Legend of Ransera

Posted: **Tue May 16, 2023 11:35 pm**

80 Frost, Year 122

Hilana would have been lying if she had said she wasn’t determined to try to make up for Finn’s and Khyan’s injuries to their respective amati. While things had been smoothed over with Æros, Arvaelyn was a more difficult nut to crack. The silent treatment from the Dragonborn princeps was certainly preferable to the alternatives of having her brain broken repeatedly or being killed outright for the transgression of returning his partner in worse condition than he had left the city in. But it was still cold comfort, and Hilana had had to put her thinking cap on. She knew that Arry would like to set himself apart from the other royals, of either court, and as such she had made a suggestion. Why didn’t she take him and Finn to the Frost Festival?

It seemed like it could kill a few birds with one stone. The Umbrium could make headway and an even greater impression on the denizens of the sands. They wanted to shore up their influence on the Expanse, and to Hilana, this was the quickest way to do it. While the Sentinels had static outposts studded throughout the desert, around which villages, towns, and outposts had grown, the appearance of a member of the Royal family at the biggest annual gathering of nomadic Vastii was unheard of. Those that lived beyond the walls of the cities rarely merited much thought. A priest might have been assigned to an area where tribes passed through, and if a clan was large enough, they might merit one that would travel with them. A census was hardly ever done to completion, and most issues might have been reported to the Sentinel outposts that were closest, and beyond that, civil issues might have been handled by some beleaguered bureaucrat.

An orcani-blooded killer was sheltered in the city, and nothing had been done when he was actively hunting and harming their kin, which said plenty. But Arvaelyn would have a unique opportunity to be seen, to talk with the chiefs, and enjoy a sample of the culture that Hilana was so proud of. It might not have been the luxury and refinement that he was becoming accustomed to now, but if he was going to lead, he may as well see what went on with those who still roamed the sands. Finn, too, had said before that he wanted to meet more of her people, and sit with them and learn. There were stories, and his Vastian had come such a long way since she had met him the season prior. His Emblem helped, of course, but he’d also put the work in. Hilana had been proud of her student, and she only hoped that they weren’t disappointed by the gathering.

Hilana had gone ahead with the Sentinel security detail, having explained and marked on the maps to show them back home where they were going for the festival. A portal would be made to bring her friends to the festival so that a still-recuperating Finn would not need to endure a very, very long day on a wyvern to get to the southern desert where the festival was held. The Vastiana had met up with her maternal grandmother, and with her talked to her tribe’s chief, and between the chieftains and the Sentinels, arrangements were made. Space and tents were set for the guests of honour and their detail, and Hilana had her own little spot nearby though her grandmother had told her she could stay with her family. It had been too long. She would have time yet with them, and there was much to talk about.

The sands were teeming with people. It was nothing compared to the population of the cities, or but by nomadic standards, the thousands that came for the festival was a massive gathering. Camps were spread out, arranged as they were by millennia of tradition. Those who had been before knew where to go, and this taught the newer ones, the way learning was regularly passed down. There were tents of all shapes and sizes, from small, two-person models to much larger yurt-like structures; lean-tos and sunshades were arranged, fires were burning, and the giant camp sprawled out. There was no real uniformity to the assortment of those camping out, even amongst the different tribes. A few had identifying markings and designs painted on the tents, but not each of the tribes elected to do that. In the middle of it all was a more open central area for the dancing and the shows and displays, the ‘stage’ in the middle having been formed of rock and sand that had been put together by the elementalists amongst them. Along the outskirts were countless animals of all species, from little tegus to camels to bison and hawks and game birds. Handmade wares, food, items that had been scavenged and found, and even a number of traders had made their way out with all kinds of goods. The breeze carried the scents of cooking food, campfires, and plenty of people. This year would be different, as the Sceptre of Avaerys protected them all from the darkness, but it meant there were no moons and stars visible for them to revel under. It made no difference; the Vastii would enjoy themselves all the same.

Hilana dressed in her vibrantly colourful skirts of blue and gold and silver, her pythons on her shoulders, waited with the Sentinels for the portal to the Umbrium that was being opened for their guests. The pendant that had been gifted to her by High Sentinel Cithaera hung from her neck, in addition to her usual earrings, though she also had a few bangles on her wrists. Her Wildness sang, and she rocked lightly onto her toes with anticipation and the energy of her people. She was home. It had been years since she had been here last, but it felt like she hadn't been away from them for so long. Not too far away, multiple chiefs and elders were watching, hushed and deeply curious, and truthfully, a bit disbelieving. When the young woman had said that the Crown Prince of the Umbrium and his Amatus, Finn Farstrider, were going to attend their festival, it seemed as far-fetched as her announcing a peace treaty with the orcani brutes beyond the borders.

Posted: **Wed May 17, 2023 1:05 am**

The Palatium Umbrarum, earlier that day.

Arvælyn had not accepted Hilana's offer straight away. In truth it took a while for him to hear of it, as he instructed his underlings that he did not wish to receive her letters. By some twist of fate, Finn had intercepted this one before it found its way to Sorokyn's core, and urged him to consider. Still he resisted, but when Cithæra caught wind of the opportunity and actually considered it sound, the Princeps Coronam of the Umbrium was subjected to a war on multiple fronts of which he ultimately couldn't rationalise avoidance.

The servi who dressed him squinted at the lustre of the platinum armour they affixed to their prince. The preternatural radiance it emitted was only one of many enchantments woven into the new, albeit referential, ensemble.

"A speech is one thing, Finn, it's the subsequent mingling I can't get my head round." Arvælyn griped, "I'm a capable actor, but what do I have in common with people who are content to wander the desert for the full term of their lives, when I'm scarce content as a prince royal?"

"It is time." Came a voice from the corridor.

► Show Spoiler

The Frost Festival grounds, some time later.

Sentinel Valæra had overseen the security sweep personally under explicit instructions from her mother. The eldest scion of Cithæra was arguably as formidible a Sembler as the High Sentinel, and plied her grandmastery over the Craft to assess any potential threats so that the Sentinels under her command could neutralise them. It was quick work, and eventually Valæra found herself stood near the embattled Vastiana who'd conceived this whole promenade.

"If you're looking for their portal to materialise, you'll want to cast your eyes a bit higher." Sentinel Valæra noted, her smirk hidden behind her veil as a gloved hand pointed skyward where a large fissure opened in the skies in front of the Sceptre of Aværys.

It was a thunderous bellow, rather than trumpets that heralded the royal presence as the eyes of the crowd rose to regard the blinding radiance of platinum dragonscales reflecting and refracting the light of Solunarium's second sun. The sands shook with the sound of the dragon's cry.

"Hold fast, Finn." Arvælyn suggested, in the relative silence that pursued the fading of the echoes. With Finn secure on the saddle secured to the dragon's back, Arry kissed him on the cheek before vaulting from his perch upon the scales of his uncle to descend from on high as if he'd hatched fully formed from the Sceptre of Aværys donning vibrant, ceremonial armour the details of which became clearer as he drew closer to the earth. The wings of the prince did not beat, but remained spread as if to frame him, while the actual effort slowing his descent to a survivable speed was executed via his Craft of Kinetics.

The dragon Kairyndralok was exploiting no such feints as he swooped down toward the outskirts of the Vastian assemblage, sending a small sandstorm up as he landed with an earth-shaking thud and lowered his neck for Finn to descend from the saddle with greater ease. Arvælyn alighted on the ground closer to the caravanserai, with the billowing dust and the dragon for his backdrop as he took steps closer to regard the Vastian onlookers with regal stoicism that seemed betrayed by the fires churning behind his eyes- Aloof, but never cold. He lifted his voice to break the hush that had passed through the crowd.

"Ego sum Phædryn ex Zalkyriax."
(I am Phædryn, begot of Zalkyriax.) He glanced over his platinum pauldron and through the frame of his wings to see Finn drawing up to join him,

"Hic meus maritus erit. Finnus ex Kazasi est appellatus. "
(This is my betrothed, Finn of Kalzasi)

"De viis tuis cognoscere venimus."
(We have come to know of your ways.)

Posted: **Wed May 17, 2023 1:58 am**

Of course, Finn understood Arvælyn's anger toward Hilana. He was afraid of losing Finn, and that fear, without a constructive outlet, became anger and he aimed it at her because he could not aim it at the Divine Twins. He tried not to push overmuch, and he was still easily wearied as his body spent its resources collaborating with the healers and surgeons on his recovery. He couldn't force the wound between them to knit itself, but he hoped that this would be a good start. It was gratifying that Cithæra saw the wisdom in it as well.

On their way from the Sybilla's side, he added, "Remember, you traveled to Antiris in your youth, and to Kalzasi for a better life, and then back to the sands of Atraxia. These people are ignored. They could be a resource for you, a source of power otherwise left unused. I can awe them for Aværys. You can dominate them for Varvara."

Then Solunarium would be more truly united.

The flight was short thanks to the Sentinel who opened their portal. Once through, he could get his bearings. When the time came to return home, he could be the Sentinel opening the portal. Be useful, Zalkyriax bade him.

Finn smiled at the kiss, then watched his amatus descend like some fabled angelus. Air travel was rough, but his healing arm was bound to his chest, immobile enough not to be further injured. The dragon landed, lowering his elegant neck for Finn's benefit. He could have vaulted to the ground, but this was political theater. He descended carefully, saying only, "Thank you, Kairyndralok." If they wouldn't teach him their tongue, he had at least studied what was available and pronounced the platinum dragon's name more closely to correct than most.

He walked up stand beside and behind Arvælyn per his cue, wearing his black Sentinel armor, but with his head and face uncovered, waves of hair tousled by the desert wind.

Posted: **Thu May 18, 2023 12:55 am**

“Vigilia,” Hilana recognized Valaera’s voice and smiled at her, inclining her head. She’d have bowed to the Princess, but veiled as she was, it was hardly proper at the moment. She did follow her gesture, and she laughed. Hilana didn’t know if the gifted pendant shielded her from the strengths of Her Serene Highness Princess Valaera, but there was no doubt she could tell that the Vastiana was determined for this to go as well and as smoothly as possible. She needed it to do that she could at least try to start mending the bridge with Arvaelyn. “They know how to make an entrance, don’t they?” Her eyes were bright as she tilted her head up, raising a hand to shield her vision from the brightness of the Sceptre, laughing.

The draconic bellow caused the entire camp to go quiet, aside from those hushing animals and keeping their charges calm. Wild Wyverns, which were not uncommon, and they were used to fending those off. The Sentinels’ mounts had been far quieter, but hadn’t caused any real alarm. But the arrival of Arvaelyn, Finn, and Kairyndralok drew the attention of every man, woman, and child that had gathered for the festival. When the Dragonborn landed, the crowds moved. If they were already on the ground, they were kowtowing, and those who remained standing bowed. From where she stood with Valaera, Hilana bowed with her kin, sweeping out her vivid skirts before straightening. “I don’t suppose I might be able to interest you in some baklava later? Or maybe loukoumades?” The Vastiana murmured, smiling at her. She didn’t think Princess Valaera would take her up on it, as her mother and the oldest of her brothers had absolutely steadfastly refused, but she could certainly ask. Raithen always loved whatever she made and was down for a meal and snacks or drinks at any hour of the day or night no matter what they got into. Arvaelyn, until recently, had enjoyed her food, too. She’d given the Sentinels a pair of lacquered wooden boxes to put in the Prince’s tent. She knew that any food she delivered to the Palatium Umbrium to give to Arvaelyn was given to Finn and Khyan. But perhaps they might keep the marshmallows and the baklava.

While the chiefs had been told and passed the knowledge onto their respective clans, more than a few had had doubts that he would actually show up. And here he was, in the flesh, the blend of Dragon and Re’hyaean. Another thing unheard of, in many ways. But from today on, the word would travel. That the Princeps Coronam of the Umbrium had come to them, to meet with them and learn of them. Hilana was not old enough, nor of any sort of position within her mother’s maternal tribe to have much business in speaking for her people. That was for the chieftains and elders. She could smooth things over, she could interpret and explain if there was a disconnect, she could show them around and host. But the Prince knew of her already. What he was here to do was mingle with the nomads.

“Your Exalted Highness, Vigil Finn of Kalzasi, and Your Hallowed Highness, the children of the Sands are honoured by your presence. We welcome you to our home and to our Frost Festival,” the older man spoke. His voice had been strong and a full baritone when he was young, but age and experience complemented it. “The Right of Hospitality is yours. May you enjoy our fires for as long as you wish.” With the aid of a gnarled walking stick and a younger family member, the elder rose, gesturing at the colourful crowds of nomads to make room. Now that their royal guests had arrived, the opening of the Festival could begin. The crowd would part to reveal a pathway to the stage-like area, and Hilana raised a hand to her mouth to cup it, and she let out a loud, whooping cheer. That seemed to help break the ice, as the swell of voices gave way to a chorus of ovations and applause. That someone who seemed to be a clear Peregrinus had been announced as his betrothed did not escape the notice of the savvier adults, but there was none who would question it. Hilana clasped her forearm behind her back, watching their progress with a smile on her face. There was, perhaps to the dismay of those raised abroad, spitting. And a great deal of it. None of it landed anywhere near them, but it was in their direction... but Hilana had told them before that it was a gesture of respect. The water of their bodies, given to those who saw fit to grace their winter gathering.

The festival would be started with sacrifices to Deus Avaerys and Domina Varvara, and as they tended to be... not only were there wild creatures from Atraxia, like the onyx-horned scimitar oryx, but there was also what they could catch beyond their borders. With the Eclipse that went beyond the boundaries of the Kingdom, those had been difficult hunts indeed. But they had yielded strangely-coloured zebras with different shades of blue and grey in their hair, manes, and tails and perhaps shockingly, a pair of impossibly tall, long-necked giraffes. Another year, when their personal magic worked properly, they might have produced some of the burly rhinoceros or the menacing cats. But skilled hunters as they were, four-ton monstrosities were a lot harder to find when everything was dark and one had no access to their magic. The fact that animals from Ecith were featured in the sacrifices was symbolic - Hilana had not been kidding about the seriousness of the grudge that the nomads held for the horrible Orcani, and since they didn’t have any Orks to sacrifice... something from the land they claimed as home now would have to do.

A dais of stone held padded seats for them to give them a special view, and robed priests came forward to begin the ceremony. Unlike the Radiant Mass in Ash... this would not be a quick vaporization by illumite. Mesmer was employed on the sacrifices, obviously, to keep them calm, but there would be a great deal of blood spilled on the sands in the name of the Deus Imperator and the Domina Imperatrix.

Posted: **Thu May 18, 2023 4:17 pm**

Valæra cast a lingering glance to Hilana at the offer of victuals, or appeared to. It was hard to say what was happening behind the veil. After a pregnant moment she said:

“My work here is done.” And with a gesture to one of her attendants, a portal parted the air and she returned to the Umbrium.

“Vastii harenæ!” Arvælyn invoked the resonance he’d learnt as an actor for this novel performance, letting his voice boom forth from his chest.

“I am come on behalf of the Umbrian Crown as emissary, representing my father, Zalkyriax Zalkyrialis Rex Draconum, Vigil Vulcani et Pater Atraxiæ.” He spoke the High Vastian of the capital as if he’d been raised there. He might have learnt one of the desert dialects, but they were so niche and varied that to choose any one would seem a slight to the others. Better not to pander, when High Vastian was near universally understood and made a less exclusionary statement in being spoken.

“Most of you will have learnt via hearsay that the Zalkyrian Dynasty has arisen to press our ancient claim upon the kingdom. Let me tell you direct that this is true. As House Sol’Aværys rules in the Luxium, we reign in the Umbrium. The two Crowns shall rule jointly over the Expanse you roam, but know you this:

“Ours is an ancient family, but our very rise is iconoclastic. My father shattered long-held paradigms by asserting his claim, and this will not be the last of the changes we implement.” He cast a sidelong smirk to his betrothed, before shifting his fiery eyes forward once again.

“The Umbrian Crown shall hear the concerns of the desert people, which have long gone unaddressed by the powers that be. The Silver Sentinels, who now serve the Platinum Dragons, will sustain their presence throughout the Atraxian Expanse, but henceforth they shall be an active force in the desert. You, who practise the Old Ways that predate Vastium, are true citizens of Solunarium and faithful servants of the Deus Imperator and the Domina Divina! You deserve the protections accorded that vaunted status.” He folded his wings, tipping his head down so the platinum diadem that rounded his brow glinted with the light of the Sceptre.

“Now rise and make merry. Let the Frost Festival commence!” With that, he took Finn by the hand and nodded greeting to the elder that addressed him.

“A tour of the festival grounds seems in order.”

Posted: **Thu May 18, 2023 8:12 pm**

"Not yet, my love," he said, digging his heels in and tethering the prince with their clasped hands. He had listened to his lover's oratory, but he also saw them preparing for the divine sacrifices and Finn felt compelled to observe them. Perhaps the Tethered Prince would as well once he saw what they were about.

"Thank you, honored elder," he said for his part. He spat upon the sand between them. "We accept your gifts in the manner in which they are intended. They have prepared a place for us, princeps meus."

Lest anyone think Finn was taking precedence for himself, he let Aværys' Majesty flow through him as he ascended the dais to the place made for them. One arm bound to his chest, he lifted the other as if in benediction over the priests preparing the offering. Perhaps Varvara would urge his amatus to accept the sacrifices on her behalf. He didn't know enough of their relationship, and was trying to process his own still.

"Ceaseless watchers of Kaladon," he sang. "Divine Twins, turn your gaze upon the offerings of your Children of the Sands. Deus Aværys, let these offerings slake your thirst for a while."

He was no Vrædyn, but it seemed meet he should strengthen the ties that bound his God to these people. Whether Arvælyn wanted anyone to know he was Tethered, Finn didn't know. But out here where the people were more comfortable with mysticism and esotericism, he felt compelled to reveal the gifts that had been given him. Aværys' bequest given to a human peregrinus ought to give hope and comfort to the desert Vastii, ruled as they were by an elven elite they could never truly join.

There was an honored place for them even as there was for Finn Farstrider.

Posted: **Mon May 22, 2023 5:42 pm**

When Princess Valaera took a portal back to the Umbrium rather than accept or decline outright, she had a feeling that she was not going to crack any of Raithen's siblings. Their dedication to discipline was incredible, and couldn't be faulted even if she would have liked the opportunity to share food with them. Still, she had offered and summarily been, well, ghosted, so the Vastiana was wise enough to let it go. It wasn't a fight she could win, even through attrition. She was merely human, and the Princess, decidedly not. If she didn't want pastries, she didn't want pastries. Hilana looked sidelong, and considered.

But maybe the dragon might, though...

The Princeps Coronam had chosen well to utilize High Vastian, and when he addressed the crowd, their earlier cheers hushed down so that the Dragonborn could be clearly heard throughout the festival grounds. Hilana felt a little touch at her elbow, though no one was there, and followed the little wind elemental away from the Sentinels now that Valaera had returned home. She found herself tucked into the crowd, her arm around her grandmother. Amina put a wiry arm around her, and amongst their tribe, two in the seas of thousands of nomads who had come together, they looked on and they listened. Tiaz was basking around her shoulders in the light of the Sceptre, while the silvery female, who seemed about as Moonborn as a python could get, was coiled closer along Hilana's neck and up onto her bun. Her own length rested on top of her big brother of a constrictor. While females grew faster than males, Tiaz did have a four-year advantage on her.

They would be able to talk later, but for now, their Prince, and there was no mistake, Arvaelyn was fast cementing himself as their Prince, was speaking. Simply by coming out to them, to their festival, and saying that he (and therefore the Crown that he represented) wished to learn about them, their concerns, and their ways... by acknowledging them and arriving as he had, Arvaelyn was making inroads amongst those who had been ignored for thousands of years. That the Sentinels would be more active in the Expanse was welcome news: the nomads continued on as they always had, but the Sentinel outposts were important lifelines to each of the tribes. Be it for trade, arbitration, or assistance with antlions or reporting the chaos-touched creatures that had came from the Dreadmists... There were those were still roaming around, but a greater Sentinel presence meant less travel to get word of these creatures to the proper authorities. Not to mention the Orks that had been spotted here and there, stepping where they had no business...

With the triumphant ending of his speech, the crowd did not need any urgings from Hilana to break the ice and erupted in approving shouts and cheers. It was a raucous cacophony, but it was a positive raucous cacophony. There were many implications that would surely be revealed in time, and as they were, they would be weathered as they had been weathering events for thousands of years in their homeland. They had outrun the Orcani. They had outlasted Vastium, considering it had been rebuilt and renamed, and its origins left to dusty books of history. Life continued on, and so did their stories... which would now include the year that the Frost Festival had been attended by His Exalted Highness, his betrothed, and a dragon, coming out of the Sceptre of Avaerys that shone over the lands that protected them all.

Rayan, the elder had bowed to Arvaelyn when he said he wanted to tour the grounds, and once he straightened, he extended an arm to the path that had been cleared for them. If the Prince did not wish to witness the sacrifices, then that was his choice and far be it for him to dissuade him. "Traditionally, Your Exalted Highness, the next part of the Festival are the offerings to Deus Avaerys and Domina Varvara--" and Finn came to his rescue by starting the Dragonborn in that direction. When Finn ascended the dais, there were murmurings of awe and even rapture. The Vastii were not known for being so welcoming or friendly to Peregrini, but Finn had been chosen by one of their Gods, and by the Prince himself. He wore the blacks. Perhaps he was even a citizen who chose to keep his own name or go by Farstrider. There was no knowing. The elder with his walking stick would follow in their wake, but did not join them on or even near the raised seating. Instead, he joined a number of elders that were resting on rugs and cushions in the sands where they could get a good view of the platform.

The crowds surrounded it on all sides, and the elders were at the front. A respectful space had been cleared around the dais, but after that, it was a free for all. The back was largely standing room, enhanced where possible with some Elementalism for more perches. There were a number of sacrifices on hand, and both Arvaelyn and Finn could tell that they were kept calm by arcane means. With the ascent and confirmation from the visiting Royal on the dais, the priests could begin.

"Divine Avaerys, Divine Varvara, we gather here to offer You these gifts. May You find sustenance in these offerings, satisfaction in their lives given unto You. May Your light shine over the Sands of Your Holy Kingdom, and may Your Darkness enshroud Your enemies!" The oldest priest, a senior sunborn Re'hyaean with that tan that belied his many years in the sun raised his voice, enhanced as it was to make it carry. There was Mesmer with the Masquerade, but compared to the Radiant Mass that they had witnessed in the Equinox... there was far less Arcane nudging amongst this crowd.

One by one, creatures of all shapes and sizes, exotic and domestic, predator and prey, were brought across the platform, sporting fur or feathers. The only thing missing was reptiles, and while there were a number of large beasts from the northern jungles and those of the southern tip of the continent beyond... all were outshone by the final two beasts that were led in chains across the stage. A pair of Orks were shackled and bound, being brought forward to the priests by warriors. "Behold! Your ancient enemy, those who dared to stand against You at the Battle of the Rending, and dare to make forays into Your holy lands! These foul Orcani dared to cross Your borders, borders protected by He of the Sceptre and She of the Scourge! As they were before the Rending so Orcani are now. Death to the Orcani!"

The whole of the natives around the platform shouted it back at the priest. "Death to the Orcani!" There was no prompting, magical or otherwise, needed for such a visceral reaction.

"They drove us from our homes, pillaging, raping, murdering, and devouring! We found solace in the burning sands that we have roamed ever since! As His Divine Radiance and Her Argent Luminescence protect us, it is our place to serve Our Gods! It is our duty to remove the blight from our homeland, wherever they try to appear! In Avaerys' name, in Varvara's name, death to the Orcani!"

"Death to the Orcani!" was shouted back again, with a number of cheers mixed in this time. The captives' throats were bared, and the wicked blades that had been plied against the other animals flashed, spilling red ichor everywhere. The crowed roared with the same enthusiasm that had greeted Arvaelyn's arrival and pronouncement, a fervour that was impossible to miss. It might have struck their esteemed guests that this explained a whole lot about Hilana's hatred of Orks...

Posted: **Mon May 22, 2023 6:36 pm**

"Of course." Arvælyn inclined his head, deferring to Finn's suggestion. He glanced off to the edge of the open sands some way off from the festival grounds, where Kairyndralok lay. The large dragon was watching with a mild gaze, but made no gesture to approach. Even for his nephew, the dragon in its true form was a rare sight to behold. For the work they had to do in the Umbrium they were ill-proportioned to enjoy the comfort of their natural breadth, even in chambers as vast as those of the Palatium Umbrarum. Still Arvælyn was awed at the figure his draconic uncle set out there in the sands.

Turning back toward Finn, he would be somewhat surprised to find that he was no longer the only one wearing a striking crown. Where his was forged of enchanted platinum, Finn's was composed of pure, divine energy. It called to the Emblem at his own throat, which began to radiate with energy all its that set his armour aglow with white light. As they took their places on the daïs, both would be bathed in light. The golden boy with his metallic wings and platinum armour beamed like the paler of Ransera's two moons, whereas the moon pale human glowed with golden radiance. They were living iconography, better befitting a triptych than standing before the eyes of mortals.

As Finn began to sing, Arvælyn could feel the stirring of a power outside his purview. Suddenly he could feel the Faith of those who stood before them. It was a real and a potent thing, and their devotion felt somehow nourishing... empowering. He realised that he was not alone in the use of his eyes to bear witness to this sacrifice, and all who beheld him would see that the orange fire of his gaze had been replaced with the pure silver luminescence of Her eyes, just as Finn's blue had been supplanted by Aværys' sunlit gold.

As first blood was shed, it did not even reach the altar, instead it began to float toward Arvælyn and Finn in a long, slow rivulet that began at the wound and began to encircle the Umbrian delegates. As more and more blood was let, the streaming chains of blood that orbited the glowing pair grew more copious and their light got brighter and brighter with each sacrifice. The fervour in the hearts of the devoted when it came time to sacrifice the Orks would wash over Finn and Arvælyn mightily. He of the Sceptre could feel the Power of their Hunger for revenge, and She of the Scourge could feel the weight of their Sacrifice as they claimed Dominion over these captives and pledged their blood and souls to Them. Both Emblem-bearers would feel an incredible sense of one-ness with these reverent congregants and, when the last of the sacrifices had been completely exsanguinated- Leaving no moisture in their husks, the light of the pair would expand to consume the whirling rivulets of blood. When the light faded, the blood was gone.

"Deus Vult et sicut Domina Imperat." Arvælyn's voice could be heard like a whisper into the ear of every individual present whose heart was truly devoted to Their Living Word. He leaned over to actually whisper into Finn's ear for his benefit only,

"That was intoxicating..." He'd never understood the Sacrifice element of the Varværyn Faith as explicitly as he did now. As he settled back into feeling like himself again, he reached out through the crowd with the tendrils of his æther to find Hilana's Symphony. In her mind she would hear what the prince uttered resonate loudly, though in truth he spoke barely loudly enough for Finn to hear from right beside him.

"You may approach."

Posted: **Tue May 23, 2023 4:51 pm**

Now Finn understood a spiritual rapture. Even his innate softness and empathy did not speak out against the death of the Orkhan. They had commited crimes. They had been captured. Domina Varvara accepted their blood as payment, as sacrifice. Deus Aværys fed his hunger with their souls. When his Golden God left his body, it left him shimmering, shivering. He could only nod to his lover's quiet observance.

He too whispered something that sounded in the ears of the faithful: "The Gods are alive; magic is afoot."

The ceaseless watchers of Kaladon as he had named them had returned to the sands of Atraxia, to the glittering cities of Solunarium, to the heart of Mount Sorokyn, and now to these errant children drifting about the Expanse like tumbleweeds.

When Arvælyn bid Hilana approach, Finn wasn't sure what would come of it. His halo'd, hallowed crown dissipated into a sheen of perspiration; he went back to looking like a moonborn human. He tried not to shift, not to call his own attention to the arousal that came from being ridden by his deity. He still wasn't sure how to broach the topic with his amatus, though now he knew the Presence of Varvara within him as well. It was a curious thing.

Idly, he wondered how the people would respond to their Gods' avatars blessing their solemnities and calling the active attention of those Gods. Perhaps it was an echo of Aværys in his soul, a whisper or a caress. He wondered whether he would find singers here who might follow him to the capital, swear their allegiance to him, and become his Singers.

Accepting Khyan's fealty had been fraught, remained fraught, but if they came to him seeking to follow, the only thing he had to worry about was whether the elders would see it as a sacred calling or a peregrinus stealing their young and talented away from tribe and tradition. Time would tell.

Posted: **Thu May 25, 2023 10:55 am**

The array of lights that emanated from their Umbrian guests aroused murmurs through the crowd. Eyes had left the earthen platform in order to get a good look at Finn, with the way his pale colouring was alight with the gold of His Divine Radiance, while the Dragonborn Prince’s colouring was illuminated by that of Her Argent Luminescence. No one had ever seen anything like it. Where she was resting on her knees in the sand next to her grandmother, Hilana’s gaze followed her elder’s to the dais. “Are They--?” her mother’s mother whispered.

“Here, yes,” the wild child nodded. “The Founders are watching through them. They were chosen, marked, at Kaladon.” Hilana had not intended to say anything to anyone, but since the snake was out of the bag, she could confirm it. That confirmation only served to help improve her friends’ already-lofty status amongst the eyes of her people at this point, and the song in her spirit sang with excitement, just as it had when she had been in Their company before.

“Are you--?” Amina wanted to know, and Hilana shook her head with a small smile. No. But she showed her the golden rune on her palm, that was now a rather elaborate sun that looked like a flower made of molten gold. “From--?” that time she nodded. “Later,” her grandmother squeezed her hand, and they turned their attention back to the platform. Her granddaughter had a great deal to tell them, but they would hopefully have some time with which to do so later.

Soon, though, anyone who had failed to realize the way the eyes of Finn Farstrider and Arvaelyn of House Sol’Zalkyrion had changed would realize it as the blood that was drawn from the sacrifices formed into chains that circled the pair on the dais. Even the priests were surprised and awed to see it. Stories and legends, here in the flesh. Such had never occurred for them or at any Frost Festival before, and it was made very clear that their Gods were here amongst them. They were watching. It only enhanced the excitement and anticipation in the crowd that was building up.

This was unexpected by any of them, but there was no doubting the devotion of the wanderers. They may not have been subjected to the same regular religious education that those in towns and cities absorbed from the time they were at the breast, but the power of stories and legends was strong in its own right. These regular gatherings allowed for more, and the presence of Avaerys and Varvara through their chosen was a very tangible reminder that the holy Founders were watching. They were here. They were alive. By the time the sacrifices were done, and the words of their guests reached their ears, those in the sands and upon the platform were kowtowing to the Divinity that had graced them with their presence. “Pro Deus et Domina!” called the priest who had led the sacrifices.

“Pro Deus et Domina!” the crowd roared back, cheering.

When Hilana heard and felt the bidding of the Princeps Coronam between her ears, she glanced his way to see his lips moving, she had to wonder what Arvaelyn had planned. But still, where the rest of the crowd remained in the sands, she moved to get up. Her grandmother grabbed her arm, and Hilana shook her head at her. “He has asked for me.” She squeezed her hand, and the lithe nomad picked her way with graceful steps between her family and friends, through her tribe as more murmurs began. She felt eyes on her, all around her and behind her of those who were ordained Priests, but she kept her head up, holding her long skirts gathered with her hands until they weren’t going to get trapped on anyone else, and the colourful cotton settled when she let them go, hanging off of her hips. A beaded chain decorated her waist, and when she faced them, she bowed low, sweeping her skirts out as her pythons hung onto her shoulders. “Your Exalted Highness, Magnatus,” she greeted them once she straightened. She wasn’t sure how this would go, as this was the first time that he had spoken to her in a month and a half.

Rightfully, and it had been better than the alternatives, but there was no knowing what was going on behind those fiery orange eyes as she looked up at them where they were seated.

Legend of Ransera

A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]

A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]

Re: A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]

Re: A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]

Re: A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]

Re: A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]

Re: A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]

Re: A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]

Re: A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]

Re: A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]

Re: A First Time for Everything [Arvaelyn, Finn]