When The Darkness Falls The Music Swells [Open]

[Gossamer]

Timestamp: Early Summer, 509 AV Event: Solar Eclipse Everyone knew that the deities had blood that flowed between them. There was physical evidence of it everywhere. Syna, for example, sometimes came together with Leth and when such things happened, the results weren't altogether shocking. Bards and dreamers told of Akajia being born from one such union. The goddess of night never really denied it, nor though, did she give anyone any cause to believe that it was the whole truth. She was the keeper of secrets, after all, and such a secret was just too delicious to tell - even if the truth was obvious. And while Syna was a powerful Goddess, there were times that Leth augmented Akajia's power even unintentionally. No one truly knew what such meetings were about, but the results were clear. Darkness overwhelmed the daylight and sometimes - very rarely - one could hear the whispering of Darkness. And in those times when she was quite powerful - one could even hear her singing. Akajia was a great singer of dark and secret songs filled with mystery and all the loneliness that the night often contained. And so it was one day early in summer that Leth covered Syna in a secret meeting and Akajia's song was heard throughout the darkness that engulfed the Cobalt Mountains. It was a song of longing, of questioning, of beckoning. If anyone heard it, they might not be able to help themselves. They might let the compulsion to move towards the singer overwhelm them.

[Voreasos Alisier]

Voreasos Alisier. an young lone young Symenestra sighed softly. He was alone and felt more alone then ever as he was away from his kind and Web. He had to wonder if it was all worth it in the end to be away trying to learn and stand on his own yet he could not bear that idea.

He was alone like always up in a tree near Cobalt Mountains. He did not want to play with anyone it seemed or learn anything right now and just wanted to relax and sulk in his own way. He knew he would have a rough time alone being so far from home but when people left Webs they took others with them and he did not. No one was looking for him or even worried of him.

He watched as the sun and moon passed covering the land in darkness, his eyes just altering to see in lucid sight once more, he enjoyed the darkness and what it brought. It felt nice on so many unheard levels. He was about to pounce to the ground yet he was stopped.

His ears, picking sounds that his mind could not break down and yet his soul did it felt like. He felt so many things from the tone before he even knew it he wanted to find the singer of such a masterpiece. A calling it felt like and it felt like the right thing to do.

With grace and his nimble speed he jumped from tree to tree as if they were seeping stones, heading for the sounds that drew him into such bliss. He would run a thousand miles to get to sweet sounds and kill ten thousand men if had to. His thoughts did not matter, just finding her mattered.

[Leo Varniak]

Leo's face wrinkled into a concentrated frown. Breathe, breathe... A tiny orb wrapped in diminutive flames, no larger than a marble, hovered in front of his extended arms. This was always the most difficult part of his regimen - practicing control, that is. Power was easier to train, but control took a great deal of focus and willpower, especially if one dealt in fire, something that by definition tended to spread. Trying to keep it confined, making it stand still without putting it out, was definitely the ultimate test of magical prowess for a Pyromancer.

He aided his effort with a few focusing gestures of his hands, but in the end the flame just went out with a 'poof'. "Tch." It was annoying, he could not even concentrate properly today. He reckoned it may be the eclipse and the unnerving feeling that seemed to come from the obstructed solar disc. Leo had never liked the dark. When he was little, he would never sleep in a totally dark room if he could help it; not exactly out of common fear of the dark, but more out of distaste. He just liked it best when there were clear edges to the shadows.

"Hurry up and get out, sun," he remarked, opting for a break from his practice. He had all the time in the world, having quit his latest job three days prior. With his quest consuming all his attention, he had severe problems committing to basically anything else in life. It was fine by him; he had few needs and no hunger for physical things. He lookep up at the hidden Syna and thought he heard a song. "Who's there?" he called out, instincts kicking in to get him prepared for a confrontation.

He took a step forward, the song clear enough to be sure he was not dreaming it, but not clear enough for him to make out the words. "This feels like a foul day." Taking some caution, he ventured towards the source of the song, determined to get to the bottom of whatever bad things the ominous eclipse had carried along.

[Niall Raghnall]

Niall had taken to the wilderness upon the back of Devlin his heavy warhorse in order to practice manuevering in an unknown environment. It was becoming more managable to mauneuver the training fields of the Syliran Knights because the territory was well known. The sign of a true warrior would come from incredible maunevers in an unknown environment such as the trees of the wilderness. Niall kept his pace slow zig zagging his way from one tree to the next learning how Devlin turned in such terrain. He knew that the key to successful manuevers was in knowing the beast who's back one sat on. The turn radius of a heavy warhorse was not near as sharp as a light warhorse or a riding horse; both animals for which the large frame of an Akalak was not well suited for. As he grew accustom to the moves of Devlin, he pushed her into a higher speed to feel how the horse turned the faster they went. He did not try to push the animal too far nor get too close to the trees. this was more like a trial run for which to base all future rides against. After a solid hour of work and practice, Niall pulled the horse to a halt and dismounted to give his friend some rest. The large hand of the Akalak grabbed his waterskin and removed the cork to take a long draw before letting some of the refreshing water splash across his face. He always worked such training with his sword attached, shield strapped, and armor donned. Niall knew it was worthless to practice any other way. It was after he had reattached the cork to his waterskin that he heard the melody in the sky. He turned to look in each direction assuming the voice had to have come from someone nearby but saw nothing. The notes, though, spoke of something more ... something magical. What else would explain his strong desire to seek out the creator of the song when all form of rationale told him to mount up and draw sword. One could never be too safe after all. Instead he placed the waterskin back upon Devlin, grabbed the reigns, and walked in the direction of the song. He could not make out the words but felt sorrow in the melody. He had to know where it was coming from ...

[Duskshroud]

Hearing the call pulled Duskshroud like a boarding line - and Darkness welcomed him back.

Materializing in the near-night, Duskshroud stood mesmerized at the gate. It was a conflict, his existence yearned for the waters he could not bear to cross, but this Siren beckoned him the other way.

For what was an eternity in a moment, Duskshroud turned to the face sorrow-ridden whisper of a song, whose operatic tragedy tethered his misty flickering form like an anchor seeking ground. This tragedy seemed to strike a sympathetic chord in him and he could not deny it.

He was consumed. And something in him believed that what he had been seeking is what called him now.

I must find it. Find the song. Find her. I can get there before the sun breaks. It is time I had answers. Will there be answers here?

Edited for typos

[Duskshroud]

The journey into the woodlands ahead was a pleasant nuance to Duskshroud. Not caring to hide his presence, driven by what he now pursued, he could feel an immersion of life around him. Sounds, sounds he knew should have been vibrant and alive were muted in his presence.

I am not living and the creatures here fear me.

It was an understanding that, realizing it now, came as a shock. The guards reticent behavior, the fleeing of rats as he had marched streets. All of this made him suddenly aware of his all-too-unnatural condition. And moreover, he was now aware of the madness that had held him for these past nights.

I was human. I am human. I can not let this fate of mine consume me. I must remember.

The scent of life was fresh - scents were so much more clear then he had remembered them being before - before his death. But recognizing this, he could not seem to put his finger on much more of his past then this.

He was seeking others, others following the song. He could smell the scent of others, the life of others, had passed here recently.

He followed with a quickened pace.

[Gossamer]

The thing about eclipses is that they are brief. They don't happen frequently, but upon Mizahar it is well known that they do occur. No one would be surprised, because the relationship between Syna and Leth had long been understood. Even Gods and Goddesses needed to spend time together. And when you are the Sun and the Moon - the world stands still for a time. Such celestial unity lasted mere moments in the course of the time a day encompassed, but to the seekers it seemed like an eternity. Darkness stretched on forever as Akajia sung her song of longing and bliss.

Voreasos had no trouble moving through the trees. He was lithe, elegant, and leaped from tree to tree as if he was born of air and wind, not the Symenestra form he was trapped in. The song particularly moved him because he was away from his nest, his people, and more truly alone in the world than others.

As for Leo, the cold fire that burned in him sparked up and tickled his emotions. He rarely used his emotions, save for his anger, which burned low but frequently. But somehow, hearing the song, he felt more than normal. It dissolved some of his personal ironclad walls and opened his mind up. The song that coursed through him was beautiful. It reminded him of fire and the sensual interaction of wood and heat, kissed by air, to create a thing both illuminating and deadly. Fire he could understand, and in turn this song lured him... it didn't make him less annoyed at the interruption. But it did cause the gnosis mark on his back to warm - emotional upheavals ignited. Follow the song? Ignore it as a warning sign? Leo's feet took a step forward, but he didn't have to yield to the compulsion.

The Akalak on the big warhorse heard the song and was not unaffected. For them, life was a tedious balance between the discipline they practiced daily and the darkness within them that constantly whispered for freedom. Nialls darkness wasn't the same as Akajia's. His was a voice of wild abandon that pulled at his soul - one that wanted freedom and the sort of things that brought instant gratification; wine, women, gambling, death of what annoyed you. That voice within him was the one that wanted him to cruelly spur his warhorse on and ride down the singer to see if she was as beautiful as her song. He did not heed it though, gently guiding the big animal through the forest. The voice was an old friend, someone he knew well, a presence of writhing abandon that lurked in all the Akalak's souls. Niall was a precision fighter, an honorable man well disciplined with an iron will of control. His darkness was something else - something that didn't mind blood and pain and fear. The song lured both of them equally, propelling them forward through the unknown forest - deeper into a sacred place of song.

It was true. As the ghost struggled to gather the fled pieces of his soul and reclaim something of his identity, the forest denizens fled before him. The wildness of the Cobalts housed some fierce predators, but rare was the ghost that tread upon the mountainous land. Ghosts stuck to cities, buildings, ruins... places that were familiar. There was nothing familiar to Duskshroud in the rolling terrain where enormous coniferous giants stood as if loosely gathered for assembly before the very goddess that called to the ghost. He felt stronger when he turned towards the sound, finding it easier to gather himself together, to materialize... and as he listened to the words of the song - he almost remembered his name. His name was a fleeting thing, yet another piece of who he used to be that was stripped from him, shattered and scattered upon the wind. There was no life in a half life, and even less than one when someone had no name. It was a strange sensation - as he turned and drifted closer, following the siren's song, he started feeling as if he had lips once more. And more staggering than that was the fact that as he explored them, rubbing the upper to the lower, he could almost... almost taste salt upon them. It screamed of something he should remember, and something he should understand. But he simply didn't. Not yet... not now.

The quartet drew closer, all coming together from different directions. The eclipse stretched on, far longer than would be normal. They moved, some in the trees, some through them, some across the ground or on the back of a great warhorses. Regardless of how they got there, they all arrived... coming together in a clearing that was no bigger than the criers square in Syliras. A shadow moved in the clearing, which was roughly circular. A woman, her long black dress trailing behind her, seemed to absorb the light and reflect its absence outward from her. Piercing midnight eyes studied each man or ghost in their turn as they gathered together. The woman was beautiful - what they could see of her - as she kept singing, drawing the song to a close only when each had halted their forward movement, more fully in the clearing itself (if they chose to enter it).

In her hand was a black box carved of onyx and set in a field of stars that winked at the viewers. Far bigger than she could hold only in one hand, the box was about the right size to fit a human head within. Akajia smiled, bowed, and said softly "Welcome to the day of nights. I have here one of my greatest treasures. It's sealed up until these times - the times of eclipses - and waits only to be opened. This box, the Nightlund, is very special. It contains a different thing for each person who opens it. It also opens differently for each person who tries to reveal its contents. If one of you would like to see whats inside, I will give you the opportunity to try and open it. But you must purchase this opportunity by gifting me with something of yourself." She said softly, her beautiful night-dark eyes filled with laughter. "It' is a fair trade, I think you will find. " Akajia, if that indeed was who she was, gestured and a glass table just about twice the size of the box materialized in the clearing. She rested the box on the table, then murmured before disappearing completely. "Just leave your offering on the table before your attempt."

[Niall Raghnall]

And so Niall felt pulled from his very soul and within the darkness inside him he constantly fought to hide. The fact that both personalities stirred, frightened him and exicted him at the same time. As he rode upon the horse all he could focus on, though, was the song. As much as he tried to think of something else, his mind could not help but feel saddened by the intensity of the song. As he moved through the trees, he tried to figure out where he was going and how to get home. Nothing looked familiar and he could not concentrate on anything else. Each turn become more and more unknown, but he couldn't even feel frightened frlom being lost. Then he entered a clearing with three other individuals at the same time. None of them he knew, and he wanted to withdraw his katana, but the focal point of the song was also in the midst. It was a woman of beauty even the akalak could not help but notice. She had long black hair that seemed to shimmer like the shadows of night. The very light seemed to be absorbed by her displaying a midnight hue. Niall could not see her precise features, but what he could see mesmerised him. She offered a gift to all who dared attempt to open this nightlund. He did not know what it was but felt that what was inside had to be special and in return required something special from him. He was a squire, a would be knight, who owned nothing. Knights did not live by possessions but instead through honor, chivalry, valor, and sacrifice. They lived to aid those in need. Which left him with only one thing to truly offer her that held value to him. "I am a knight in training, milady. What I have to offer cannot be placed upon a table. It is my very word. A knight must only speak truth. What I offer you is my services. I will give you one task of your choosing when you call upon me. This task though cannot be of evil for I cannot perform an evil act. I give you my word that this task will be completed when you ask of it; even if I must surrendeder my life to fullfill it. Would this be acceptable?"

[Voreasos Alisier]

Vor just smiled at the female as he landed in the small clearing. She was beyond words in terms of being petty or such yet this was not the time to be speechless he knew. She was asking for something in return to try to open the Nightlund which had to be her own personnel box that she had. What could it have that he would want and what would he give to find out?

The answer was rather simple. He did not say a word as he walked to the table that formed not caring of the questions the man asked. There was one thing in life that he cared about and that was life itself.

His left hand moving along his right palm, the black claws cutting into the flesh as drops of blood dripped on the table. He let a small pool form before writing his whole name on the table in his own blood. "I give you my life and soul to use." He said out loud sealing his fate in his own way.

He then just let his lips form in a soft smile as he turned walking to the box callled the Nightlund. His eyes taking in the small details as his left hand touched it feeling what it was made out of before letting his right hand move. The soft crimson fires of his blood touching the box as he looked for an way to open it.

[Duskshroud]

Duskshroud stood mesmerized by the woman, who - more then her body her spirit burned luminous in his sight like a halo of passion and chaos emanating around her. The box - the box, an answer, a riddle, a mirror of his own hopes completely filled his mind. The futile efforts he had exerted in days past to assume form in daylight hours seemed trivial and inconsequential. He felt as though he was a man once again.

He did not want to see what the box had to offer - he needed it like a fish needs water and a ship needs a keel. Searching within himself, he sought out something he could offer for the barter. He had nothing, carried no coin, no item of value. His cloak, his hood, his very body composed of mist. Even the cutlass that hung diligently at his side was little more ...

His cutlass. It hung almost solid from his immaterial form, as though the mists that approximated a belt was substantial, it held this tool-made-weapon like it once did in life. He drew his cutlass free and held it like a child, fearful of what the bargain he was about to propose would yield.

Concentrating enough to speak in words was impossible as he approached the rapturous persona before him. Instead, he concentrated on the blade, keeping whole, willing it into a reality in which it had no place.

Without a thought he spoke, and in hopeful repose, attempted to set his offering on the table.

Memory leaked forward into his mind and a name, a flicker of an image, above the tumult.
"My name was Artur. I am he, and I am not. I offer you this cutlass. It is no weapon, nor tool, it is me. It is of me. I beg that you take it and that it is enough."

Exerting every effort of will to sustain it, he released the cutlass on the table and backed away, fearful to look upon it lest it vanish back into the mist that composed him.

He was aware now of the daylight - the judging glare it focused upon him and fear, loathing, hope and desperation together held him firm. His eyes upon the box.