...."
"Family, girl... family." He took a swig from a silver filigree flask with a crest on it that Darvesch recognized. It was a garland of laurel branches punctuated by tiny flowers. In the center of it, a small sword pierced an elvish coronet, flanked to either side by eagle wings. It was the ducal seal of father's friend, Duke Kirmoon.
"Family, tch–" Dara looked away, eyes lingering on the unfamiliar axe that now hung on her older brother's hip. "Ain't ya in the wrong place then? Seems ta me there ain't no elves here. Sure as hell ain't no sea..."
Morgaard gave a sardonic laugh but did not show any signs of offense, something that only seemed to infuriate Dara even further. "No fire in the forge either, now get to it, dutiful daughter of mine, surely you've enough fire in you yet. At least, that's what your commander said at your court marshall, wasn't it?"
A small smirk comes to her face. "Hard ta say what with his jaw broke like that..."
Without further word, the sulking warrior girl stalks off raising at least twice as much coal dust and making twice as much noise as should be necessary to go about prepping a furnace.
Morgaard shakes his head silently, downing a shot of the dark liquid he favored before passing the flask of Hirschblut to his son. With a wink, from green eyes rimmed with dark circles, he said, "It'll put hair on your chin, lad."
In surprise, Darvesch noticed that his face was clean-shaven, his beard gone, but why?
Before him, his father lit up an old pipe, gouts of smoke billowing up from the pinch of herbs he had ignited. For a moment the two stood in silence, save for the din that Dara was raising elsewhere amidst a cloud of sulfurous oaths.
After a moment, the old man pointed the stem of his pipe at the battle axe hanging on his son's belt. "Good thing your grandfather isn't here to see that. He doesn't get wrought up about gifts and such from the Duke, least as long as it's an even trade, but a weapon? Don't know if he'd bust an artery or bust your head first..."
"Come on," he rapped his fingers on your breastplate. "I'm no smith like your uncle, but at least I can knock the dents out of your kit."
For a time, the two of you worked, hammering out the memory of attacks you had suffered, relating the battles you each had been thru. At last, you took the polishing cloths and set to bring out the subtle luster typical of the mithril allow.
"Don't let it bother you."
You had raised his eyebrow questioningly.
"Grimnon. Durngaard has two other sons, and a daughter that actually listens to him. When your grandfather gets back, he'll pass things on to them, this is only temporary."
With a sigh, you went back to work, heart heavy in your chest, thoughts lingering on that battle amidst the fog. Yet before you could speak, you found yourself in a haze once again, Morgaard's voice the only thing audible. "Smithing was never my deal either. Yeah, the old man is good at it, damn good, but that's not me, and it's not you two either. Hammer on forge? No... I'd take a rock to an orc's skull any day. Grimnon was a brave lad, but he tried to get a handle on something outside his ken. Leave the forge to the smiths, the books to the sages, and the battles to the fighters. Best way for a dwarf to be true to himself, you remember that..."
Theme: The Muse's Dance
Priyya found herself once more standing atop a high place, assessing the world while both moons lingered overhead. There had been dark clouds obscuring the sun, obscuring her sense of direction, yet in those moments, a single dark butterfly lead her onward until she had come to stand here.
Looking down, she could see her own hair, long and dark, flowing around her, yet her figure was more ample, it was her body yet not her body.
As she came to the edge of the precipice, the butterfly came to hover before, alighting briefly upon the back of her left hand, opposite her birthmark. A thrill raced thru her naked form, passion, yearning, emotion, and all those qualities that those few members of her order were taught only caused one to stray from their path, to falter.
Yet she could could also sense feelings of joy, hope, pride, and gratitude. Were the from the butterfly?
For a moment, the butterfly lingered, the gentle breeze of her fanning her wings was inexplicably refreshing and unlikely given her tiny size. Yet it was then that Priyya realized it was not one butterfly, but a whole host of them swirling around her.
Within her mind, she could hear two simple, yet sincere words, spoken in a musical tone. "Thank you."
Above her, the clouds parted, fingers of golden sunlight scintillating off the myriad fluttering wings. The light was searing-hot, almost more than she could bear. If not for the gusting of the butterflies' wings, she felt as though she should surely be consumed.
In reverence, she prostrated herself, arms held out before her and palms upraised to hold up her sword. Her sword! Where was it?!
An emotion Priyya had not felt in years, if ever, swelled within her, trepidation at being caught unprepared.
Where is it?
From on high, the glory of the sun goddess bears down, her intensity and focus unquestionable.
"Priyya Udas, do you know why your sword has abandoned you?"
"Radiant Alíta, I confess I know not why."
The glare of the Sun seems to intensify for a moment before it lessens and Priyya feels a great fire very close to her, the butterflies hovering about yet not being consumed.
"Dear child," Alíta says, "you are grown now. Stand and raise your head. Do it!"
Without hesitation, Priyya rises to her feet, her goddess' presence and imperious bear almost more than she could bear.
"Since this age of the world began, there have been none who have asked what you asked. Not one. Not in five thousand years."
Looking up, Priyya can see her goddess holding her scimitar in a fist crackling with fire. The expression on her face is incalculable, implacable and stern, yet loving and bemused.
"The mantle of Surya-ka-Vahaak is heavy. More weighty than gold and more costly. It is a vestment that cannot be worn by those who are divided in their thoughts, their focus must be singular like the edge of a blade."
"However, once that mantle is bestowed, duty demands that it be worn. If not by you," her gaze lowers from Priyya's eyes to her midsection, "then to the daughter who now grows in your belly."
Priyya staggers, seemingly kept upright only by the tiny gusts of wind from the butterflies.
"Great goddess? Daughter, you say?"
"Yes child, daughter. Your son must choose for himself his own destiny, but you have decided hers..."
There is quiet for a time before Alíta speaks again. "Once before, you heard my words, 'Do not follow; do not lead - just go.' You have listened well, and accomplished much. Yet in your travels, in your battles, you have learned much that cannot be asked of the Surya-ka-Vahaak. Mercy, compassion... these too are of worth, great worth, yet they would dull your sword, the sword I gave to you."
"From here forward, you shall be Surya-ka-Caravaah, Shepherdess of the Sun. In your journey, you have learned how to lead and inspire thru example. You shall now lead and inspire others, and perhaps someday, so too shall your daughter, Eshanna. Build here, sanctify this place, and redeem it in the name of Heaven."
In a flash that sears her, Priyya falls back as the light recedes and the butterflies spiral way in the afterglow of the sun. Yet something catches her, holds her close, and awakens her. Looking up, she sees Mal's face staring down at hers, his dark eyes fixed upon her.
"Darkmane," the word is more an exclamation than a greeting. Looking up into his dark, green eyes, she sees her reflection. Yet before she can laugh or even speak, a reflection in his eyes makes her heart skip a beat. "Priyya, your hair is like snow!"
Theme: Stairway to Heaven
Alone again, I see...
The princess found herself soaring high above the jungles of Dafar. Below her, in the distance, was the sea, Port Eldarion and 'her' palace a dwindling spec on the horizon. In the distance loomed an ancient ziggurat showing the path to an ancient city hiding countless treasures yet also guarding a darker secret far below.
She stopped, at the midpoint in-between. Her heart longed to go forward, to explore and seek out that which was undiscovered. Yet with each mile that flew swiftly past, the situation in Dafar became more dire. Flames arose to the west, black ships arrived by sea, and those who depended upon her either died by the sword, or were taken by threat of it.
This was no seesaw resting upon her shoulders, it was a lever, herself the fulcrum, and the further she moved the more the lever strained and threatened to snap. There were no gods, no spirits or noble relatives there to look upon her with condemnation, to sit in judgment of her.
It's just me?
The urge to go on was strong. If none should judge her then why not? Even commoners could choose to take a path not intended by their parents. Was that not the quintessence of free will, the capacity to choose one's own path, the choice to be selfish or selfless, great or meek?
That was how she once thought too...
As thoughts of self aggrandizement, the temptation of personal fame and achievement subsided, the voices of others became apparent — Alexis, Lureene, Mother, Father, Morgaard and Darvesch, Laithoron...
No, the only one who is lonely is she who needs no one else. How feeble the poet whose verse is never read, how mute the musician whose voice was never heard, how destitute the sovereign with no people to care for?
The princess landed atop the battlements of a castle that was growing old before its time as dark clouds gathered, a storm threatening to break. She recollected back to when she was a small girl, teetering on the brink between fear and wonder as lightning lit up the harbor below father's castle. Yet he took Alexis' hand even as mother took hers, and raised them up to behold the wonder and majesty of it, teaching them not to fear but to revel in it.
Smiling to herself, Alis looked out upon the masses in that place and made a silent promise to do the same for them.
Closing her eyes and wiping away a tear, she could feel her mother's embrace and hear her voice. "If you listen very hard, the tune will come to you at last..."
Time: 5:00db (morning, 11:00am)
It is about an hour until noon when everyone has finally awakened. After nearly 8-hours of hard-earned rest, you feel refreshed, even if you are a bit sore from sleeping on little more than a blanket spread over the damp grass. Down below, the water level in the lagoon has returned to normal concealing both the doors to the now-ruined temple and the wreck of The Salty Strumpet.
Although it is cooler than your first day here, the sun is beating down on the eastern side of Red Mountain where you are encamped, and the liberal dousing the island received last night has made it quite humid indeed.
In spite of your great victory last night, you break your fast on Mal's catch in relative quiet, each of you lost in your own contemplation, prayer, or even arcane studies.
By the zero-hour at midday, Sasha has packed up the impromptu campsite. "Anything else we need to do here guys?"
You notice that her gaze seems to linger on Priyya for a moment and you realize that the Surya-ka-Vahaak's eyebrows are now a silvery-grey, almost white.
[ REAVER'S SHIV: Map | Position (028 - Crab Claw Lagoon) | Overland Rules ]
"Well, I'm certain we all have our work cut out for us. The better question perhaps is where are we heading? Back towards Aycenia's grove I presume, or do we have some other destination in mind?"
Lureene finishes studying her spellbook and stretches her wings out while sighing in relief. Her mind is occupied elsewhere as the vision she experienced eaarlier kept running through her mind.
What does it mean? Have I disappointed Father in some way? What MUST I do to please him?
As Priyya responds to Sasha, she makes an effort in focusing on the matter at hand. She nods to Sasha, "I really have nothing else to accomplish here and returning to Aycenia's grove would be best, I think. Perhaps we should check out the lighthouse on our way back though first. We will need to get it repaired if we are to attract a rescue ship."
She stands and gives Sasha a big hug, "Thank you for being there for me, Sash." She then turns to Ieana, and smiles wearily. "Ieana, would you like to see my companion Grak?"
"Your Grak? I presume that's your familiar? Certainly, let's have a look! As for the lighthouse, that entire village is in shambles. Fortunately, I have some spells that should help with renovations. By the by, who is this Aycenia? I don't believe we've met."
Alis slowly backs away from the two wizardesses and leans closer to Priyya, whispering, "By the gods, we've unleashed a brainy version of Sasha upon us!"
If Lureene hears Alis' whispered comment, she gives no indication. She nods to Ieana, "Well, he is not a familiar but a companion known as an Eidolon. He is quite friendly, you will see...ahhh just a moment..."
She steps to one side of the Tidestone and concentrates on her summoning ritual. A minute later, there is a flash and the familiar form of Grak appears once again.
"I agree, El. We should probably go to Aycenia's grove, stopping to check the lighthouse on the way." Darvesch inadvertently let's a yawn escape, and looks to Alis, "I'm not tired, I just need to get moving, that's all." He then looks to the battle axe Mal let him borrow, "Let's hope I don't have to use this thing. I wouldn't want to return a broken weapon to you, Mal." He chuckles and smiles.
Grak flies over to his mistress and licks her face in greeting. As he flies over to Ieana, he hovers in front of the snakelegged wizardess, tongue flicking in and out, and says in his familiar hissing voice,
Thissss isss Ieeeeannna, missstresss? You did not say she issss a sssnake creature."
Lureene shakes her finger at Grak, "Mind your manners, Grak. None of us knew at the time, OK." She gives an apologetic shake to Ieana, Sorry about that, Ieana. As for who Aycenia is, she is the resident dryad of this island. We left the other survivors of the Pearl under her care."
Alis' eyes shift with interest between Ieana and and Lureene curious to see how things will play out.
I wonder how thrilled Ieana will be to see that Lureene has a pet serpent.
"Thissss isss Ieeeeannna, missstresss? You did not say she issss a sssnake creature."
Oh that's just dandy!
"Heh," Mal grins at Darvesch's comment. "If anyone could do it, I guess it would be you, huh?"
Darvesch laughs to Mal's comment, "Hah! You bet!" He gathers his own belongings and starts leading everyone from the campsite, toward the grove, "Frænka, would you be so kind as to be my navigator?"
Ieana blanches at Grak's comment. "Snake creature?" She laughs nervously, doing a poor job of concealing her dismay, "Oh no, this is only temporary... I hope."
A serpent, really? Why of all the creatures under the sun did it have to be a bloody fork-tongued, lisping serpent?
A long, decidedly non-sibilant sigh escapes the wizardess, and she rubs her forehead with the side of her hand, to hide the agitation in her eyes. "Well, Grak is certainly something, that he is. Why save all the awkwardness for meeting everyone else who holds me responsible for sinking the White Pearl, right?"
"Oh, this is going to be quite the banner day for Professor d'Adora, yes it will..."
Alis gives Ieana a sympathetic smile. "If it's any comfort, you look much better than what the vampiresses came up with after reading our minds."
Lureene waves Ieana over to her, "Look, Ieana, I just want you to know I do not blame for your actions which caused all those deaths! I know you were possessed! As one whose Mother thrives on possession and corruption of souls, I understand perfectly what happened to you!"
Ieana seems to take little comfort in the comments of either of the blondes, but manages a meager smile none-the-less. She leans down and whispers, "It doesn't doesn't seem proper for a respected researches to be crawling on her belly and showing this much skin... or... well... scales! I feel half naked! Also, when has logic ever stopped anyone from casting spurious glances. Well, nevermind it for now, we should get going..."
"A moment, Frændi," Alis calls out, an idea coming to her. She reaches into her pack, thinking on her small jewelry chest and removes from it a hair pin that looks familiar to the rest of you. She motions Ieana to the side for privacy and whispers something quietly in her ear before handing it to her. "I'm sure a mage of your prowess can figure out the rest from there, correct?"
With a nod to Darvesch, Alis says, "Ieana just needs a moment of privacy, she'll catch up with us in a few moments, follow me!"
It is not five minutes later when you hear the sound of footsteps racing up the path behind you. Turning, you see Ieana running barefoot along the trail, a broad smile on her lightly tanned face. "This is a good bit more powerful than I had expected, I should like to thank this Lord Aernelóth when I meet. Not to seem ungrateful, but..."
She lifts up her dusty feet and asks, "You wouldn't happen to have an extra pair of shoes in your handy haversack, would you, Highness?"