Threads of the Tapestry - Revision history

Cordir at 17:31, 1 October 2011

2011-10-01T17:31:45Z

Cordir: Category:Triat References

2011-03-14T03:34:01Z

Category:Triat References

← Older revision		Revision as of 03:34, 14 March 2011
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	[[Category:Nashite References]]		[[Category:Nashite References]]
			[[Category:Triat References]]

Cordir: fixed aslan and Tranquility, got Solaron in alpha order, fixed typo.

2011-03-13T22:41:44Z

fixed aslan and Tranquility, got Solaron in alpha order, fixed typo.

← Older revision		Revision as of 22:41, 13 March 2011
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	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. Someday 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.<BR>		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. Someday 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.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Aslan ~~T’sarran~~ ]]:''' Fuming-Blue<BR>		'''[[Aslan T'Sarran]]:''' Fuming-Blue<BR>
	Touching upon the fuming blue thread, the scene of a mystic shuffling a deck of brightly painted cards with her slender hands fills your mind. She turns over the first card, revealing a woman resting beneath a tree, a lion sprawled with it's head in her lap. Both seem to look up at you from the card with a serene, trusting expression in their eyes. The mystic whispers with affection in her voice, "Strength - the Arcana I believe Aslan T'Sarran embodies" The image of Aslan smiles gently down at the fierce creature. Her golden-red hair is lit by the sun, creating a halo around her face. Her large, dark blue-green eyes are tender as they gaze at the beast, the light dusting of freckles upon her pert nose giving her an air of innocence. The mystic's voice catches your attention from the scene on the card as she continues, "Of all the souls I watch, hers is perhaps the most gentle and openly caring of others. She's always one to be the peacemaker, the one to hear the other side of an argument, my friend Jyslin's adopted daughter is as much unlike her mother in many ways as they are twins in their passionate natures. I have watched as she long sought a worthy mate, and along with many others, I pray Talyn will prove himself worthy." Aslan, the Lion, the card and the mystic fades from your mind leaving you holding the fuming blue thread in your hand.<BR>		Touching upon the fuming blue thread, the scene of a mystic shuffling a deck of brightly painted cards with her slender hands fills your mind. She turns over the first card, revealing a woman resting beneath a tree, a lion sprawled with it's head in her lap. Both seem to look up at you from the card with a serene, trusting expression in their eyes. The mystic whispers with affection in her voice, "Strength - the Arcana I believe Aslan T'Sarran embodies" The image of Aslan smiles gently down at the fierce creature. Her golden-red hair is lit by the sun, creating a halo around her face. Her large, dark blue-green eyes are tender as they gaze at the beast, the light dusting of freckles upon her pert nose giving her an air of innocence. The mystic's voice catches your attention from the scene on the card as she continues, "Of all the souls I watch, hers is perhaps the most gentle and openly caring of others. She's always one to be the peacemaker, the one to hear the other side of an argument, my friend Jyslin's adopted daughter is as much unlike her mother in many ways as they are twins in their passionate natures. I have watched as she long sought a worthy mate, and along with many others, I pray Talyn will prove himself worthy." Aslan, the Lion, the card and the mystic fades from your mind leaving you holding the fuming blue thread in your hand.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
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	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. As if sensing your gaze, she blushes, murmurs an arcane phrase, and fades from view.<BR>		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. As if sensing your gaze, she blushes, murmurs an arcane phrase, and fades from view.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
			'''[[Solaron]]:''' Forest-Green<BR>
			The vastness of a huge, ancient forest surrounds you, lush and mysterious. Light filters down from the distant, lofty treetops, and the breeze carries the sound of elven song. In a small glade, an elven warrior is kneeling upon the leaf-strewn ground, hands empty of weapons, attempting to calm a VERY large spider whose territory he has unwittingly entered. The spider flicks its barbed forelegs in a clear threat, and the elf leaps back, fear on his face. Though his swords have drunk deeply in his Lady's service, this foe is simply too great. Suddenly, the spider chitters mockingly, dwindles in size, and disappears in a flash of shimmering light. The warrior grumbles with good humor, as a strange mark upon his face shifts over his features. Muttering to himself, he slips into the forest, vanishing from sight. The same spider reappears, and looks right at you. The Acolyte is learning. The Three are well proud of his progress. Far he has come, far yet to go. But the Path and the Journey are the catalyst, not the destination.<BR>
			<BR>

	'''[[Spayde]]:''' amethyst<BR>		'''[[Spayde]]:''' amethyst<BR>
	Spayde, laying beaten in an alleyway's trash and filth, smirks through his bruises as he tucks a pouch into his boot.<BR>		Spayde, laying beaten in an alleyway's trash and filth, smirks through his bruises as he tucks a pouch into his boot.<BR>
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	Shifting arorae clear as your senses brush the amethyst thread, and a figure comes into focus. She is graceful, rising from the ancient tomes she has been studying to greet you with a formal bow. Her clothes are both way-worn and rich - elven finery and ancient weapons, her chamber shadowy and close. Dark tones still shine in the ancient tapestries that hang on walls, and the single window shows fog blowing through the dark redwoods of Cillidellia outside. The fresh smell of the sea mingles with arcane incense, the scholar's musty tomes and melted wax, and the sharp ozone of magical energies. "Your will, M'Lady?" she asks as her attention is drawn to answer a voice you cannot hear. She nods acknowledgement and smiles, fading from view as she flies through the window to track down her Master and the youngling he shepherds.<BR>		Shifting arorae clear as your senses brush the amethyst thread, and a figure comes into focus. She is graceful, rising from the ancient tomes she has been studying to greet you with a formal bow. Her clothes are both way-worn and rich - elven finery and ancient weapons, her chamber shadowy and close. Dark tones still shine in the ancient tapestries that hang on walls, and the single window shows fog blowing through the dark redwoods of Cillidellia outside. The fresh smell of the sea mingles with arcane incense, the scholar's musty tomes and melted wax, and the sharp ozone of magical energies. "Your will, M'Lady?" she asks as her attention is drawn to answer a voice you cannot hear. She nods acknowledgement and smiles, fading from view as she flies through the window to track down her Master and the youngling he shepherds.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[~~Ttrakker~~]]:''' Emerald Emissary <BR>		'''[[Trakker]]:''' Emerald Emissary <BR>
	Mortal eyes could not have seen him, this elf that stands so still in the forest, his garb a perfect blend for the woods about him. But aided by the emerald Thread within the Tapestry, he is revealed. His mien is watchful and protective, his pale hand close by his weapons. You search the surrounding environs, and see a trio of elven children playing in the trees nearby, oblivious to their protector. He pauses a moment in his intent scanning of the area and bows. “Milady.” Then he returns to his cherished duty.<BR>		Mortal eyes could not have seen him, this elf that stands so still in the forest, his garb a perfect blend for the woods about him. But aided by the emerald Thread within the Tapestry, he is revealed. His mien is watchful and protective, his pale hand close by his weapons. You search the surrounding environs, and see a trio of elven children playing in the trees nearby, oblivious to their protector. He pauses a moment in his intent scanning of the area and bows. “Milady.” Then he returns to his cherished duty.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Tranquility ~~Rose~~]]:''' dove-gray <BR>		'''[[Tranquility]] Rose:''' dove-gray <BR>
	The dove-gray Strand shimmers beneath your regard. Many other tones are reflected along its length, an indication of how closely woven it is with so many others. It appears integral to the stability and strength of large sections of the Pattern. You hear a soft, familiar woman's voice in your mind: My Handmaiden, of whom I am well proud. For a moment, an image flashes in your mind of an Aara maiden upon Vision Quest, amidst the sands of the desert. The scene shifts to reveal the maid released from her Geas to stand within the circle of the arms of her love, the Lady's Blade, then reforms a third time to show the same swan curtseying low as she accepts the weighty mantle of Ordainment. * The past, the present, the future... all entwined, all dependent, all truly one. She grows, daily, and only she can shape what she will become. *<BR>		The dove-gray Strand shimmers beneath your regard. Many other tones are reflected along its length, an indication of how closely woven it is with so many others. It appears integral to the stability and strength of large sections of the Pattern. You hear a soft, familiar woman's voice in your mind: My Handmaiden, of whom I am well proud. For a moment, an image flashes in your mind of an Aara maiden upon Vision Quest, amidst the sands of the desert. The scene shifts to reveal the maid released from her Geas to stand within the circle of the arms of her love, the Lady's Blade, then reforms a third time to show the same swan curtseying low as she accepts the weighty mantle of Ordainment. * The past, the present, the future... all entwined, all dependent, all truly one. She grows, daily, and only she can shape what she will become. *<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Tripper]]:''' Tiger-eye<BR>		'''[[Tripper]]:''' Tiger-eye<BR>
	Touching the tiger-eye thread, you see the strong visage of the Immortal leader of the White Tigers as He sits within His Den, surrounded by His folk. His is a kind and wise face, one that inspires respect and trust. Arching one brow, the Weaver's Ally glances in your direction and meets your gaze. His blue eyes look directly into your innermost being, and you feel yourself assessed. As some unseen creature at His heel growls, you get the impression of something very large, with disturbingly sharp teeth. As you step back alarmed, contact with this thread is broken. <BR>		Touching the tiger-eye thread, you see the strong visage of the Immortal leader of the White Tigers as He sits within His Den, surrounded by His folk. His is a kind and wise face, one that inspires respect and trust. Arching one brow, the Weaver's Ally glances in your direction and meets your gaze. His blue eyes look directly into your innermost being, and you feel yourself assessed. As some unseen creature at His heel growls, you get the impression of something very large, with disturbingly sharp teeth. As you step back alarmed, contact with this thread is broken. <BR>
	~~<BR>~~
	~~'''[[Solaron]]:''' Forest-Green<BR>~~
	The vastness of a huge, ancient forest surrounds you, lush and mysterious. Light filters down from the distant, lofty treetops, and the breeze carries the sound of elven song. In a small glade, an elven warrior is kneeling upon the leaf-strewn ground, hands empty of weapons, attempting to calm a VERY large spider whose territory he has unwittingly entered. The spider flicks its barbed forelegs in a clear threat, and the elf leaps back, fear on his face. Though his swords have drunk deeply in his Lady's service, this foe is simply too great. Suddenly, the spider chitters mockingly, dwindles in size, and disappears in a flash of shimmering light. The warrior grumbles with good humor, as a strange mark upon his face shifts over his features. Muttering to himself, he slips into the forest, vanishing from sight. The same spider reappears, and looks right at you. The Acolyte is learning. The Three are well proud of his progress. Far he has come, far yet to go. But the Path and the Journey are the catalyst, not the destination.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Typhon]]:''' Charcoal<BR>		'''[[Typhon]]:''' Charcoal<BR>

Cordir: tryin to fix the keller links...

2011-03-13T22:39:31Z

tryin to fix the keller links...

← Older revision		Revision as of 22:39, 13 March 2011
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	The moment contact is made with the bloody crimson thread, a chaotic swirl of emotions overcome you - love, sorrow, loneliness, hate, passion, anger, more than you can comprehend or identify. They seem almost tangible, like haunting ghosts draining your strength, and the world begins to fade to gray around you. Something or someone intervenes, and vision returns. You see the petite figure of a gnome shamaness with briar roses braided into her ebony hair, kneeling in deep meditation with Lin-Tra in N'Kai. The aura of power that surrounds her is unlike any you have seen before. It is quite powerful, and as changeable as a summer storm: raging one moment, still the next. She seems bound in a dichotomy, blessed with a joy and great reverence for life yet wracked with a knowledge and undeniable thirst for destruction. Cradled in her hands are bloodstained cutting shears that call to mind a shuttle and spindle you have seen in the Weaver's temple. You hear a soft whisper: Now you see what she endures daily, and see the struggle I endured in the span of Becoming. May the Three guide, bless, Ward and keep her. May she have the strength to endure the Reaver's rebirth.<BR>		The moment contact is made with the bloody crimson thread, a chaotic swirl of emotions overcome you - love, sorrow, loneliness, hate, passion, anger, more than you can comprehend or identify. They seem almost tangible, like haunting ghosts draining your strength, and the world begins to fade to gray around you. Something or someone intervenes, and vision returns. You see the petite figure of a gnome shamaness with briar roses braided into her ebony hair, kneeling in deep meditation with Lin-Tra in N'Kai. The aura of power that surrounds her is unlike any you have seen before. It is quite powerful, and as changeable as a summer storm: raging one moment, still the next. She seems bound in a dichotomy, blessed with a joy and great reverence for life yet wracked with a knowledge and undeniable thirst for destruction. Cradled in her hands are bloodstained cutting shears that call to mind a shuttle and spindle you have seen in the Weaver's temple. You hear a soft whisper: Now you see what she endures daily, and see the struggle I endured in the span of Becoming. May the Three guide, bless, Ward and keep her. May she have the strength to endure the Reaver's rebirth.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Keller Amberlin ~~D’Augustine~~]]:''' scarlet<BR>		'''[[Keller Amberlin D'Augustine]]:''' scarlet<BR>
	A thread of the present: Sir Keller D'Augustine, blood dripping from his blade and spattered on his armor, stands over a Nashite corpse and murmurs a plea to Tel for forgiveness. Then, strangely, the thread changes color to amber and the scene shifts before you, as if the individual leads almost a double life... now you see a tall, brown haired man in comfortable garb relaxing back in a rocking chair, warming his toes by the fireplace. The room is cheery and homey, the only oddity the well-tended long sword that hangs above the mantle, the flames painting it scarlet.<BR>		A thread of the present: Sir Keller D'Augustine, blood dripping from his blade and spattered on his armor, stands over a Nashite corpse and murmurs a plea to Tel for forgiveness. Then, strangely, the thread changes color to amber and the scene shifts before you, as if the individual leads almost a double life... now you see a tall, brown haired man in comfortable garb relaxing back in a rocking chair, warming his toes by the fireplace. The room is cheery and homey, the only oddity the well-tended long sword that hangs above the mantle, the flames painting it scarlet.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Keller Amberlin ~~D’Augustine~~]]:''' Crimson<BR>		'''[[Keller Amberlin D'Augustine]]:''' Crimson<BR>
	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. From behind him creep orcish figures, creeping closer hoping to overcome this silent sentinel. With a dark smile the twin of any upon a Conclave murderer's lips, the man lifts his bloodstained blade and the battle is joined.<BR>		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. From behind him creep orcish figures, creeping closer hoping to overcome this silent sentinel. With a dark smile the twin of any upon a Conclave murderer's lips, the man lifts his bloodstained blade and the battle is joined.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Keller Amberlin ~~D’Augustine~~]] & [[Natalie Rose D’Augustine]]:''' scarlet<BR>		'''[[Keller Amberlin D'Augustine]] & [[Natalie Rose D’Augustine]]:''' scarlet<BR>
	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.<BR>		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.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>

Cordir at 22:24, 2 March 2011

2011-03-02T22:24:08Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 22:24, 2 March 2011
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	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. A silhouetted figure kneels in meditation before an octagonal doorway, silently accompanied by a Shaman garbed only in the sigils and runes that declare his allegiance to the Dhole that coils endlessly below. Although neither figure moves, the sudden prickling on the back of your neck advises you that they are aware of your intrusion and are greatly displeased.<BR>		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. A silhouetted figure kneels in meditation before an octagonal doorway, silently accompanied by a Shaman garbed only in the sigils and runes that declare his allegiance to the Dhole that coils endlessly below. Although neither figure moves, the sudden prickling on the back of your neck advises you that they are aware of your intrusion and are greatly displeased.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>


			[[Category:Nashite References]]

Cordir at 15:15, 25 February 2011

2011-02-25T15:15:57Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:15, 25 February 2011
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	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.<BR>		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.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Mireya An-~~Shalachh~~]]''': argentine daughter<BR>		'''[[Mireya An-Shalach]]''': argentine daughter<BR>
	“Yes, Mother?” As you touch gently upon the argentine strand, a young woman looks up immediately, intelligence and curiosity shining from her sapphire-bright eyes. Her dark hair lies over her back like a mantle, and it flows over one shoulder as she tilts her head to one side, waiting. After a moment, she snorts inelegantly, and mutters something about “Snoopy people in Mother’s chambers again...” and goes back to reading her book, dismissing you altogether.<BR>		“Yes, Mother?” As you touch gently upon the argentine strand, a young woman looks up immediately, intelligence and curiosity shining from her sapphire-bright eyes. Her dark hair lies over her back like a mantle, and it flows over one shoulder as she tilts her head to one side, waiting. After a moment, she snorts inelegantly, and mutters something about “Snoopy people in Mother’s chambers again...” and goes back to reading her book, dismissing you altogether.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>

Cordir: corrected links for Mireya An-Shalach

2011-02-25T15:15:30Z

corrected links for Mireya An-Shalach

← Older revision		Revision as of 15:15, 25 February 2011
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	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.<BR>		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.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[~~MIreya~~ An-~~Shalach~~]]''': argentine daughter<BR>		'''[[Mireya An-Shalachh]]''': argentine daughter<BR>
	“Yes, Mother?” As you touch gently upon the argentine strand, a young woman looks up immediately, intelligence and curiosity shining from her sapphire-bright eyes. Her dark hair lies over her back like a mantle, and it flows over one shoulder as she tilts her head to one side, waiting. After a moment, she snorts inelegantly, and mutters something about “Snoopy people in Mother’s chambers again...” and goes back to reading her book, dismissing you altogether.<BR>		“Yes, Mother?” As you touch gently upon the argentine strand, a young woman looks up immediately, intelligence and curiosity shining from her sapphire-bright eyes. Her dark hair lies over her back like a mantle, and it flows over one shoulder as she tilts her head to one side, waiting. After a moment, she snorts inelegantly, and mutters something about “Snoopy people in Mother’s chambers again...” and goes back to reading her book, dismissing you altogether.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[~~MIreya~~ An-Shalach]]''': argentine daughter		'''[[Mireya An-Shalach]]''': 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... someday.’<BR>		"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... someday.’<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>

Cordir at 21:36, 8 February 2011

2011-02-08T21:36:46Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 21:36, 8 February 2011
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	One fingertip brushes the diamond-white strand within the Pattern. At once, you hear a soft chuckle in your mind, followed by a male voice accented in an old dialect of Northern elvish. "You realize, Lady, I'm never going to stop the horrid puns or the teasing? Even if we are both much changed from those ancient days? I understand now, why you did not laugh as much, now that I bear the same duty, and responsibilities. But still: there is always room for laughter." The voice takes on a more serious tone. "And I will always be your friend, even unto the bitterest of ends. Never doubt that." The voice and this vision slowly fades.<BR>		One fingertip brushes the diamond-white strand within the Pattern. At once, you hear a soft chuckle in your mind, followed by a male voice accented in an old dialect of Northern elvish. "You realize, Lady, I'm never going to stop the horrid puns or the teasing? Even if we are both much changed from those ancient days? I understand now, why you did not laugh as much, now that I bear the same duty, and responsibilities. But still: there is always room for laughter." The voice takes on a more serious tone. "And I will always be your friend, even unto the bitterest of ends. Never doubt that." The voice and this vision slowly fades.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Cirth ~~The~~ Pale]]''': Pale-Gray Scribe<BR>		'''[[Cirth the Pale]]''': Pale-Gray Scribe<BR>
	Darkness meets your gaze 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 tales could such a being be recording in this still, black chamber? Perhaps only the Weaver need know... <BR>		Darkness meets your gaze 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 tales could such a being be recording in this still, black chamber? Perhaps only the Weaver need know... <BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Cirth ~~The~~ Pale]]:''' Colorless<BR>		'''[[Cirth the Pale]]:''' Colorless<BR>
	This nearly colorless thread is hard to discern amidst the other more vivid Strands on the Loom. It is tightly woven with many other strands, and it has a long history back into the Tapestry, touching many others. Often, though, it separates from the weave, and runs a long and lonely path. The strangest element of it, however, is that near to the Loom, it appears to have been cut and then tied together again. Suddenly all darkens, and before you stands a tall and slender figure shrouded in a dark hooded cloak. He holds a large book in his hands, and the hood leaves most of his pale face in shadow. He slowly raises his head, and weary gray eyes meet yours... No ... His hands are empty and the hood rests upon his shoulders, and as he turns to face you, piercing clear blue eyes lock your gaze. He smiles slightly and reveals his fangs...<BR>		This nearly colorless thread is hard to discern amidst the other more vivid Strands on the Loom. It is tightly woven with many other strands, and it has a long history back into the Tapestry, touching many others. Often, though, it separates from the weave, and runs a long and lonely path. The strangest element of it, however, is that near to the Loom, it appears to have been cut and then tied together again. Suddenly all darkens, and before you stands a tall and slender figure shrouded in a dark hooded cloak. He holds a large book in his hands, and the hood leaves most of his pale face in shadow. He slowly raises his head, and weary gray eyes meet yours... No ... His hands are empty and the hood rests upon his shoulders, and as he turns to face you, piercing clear blue eyes lock your gaze. He smiles slightly and reveals his fangs...<BR>
	The vision fades.<BR>		The vision fades.<BR>
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	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[MIreya An-Shalach]]''': argentine daughter		'''[[MIreya An-Shalach]]''': 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... someday.’		"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... someday.’<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Molo]]:''' Black / Bone <BR>		'''[[Molo]]:''' Black / Bone <BR>

Cordir at 21:34, 8 February 2011

2011-02-08T21:34:08Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 21:34, 8 February 2011
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	The power and fury of a spring storm rages within the storm-blue Thread. The commanding figure of a thrice-born warrior appears, the dark copper of his hair like the final shades of sunset. His piercing hazel gaze scans the environs unceasingly, ever vigilant. As he travels swiftly through the rain-lashed forest, he moves with both confidence and stealth, quite unusual in one so tall and powerfully built. Heralded by a deafening peal of thunder and blinding lightning flare, a Pattern of shimmering light appears in his path, but his hands do not seek his weapons. Instead, they grasp the waist of the curvaceous, silver-haired woman who steps through the portal and he effortlessly lifts her off the ground. Raising her to his passionate kiss, his arms mold her body to fit his. She returns the embrace with matching hunger and joy. This vision fades, giving the two lovers their privacy.<BR>		The power and fury of a spring storm rages within the storm-blue Thread. The commanding figure of a thrice-born warrior appears, the dark copper of his hair like the final shades of sunset. His piercing hazel gaze scans the environs unceasingly, ever vigilant. As he travels swiftly through the rain-lashed forest, he moves with both confidence and stealth, quite unusual in one so tall and powerfully built. Heralded by a deafening peal of thunder and blinding lightning flare, a Pattern of shimmering light appears in his path, but his hands do not seek his weapons. Instead, they grasp the waist of the curvaceous, silver-haired woman who steps through the portal and he effortlessly lifts her off the ground. Raising her to his passionate kiss, his arms mold her body to fit his. She returns the embrace with matching hunger and joy. This vision fades, giving the two lovers their privacy.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Adso]]''' (Mortal): purple~~<BR>~~<BR>		'''[[Adso]]''' (Mortal): purple<BR>
	As your senses flow over the purple thread within the Great Tapestry, you witness a vision of a proud, tall Minotaur, his etched and burned garb and accoutrements marking him as a mage-warrior with a penchant for danger, but yet god-touched as well by the honor of Ordainment. He holds his head high and his massive shoulders squared as he travels the roads of his homeland by night, pausing to give aid to a youngling lost amidst the dark, twisting maze. Even while aiding the trembling child, his eyes scan the shadows, aware and prepared for trouble. "Hurry home," he councils the lad. "The Anathema are bored tonight, and yearning for an easy target, cowards that they are." Setting the child on its way, warded against the casual eye or attack, the Weaver's servant disappears into the night.<BR>		As your senses flow over the purple thread within the Great Tapestry, you witness a vision of a proud, tall Minotaur, his etched and burned garb and accoutrements marking him as a mage-warrior with a penchant for danger, but yet god-touched as well by the honor of Ordainment. He holds his head high and his massive shoulders squared as he travels the roads of his homeland by night, pausing to give aid to a youngling lost amidst the dark, twisting maze. Even while aiding the trembling child, his eyes scan the shadows, aware and prepared for trouble. "Hurry home," he councils the lad. "The Anathema are bored tonight, and yearning for an easy target, cowards that they are." Setting the child on its way, warded against the casual eye or attack, the Weaver's servant disappears into the night.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>

Cordir at 21:33, 8 February 2011

2011-02-08T21:33:19Z

Show changes

← Older revision		Revision as of 17:31, 1 October 2011
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	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. From behind him creep orcish figures, creeping closer hoping to overcome this silent sentinel. With a dark smile the twin of any upon a Conclave murderer's lips, the man lifts his bloodstained blade and the battle is joined.<BR>		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. From behind him creep orcish figures, creeping closer hoping to overcome this silent sentinel. With a dark smile the twin of any upon a Conclave murderer's lips, the man lifts his bloodstained blade and the battle is joined.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Keller Amberlin D'Augustine]] & [[Natalie Rose ~~D’Augustine~~]]:''' scarlet<BR>		'''[[Keller Amberlin D'Augustine]] & [[Natalie\|Natalie Rose D'Augustine]]:''' scarlet<BR>
	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.<BR>		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.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Kelton D’Augustine]] / [[Caillte Sturdivant]]:''' Azure<BR>		'''[[Kelton\|Kelton Trap D’Augustine]] / [[Caillte Sturdivant]]:''' Azure<BR>
	Viewing the azure thread, you see a tall, broad-shouldered young man garbed in silver and white squire’s garb practicing swordplay against a dwarven weaponsmaster. A powerful buffet from the instructor sends the gray-eyed lad tumbling, only to scramble back up with a carefully concealed wince. The two return to a ‘ready’ position, the youth brushing sweat-laden brown locks from his eyes. His bearing speaks of determination and courage, and his movements, though tired, are those of one born to the sword. With a clash of blades, this vision ends.<BR>		Viewing the azure thread, you see a tall, broad-shouldered young man garbed in silver and white squire’s garb practicing swordplay against a dwarven weaponsmaster. A powerful buffet from the instructor sends the gray-eyed lad tumbling, only to scramble back up with a carefully concealed wince. The two return to a ‘ready’ position, the youth brushing sweat-laden brown locks from his eyes. His bearing speaks of determination and courage, and his movements, though tired, are those of one born to the sword. With a clash of blades, this vision ends.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
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	Eyes, filled with pain, filled with sorrow, beasts eyes.... A flash of shadowed wings passes before your gaze as a wall of fire bursts up, blocking your view of the son of Ebencaleneezer.<BR>		Eyes, filled with pain, filled with sorrow, beasts eyes.... A flash of shadowed wings passes before your gaze as a wall of fire bursts up, blocking your view of the son of Ebencaleneezer.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Nash]]:''' Opaline<BR>		'''[[The Story of Lord Nash\|Nash]]:''' Opaline<BR>
	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. We cannot truly perceive Him. But we can look at him as an example of embracing one's Fate and Destiny. We praise him through seeking our own Fates, and helping others achieve all that they can be.<BR>		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. We cannot truly perceive Him. But we can look at him as an example of embracing one's Fate and Destiny. We praise him through seeking our own Fates, and helping others achieve all that they can be.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Nash]]:''' ~~Opaline~~<BR>		'''[[The Story of Lord Nash\|Nash]]:''' <BR>
	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. Nashites within the Chosen praise him through seeking their own Fates, and helping others achieve their destinies, as well. Sadly, there has been much blood shed in His name. I, named Outcast, Heretic, excommunicate, and those who follow where I lead are the focus of their wrath. It takes a brave soul to seek Him outside the bounds of pain and death.<BR>		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. Nashites within the Chosen praise him through seeking their own Fates, and helping others achieve their destinies, as well. Sadly, there has been much blood shed in His name. I, named Outcast, Heretic, excommunicate, and those who follow where I lead are the focus of their wrath. It takes a brave soul to seek Him outside the bounds of pain and death.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Nash]]:''' ~~Opaline~~<BR>		'''[[The Story of Lord Nash\|Nash]]:''' <BR>
	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. There has been much blood shed in His name. I, Outcast, Heretic, Excommunicate, and those who follow where I lead are the focus of their wrath. It takes a brave soul to seek Him outside the bounds of pain and death. I can no longer speak His truth - a truth forever drowned out by the shouting of the Lich's servants - and have those words heard for what they are. I will speak of it no more. You sense the speaker's lasting sorrow as the thread fades from your perception.<BR>		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. There has been much blood shed in His name. I, Outcast, Heretic, Excommunicate, and those who follow where I lead are the focus of their wrath. It takes a brave soul to seek Him outside the bounds of pain and death. I can no longer speak His truth - a truth forever drowned out by the shouting of the Lich's servants - and have those words heard for what they are. I will speak of it no more. You sense the speaker's lasting sorrow as the thread fades from your perception.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
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	You stare intently at the blood-red thread and a tiny flame appears. You can feel its warmth and hear it crackling pleasantly. You look around. Behind you and to your sides, you see many trees and beyond that, blackness. In front of you, behind the flame, is a red sandstone wall covered with mystical marks and symbols. Shadows cast by the trees dance on the wall like living spirits, and the writings seem to writhe and change before your very eyes. You shudder and look away, only to find yourself staring into a pair of yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. Frightened, you look away. Another pair of eyes. Another, then another. Suddenly you are surrounded by hundreds of glowing eyes. You hear a loud screech behind you, then the whole clearing erupts with hundreds of cries. Without warning, the noise stops. The eyes stare at you silently for a moment then slowly, one by one, fade away... except one pair. These are different than the others - a large brilliant green. They over close by the fire, staring, appraising you. You can barely make out a small figure accompanying the eyes. The creature blinks, and crawls closer to you, becoming visible. He is a tiny ogre, gangly and dressed in motley leathers. He pokes at the fire with a stick and grins. "I see you go here alright. That is good. It is dangerous to travel the spirit-world alone and inexperienced... so, you came all this way just to see _me_? I am really quite flattered. You caught me at a bad time, though." The ogre cocks his head to one side slightly as if listening to some distant calling. He looks back at you, saying, "Well, I would love to stay and entertain you, but...other duties demand my attention. Go well with the spirits, and my blessing. Good bye, now." He waves his hand in a magical gesture. The strange clearing melts away, revealing the familiar cathedra walls enclosing you once more.<BR>		You stare intently at the blood-red thread and a tiny flame appears. You can feel its warmth and hear it crackling pleasantly. You look around. Behind you and to your sides, you see many trees and beyond that, blackness. In front of you, behind the flame, is a red sandstone wall covered with mystical marks and symbols. Shadows cast by the trees dance on the wall like living spirits, and the writings seem to writhe and change before your very eyes. You shudder and look away, only to find yourself staring into a pair of yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. Frightened, you look away. Another pair of eyes. Another, then another. Suddenly you are surrounded by hundreds of glowing eyes. You hear a loud screech behind you, then the whole clearing erupts with hundreds of cries. Without warning, the noise stops. The eyes stare at you silently for a moment then slowly, one by one, fade away... except one pair. These are different than the others - a large brilliant green. They over close by the fire, staring, appraising you. You can barely make out a small figure accompanying the eyes. The creature blinks, and crawls closer to you, becoming visible. He is a tiny ogre, gangly and dressed in motley leathers. He pokes at the fire with a stick and grins. "I see you go here alright. That is good. It is dangerous to travel the spirit-world alone and inexperienced... so, you came all this way just to see _me_? I am really quite flattered. You caught me at a bad time, though." The ogre cocks his head to one side slightly as if listening to some distant calling. He looks back at you, saying, "Well, I would love to stay and entertain you, but...other duties demand my attention. Go well with the spirits, and my blessing. Good bye, now." He waves his hand in a magical gesture. The strange clearing melts away, revealing the familiar cathedra walls enclosing you once more.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>
	'''[[Palin D’Henoke]]''' : Fiery-Red Apprentice<BR>		'''[[Palin\|Palin D’Henoke]]''' : Fiery-Red Apprentice<BR>
	A mage, his hair bleached pure white from centuries of manipulating energies, studies ancient manuscripts and new maps in a tall tower overlooking a wave-tossed shore. Around his throat hangs a powerful talisman that is shrouded by dancing, crimson flames that do not scorch or burn his rune-inscribed robes. The sorcerer's brow arches slightly, as if aware of your gaze, and he utters the word, "Darkness". This vision fades from view.<BR>		A mage, his hair bleached pure white from centuries of manipulating energies, studies ancient manuscripts and new maps in a tall tower overlooking a wave-tossed shore. Around his throat hangs a powerful talisman that is shrouded by dancing, crimson flames that do not scorch or burn his rune-inscribed robes. The sorcerer's brow arches slightly, as if aware of your gaze, and he utters the word, "Darkness". This vision fades from view.<BR>
	<BR>		<BR>