Mystic Initiation

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03/12/2002: The Fateful Hour - Log by Cordir

Cordir continues to meditate at the fire.

Out of the corners of your eyes, shapes flicker and dance upon the wind.

The garden seems filled with movement - not that of birds or insects... but presences.

A loud *POP* from the southern flame makes you jump.

Cordir waits in silence.

The soft shuff of powerful wings can be heard on the outskirts of the garden.

An enormous coal black raven flies into view, skimming over the grass.

In its claws, it holds two smouldering sticks, that drift scented smoke behind them.

The crow circles twice, without making a sound, then flies out of sight.

Cordir opens her hand, to reveal the sticks of incense, slowly releasing a mysterious and ancient scent through the garden.

Cordir looks at Drystan and nods.

You say, 'The time is almost here.'.

Cordir glances up at the moon above and nods.

Drystan straightens himself up slightly, waiting.

Cordir waits.

Drystan nods in recognition to you.

You nod.

You now speak ancient common-tongue.

You say (in old-common), 'There are times when the Pattern is disrupted...'.

You say (in old-common), 'When a soul has left its incarnation but has not yet found peace.'.

You say (in old-common), 'As the Sealer of Souls, it is the domain of the Weaver to assist these beings '.

You say (in old-common), 'Helping them to re-discover their place within the Tapestry.'.

You say (in old-common), '...As demonstrated by the deliverance of My Forgiveness by those who are particularly strong in channeling their

You say (in old-common), 'There is, however, another Aspect of the Weaver: The Raiser of the Dead.'.

You say (in old-common), 'This Aspect, too, interacts with lost spirits, but in doing so guides them along a path... '.

You say (in old-common), 'A path by which they may support the Chosen of the Weaver in this realm.'.

You say (in old-common), 'Those who represent this Aspect shall be known as the Mystics of Fate...'.

Drystan makes a complicated-looking gesture.

You nod in recognition to him.

Drystan makes a complicated-looking gesture.
This locale has been cleansed from unnatural influences.

A single beat of a drum echoes across the shadowed garden.

Even as it fades into nothingness, it is followed by another.

And another. And another...

Drystan kneels before the western campfire and meditates upon its flame.

A low, murmured chant reaches your ears, the words too faint to truly make out.

You cannot help but feel it has always been there, just beyond your perception.

Drystan rises and makes his way over to the ebon flame to the south.

He stands before it in silent contemplation.

The chanting is growing in strength.

The words still elude you...

But each sibilant whisper and guttural throb strikes your soul.

Drystan walks with slow, measured strides to the forge-like fire to the east.

He gazes within the argent gateway. Waiting.

The drumming merges with the words...

And in doing so somehow brings them into relief.

With each strike of the drum you can at last hear the Voices...

Know the Words, and feel the Truth.

Seeker. Azat. Shan-Regoth.

Drystan turns from the eastern fire.

Sender. Urat. Dar-Golmeth.

Drystan walks once more toward the center of the dell.

Sealer. Lolth. Alak-Nacha.

Drystan stands before the Lady Cordir, his face calm as he looks into Her eyes.

The chanting grows faster and more insistent, crescendoing in time with the drum.

Seeker! Azat! Shan-Regoth!

Sender! Urat! Dar-Golmeth!

Sealer! Lolth! Alak-Nacha!

And then silence.

Cordir looks at Drystan, as if determining his worthiness.

You say (in old-common), 'As one who seeks entry into the Mystics of Fate...'.

You say (in old-common), 'Have you forgone the need of earthly nourishment in preparation for this ceremony?'.

Drystan says (in old-common), 'I have done so.'.

You say (in old-common), 'As one who seeks entry into the Mystics of Fate...'.

You say (in old-common), 'Have you cleansed yourself of all magical influences?'.

Drystan says (in old-common), 'I have done so.'.

You say (in old-common), 'As one who seeks entry into the Mystics of Fate... '.

You say (in old-common), 'Are you prepared to do that which is required to prove your worthiness?'.

Drystan says (in old-common), 'I am.'.

You say (in old-common), 'Then kneel, Drystan ep Aran, and bare your head.'.

Drystan slowly kneels and lifts the hood of his robe from his head.

You stop using (Woven) moonlit memory and ebon flames.
You light the Incense of Enlightenment and hold it.

Cordir passes the incense over Drystan, allowing the tendrils of smoke to float over and around him.

The scent of the incense drifts across the glen.

It flows over your senses and opens your mind...

You can almost feel the strands of the Pattern above you...

In constant motion, weaving and turning, growing, expanding...

And yet perfectly still at the same time...

Your thoughts glide along the Threads -

They are silky smooth under your mind's touch.

Images flash by, too fast to recognize. Lives. Deaths. Rebirths.

Something snags against your mind - a burr in the Tapestry.

Ever so slowly you are lead back to it and you can See a soul there, lost and confused.

The Pattern falls away, your thoughts dropping back into the here and now...

Until it is once again as it always has been.

Cordir says quietly (in old-common), 'Find it, and bring it home.'

Drystan rests his weight on his heels and dips his head, closing his eyes.

A slight breeze courses through the glen, chill enough to raise goosebumps.

A faint glow begins to coalesce in the tangle of web-shrouded briar roses to the south.

Forming a tiny cloud of light, it moves forward.

It dances quickly past the ebon flames and drifts towards Drystan.

Little spirals of luminescence spin off of it and are re-absorbed as it moves.

Drystan lifts his head, eyes still closed. He raises his arm and opens his hand.

Even from where you stand... you can plainly see...

The tattooed Covenant twisting and writhing over and across his fingers and palm.

The glow travels unerringly to his hand.

Tiny tendrils of light flicker down from it, brushing against the ward.

There is a flash of brilliant light and the three fires leap up with a roar!

Drystan lights the light of a lost soul and holds it.

Drystan opens his eyes.

You say (in old-common), 'You have shown your ability to guide the souls of the lost.'.

You say (in old-common), 'Do you take on the Geas of the Mystics of Fate?'.

Drystan says (in old-common), 'I do.'.

A spider no larger than your thumb crawls up and over Cordir's shoulder.

It quickly makes its way down Her arm and into Her hand.

You hear Guardian's voice in your mind: *Witnessed*

Boromir arrives from the north.
Boromir bows before you.
Boromir says (in common), 'ta da!!! '.
Boromir grins mischievously.

You hear Guardian's voice in your mind: * Speak what you would be bound by *

Drystan says (in old-common), 'That I may stay better in touch with the spiritual world, my head will remain bare from this day forward'.

The spider seems to dip its thorax in acknowledgment.

Guardian then retraces Her steps back up Cordir's arm and out of sight within Her hair.

You say (in old-common), 'You may now take the Vow of the Mystics.'.

Drystan says (in old-common), 'I, Drystan ep Aran, do swear upon my immortal soul and the blood-ward that binds me to the Weaver and Her

Drystan says (in old-common), 'to stand by the Tenets of the Mystics and to guide those who inhabit the spirit realm,'.

Drystan says (in old-common), 'that they may aid in defending all who serve the Lady.'.

Drystan says (in old-common), 'May Shan-Regoth grant me the strength, may Dar-Golmeth grant me the knowledge,'.

Drystan says (in old-common), 'and may Alak-Nacha grant me the wisdom to fulfill this charge.'.

You say (in old-common), 'You may rise, Drystan ep Aran, Mystic of Fate.'.

Aslan beams a smile at Drystan.

Drystan stands.

You smile happily.

You say (in old-common), 'well done, Mystic.'.

Tranquility beams a smile at Drystan.

Drystan smiles happily.
Drystan bows before you.

Esariston raises an eyebrow.

You say (in old-common), 'Please change your title to reflect your new responsibility.'.

Drystan says (in old-common), 'It is done'.

You nod.

You say (in old-common), 'Thank you.'.

who follows Cordir
5 players.
Elf [ Ra:22 Ma:21 Th:21 ] Boromir Fate's Ambassador ... Lady Cordir's Councilor
Hum [ Ma:11 Th: 9 Ra: 9 ] Esariston Cerestice: Wanderer of Fate
Aar [ Sh:25 ] Drystan ep Aran, bard & Mystic of Fate. *Cordir*
Hlf [ Cl:27 ] Aslan Tsarran-Napei, Fated wife of Talyn *Cordir*
Aar [ Sh:24 Th:22 ] Tranquility say it loudly, and proudly. *Noctus*Fate*