Within The Tapestry of Fate
Within the Tapestry of Fate
Stepping through the spider-web, you find yourself standing beneath countless
stars... no, not stars, but strands of light, their incandescent glow pushing
back the darkness that would otherwise overcome you.
You stand on a circular cathedra of dusky marble striated with silvery
gray. Four titanic, equidistantly spaced archways of albescent jade yearn
upward towards the lights above you. Sable fires seethe within three of
them, a spider-web filling the fourth. In the center of the rostrum stands an
intricately carved wooden loom. It is cool here, like the first misty chill of
twilight, and you shiver slightly, hair prickling on the back of your neck as
you realize: Perhaps this is no place for a mortal to be.
(Purple Aura) The Loom of the Weaver is here, coruscating with an unearthly radiance.
A massive weaving machine made of lignum vitae, this intricately carved Loom
has countless threads upon its warp and woof. A silver shuttle rests
mid-cast, as if left there by a Weaver who has only paused a moment in Her
labors. A small vellum scroll lies atop the Loom.
Look 2.loom carvings carving runes
Gazing more closely at the loom before you, the delicate traceries of what you first thought to be knotwork reveal themselves to be tiny runes of High Thoras forming a private message to an absent mentor. It reads: "My Lord - The lessons taught and example given were beyond measure, to be held dear past the stars' fading. Again I lay my humble thanks and heartfelt respect at your feet. I shall ever be honored to have been Ebon. - C."
Look vellum scroll
Welcome. If I am not here personally to greet you, please accept my apologies - duty calls me elsewhere at this time. If you are here seeking knowledge of my Order, please look around this chamber carefully. There is history and information everywhere you might gaze. [ Try reading through HELP KEYWORDLIST if you're lost] I also recommend you read the Help Ebon Vocab files. If you still have questions, then ask either one of my following, or ask me directly. But know that part of life is growth and education, and that should be your first step - learning on your own.
Etched with a labyrinthine pattern of interlaced spider webs, this shuttle is more than just a simple object, but also the symbol of the endless possibilities of life.
An immense spider-web tended by hundreds of scurrying arachnids completely fills the milky jade propylaeum that lies to the north. As you admire the elegant columns of the archway, you notice inscriptions carved deeply into the stone.
Look web spider-web
Is it a spider's web that fills the doorway, or perhaps a miniscule fraction of a much greater Pattern that you cannot comprehend...? You look again and note that the entire weaving is being carefully tended by hundreds of scurrying arachnids of all kinds, working together without conflict of any sort, each accomplishing its own tasks.
Look spider arachnid spiders arachnids
Dozens of the creatures scurry about their task, aiding one another in each endeavor. Perhaps if more mortals were like these simple creatures... One particularly large specimen pauses in its labors, and returns your gaze. *I am Guardian, Keeper of the Geasa. Look at me to learn more of this tradition of the Chosen of Fate.*
The Guardian spider drops down from the web on a bit of silk and perches on your hand. Its eight eyes glowing, it speaks in your mind. *Geasa are an ancient tradition by which voluntary bonds are placed upon the individual. They are best chosen by you, for you; they act as tests of your strength of will and self control. A Geas is an action that is either prohibited or required.
An example of a Geas of Prohibition would be: I swear to NEVER eat food from a shopkeeper.
An example of a Geas of Requirement would be: I swear to ALWAYS give aid to anyone who asks it of me, no matter the task, or the petitioner.
Each of the Chosen of Fate are required to set three Geasa upon themselves.* Its voice turns wry. *I recommend you choose your own.... for the Lady's choices are always harsh.* With that, it scurries back up its silk and disappears amidst its fellows.
A tenacious breeze fans the blaze that burns in the portal to the east. Like the catalysts of adversity and trial, it is the test of the forge that burns away impurities to free the essence within. For a moment, the dark
flames smooth, taking the shape of a seemingly endless Ebon Road. A soft voice speaks in your mind: *Life. Perseverance. The Weaver's Path.*
The searing balefires that howl in the gate to the south reach out hungrily towards you, seeking to devour your essence. These are the flames of the pyre, the fiery end for all that is living. A sibilant whisper in your mind: *Death. Chaos. The Wyld's Way.*
The jade arch to the west holds a small hearthfire, its glow soft, warm and welcoming, like the morning sun's warmth that fights off the chill of night. These are the fires of creation and renewal, beginnings and rebirth. A murmur in your mind: *Birth. Learning. The Wyrm's Dominion.*
The ebon oblivion of the Void roils above you, surrounding yet somehow surrounded by the Pattern Web. After studying them for a time, you realize that they are a symbiotic antinomy. Together they are the perfect expression of balance; light and dark, life and death.
Look Void Oblivion
Unable to find a reference point, your eyes are drawn hypnotically into Oblivion; they lose themselves in the endless, dark, pitiless calm of the Void, extending blackly into forever. Only with an effort are you able to pull them away.
Sigla of orichalcum, platinum and jet ripple across the cathedra floor beneath your feet, slowly revolving around a central inlaid design of a dark claw mirroring a blue teardrop. The sigla twist and writhe under your casual regard, but stabilize as you study them more closely, forming words in High Thoras.
Look sigla words thoras platinum jet orichalcum
To Whom It May Concern: There are three virtues that I require in those who would seek to enter my Chosen. These are:
Honesty: Being true in one's words, actions and thoughts.
Courage: The ability to face one's fear, not merely the absence of fear.
Honor : The upholding of personal conviction and that which you know to be decent, just and true.
(To continue, type Look 2.requirements)
There are also four proofs of sincerity I require. These are:
I. Be of 10th level, minimum.
II. Send me a written character history (Cordir@hotmail.com)
III. Gain the personal recommendation of a current member of the Chosen. They must acknowledge this to Me in note form, and/or be present at your joining the following.
IV. Completion of the following Quest:
- > Selection of three Geasa (The Web Guardian can teach you of this)
- > A year and a day of TFC time (rl two hours) of helping newbies
- > Know eight of the racial cities of your home continent, and bring me a token from each.
(To continue, type Look requirements3)
When all of the above is complete, journey to the Citadel on the Northern Continent, and cross the barrier of the Sigil Draktha into N'Kai. Be prepared for danger. One cannot truly live Life to its fullest without sure knowledge that Death may come. I will accept your fealty on the other side of Draktha and bring you home to our sanctuary. (Obviously this last requirement will need to be arranged in advance.)
Look inlaid inlay design
A teardrop and claw interlink in a circular diagram of balance. In the orb of the teardrop lies an Ebon Sigil and the base of the claw contains a Sapphire Glyph; for opposites reside within all.
Look sapphire glyph argedo teardrop orb
The Sapphire Glyph Argedo is the mirror to Odegra, path to its gateway.
Look ebon sigil odegra claw base
The Ebon Sigil Odegra traces the beginning and end of all journeys.
Look pattern nexus vortex
Light. Movement. Conjuncture. Lives. Places. Events. Objects. All that affects or touches anything else. Each Thread within it unique, beautiful, needed for the whole. The endless Weaving of possibility. Each path dividing endlessly, the map of infinite choices yet unchosen.
Look cathedra rostrum temple
Gazing about overwhelmed, your attention is snared by a single shining filament of light. It utterly consumes your attention until some internal thrum of recognition identifies it - the thread of your life on the Loom of the Weaver. That comprehension allows you some modicum of release from its siren call, and you realize that you are but one strand of the Great Pattern that stretches majestically above you.
Lives. Souls. Entities. Beings. Call it what you will. But in the Great Pattern, this is their represenation. The individual strands call to you... The Tapestry of Fate overwhelming in its profound intricacy and beauty.
Look strands tapestry weaving
Each thread of the Pattern is unique, each indicative of an event or individual, perhaps a time or place. You spy over a dozen that have been marked with a subtly lucent rune: those of black-fire, bone, storm-gray, storm-blue, charcoal, gold, silver, argentine, cobalt, opaline, midnight, onyx, crimson, emerald, sarcastic-gray, avatar-blue, pale-rose, fiery-red, and pale-gray.
Look archway archways jade propylaeum arch arches gate portal
Four vast archways stand equidistantly about the cathedra, haloed in the celestial mists of the Nexus Vortex far above. Three hold conflagrations of ebon flame; the fourth is filled with spider-webs and carved with the codes and dictates of the Order housed here.
Look flame flames fire fires conflagration conflagrations
Restless tongues of flame form strange patterns against the backdrop of the Void around you. Images begin to form and a woman's voice speaks in your mind, accompanying the pictures. (Look 2.flame through 6.flame to continue.)
The universe at its inception stretches before you, the work of the High Ones; the Maker, the Enchanter and the Destroyer. Then, lesser deities manifest, each with their own purview. Next, one of the many forces of nature takes on an Aspect, that of Servants to the Three High Ones. A vital part of Creation, they diligently tend the sphere granted them: The Tapestry of Fate, creating a Pattern that helps push back the Void that surrounds the Realm.
..... Birth, Life, Death.
..........Maiden, Mother, Crone.
...............Wyrm, Weaver, Wyld.
The newly made deities war among themselves. Unnoticed by the bickering lesser Immortals, an Adversary secretly rises in power. At the High Ones' order, the Handmaidens search for one individual to be the keystone of Their plan. The man is found and the scroll placed in his path. As intended, the scroll is
torn, the universe destroyed, and a codex thrown into the Place Between the Void and the Pattern. A serene voice murmurs in your mind: *Nash. Fated to destroy the world, in Their plan to eradicate the Adversary. But the plan failed, for we and the Adversary were swept along with the Book into the Void, and lost for time beyond comprehension. Nashites within the Chosen give Him respect as one who meets their destiny, acts upon it, and triumphs, and praise Him by following that example and aiding others to do the same. But not all who serve Me serve Him as well.*
The universe is recreated, and the Nashite Bible slips from its place of keeping, weakening the barriers between the Realm and the Place Between the Void and the Pattern. This allows the Fates to send dreams and visions to a solitary Giant, one destined to Ascend to Immortality. The voice whispers softly in your mind: *Thaygar. He opened the way, focusing the minds of His Ebon Hand, glorifying the Fates in their Aspect of Triat. Servant, Master, and Friend, Thaygar is the Prophet of our faith, the first to see, to know, to aid. His name shall be honored for all times.*
The prison around the Three Fates and the Adversary weakens with each act done in Their names, but still they cannot escape. A plan is crafted; perhaps, after all this time imprisoned, much of their power is lost. It is felt that were they to seek strength through the humblest of states - mortality - their prison might be broken. Mortal forms are assumed. Cycle after Cycle passes, and with each, more awareness of purpose and Aspect grows, fading with each death, only to increase yet again. The voice speaks evenly in your mind: *Shadows then, shadows now, of what was... but no longer have we the time. For the Adversary grows strong and will escape soon. The Servants of Fate must know themselves and assume their mantles... the time for lessons is done.*
The flames rise up until the entire hearth is a holocaust of hellish blackfire. The voice is heard one last time: *First to know Her Aspect shall be the Weaver and Seer, for She is Life and tends the Patterning of the Tapestry. Her presence is essential for the testing and Ascension of the Wyld, the One-Who-Cuts-The-Threads. Finally, it will be the Incarna of Death who awakens the Wyrm, the Spinner of the Threads, who holds dominion over Birth. Then will come the completion of the Third Triune Rite, the declaration of war against the Adversary. You are my Children, my soldiers in a war to come, a conflict of flesh and blood, mind and spirit. Gird yourselves. Be ready, for the time comes soon.*
There are inscriptions running up either side of the northern archway and upon its capstone. (Look 1.inscription, etc., to view) At the threshold of the chamber, these words have been deeply carved into the floor:
'The sea is dangerous, and its storms terrible, but these obstacles have never been sufficent reason to remain ashore... Unlike the mediocre, intrepid spirits seek victory over those things that seem impossible... It is through strength of character that they embark on the most daring of all endeavors .. to meet the shadowy future with courage, and thus conquer the unknown.'
Look inscription 1.inscription inscription1 codes
'Those who preserve their integrity remain unshaken by the storms of daily life. They do not stir like leaves on a tree or follow the herd where it runs. In their mind remains the ideal attitude and conduct of living. This is not something given to them by others. It is their roots.. it is a strength that exists deep within.'
* * * Codes of the Chosen of Fate * * *
I. Service Above Self: aid those weaker, and those new to the Realm. Raise up those who have fallen, or know not the way.
II. Honor in all words and deeds. Your word is your bond and My law.
III. There are few deeds so vile they cannot be forgiven, or crimes that can
not be absolved if one is truly contrite. Penance will be heavy, but
absolution is possible. Do not let errors halt you on your Path, and
assisting others to walk it as well. Only when you cease to learn
from your mistakes have you truly failed in My eyes.
Look 2.inscription inscription2 dictates
'The soul is dyed the color of its thoughts. Think only on those things that are in line with your principles and can bear the full light of day. The content of your character is your choice. Day by day, what you choose, what you think, and what you do is who you become. Your integrity is your destiny; it is the light that guides your way.'
* * * Dictates of the Chosen of Fate * * *
I. Hold life sacred. Take it not. Death is the province of others. Excepted from this dicate are my Ordained, however they may act
only upon my direct order.
II. Grow. Strive to become all you can, and do so with grace, integrity
and honor, while observing your own personal Geasa.
III. Show Respect. To Immortals, your fellows, your foes, yourself. Have
tolerance for the beliefs of others, even if they conflict with your
own. Public mockery shames us all.
Look capstone 3.inscription inscription3 gryphon
The words, "You have only to endure..," encircle a bas-relief of a noble Gryphon set upon the stone. The carving shifts as you gaze upon it, and speaks in the calm voice of an Immortal now long gone from the Realm of TFC. "I have left this message here to share my insights on Lord Nash and Nashism as
perceived by non-evil Nashites.
"I was initially troubled by the idea, said often by Lord Sirak, that Nash was an evil creator, who crafted the good gods as little more than trinkets for his amusement. How can a being who can create such beauty be evil? It was Nash himself who told me the truth..."
(Look 2.gryphon to continue)
The voice continues. "Nash was evil, as is His surviving creation, the Nash Bible... However, I must stress that he _WAS_ evil. That was before He rose above this to re-create the universe. By doing so, He recreated all things, Himself included, and transcended above mere good or evil. What is left is so far above our ability to comprehend that invariably we subscribe to Him the qualities most manifest in ourselves. Is it any wonder that those Nashites who follow the dark path see Him as evil? He is the mirror for our own souls, and we are not able to see beyond the mirror to truly comprehend His greatness. Since this is the case, how you see Nash says more about your own soul than His. Let your life be an example of His kindness, His compassion, His mercy." The voice pauses a moment, letting you think on his words.
(look 3.gryphon to continue)
The voice resumes. "I speak now of the Three Laws. If you accept Nash, you accept the responsibility of observing these laws.
The First Law: Strive towards Perfection, and aid others in doing the same.
The Second Law: Harm not another Nashite but remember not all praise Him alike.
The Third Law: Praise Nash, in words and actions, and answer honestly any question put before you of His ways.
Lastly, I would counsel you to support other Nashites whenever possible within the laws of this Realm, this Order, and your own conscience, but _never_ in direct support of a PK. Contrary to the beliefs of evil Nashites, Life, not Death is the offering that pleases Nash best." The image of the Gryphon nods, and falls silent, unmoving stone once more.
Look strand thread 1.thread 1.strand strand1 thread1 filament light
Your own life echoes before you; the choices made, the disappointments, the joys, the sorrows. Past, present, even a glimmering of the future.
Seeing yourself as a youngling makes you blush - such mistakes you made! But then, isn't that all part of life? Growth, the obtaining of knowledge through learning from your errors....?
You spy yourself standing upon the Cathedra, on the cusp of a very important Choice... what Path will you choose?
Look future glimmering
Glancing at the terminus of your own strand, dizziness overcomes you, as the Sigil Odegra bars you from complete oblivion. The time of your death has not yet come - best to leave that knowledge for its proper place and time within the Pattern.
Look 2.strand 2.thread blackfire prophet thread1 strand2
Gazing into the blackfire strand within the Tapestry, you become surrounded by the lightless void. Searing, unseen flame licks at you as you vainly try to find something other than endless black silence around you. The fires make no sound, the burning of your flesh makes no sound, and your ongoing efforts to find any point of reference make no sound. As your possessions begin to ignite and smolder soundlessly, you hear a calm, measured voice calling from everywhere at once, in perfect Old Thoras. It says, 'It has been this One's observation that few enjoy visiting Him in these environs. Worry not. This one will find thee, in time." And with that, the fire ends, light returns, and you stand once again within the Tapestry.
Look 3.strand 3.thread bone lich
Peering into the thread of bone within the Tapestry, you observe the Arch-Lich entombed in his final resting-place, watching over his Conclave. As if annoyed by the buzzing of an insect, he gestures, and contact is broken.
4.strand 4.thread storm-gray Theologian
It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, as you lightly brush your fingertips against the storm-gray Thread. Outside is the darkest of nights, and a storm brews on the horizon like a giant awaking from ancient sleep. You gaze into a stunning cathedral, the like of which you've never seen. Stained glass windows, abstract in pattern, seem to glow in the dim candlelight. A still figure stands studying a large tome inscribed with the symbol of the Triat Wyrm upon its heavy cover. A soft murmur can be heard - a quiet prayer or chant, perhaps? You cannot tell. Although aware of your presence from the first, he finally looks up, seemingly searching the stained glass patters in the ceiling. You get the sense he smiles at you, although his face is obscured within the cowl of his robe. Closing the tome, he makes an arcane gesture, and suddenly, by some magic of the Pattern, you stand before him. Shrouded from head to foot in a strange gray cloak, he bows, and again... the sense that he smiles at you. Then, with an abrupt movement, he bows his head and lowers his cowl. As the cloth slides back, dozens of tiny black braids pour forth, fascinating in their intricacy. He lifts his gaze to meet yours and your heart skips a beat. Where there should be eyes, nose, mouth, ears, and the contours of bone and muscle, there is only a pale, smooth expanse of skin. Again, the odd sense of expression, yet the flesh before you does not change. This time, you feel a sad, wry smirk and nod of acknowledgement at your expected horror. With that, he makes a deft gesture with both hands, and this vision ends.
5.strand 5.thread storm-blue champion
Lightly touching the storm-blue Thread within the Pattern, your sense of this place is swept away abruptly, almost dizzyingly. Before you appears a vision of a powerfully built, god-touched warrior, striding confidently through the Haon-Dor forest. His well-tended, well-used armor (the much-commented upon token of a certain Goddess's personal favor) gleams in the moonlight, and his Oaken Staff is ready and eager in his practiced grasp. Pausing, his emerald gaze intently scans the still woods. An odd scent, carried to you both upon a sudden gentle zephyr, makes him smile. Vanilla and rose... how out of place in this stand of pines, you think. Perhaps carried from distant Loth-Llorien? The Stormreaver closes his eyes momentarily and smiles, the slight movement of his head reminiscent of the unconscious yearning forward when accepting a gentle caress. Bowing formally, almost reverently, to someone unseen, he continues on his tireless journey, intent upon his Lord's work.
Look 6.strand 6.thread charcoal
Barely touching upon the charcoal thread, you are swept down a wind-blasted passage into a vast cavern, partially filled by the dark waters of an underground lake. But where once two figures knelt in silent meditation and devotion, only Shar-Ti remains...
Look 7.strand 7.thread gold heart-kin
As your finger brushes the golden Thread, you see trees and a woman clad in comfortable, worn leathers leaning casually against one of the largest of them. She smiles at you, and as she lifts a hand in greeting, you see a glowing golden rune on the back of it. Her dark skin and darker eyes speak of a life on the road, and her mace and rapier look well-used. Oddly, there are raven and owl feathers tied to the hilts of both weapons, to the harp slug across her back, and braided into her hair. She brushes her fingertips across one of the raven feathers, unfocusing her eyes to stare briefly through you, then says, 'If you are here, then you must be friend to my heart-sister, and so friend to me as well. Walk well in the world and call on me should you need help." A falcon's cry sounds somewhere in the distance, and she looks in its direction. "I must go; my mate is nearby looking for me." She grins, hands you the gloves you thought you'd been wearing, winks, and melts into the forest.
Look 8.strand 8.thread silver beloved
Lightly touching a finger to the silver strand within the Pattern, you see a moonlit elven garden, curtained off from the rest of the Realm by a delicate wall of spider-webs. As you scan the area a second time, a preternaturally still figure gradually becomes visible: a vampire, standing gracefully tall, looking up at the night sky. He turns, and a slow, sensual smile lights up his face. "Love? I hadn't expected you this ear-- You're not her." The smile disappears instantly, to be replaced by chilling menace. "Who are you? What
are you doing looking among my Lady's private things? You are _not_ welcome here." He makes an abrupt, angry gesture. There is a sudden flash of darkness, and your eyes sting; you see nothing more of the garden or the vampire.
Look 9.thread 9.strand argentine daughter
"Yes, Mother?" As you touch gently upon the argentine strand within the Pattern, you see nothing but darkness that somehow gives the impression of movement, and hear only that soft voice. "I know, Mother. I have been gone long, but the Three have work yet for me to do here. Fear not. I'll return... some day."
10.strand 10.thread cobalt ana
The cobalt Thread glows richly. You become fascinated by how the light interacts with it, throwing off hints of blues, greens and purples. Slowly you begin to imagine you see a pair of hands moving through the light. Somehow the hands seem to be sorting through the light, picking and choosing among the jewel-bright colors, moving and changing them... Gradually the intangible light takes on the appearance of a gauze-thin, shimmering tapestry. A voice behind you murmurs, "Sombra taught me this much. Some day the Lady will help me learn more." The tapestry
billows in the lightest of breezes, and you could almost swear you actually feel it slip across your hands. Then you once again are drawn into contemplation of the glinting colors, and see no more.
Look 11.strand 11.thread destroyer
There is no marking-rune to call your attention to this strand, no bright jewel tone to catch the eye, yet here your gaze was summoned. You witness a vast room with high, vaulted ceilings, guarded by an unholy creature in the form of an emerald-eyed panther. Bookshelves cover the walls and several desks are littered with strange glowing boxes. A small broom stands unobtrusively in one corner, tucked behind a massive object that could only be some sort of perch. Then suddenly a blast of air hits you with the force of a cyclone as some invisible entity appears within the chamber, and your contact with this thread is abruptly, painfully shattered.
Look 12.strand 12.thread opaline
A shimmering opaline thread overwhelms you. You cannot comprehend it - only stand in utter awe of its utter and complete Perfection. A shadow passes between you and the Thread, and a gentle voice whispers, *Nash. Mortals cannot truly perceive Him. But we can look at him as an example of embracing one's
Fate and Destiny. Nashites within the Chosen praise him through seeking their own Fates, and helping others achieve their destinies, as well, though not all that serve Me serve Him.*
Look 13.thread 13.strand strand13 thread13 midnight
As your gaze brushes the midnight strand, you catch a glimpse of a city silhouetted by night. Frowning, you look closer, for there must be more... Straining your eyes, you finally see what the Weaver has taken note of already: Standing on a wire stretched taut above a shadowed alley is a dark, lean figure, his outline barely visible in the pale starlight. His arms are held out to the open night sky and his head is tipped back, as if watching the infinity above. A feeling of calmness radiates from him, and despite the powerful chilling wind he seems unrushed, undisturbed. He is waiting, but for what? Suddenly a cat dashes across the rooftops, catching your eye, and when you look back, the figure is gone...
Look 14.thread 14.strand strand14 thread14 Onyx
As your awareness touches on the onyx strand, an involuntary shiver flows over you. While the setting is that of an open amphitheater, the sole occupant is no kindly tale-spinner... Sitting in silence upon one of the stone benches is a still figure glowing with intertwined auras of crimson and white. His face is shrouded by a dark cowl, and his strong, scarred fingers never stray far from his weapons and spiked shield. Something about his hand catches your attention; movement, where no movement should be. It creeps over his flesh - small, dark, and with many legs. You shiver, repulsed. Even that tiny movement is enough to alert him to your presence. Instantly spinning to face you, he mutters a harsh-sounding syllable, and suddenly, you feel unclean...
Look 15.thread 15.strand strand15 thread15 crimson d'agustine
A middle-aged warrior with steel-grey eyes stands bathed in starlight upon a windy Southern hill. He seems to glow with an ambient light, as if lit from within by his blinding Passion and Faith. At his knee is a young woman with eyes the twin of his. Her head lays against his knee, and her expression is that of someone who has gained a treasure long sought. Beside them, half hidden in the tall grass, is a simple stone grave marker.
Look 16.strand strand 16 16.thread thread16 sarcastic-grey sneak~
The busy swirl of late-day traffic through the West Gate of Midgaard appears as you touch upon the sarcastic gray Thread within the Pattern. You note the Mayor bustling about, Slue standing watch, fidos sniffing through piles of garbage the janitors have missed, guards, citizens, and all manner of folkgoing about their business... but no one remarkable, no one of heroic stature or flashing armor and weaponry. Only that nondescript fellow slouching in the shadow of the archway between the Guild and Poor Alley, observing passers-by. But what could be of interest to the Weaver there? No defining aura swirls about him, and his garb, while of good enough quality, shows evidence of hard use. Suddenly, as if sensing your notice somehow, the figure looks up. You'd swear he winks audaciously. As you blink in surprise, he fades into the crowd, hidden in plain view.
Look 17.strand strand 17 17.thread thread17 emerald defender
Mortal eyes could not have seen him, this elf that stands so still in the forest, his garb and hair a perfect match for the woods about him. But aided by the emerald Thread upon the Loom, he is revealed. His mien is watchful and protective, his pale hands close by his weapons. You search the surrounding environs and see a trio of elven children playing in the trees nearby, utterly oblivious to their protector. He pauses a moment in his intent scanning of the area for danger, and bows. "Milady." Then he returns to his cherished duty.
Look 18.strand 18.thread thread18 strand18 avatar-blue fk
An Eye appears before you, bright and terrible. Your mind is suddenly filled with visions and sounds of people and things from the past, present and future. The seductive sights of the Eye draw you in deeper, calling you to see more. faster the images and sounds come to you. You find yourself wanting to look away, but you cannot break the spell of the Eye. Screams of agony fill your mind as lives end tragically, babies are born into the world and cry their first cries: How can you look away from it all!
Finally, one vision fills your mind, chasing away all others... that of an elysian glade. It is so utterly peaceful and perfect, that you know it for what it must be; the final reward given a true Avatar of the Trinity. You spy two figures reclining under the shade of a tree. One is the easily recognized figure of an Immortal now gone from the Realm, and the second, what must be a simulacrum of his lost beloved, provided as a gift by the masters he served so well, to grant him full joy in this place of reward.
Look 19.thread thread19 strand19 19.strand pale-rose sil
A troubled young woman is revealed when you touch upon the pale-rose Thread within the Tapestry. Bound about her throat is a necklace of briars, and within its clasp is a heart-shaped jewel. Her dark hair, curiously streaked with crimson and white, falls over one shoulder, cloaking her form. As if sensing your gaze, she blushes, murmurs an arcane phrase, and fades from view.
Look 20.strand 20.thread thread20 strand20 fiery-red apprentice
The fiery-red Strand reveals an individual whose every bit of garb, weaponry, and aura scream 'Battle-Mage!' Snowy-white hair, long since bleached of any color by the forces of magic he wields, cascades down his back in dozens of minute, intricate braids. The aura that swirls about him is softest indigo, nearly matching the supple traveling leathers he wears. He pores over a large tome, and several more are piled beside him on the large oaken desk. Becoming aware of your gaze, he glances up and sketches a quick bow, then returns to his studies.
Look 21.thread 21.strand strand21 thread21 pale-gray scribe
Darkness meets your gaze once more, as you touch upon the pale-gray Thread. Only the barely heard sound of a quill scratching upon parchment can be discerned. But what manner of creature can see in these conditions? And what manner of tales could such a being be recording in this still, black chamber? Perhaps only the Weaver need know....
Some audacious thief has carefully drilled a tiny hole in the northern archway, allowing him to spy on those within! How could the Weaver allow such a thing to happen? Unless it was with Her amused consent in the first place...
The delicate Pattern of the spiderwebs along the western archway have been pulled and manipulated into an entirely unnatural form. Dangling from two raised, secured ends, an entire section of webbing has been formed into a vaguely sling-like shape, suitable for reclining in. Who, you wonder, would have the audacity to do such a thing in this holy place? As the thought crosses your mind, one Thread upon the Loom begins to glimmer... one Thread of a rather sarcastic shade of gray, much like the eyes of a certain Sneak you've seen resting here from time to time...
You know, it's the oddest thing, but you could have SWORN you saw a thin, swift little weasel go darting across the cathedra floor... No... it couldn't have been... could it? Wait! There it is again! It sits up, holding a small sign in its paws, which reads: 'Thank you, Tina, Dan, Steve, Jen, Liz, Katt, Paul, and the 1997 SoCal GT Bunch for all your help.' Then it blinks, eats the sign, and scurries away.
Questions, comments or tomatoes can be sent to Cordir@hotmail.com
Take a look at a MUCH earlier Draft of Cordir's Temple
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