When winter comes (Modded Thread)

[Lyra]

Lyra's eyebrows raised in surprise, and she tilted her head considering. As the man spoke she felt her soul tremble, not with fear but old energy she had almost forgotten.

"Your son..." she breathed, eyes growing distant as she thought. As the vision came recognition lit in her own gold eyes. A man with ebony skin, a battle so large it made wars that came after it seems small. She remembered weaving the whispers into his mind, pulling on him, taunting him... Alas, he was a strong one, whose mind could not be so easily twisted. Despite herself, Lyra found herself smiling.

At the god's request, Lyra inclined her head ever so slightly. Then, for the second time, she released herself from her vessel. Her vessel opened its mouth, and black smoke poured from its lips and collected on the floor at its feet. Lyra spun in slow circles around her body, keeping her form close together. Unlike Sahfri, Akrivar was not one so easy to impress or intimidate. Tendrils of smoke gathered and formed a head and torso, and Lyra wrapped her arms around the neck of her vessel and looked around its head at the god. Silver hair flowed out in waves like water, and the rest of her form spun in slow neat circles around her.

"I have forgotten much... but I remember that one..." she curled the fingers of one hand up, smoke collecting in her palm and shaping the rough shape of a man in armor, blade in hand with thin tusks. Lyra looked at this figure for a moment before she dismissed it with a flick of her wrist, "You are merciful, though I doubt anything I did could have truly killed him."

Lyrielle kept her tone respectful, but being free, herself gave her the memory of her old confidence. Pride, or perhaps arrogance, tied in with that assuredness, and she struggled to keep old habits from resurfacing before this one. She did not wish to be snuffed out like a candle flame over a misplaced word.

"Your word is more binding than chains of steel. You honor me by giving it so freely." Her eyes narrowed slightly as she considered the man's previous words.

"Though you must forgive me, as I still do not understand. I swore by the oath, yes, but you have never come in person before. Do you seek something from me, Oathbinder?"

[Paragon]

“You take pride in your machinations.” It was not a question. The hint of an indulgent smirk touched his lips. Who would know better than the Lord of Pride himself the value in such a trait? “Good. You will need that with what lies ahead of you.”

The Burning King shrugged a shoulder at Lyra’s statement. The truth of whether Lyra herself would have been able to kill his son was irrelevant. It was the fact that she had been involved in such an attempt that had earned his lasting annoyance.

“Ten thousand years ago, the Dragon King shattered you. The punishment for being one of several hands responsible for killing his most beloved son. You exist before me, a woman out of time, living on borrowed moments. Tell me, how long before He notices?” The words were spoken with a lilt of amusement as those fiery eyes passed over Lyra’s misty form. With the sweep of his gaze, a force washed through Lyra’s soul or at least what bits of it that were there to observe. The Oathbinder held up a hand. Smoke gathered around his fingers as he pinched his thumb and index finger together. The fragment of Lyra’s soul that had been returned to her manifested out of the smoke. He peered at it as one might observe a speck of dust. He quirked his head as he observed it before it dissipated once more.

“Old promises are in play. Old oaths and ancient plans that have long been in the making. I tell you this because you are from such old times.” He tipped his head. “Such as speaking an ancient oath before the halls of the gods and invoking the old scribes. A powerful thing. But something that has long since faded into obscurity outside of very carefully guarded rituals.”

He folded his arms over his chest, his expression growing serious.

“My point, Lyrielle, is that you are no longer in the world you once knew. I suggest you focus on that. That can be a strength but it is also a great weakness. The world has changed. Even how we gods must interact with it has changed. Which makes something like what you just did far less common but far more powerful.” He let the weight of those words settle upon her. The world had changed. Lyra had been gone for whole eras of history, a figure that was ancient and obscured but steeped in fragmented knowledge from a time when power flowed more freely. It gave her a unique perspective on the world but it also made her closer to those old powers in ways that mortals of the current era lacked.

“Know this, I will hold you to the oath you have sworn before me.” He smirked. “Consider it your penance to me for the insult all those years ago.”

Pushing himself up from where he was leaning, Akrivar stepped forward. As he moved closer, his form seemed to grow. The air in the room changed and for the briefest of moments, Lyra was given a glimpse of the Oathbinder as he truly was. A colossal figure of smoke, ash, and fire. With skin the color of volcanic obsidian and a face obscured by clouds of ash with hair that fell down over his shoulders in rivulets of fire. He extended one hand reaching forward to grasp one of the dragonshards resting upon the counter of her shop. The light of the dragonshard flickered before becoming blackened and cracked. It hissed then became a vibrant violet that emitted an unsettling black and violet mist from around its form. The vision of Akrivar in his true form faded and returned to the man once more. He extended the dragonshard to Lyra.

“And consider this, a gift. From someone who is yet interested to see what heights your pride will take you.” Once she accepted the stone, Akrivar gave her a small bow.

“Rest well tonight, Whisperer. But do not rest long. The bindings of your cage are not yet completely broken and soon, your jailers will awaken. I suggest you be ready when that time comes. For it will be sooner than you might think.”

With that, the Burning King gave a bow. The fire that burned inside of him began to spread across his form. Those infernal eyes bored into Lyra until that was all there was so see, fire, smoke and ash.

“Until we meet again, Lyrielle.”

And he was gone.

[Lyra]

Lyra's smile faded as the god spoke. It wasn't that she hand't considered that HE might notice her, but in truth she thought that as she was she was so far beneath his awareness that she had little to fear. Yet with the Oathbinder standing before her, it was clear that Lyrielle was not quite as hidden as she had thought. What would she do if he did come for her? As she was now he would barely need to blink in her direction to send her tumbling back into her prison. That was something she could not allow to happen.

Then Akrivar did something that made her tremble inside. With the most absent of gestures, he pulled her soul from its hiding place, fingering it with such indifference despite the fact that his touch made her shiver inside. She wanted to snatch it away, but she dared not make a move. More than anything though, she was confused. What did he mean by impressing on her how old she was? Was it wrong to follow the old ways now? Well... she had brought attention to herself she had no intention. Not just the divine, but the likes of Sahfri and others. In fact, the more she thought on it the more she realized she had received far more attention than she had wished in barely half a season. Was it because of what this being said? Could her actions of late have had larger consequences? Was she truly so out of touch? It was a disconcerting line of thinking.

Lyrielle found her eyes widen at the god's next display, and she stared at the newly created dragonshard as it was extended to her. It seemed... wrong somehow. With a thought, Lyra took it from him with her vessel's hand and raised a questioning eyebrow at the God. She opened her mouth to speak, but as suddenly as he had come he vanished, the sight of the smoldering flames burned into her mind.

For a moment after he was gone Lyra simply stood there, staring at the spot he had been. She then looked down at the dragonshard in her hand, a troubled expression passing briefly over her features.

"The bindings of your cage are not yet completely broken, and soon your jailers will awaken..." Lyra repeated the words softly as she flowed back into her vessel. As she settled in she experimentally flexed her fingers, frowning at the digits that were beginning to stiffen.

"It seems my time has run out..."

[Paragon]

R E W A R D S

Lyra
XP: 10
Lore:
Mesmer: Muting melodies
Mesmer: Light touch can cause a domino affect
Mesmer: Synergies well with deception
Mesmer: Playing on unspoken insecurities
Mesmer: Can help hide bad acting
Mesmer: Expressions can lie, but melodies can't
Mesmer: Hijacking a person's melodies
Mesmer: Connecting Symphonies with another Mesmer
Mesmer: Opening your melodies to another
Mesmer: Leh'anafel's secret to teamwork was in their connections
Mesmer: While connected with a mesmer hiding emotions is difficult
Mesmer: Symphonies reflect mental states
Mesmer: A shift in mentality signals a shift in melody
Mesmer: Oath on the High Orders
Mesmer: Oaths made with a Mesmer Link are binding to the person
Mesmer: Oaths made in Akrivar's name are the highest magnitude
Mesmer: Old Oaths bind a person with their own magic

Loot: +1 Greater Void Dragonshard, gifted to Lyra by Akrivar, Mistlord of Tyranny, Pride and Oaths himself.
+1 Minor Soul Fragment- Lyra has regained a very small piece of herself. She is now fully aware of the truth that she has been shattered and needs to be pieced back together, bit by bit. Some fragments may be small and provide only brief glimpses of who and what she was in the years past. Others may be much larger and may or may not have a mind of their own, a mind that may yet need to be conquered in order to be absorbed back into the whole of her form. Time will tell if this is true or not but in the realm of Ancients and Gods, anything is possible...

Consequences: Lyra has sworn an oath before the Oathbinder himself to assist Sahfri in her cause. Additionally, she has woven her own Mesmeric power into the binding of that oath effectively making deviating from this promise exceptionally difficult. The far reaching consequences of making such a promise are, as of this moment, unknown. However, suffice it to say that Lyra will henceforth be committed to the destruction of Zaichaer and what it stands for.

In exactly 7 days time, Lyra will be given a notification that the laboratory space she requested has been prepared. It will be found within the First Deep of the Warrens.