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Roleplay Logs!



  • DragonknightDragonknight Member Posts: 220 ✭✭✭✭ - Eminent
    edited February 26
    Uh, if I deleted something you said or did, it was probably dumb. Just kidding. :/  Sorry.
  • SarathaiSarathai Member Posts: 2,121 @@ - Legendary Achaean
    Jurixe said:
    Because @Dragonknight is the best, here is a cleaned up log of what went down at the Asterian Convention, and the surprise we all got. Thank him for his hard work, and enjoy.

    "A humble painter exclaims, "Not later, now, woman! The Gods themselves are my muse this day!""

    Not gonna lie, I laughed.
    - (Eleusis): Ellodin says, "The Fissure of Echoes is Sarathai's happy place."
    - With sharp, crackling tones, Kyrra tells you, "The ladies must love you immensely."
    - (Eleusian Ranger Techs): Savira says, "Most of the hard stuff seem to have this built in code like: If adventurer_hitting_me = "Sarathai" then send("terminate and selfdestruct")."
    - (OOC Clan): Makarios says, "Serve well and perish."

  • JurixeJurixe Where you least expect itMember Posts: 1,545 @@ - Legendary Achaean
    Ordinarily I would have responded properly, but there was a lot of behind the scenes coordination going on and I didn't have time to do a proper response!

  • EllodinEllodin HawaiiMember, Seafaring Liason Posts: 769 @ - Epic Achaean
    Related to the thread that requests logs of Babel, let's see some more of the serious things people take part in! I'll slowly post a few that have passed statute of limitations, assuming people are interested in small pieces of times gone by.
    I don’t regret the days that I discarded,
    I don’t feel sorry for the lilac of my soul.
    The purple rowan burning in the garden
    Can’t warm and comfort anyone at all.
  • EllodinEllodin HawaiiMember, Seafaring Liason Posts: 769 @ - Epic Achaean
    Alright, now that I'm home, a ritual from the Church that not too many active players experienced: consecration.
    An eerie silence overcomes the area as you begin to detect motion within the small pool.
    Starting with a small swirl, the fine mist above the pool begins to expand.
    The wind picks up suddenly, causing leaves and small debris to fly around in the air.
    Alongside a pristine lake.
    The bright sun shines down, blanketing you with its life-giving warmth. The gardens stretch out all around you, filled with bright flowers 
    and emerald grass. Low shrubberies with small, pale blossoms are surrounded by graceful, crimson tulips and sprightly daffodils, offsetting 
    each other's shades in a pleasant, cheerful way. Large stones of obsidian and marble also decorate the area, providing purchase for creeping
    moss or stealthy ivy. One block of obsidian, its upper face level with the ground, forms the basin of a small, clear pool. The low but 
    supple plant life gives way to sprawling willow trees in the south, overlooking the azure lake to be found there. To the east, the form of 
    the Chrysalis Basilica rises above this splendour, outlined against the sky with its prominent towers. A small, clear pool rests here in a 
    basin of obsidian, with a thick cloud of mist twisting above it in the breeze. A runic totem is planted solidly in the ground. Fiery 
    sandstone is wrought into the form of an eight-pointed star, each point graced with an ever-glowing symbol of the Mitras. A sunburst has 
    been seamlessly affixed to the centre of the design, radiating light as a silent reminder of the glory of the solstar. Proud and noble, an 
    enormous black bull stands here, a puff of steam escaping his nostrils with each breath he draws. There are 2 guardian angels here. 
    Spreading its majestic golden wings, a giant eagle searches the ground with piercing eyes. Lady Nakoruru Ruadhain is here. She wields a 
    mithril broadsword in each hand. Soludra Ar'thela, the Vida Sophiste is here. He wields a sharpened quarterstaff in both hands. Destar 
    Mo'ke, Champion of the Empyreal is here. He wields a hunter's spear in his left hand and a throwing axe in his right. Awoken Dawn, Amirah 
    al-Halimah Op'Shae is here. She wields a throwing axe in her left hand and a kite shield bearing the Divine Order arms of Mithraea in her 
    right. Empyreal Magi, Karlyt Mo'ke is here. He wields an elemental staff in his left hand. Justiciar Wyverex, Seeker of Valour is here. Page
    Celeris Le'Murzen-Lighthawk, Aellavellin Orchidae is here. Sir Silas Maynard is here. Phoebus Mithraea, Ardoris Sidere stands here, primeval
    fire wreathing itself languidly over Her form. She wields a Sabre of Dawn, shining red in Her left hand. Mellisa Op'Shae is here. She wields
    a kite shield in her left hand and a spiritual mace in her right. Justiciar Darroth Vallah, Storm of Artemis is here. Seraph of Spirit, 
    Bwoomp, Mitran Seeker is seated here. He wields a Druidic quarterstaff in both hands. Grand Champion, Lord Ariye Aaseth Rian, Knight of 
    Elysia is here. Miss Saaga, Rose of Light is here. She wields a sharpened quarterstaff in both hands. Lady Nyneve is here. She wields a 
    steel Theran broadsword in her left hand and a dwarven battleaxe in her right. Lady Jenn Dawyn-Shiva is here. Quoren, the Guardian of the 
    Flame, Sol Phoenix is here. Sir Avto Del-Amroth, Knight of Elysia is here. Crystalline Wings, Kerrilynn Yuridja is here. She wields a steel 
    Theran broadsword in each hand. Page Graendal is here.
    You see exits leading north and south.
    The swirling mist slowly approaches you, continuing to grow and expand.
    The mist stops several feet in front of you and begins to coalesce into the form of a young woman. The wind becomes strong for a moment, allowing some of the debris to fly through
    the misty figure.
    The woman speaks to you in a soft voice.
    Imithia, founder of the Church says, "Greetings, my child."
    The warmth of her voice strikes through to your very soul, lifting your spirits.
    Imithia, founder of the Church says, "I am Imithia, the great-great-granddaughter of Epitus."
    Her pure, innocent smile widens briefly in greeting, and she bows her head slightly in respect.
    You bow respectfully to Imithia, founder of the Church.
    Imithia, founder of the Church says, "You have come a long, long way, Ellodin. You have dedicated your entire life to the Church, and more importantly, to doing Good."
    Imithia, founder of the Church says, "Once more, brethren, is there anybody who would step forward to speak of Ellodin's commitment to the Church?"
    [people vouching for me, keeping it private]
    Imithia, founder of the Church says, "And you, Lady Sol..."
    Phoebus Mithraea, Ardoris Sidere says, "As I have said at many Consecrations, I believe that the Church of Dawn's era and yours would be incredibly proud of both the current
    Prelacy and membership of the Church. Ellodin is certainly no exception to that statement."
    Phoebus Mithraea, Ardoris Sidere says, "He serves Good and Creation loyally and faithfully. His determination seemingly never falters. I also trust that he shall enjoy what you
    have to show him, my friend."
    Imithia, founder of the Church smiles softly at Mithraea.
    Imithia, founder of the Church says, "Thank you, m'Lady."
    Imithia, founder of the Church says, "Once more, Consecrant, please step forward so that we may continue."
    You have emoted: Ellodin steps forward, visibly readying himself.
    Imithia, founder of the Church smiles softly.
    Imithia, founder of the Church says, "Indeed, you have achieved much in your life, Ellodin."
    She takes a few steps forward, reaching out to you, and taking you by the hand.
    Imithia, founder of the Church says, "Come, I have much to show you."
    Imithia leads you by the hand back towards the pool. She steps into the water, beckoning for you to follow her.
    As you step into a pool, you are enveloped by a great mist rising around you. You feel yourself begin to be pulled into the pool, and soon you have submerged entirely into the
    Beneath the surface of the pool.
    There are no obvious exits.
    Your senses return to you as the blackout ends.
    As you awaken, your senses are dulled by the coolness of the pool. Although you are completely submerged, you have no need to breathe, and your vision is fixed into the deep blue
    waters ahead of you.
    You can feel the movement of the water swirling around you. You begin to detect patches of light moving about in the water ahead of you, floating closer to you.
    The patterns of the movement of light finally combine into one area of motion, perhaps only a few feet in front of you now. As the light descends upon you, it is a shroud of
    comfort that overcomes you, seeping into your mind to free your thoughts. Your consciousness starts to drift amid the sea of light.
    You find yourself in the midst of a gathering, people whose faces and voices are blurred. Soft chants rise up around you, and you join in without thought, the words of prayer
    coming forth without effort.
    One person seems the focal point, a radiant woman, and a hush falls as she begins to speak. Her words drift toward you in bits and pieces, communicating the glory of Creation, the
    wonder of the gods. A feeling of tranquillity follows a mention of Pasiphae, as the woman speaks of the beauty of her soul.
    The deep blue of the waters return to your vision, bringing you back from that content reverie, a wall of light dancing in front of you. The incandescence dies down to something
    dark and grey.
    As it clears, a village is spread down below you somehow, normal and quaint with thatched huts and sprawling fields. People socialise and walk about, going about their lives, but
    you sense a nervousness to their demeanours.
    Your eyes are drawn to one house among the rest, normal-looking yet infused with a sense of wrongness. Your vision pierces through the exterior, allowing you a glimpse at a dark,
    shadowy chamber.
    Suddenly, a scream reverberates through your ears.
    You see, within that dark room, a cluster of black-robed people surrounding a table. Upon it is a humanoid, or the remains of one, its body twisted and rearranged into something
    grotesque, complete with helpless, terror-filled eyes.
    One of the observers picks up an instrument, something sharp that gleams, and raises an eyebrow at a colleague as if asking to continue. You recoil in shock and disgust, and the
    vision goes suddenly black, as if in response.
    The blackness is not complete, however; white pinpricks suddenly decorate it, and as you focus on the lights, a picture forms before you. Each one, a knight upon his mount,
    sunlight reflecting off their shining armour as they move.
    They find their way to that forsaken house, and the scene switches again, the robed men and women subdued beneath the templars, their victim being soothed. The sound of their
    marching fades away, and the cool blue water overtakes you once again.
    As the azure lighting fills your vision again, it seems to linger this time, giving way to a image that seems still stamped with the mark of the water. A woman stands at the
    centre, shining with her own spiritual light, and there is a sudden silence that washes through you.
    The lady raises her arms above her head, and a word of power sweeps by as a star suddenly bursts into existence. You try to cover your eyes instinctively, but the movement will not
    come, and you are fixated on that radiant light that grows above her.
    As it expands, it consumes her, a pure sphere of white, roiling with touches of gold. A hot wind follows a shudder and another blinding flash, and a cry comes to you, an
    indescribable sound that is both animal and human, a keen of pain and of rebirth, of both resolution and desire.
    A majestic creature made entirely of flame appears as the light dies down, flexing its large wings, its head tilted back, still in the throes of that cry. The woman slowly crumples
    to the ground as you watch, and you hear a song of loss added to the phoenix's call.
    It takes flight.
    It slowly rises in the air, its flame-feathers brushing against the woman, her body vanishing with the contact. It extends itself to its full wingspan finally, so large it blots
    out the very sky, and, then.. you know only flame.
    The fire flares up in your mind's eye, roaring in crimson and vermillion rage. It dies down a moment later, consuming too fast to keep its power, and a picture takes its place,
    that of a city.
    In the corner of the city sits an impressive structure, a building of white and gold that seems replete with light and piety, and though there is an aura of anxiety, things seem
    quiet. People are seen in a courtyard, some knights and small children running their errands.
    Suddenly, you hear a click, as if a key was turned in a lock.
    The sky darkens for a mere moment, the only warning before an arrow of flame appears. It races downward, headed toward the beautiful building in an inevitable collision.
    And then.. it strikes.
    It pierces through the stone and wood of the bell tower, and there is just the sound of the displaced wind before fire clouds all of the windows.
    The building explodes, no time for screams of its residents, and there is only a rush of smoke and heat and light. A black cloud rises, flames flare and die, the river nearby
    hisses with steam. As the dark smoke is cleared in rapid action, you see no remains of the building... merely a large crater in its place.
    The ground is charred, baked beyond recognition, and fragments of once-beautiful windows have been melted, giving the earth an eerie, reflective sheen. Nothing remains except an
    acrid scent, and it is still so hot that the image wavers in the heat.
    The blurring continues until it is gone, and you drift for a moment, glad to be free of the firelight, though inevitably dismayed over the destruction just witnessed.
    Another image comes to you, a quiet chamber of white marble and polished stone. An armoured knight silently walks in, stopping before an array of pillars, and unsheathes a sword at
    his side. It gleams in his hand, yet he lays it at the base of the altar as he kneels.
    Making a benediction, he rises and steps back, and a cool, soft wind moves by. A sense of sadness descends upon the room, and his expression is carefully blank as he leaves it
    The scene suddenly shifts, no transition of water, fire, or grey mist now, and a similar room appears to you, again white and gleaming. It is a woman who lies upon the floor, her
    eyes closed, surrounded by other people in simple robes.
    As someone kneels beside her, she draws in a breath, opening her eyes, and even from your distance, you seem to see her lips form the words, "I have seen it.".
    Again, it disappears in a rush, blotted out, until a bright flash replaces it seconds later, a silent explosion as a star seems to meet with a pit of endless black. It is consumed,
    yet the darkness cannot prevail, for the light again emerges forth in a bright, blinding blast.
    A sea of sorrow threatens to drown you as a great loss is passed on by that bright light, but as it fades, it becomes like a star, the sun, comforting in its warmth.
    Joy and grace slowly overcome you amid the melancholy, and you are left drifting among the various emotions, floating on the ocean of your own mind.
    Small waves, your own thoughts, wash over you, the reactions of what you have seen. The light in the waters ahead of you begin to grow brighter until you are bathing in its warmth.
    As your thoughts begins to subside, the light continues to grow brighter. You feel the movement of your own body rising through the water, feeling returning to your limbs once
    again. Just before you surface, you feel the need to breathe grow inside of your lungs.
    You surface suddenly from the pool, taking in a gasp of air with your first breath as you land harshly on the obsidian that contains the pool.
    Alongside a pristine lake.
    A familiar voice calls down from above, "Welcome, Ellodin, to the ranks of the Consecrated."
    Like the breaking of the dawn, a smile aimed at you graces Lady Sol's lips.
    Phoebus Mithraea, Ardoris Sidere says, "Congratulations."
    Phoebus Mithraea, Ardoris Sidere has bestowed Her divine truefavour upon you. It will last for approximately 2 Achaean months.
    You have emoted: Ellodin takes a deep breath.
    You say in a quiet but clear voice, "Thank you all."
    You say in a quiet but clear voice, "Thank you."
    Phoebus Mithraea, Ardoris Sidere says, "Go well, all."
    The Lady Sol departs, a cursory, yet poignant, sensation of winter lingering in Her wake.
    I don’t regret the days that I discarded,
    I don’t feel sorry for the lilac of my soul.
    The purple rowan burning in the garden
    Can’t warm and comfort anyone at all.
  • HalosHalos Member Posts: 1,390 @@ - Legendary Achaean
    rite of prayer and old bonfire ritual thing from like a million years ago
    Cloaked in sorrow, the vermillion moon begins to fade, giving way to the approaching dawn.

    Approbating the beauty of the golden horizon, a crystalline vambrace suddenly flares to life on your forearm, transient whorls of aureate luminescence erupting from its glassy surface.

    [offerings and chatter]

    Bells chime out, greeting the dawn.

    Cooper Ravenwind says, "We missed dawn."

    You say, "Dawn arrives."
    You say, "All kneel."
    You say, "Save devotionists."

    Alexius drops to one knee.
    Shunsui drops to one knee.
    Cooper drops to one knee.
    Adet drops to one knee.
    Veldrin drops to one knee.
    Hideyoshi drops to one knee.
    Arubus drops to one knee.
    Kaiu drops to one knee.
    Krognak drops to one knee.
    Lyr lowers his head respectfully.
    Beatrice lowers her head respectfully.

    Your congregation assembled, you stand ready to begin the rites of prayer.

    You recite the ancient verses, allowing the power of your words to flow through the audience.

    You chant a mantra of purity, peace radiating from you to embrace your beloved children.

    You bid the congregation rise, the rites of prayer complete.
    You gasp with the realisation that Arubus has reached the level of Lionised.

    You smile softly.
    You say, "I will say a few words."

    Traelor nods, listening carefully.
    Beatrice tilts her head and listens intently.

    You have emoted: Halos taps the cobbles of the street with the heel of his boot.

    You say, "On Shallam."
    You have emoted: Halos nods towards the sea, a sad smile on his face.

    You say thoughtfully, "There is an extraordinary exchange between a place and the souls which live within it."

    You say, "The presence of life changes the place, and that place shapes our lives. Life and place assume a character like none other, indelibly. Each is inextricably tied to the other, quietly sustaining the collective memory of a people like the tributaries of a slow-moving river."

    You say, "Memories accrue quickly in this current, and it is difficult to forget."

    You have emoted: His voice gentle and paternal, Halos interlocks his fingers before himself in a gesture of concordance.

    You say, "Last month Cyrene held a memorial service for the fallen."

    You say, "It comes to me that we have done little to remember ourselves."

    Rain cascades down from the skies, drenching you and your environment.
    A Jaruvian retriever puppy enters from the east, emitting two sharp barks as he runs.

    You say, "I would like to give us the opportunity now to speak on a memory."

    Zuko arrives from the northwest.
    Zuko clasps his hands before himself and performs a simple, respectful bow.
    A Jaruvian retriever runs to the north, tail wagging furiously behind him.

    You say, "Raise your hand or step forward if you wish to speak."

    You nod at Zuko.
    You say, "Welcome."

    Beatrice raises an eyebrow questioningly.
    Beatrice coughs softly.
    Wisdomseeker Zuko Shu'in-Crescent says, "Thank you."

    You nod at Beatrice.

    Rain cascades down from the skies, drenching you and your environment.

    Priestess of Light, Lady Beatrice Shu'in-Crescent says, "My fondest memory is sitting by the lake in the Basilica and watching the wind blow ripples across the water. I could study while smelling the flowers and listen to the Priests as they taught others. Later in life my husband and I used to sit there as well and talk about the future. That, I will always remember."
    Beatrice steps back beside Veldrin.
    Veldrin gently takes Beatrice's hand in his own.

    Canasius raises his hand.

    You nod at Canasius.

    Protector Canasius Wyntersol, Protege of Lady Ferrous says with a thick Rajamalan accent, "I maybe young but we I have seen many defenses of the city of Shallam and seen us do many things to help our allies and friends, I would not say we have done little to remember ourselves instead we have all show humility and not announce to the realm all our accomplishments and kept them to ourselves to show we are strong and have no need to brag or make ourselves look bigger then we are."
    Canasius takes a step back and continues to listen.

    You nod at Canasius.

    The earth shakes with an all-consuming crash of thunder, dwarfing mundane sounds for a brief moment in its tide of supernatural fury.

    You say, "You are all very quiet."

    You say, "Remnant of Shallam, close your eyes and listen then, to the memories shared between us."

    You have emoted: Halos closes his eyes, beckoning you to do the same.

    Wincing, Aktillum covers his eyes with his hands.
    Traelor closes his eyes briefly.
    Shunsui closes his eyes, and bows his head.
    Ania closes her eyes.
    Zuko closes his eyes, remembering the vast memories of Shallam.

    You say, "Do you remember the high walls of sandstone and the white marble facade? The scent of baking on Viziers Street. The cries of the fishmonger in the marketplace?"

    You say slowly, "Remember the glimmering of the golden domes at daybreak, the wavering smoke of burnt offerings before the Chrysalis Basilica. Envision paradise birds soaring amongst its ivory pinnacles. The shifting of the glow at evensong's gloaming."

    A wave of heat roils off of a funeral pyre, warming your face.

    You have emoted: Halos smiles, the timbre of his voice rising as he speaks.

    You say, "Now, the view from the steps of the embowed archway on Hillwalk way. Here, the calling of guards from the parapets. There, the heady scents of palatial pleasure gardens giving way to the sleek lines of a crystalline spire. It is still very clear in our memories."

    Krognak smiles softly.

    You say, "Now open your eyes."

    Within the fire, vague images solidify: Glittering with enchanted light, the domes of Shallam illuminate the Jewel in a pleasing aura of soft light.

    Aktillum removes his hands from over his eyes.
    Shunsui slowly opens his eyes, and raises his head.
    Zuko opens his eyes slowly.
    Alexius smiles softly.

    You have emoted: Opening his eyes, Halos releases his clasped hands, allowing them to fall to his side. Gathering his robes, he strides a few paces northwards, looking upwards  the unearthly glow above the forested hills before he continues.

    You say softly, "The waters yield little. But fire has shown us much in these past few months."

    The fire shifts, and the images fade back into obscurity.

    Poised at the very peak of the firmament, the fiery sun casts its radiant gaze across the land.
    Dark, oppressive clouds swirl in the skies above, occluding the lights of the firmament and casting gloom across the earth.

    You say, "The skies over the Pillars of Heaven bleed. Think again back to what Shallam was."

    You say softly, "Now remember those domes blackening and burning."

    The fire within a funeral pyre snaps and crackles, hungry to consume.

    Shunsui creases his brow in a frown.

    You frown and say, "The ground heaving. Flagstones shatter underfoot. Towers collapsing."
    You have emoted: Halos falters, lapsing into silence momentarily.

    You say, "The guard raises a ululation against the ancient foe. A great shroud of undeath descends. Fire blazes from the parapets. The torrential deluge sweeping through alleys and archways. The last days of Shallam."

    You have emoted: His expression becoming serious, Halos turns eastward and raises a hand, curling it into a tight fist before himself.

    You say, "I will tell you what I remember."
    You say with an eastern accent, "Life."
    You say in a cold voice, "And death."
    You say with an eastern accent, "We fled a besieged Jewel, and the city fell into the sea. Shallam is lost. Recall the flame and ruin. Never. Forget. It."

    You have emoted: Halos bites off each word, his expression changing as he realizes again the import of them.

    A shadow falls over Krognak's countenance as he furrows his brow.

    You say with an eastern accent, "At the memorial last month I heard many prayers. May hopes that Shallam will rise again and take up the banner and old customs."

    You have emoted: Halos nods towards the waves lapping at the harbour.
    A wave of heat roils off of a funeral pyre, warming your face.

    You say with an eastern accent, "Jealous waves cling to our lost home just as you cling to your empty belief that Shallam will rise again."
    You say stridently with an eastern accent, "I tell you now. It will not. Not in its stones, not in its bricks, and not from its people. The Destroyer did His work well."

    Veldrin raises an eyebrow questioningly.

    You frown at Veldrin.

    You say quietly with an eastern accent, "No longer can you simply be Crystalline mage or Sentaari monk."
    You have emoted: Halos jabs an accusing finger at the gathering, his dark eyes flashing in anger.
    You say with an eastern accent, "Our stalwart Templars no longer patrol quiescent streets. Serpents no longer watch vigilantly from the shining walls."

    Rain cascades down from the skies, drenching you and your environment.

    You say with an eastern accent, "The high places have been cast down and the altar for Empyrean worship is no more! Shallam was in the thousand year old cobbles and the gleaming Citadel just as it is within you and me and Pericles and Earda, and all who perished on that black day."

    You say with an eastern accent, "The Jewel, and the lives therein, lie broken."

    Rain cascades down from the skies, drenching you and your environment.

    You say with an eastern accent, "The time of wandering has begun."

    You have emoted: Halos stops momentarily before turning towards the multitude again, a look of hope arriving on his olivine countenance.
    You say with an eastern accent, "We were Shallamese. We will become something stronger."

    An eerie, aubergine fire limns the stormy sky as tendrils of unnatural lightning dance from cloud to cloud.

    You say with an eastern accent, "We must adapt if we are to survive. To fight against the evil which destroyed our home, and that which yet threatens Creation."

    You say with an eastern accent, "The Lord Deucalion, the Righteous Fire Rekindled, looks ahead, not behind Him. He counsels us to do the same."

    You say with an eastern accent, "Our heritage is a precious thing. We will never forget."
    You angrily say with an eastern accent, "But we cannot go on as if nothing has changed."
    You say with an eastern accent, "I leave you now with this thought, and I hope you all ask yourselvese: "What of our broken past am I willing to sacrifice in His fires as we step into a new future?""

    You say with an eastern accent, "Think carefully on it."
    You have emoted: Halos coughs violently, lowering his gaze before stepping back and looking towards the flames once more.

  • HalosHalos Member Posts: 1,390 @@ - Legendary Achaean
    You tell Father Garron, "Your words have struck a chord with me, Father Garron."

    A priest smiles warmly at you as he enters from the west.

    Father Garron nods quietly, taking up a spot towards the back of the crowd.

    Brother Krognak "Mischief" Obuun says in a deep, soft voice, "I am willing to sacrifice nothing of our past. Without our history, we are nothing. I do not cling to the past in the hopes that it will return, but I hold its memories for the lessons taught, a reminder of a beautiful time, and as a somber reminder of why it is that we persevere through these difficult times."

    Priestess of Light, Lady Beatrice Shu'in-Crescent says, "If I may speak, my past made me what I am. I'm a refugee now, I have lost my home, my House lies somewhere broken beneath that water, but its ideals, its tenets, are what gave me the strength to stay true to my beliefs. I will not forget. The days of calling on the Templars to slay the thieves that plagued our youngsters, the days of running to find the orphans, they may be gone, but they shaped us. Yes we will move on, we will continue to grow, change, adapt, but we will not forget who, and what, we are, and where we came from. What will I sacrifice? I have already sacrificed much. I watched the Church fall, and still I moved on. The city fell, and still I move on. I will not forget. Our turn will come, it will come."

    You nod at Beatrice.
    You say with an eastern accent, "Do not forget."

    Traelor nods his head in agreement.

    You say with an eastern accent, "The past is what makes us who we are. Our decisions, our oaths, our beliefs, and our customs."
    You say with an eastern accent, "But do not fail to move beyond it."

    Hideyoshi carefully lowers the hood on a hooded white cloak decorated with lotus blossoms.

    Rain cascades down from the skies, drenching you and your environment.

    You say with an eastern accent, "I will make the first sacrifice then."

    You have emoted: Halos strides towards the pyre, the flames licking his form as he approaches its fiery glow.

    You remove the mantle of the Caliph.

    You say with an eastern accent, "The Te'Serra have departed, and a new world awaits us."

    You put the mantle of the Caliph into a funeral pyre.
    A column of white-hot fire explodes upward into the sky as the power bound to the Mantle of the Caliph is set free.
    A column of white-hot fire explodes upward from Jaru, momentarily illuminating the skies with a brilliant glow.

    Whispering quiet words of prayer, Father Garron gently swings a gleaming brass thurible by its chain.
    Sweet, incense-laden smoke billows out, lingering on the air.

    You have tmoted: Halos turns towards the multitude once more, determination on his face.
    You have tmoted: Halos places his hand over his heart.
    Melodie arrives from the northwest.

    You say with an eastern accent, "My dedication to the Light is here."
    You say with an eastern accent, "Not under those waves."

    The wind pushes hot ashes from the pyre, the remnants of the mantle. The soot lightly touches your face.

    You say with an eastern accent, "The Light shall never fail, so long as there are those to support its principles."

    Lyr smiles softly at you.

    Beatrice walks slowly forward towards the pyre, trembling slightly as she faces the heat. Turning to listen to Father Halos, she remains silent as she removes her Mitran circlet, nodding her head wordlessly as she falls on one knee.

    Beloved Traelor Inamora-Crescent, Seraph of the Assembly says in a tired, wheezing voice, "Mother..."
    A shadow falls over Traelor's countenance as he furrows his brow.

    Beatrice drops to one knee.
    Opening his mouth wide, Veldrin gapes in wonder at Beatrice.

    Lyr looks at Beatrice, frowning, as a tear falls from his left eye.
    Zuko creases his brow in a frown.

    Aktillum removes a ring of Divine Justice.

    The pyre rages high, eager to consume.

    Priestess of Light, Lady Beatrice Shu'in-Crescent whispers, "She may have perished, but I will sacrifice this, because the Light is within me, and it was She who taught me to grow."

    Beatrice puts a luminous circlet of inlaid mithril into a funeral pyre.
    Fire swirls upward as the pyre consumes the circlet.

    Beatrice steps back to take her place beside her husband.
    Father Lyr Darion, Empyreal Archpriest says to Beatrice, "You are an inspirational woman. I am proud to stand alongside you."

    You have tmoted: Halos watches the flames of the pyre, his expression reverent.

    Asmodron descends from above.

    As Asmodron carefully lights a red candle, its horsehair wick immediately catches fire, casting a soft glow upon the sephirotic markings on the pillar's side.

    Night's Embrace, Sage Asmodron Dicondron, of Dark Woods says with an Arcadian accent, "If I may."

    The flames of the pyre diminish, drawing back to their normal light.

    Asmodron's eyes gleam with generosity.
    Asmodron drops a red candle.

    Night's Embrace, Sage Asmodron Dicondron, of Dark Woods says with an Arcadian accent, "Oh spirits of the departed."
    Asmodron jerks violently south.

    Cooper tells you, "Continue."

    Asmodron enters from the south, a wyvern reflected in his eyes.
    Asmodron coughs softly.
    Night's Embrace, Sage Asmodron Dicondron, of Dark Woods says with an Arcadian accent, "Take that as a no then."

    Asmodron picks up a red candle.
    Asmodron inclines his head politely.
    Asmodron begins to flap his wings powerfully, and rises quickly up into the firmament.

    Silas arrives from the northwest.

    You say with an eastern accent, "I have no other words to impart this day, wanderers, save to say that the servants of Good have always understood that there is great power in sacrifice, self-sacrifice most of all."

    You say with an eastern accent, "The sermon is finished, all. Thank you all for coming."

    Krognak clasps his hands before himself, faces you, and performs a simple, respectful bow.

    You bow your head in solemn respect towards all those in the room.
    Kaiu places her right fist in the palm of her left hand, representing Wisdom before force, and bows to you.

    Zuko tells you, "Thank you, Caliph."

    Jarrod Lucoster, Instrument of Decay says in a smooth, low voice, "Remember well, the rich history of Shallam. Of time spent feebly fighting against the strength of Ashtan. Remember well your place, refugees."

    Cooper adopts a strange position and a look of pure menace flashes in his eyes.

    Beatrice growls menacingly.

    Beloved Traelor Inamora-Crescent, Seraph of the Assembly says in a tired, wheezing voice, "He's gone."

    Your eyes sparkle with amusement.

    Cooper Ravenwind says, "It always entertains me when someone who cannot fight their way out of a paper bag brags of strength."

    Father Garron says, "Big mouthed and small minded."

    Traelor nods his head at Father Garron, showing his acceptance.
    Beatrice smiles softly at Father Garron.

    Captain Delphinus Windancer, the Gatecrasher says, "When the barbs melt so easily into the darkness, I doubt if they've the strength to pierce."

    Father Garron says, "He is from the city that holds the Mad God in veneration. His mind is poisoned."
    Father Garron shrugs.
    Bowing and humbly excusing himself, Father Garron leaves to the west.

    You beg your guardian angel to grant escape and a safe refuge.
    Your guardian takes you by the hand, and the world begins to fade slowly to black.

    Silas looks about himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

    Silas puts a string of crystalline prayer beads into a funeral pyre.
    The flames within a funeral pyre rapidly consume a string of crystalline prayer beads.

    You say with an eastern accent, "Fare well, all."
    You have emoted: Halos gathers his robes and prepares to depart.

    Your mind fills with light as reality fades back into view.

  • DaeirDaeir AustraliaMember, Secret Squirrel Posts: 5,750 @@ - Legendary Achaean

    Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "Kneel before Me, Deacon."

    You drop to one knee before Aurora.

    Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "The role of Deacon of Celestia is one born from the culmination of the Divine will of the Righteous Fire and 

    I. One that comes with the burden of guiding the servants of Devotion. This is not a role that We choose to fill easily."

    Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "At its heights, your presence, the role of Deacon, is a boon to the priests and paladins of Good, that they 

    too might experience the devout bliss of their Faith."

    Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "At the lowest ebb, the harsh reality of punishing those who fall from Our grace weighs heavily on your 

    shoulders, yours the burden to bear."

    Aureate light spills from the hands of the Lightbringer, Her fingers cool, pressed against your forehead as soft blessings fall from Her 


    Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "By Fire and Light shall your burden be shared, nurtured by Our eternal belief. A token of Our faith placed 

    in you, We gift to you a symbol of Our approval."

    Turning to a nearby pedestal, the Lightbringer lifts a small rod, holding it aloft for all to see.

    With a loud crack, motes of ivory and gold pour into the chamber, gathering around the Lightbringer and twining sinuously about Her form.

    At a sharp gesture from the Goddess of Light, the particles surround the rod, raising it high into the air to be captured within the 

    dazzling stream of Light.

    Raising the Scimitar of the Dawn, Aurora severs the flow of Light, leaving the rod gleaming with a golden hue.

    Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "Blessed by Light, to guide your steps."

    Preceded by a deafening explosion, righteous flames erupt around the base of the rod, the intense heat quickly engulfing the metal in a 

    white-hot inferno.

    The Lightbringer steps forward again, the Scimitar of Righteousness slashing through the fiery torrent.

    Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "Blessed by Fire, to keep you ever on the path of the Righteous."

    As one, the two streams of energy delve into the heart of the metal rod, coalescing into a blinding aura of Light and Fire. In one joyous 

    explosion, the particles dissipate into the surrounds, revealing a magnificent staff, thrumming within a golden nimbus.

    Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "Crafted from the Divine will of Deucalion and I, We gift to you the Staff of Celestia. Bear your burden well,

     Deacon. Guard Our gift well, for it knows only your personal touch."

    Daeir nods reverently, head deeply lowered.

    Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "Take your token, Deacon."

    Aurora flashes you a joyous smile.

    Daeir grasps the Staff of Celestia gently with a gauntleted fist, raising it into the air before him.

    A pure, unblemished construct of devotional power, this magnificent staff glows with an ethereal incandescence. Twin torrents of cascading 

    energies intertwine endlessly within the spire's clear quartz core, one glittering with a weave of gold and ivory motes, the other surging 

    with an intense white-hot flame. A gleaming golden crystal crowns its top, encircled by a resplendent phoenix worked in polished ivory. The 

    creature's burnished plumes of brass shimmer with a nacarat hue. The staff terminates in an ornately inscribed platinum ferrule, which bears 

    a repeating pattern of polished eudialyte and red tourmaline cabochon stones embedded along its breadth in distinctly fluvial filigree. A 

    numinous aura thrums about the staff, yielding an expression of authority that is unmistakably of Divine origin.

    With a sibilant 'shhhiiiinnngggt!', you smoothly sheathe an ornate steel rapier.

    With a sibilant 'shhhiiiinnngggt!', you smoothly sheathe an ornate steel rapier.

    A low, hollow echo resounds in the air as an ornate steel rapier slides into place within a mottled taenite and platinum scabbard, the 

    etching upon its banding pulsing with a dull cobalt-hued glow.

    Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "It is fitting, I feel, that he who has worked longest and hardest within the role of Deacon, should receive 

    Our first gift."

    Aurora, the Lightbringer says, "We are hopeful that the Staff responds solely to your touch, though One can never be certain until the myth 

    is tested."

    A wry smile flits across Aurora's lips.

    You say quietly, "A honor beyond description, Lady."

    You begin to wield the Staff of Celestia in your left hand.

    touch staff

    An iridescent spark of fire and light wreathes around your hand and travels up your arm, the warmth both soothing and familiar. A sense of 

    supreme Enlightenment floods your being, the support and trust of the Gods of Light and Fire a palpable presence around you.

    And so, the Staff of Celestia was born. One of dozens of moments from my time as Deacon where I absolutely adored the game and everything about it. I miss the position so much.
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