03-07-2017, 09:16 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-08-2017, 09:57 PM by DM Surranó.)
Interlude in Pelor's Temple
Present: Merri.
May contain spoilers for others.
The arcane warrior started with a sudden gulp of air from a dream of blackest pitch. Or was it a dream? A horrid chill that bit through flesh into the bone. Weakness. Frustration. Disorientation. Magic escaping the mind like steam from a jar after throwing off the lid. Then a bitter escort back towards what was believed to mean safety, only to be engulfed in biting darkness. What fell on her from the shrouds of darkness? What knocked her unconscious and tore her flesh until she felt no more pain? She couldn't tell.
Just as the involuntary convulsion of her muscles brought her up into a sitting position, tough but gentle palms pushed her back. For a moment she thought she saw a chamber lit with a thousand stars; all reflecting the light of the sun that somehow entered the chamber. But then all became a shroud of dusk again. Warmth. A sensation of light caressing her skin. Full bodied incense burning next to her ears. As if she could smell with her ears. A dozen daggers pierced through her throbbing brain. The headache suppressed everything else. Someone screamed in the distance, several times. Cursed in ancient Elvish. Sang cradle songs, voice quivering in pain. The same cradle songs she heard herself from her mother. The voice was distant yet familiar. All the words, all the songs, as if they were recited from her past life. Who knew the same cradle songs? The same Elvish curses?
Strength returning. Frowns loosening. Awareness rising. Confidence in the Weave building up with every passing minute.
She was blind but all the other senses sharpened and supplemented her loss. A voice of crimson velvet called out to her; it was like the wind building up frills on the surface of running water. It was distant yet reminded her of something. Someone of a life past. An old acquaintance, probably someone dead long ago, greeting her in Elysium. Merrinna. Yes, the name rang a bell. Merrinna, she called again, as if introducing herself. Yes, a familiar name for the familiar voice. Merrinna, once again, but no, this name did not match the voice.
The shroud of dusk elevated and the bloody orange of dawn took over. The sunlight pulsed faintly, in a slow, regular cycle. Once every twenty minutes or so. There she came. Flowing golden hair, emerald eyes, regal elven clothing. A sparring tunic studded with so many clean-cut emeralds it was worth, like, an iron golem's weight in platinum. An elegant blade, slightly curved, like a scimitar, but easily beyond the size of an average longsword. She looked down on herself. Mithril shirt. Leather pants. A trustworthy greatsword. Flowing elvish runes snaking all along the blade, proudly proclaiming to be the property of Merrinna Starsong.
Merrinna. Of course.
And this other one, this blatantly rich elf approaching her in the middle of a shady glen. Irildë. Irildë Goldenhair, of House Emeraldleafe, who shall become the arcane mistress of the Council of Sea Jewel in centuries if not millenia.
"Raise your blade. Breath. Feel your magic resonating within. Soul resonating with steel. Enhanced. Fortified. Reverberated. Now reach out to me. Reach out with your soul. Feel my aura. Feel my energy. Feel my weakness. Wait for the next resonation. Let loose."
They spent the next three-hundred-and-something days in this suspended reality, light pulsating throughout the day and night, from deserts to icy tundra, from the depths of dwarven mines to the empty space among the stars. Sparring with steel and soul, Irildë gradually planted the ways of the Eldritch Knights in her soul. Until finally--
"You learned well. I trust my faith in you will be justified by your steps on the path you chose. Now return to your self."
Merrinna started with a sudden gulp of air from a dream of crimson lights. Around her, a thousand candles lit the sanctuary of Pelor's temple, reflected by the large golden disk on the ceiling, and the waves of platinum sunrays running in all directions. She spot her trusty greatsword and her weathered extradimensional haversack at the opposite wall. Next to them, a new outfit was neatly folded into a square package. Settled in the rear recesses of her brain she recalled some information she thought she'd never learned; that she was expected at the Council Chamber in four hours. She felt a slightest hint of breeze caressing her skin from tip to toe. It was just then that she looked at herself and realised that in his solitude she's been covered by a linen sheet, no more.
OOC - Merri awoke in the Temple of Pelor in the early morning hours. You are free to take over her actions from here. All the changes in your equipment (i.e. the diff between your past equipment and level 8 wealth) can be treated storywise as gifts from your new mentor.
Present: Merri.
May contain spoilers for others.
The arcane warrior started with a sudden gulp of air from a dream of blackest pitch. Or was it a dream? A horrid chill that bit through flesh into the bone. Weakness. Frustration. Disorientation. Magic escaping the mind like steam from a jar after throwing off the lid. Then a bitter escort back towards what was believed to mean safety, only to be engulfed in biting darkness. What fell on her from the shrouds of darkness? What knocked her unconscious and tore her flesh until she felt no more pain? She couldn't tell.
Just as the involuntary convulsion of her muscles brought her up into a sitting position, tough but gentle palms pushed her back. For a moment she thought she saw a chamber lit with a thousand stars; all reflecting the light of the sun that somehow entered the chamber. But then all became a shroud of dusk again. Warmth. A sensation of light caressing her skin. Full bodied incense burning next to her ears. As if she could smell with her ears. A dozen daggers pierced through her throbbing brain. The headache suppressed everything else. Someone screamed in the distance, several times. Cursed in ancient Elvish. Sang cradle songs, voice quivering in pain. The same cradle songs she heard herself from her mother. The voice was distant yet familiar. All the words, all the songs, as if they were recited from her past life. Who knew the same cradle songs? The same Elvish curses?
Strength returning. Frowns loosening. Awareness rising. Confidence in the Weave building up with every passing minute.
She was blind but all the other senses sharpened and supplemented her loss. A voice of crimson velvet called out to her; it was like the wind building up frills on the surface of running water. It was distant yet reminded her of something. Someone of a life past. An old acquaintance, probably someone dead long ago, greeting her in Elysium. Merrinna. Yes, the name rang a bell. Merrinna, she called again, as if introducing herself. Yes, a familiar name for the familiar voice. Merrinna, once again, but no, this name did not match the voice.
The shroud of dusk elevated and the bloody orange of dawn took over. The sunlight pulsed faintly, in a slow, regular cycle. Once every twenty minutes or so. There she came. Flowing golden hair, emerald eyes, regal elven clothing. A sparring tunic studded with so many clean-cut emeralds it was worth, like, an iron golem's weight in platinum. An elegant blade, slightly curved, like a scimitar, but easily beyond the size of an average longsword. She looked down on herself. Mithril shirt. Leather pants. A trustworthy greatsword. Flowing elvish runes snaking all along the blade, proudly proclaiming to be the property of Merrinna Starsong.
Merrinna. Of course.
And this other one, this blatantly rich elf approaching her in the middle of a shady glen. Irildë. Irildë Goldenhair, of House Emeraldleafe, who shall become the arcane mistress of the Council of Sea Jewel in centuries if not millenia.
"Raise your blade. Breath. Feel your magic resonating within. Soul resonating with steel. Enhanced. Fortified. Reverberated. Now reach out to me. Reach out with your soul. Feel my aura. Feel my energy. Feel my weakness. Wait for the next resonation. Let loose."
They spent the next three-hundred-and-something days in this suspended reality, light pulsating throughout the day and night, from deserts to icy tundra, from the depths of dwarven mines to the empty space among the stars. Sparring with steel and soul, Irildë gradually planted the ways of the Eldritch Knights in her soul. Until finally--
"You learned well. I trust my faith in you will be justified by your steps on the path you chose. Now return to your self."
Merrinna started with a sudden gulp of air from a dream of crimson lights. Around her, a thousand candles lit the sanctuary of Pelor's temple, reflected by the large golden disk on the ceiling, and the waves of platinum sunrays running in all directions. She spot her trusty greatsword and her weathered extradimensional haversack at the opposite wall. Next to them, a new outfit was neatly folded into a square package. Settled in the rear recesses of her brain she recalled some information she thought she'd never learned; that she was expected at the Council Chamber in four hours. She felt a slightest hint of breeze caressing her skin from tip to toe. It was just then that she looked at herself and realised that in his solitude she's been covered by a linen sheet, no more.
OOC - Merri awoke in the Temple of Pelor in the early morning hours. You are free to take over her actions from here. All the changes in your equipment (i.e. the diff between your past equipment and level 8 wealth) can be treated storywise as gifts from your new mentor.
