[sub][i]With thanks to [@Cyclone] and [@Legion02] for their direct contributions, [@Vec] for answering many questions regarding the Astral Realm, Astral Entities, and Astralis Lumen, and also to [@WrongEndoftheRainbow] for giving guidance regarding the Realm of Death and the Dreamworld. Thanks also to [@DracoLunaris] for patiently discussing many details about Faeries and Glamour with me, which has helped flesh out many subtle things about both throughout this post. And thanks, of course, to the one and only [@Frettzo] for channeling and encouraging all craziness.[/i][/sub]

[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/XonJHsx.png[/img]

[h2]ROISIN MAGNOLIA[/h2]
[b]GLAMOUR FONT and BEAUTY INCARNATE[/b]

[b][sup]The LITTLE GOD of the LITTLE THINGS | The FEIGHDFULC MATHAIR | LADY of the FADE | The KHODEXBORNDOTTR
LADYPRINCE of the FAE-FINTE | The FAERIE QUEEN | The GREAT VEILED ONE | MISTRESS of the PLACE BETWIXT ALL PLACES
HIGH QUEEN of the FAIRIES[/sup][/b][/centre][hr]

The age of the feighdfulc burst across the dimensions of the world with great suddenness and terrible ferocity. Though the Veil was the sacred land of joy and eternal peace for all the true fairy races (of whom the darkfairies, being outer beast mockeries of the fae, were not!) they dared not – could not! – war in the Veil anymore. The summoning forth of Brentylwtih the King before the High Queen Roisin Magnolia had drawn the gaze of the fairy-folk with suddenness to the hallowed nature of their Otherworld home, and so their warring in that realm came to a halt. It was not for a lack of animosity between the nascent fairy courts, of course, but rather because they had discovered that there were other, less holy places where they could war. 

King Brentylwith and his Court of Beauty All-Ascendant at the Gate of the Furthest Fade had no eye for the politicking of his fae kin. The eyes of that King of Hearts was ever on the Gate, his sword was ever smiting the darkfairies of Hylsek Adech (and those of other lords of the Outer Rim beasts yet!) that thought to breach the Otherworld and sup on the slain form of Roisin Magnolia. Brentylwith would brook no such outrage! Not he or any of the fair-hearted warriorfae of his marcher kingdom. With their hands they fought the darkfairy scourge, and with all else they fought for the beautification of their hearts in accordance with the virtuous and beautiful ways of Roisin Magnolia.

[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/o3pyYvQ.png[/img]

[i]King Brentylwith slays not his own;
He fends foes from fair Roisin's throne![/i][/centre]
The other courts and sovereigns of the feighdfulc were not much like Brentylwith. Their eyes were fixed enviously or fearfully or suspiciously on one another, and none made a move except that another leapt to check and challenge them. It was in this manner that the faeries burst into the material world and went warring and disputing their way across the length and breadth of the Worldriver, and at Arbor, in the utmost north, east, south, and west of the Worldcrater, and in the wastes of northern and southern Galbar too, even on Sylia’s wall and beyond it, even beneath the Great Bloodsea. At the Tricity they fought, above Thysia, in the sacred precincts of Sylann. Below the earth too, in dwarven hames and goblin cities they warred and disputed ceaselessly. 

Wherever there was air or land or water, and even where there was none of that in the emptiness of the Galbarian exosphere, the feighdfulc hosts swept on aerial or terrestrial or oceanic battlefields and cried havoc and war. They drew terrible wands and battle-staffs one against the other. They wielded spears of deathmagick and swords of lifesundering. They wore armours of leaves and armours of earth and armours of magic-woven metal too. Many were the [i]Eshgaebars[/i] who led their companies of death across the flitting battlefields. Golden dust streamed and arose about them and the cry of, “Duuuuust!” rang now from this battleline and now from that. Now Asula the Nightfury, Crownfeighd of the Crowncourt of the Sullylands and unparalleled Tyrantefae, descended into the dustletting fields herself; her blue form and golden gaze were the promise of utter breakage and atomisation to those who challenged her. Her ugly form – as ugly as her heart! – held no kindness or mercy for those who fell into her hands. Great was her kingdom in the material world! None claimed such great stretches as she! When ‘the Empress’ was whispered of in awe and in fear, it was Asula of the Sullylands that was meant.

[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/rogcllF.png[/img]

[i]In earth and air let it be known;
Asula sits all-high alone![/i][/centre]
But Asula was no singular and all-consuming darkness, for there were those who stood before her and harried her world-conquest and checked her advance at last. The full, cold-steeled fury of the Iron Knightcourt was against her, and the Knightqueen Titania Terrorblade led her hosts in person against the advance of the Sullied. What martial might did Titania’s Ironfae hold! What twisting of steel wands, what flashing of blades, what sweeping of spears! Were they truly beings of magic or were they things of steel? Had soft-hearted Roisin Magnolia created them or had they been fashioned by the hard hand of Sylia and under her cold eye? Were their kin not the Glamour-woven feighdfulc but the hammered and fire-forged Formed? Titania Terrorblade was the very incarnation of battle prowess on the fields of dustletting, her never-quieting blade carving warmagicks that silenced now a dozen to the left of her and now a dozen below. She drew their dust into her like an insatiable maw of metal; only her flowing crimson hair betrayed that beneath that metal form was something of magic and beauty. “In iron forged! Of battles hewn! By triumph made!” Was her victory cry, and all who heard her and her Ironvictors declare it so knew to quit the field in humiliation and disgrace. Such was Titania Terrorblade; when “Reddeath” was mentioned it was Titania of the Knightcourt that was meant. 

[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/HHz04rS.png[/img]

[i]Hear battle's millstones at once groan
When Titania ascends their throne!
What battle furies, far or nigh,
Can bear withstand her blade's dread sigh?[/i][/centre]
Compared to such titans as these, the Court of the Pillartree was but tiny. Fairqueen Arya had established the Court at Arbor, where the Pillarfae freely moved between their ancestral home in the Veil and the new one within the Evergrowing City. If the Pillarfae were anything, they were intensely lively - and how could they not be when their Fairqueen's kingdom was at the very throbbing heart of life? The war pained Arya's heart and she refused to engage in it, pick or choose any side, or ally with any faerie court against another. That would have normally been impossible, of course, for most courts and their sovereigns quite often had war thrust upon them whether they liked it or not. However, Fairqueen Arya’s independence was assured through her alliance not with her own kin but with the Green Goddess herself. The Kingdom of the Pillartree at Arbor was a space of utter calm and peace in a faerie world riveted by never-ceasing conflict.

[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/Y4BgOZs.png[/img]

[i]Though petty faerie lordlings war beyond
Where Arya rules let peace grow long and fond![/i][/centre]
Many others warred over the material world, but none conquered so much as Asula and none was as ferocious on the field as Titania. And in that war, there was no place of calm and utter peace like Arya's court at Arbor. Over Sylann and Thysia, in the caverns of the Dominion Union and across the subterranean kingdoms of the dwarves, in the expansive Deltas of the Worldriver and at Sithari also, the unseen flutter of faerie wings and magick filled the world.

Across the Veil, in the realms of the immaterial, a quite different war raged between the fae who went battling one another in that direction. The Dreamworld welcomed the battling hosts with almost as much energy and verve as they brought. Wherever the warring feighdfulc flung themselves across the Dreamworld, the land seemed to come alive and bend to their forms…and bend their forms. It was with casual swiftness that the Dreamworld accepted the race of the faeries as an inherent part of it and that the fae allowed themselves to be shaped as the thresholds of the Dreamworld they crossed demanded.

Those who settled in the Marewoods, the deepest bounds of the Dreamworld, found that they became brothers to nightmares and ghouls. They fended the great howling things of terror with equal terror and glamours of deepest horror and fright. In the Marewoods, the Feighdmares were the great terror of the nightmares. The Archfeighdmare of the Court of the Marewoods, Suilenim, ruled over his kingdom with a great dire eye; he was the fear of fear, the terror of terror, the horror of horror and in the Marewoods was the pinnacle of all nightmares.
[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/FCL7yhe.png[/img]

[i]Do not fear any old nightmare;
Fear only if Suilenim's there![/i][/centre]
Other faeries passed beyond the Marewoods, saluting Hour, the Name of discovery, light, and curiosity, and soared beyond the Epiphanic Gate he guarded and into the Horologian threshold of the Dreamworld. Hour looked upon them as those faeries saluted it and blessed it and rained words of joy and spells of bliss before them like a great carpet even unto the Horologian within that threshold of the Dreamworld. The Horolofae of that Kingdom of the Horologian marched in great processions about their Chief Librarian, Kuridven, keeper of the Ten Thousand Threads of Curiosity and the Bearer of the Four Hundred Lamps of Discovery. Thus chanting their great poesies and shining bright and cold as their Horologian at the fullness of its form, those Horolofae were the great brightness and light of the Dreamworld.
[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/EGbe14V.png[/img]

[i]A thousand great discoveries bright
In one of Kuridven's rays of light![/i][/centre]
Those who did not pass into the Horologian went instead by ways of the Lunar Door, where Umbar - that paragon Name of battle, destruction, struggle - stood guard.  There the Illumined Lunarsopher of the Kingdom of the Salient Moon was enthroned, and all about him the sun-like Lunarfae saluted their Lunarsopher-King. They were the burning battlers and immovable warriors of the Dreamworld, were the Lunarfae, but there was little for them to war over in the Dreamworld.

[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/OL9t2pv.png[/img]

[i]The Lunarsopher holds no warmth,
But only Itzal's heat;
In battle death, in peace a scourge;
Life melts about his feet![/i][/centre]
In the Astral Realm, meanwhile, the warring of the feighdfulc was of a more conventional nature. Here Eirgwyn of the Court of the Windrocks now checked the Grand Witchfeighd Hecate and was again checked by her. Across the Astral Realm they fought, calling forth mighty powers and magicks from the slumbering Lumen, disturbing many cantars and riling them to great fury; in that realm, it was not Hecate but Eirgwyn who proved most victorious. 

She claimed many Lumen-grounds for her Court and banished what cantars thought the sacred growths of the Astralgod were their rightful inheritance. “Oh little mushrooms, you are well-meaning but unknowing! There are no truer guardians than we, who are in all manners magick! We are no mushrooms that have come to enlightenment; we are of an enlightened and Astral-bound essence! The truest guardians are we!” She told them. But the Astral Realm was vast, the Lumen-grounds stretching to the far horizons, and many a fae court carved out territories and many great stretches remained in the shade of the cantar and their spores.

[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/s6sDx0c.png[/img]

[i]Veil skies are Eirgwyn's rock and Court;
The Astral Plains are her great fort![/i][/centre]
Though Hecate held some corners of the Astral Realm against Eirgwyn’s attempts to dislodge her, it was in the derelict Realm of the Dead that the terrible Witchfeighd met with the greatest success. Wherever the faeries soared and wherever they declared themselves sovereign, they found only the ruins of what must once have been. Hecate trailed the hint of death, carved great symbols and pentagrams into the essence of the realm; she made it into a great focus for her rituals and dark designs. The vestiges of the dark energies of death and necromancy that hung to everything in that Realm of the Dead granted Hecate and her witchfae great powers; no manner of noble charge or light glamours and magicks could beat back the powers of the Grand Witchfeighd’s Court of the Covenscore. Wherever battle was given, Eirgwyn found her faeries shattered into dust by harrowing magicks and her hosts were everywhere in retreat. And so an uneasy and tense equilibrium was arrived at: Hecate was mighty in the Death Realm and struck from there against Eirgwyn’s Astral possessions while Eirgwyn amassed her powers in the Astral Realm and struck the Realm of Death. 

[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/6KGxXxw.png[/img]

[i]Seek Hecate not you who want charm,
Here you will not quick find it!
But if you seek for a five-starred harm,
Hecate has refined it!
She is the cackling great-horned ram;
She is the bloodied pentagram![/i][/centre]
At times, however, the equilibrium between Hecate and Eirgwyn tilted alongside the whims of a third Court and its lord - this was a fae whose might was certainly less than that of either the Grand Witchfeighd or the Windrock Queen, yet whose presence still cast a vast shadow. Indeed, he was called the Sultan of Shadows, and not just for his dark temper and his unknowable ways, but also for his realm itself. This was a dark and hostile place, very close to Hecate’s own demesne of death, but not quite there; it was somewhere between the worlds of the dead and the living. In parts it resembled a dark and treacherous fen, in other places it was not so much a mire as a cobbled alleyway only just shoulder-wide, the labyrinthine passage flanked by doors into unknowable dens. This was not a place where faefolk liked to delve, now that the Sultan had made it his own, for those that entered rarely returned. 

According to some unknowable design, the Sultan of Shadows would at times proclaim his allegiance to Hecate, and the shadows themselves would flow forth between the whitened bones of her servants as they marched to do battle in the Astral Realm. But then, in the very next engagement, the shadow-fae would be found alongside the host of the Windrock Queen, the tables having been shifted in accordance to the Sultan’s ineffable machinations. And who knew what the Sultan wanted, really - none outside his own court even knew his true name! Many were those who dismissed him as mad, lest they themselves go mad in the struggle to work out whatever purpose might lie in the deeds or sparing words of the Sultan of the Shadowcourt. 

[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/ihPgDQ3.png[/img]

[i]Are they snakes or are they shadows -
Is it sound that here-there echoes -
That near sight and heart’s strength whelm
In the Sultan’s mystic realm?
Do not seek to find them out,
You will only deepen doubt;
Sultan’s secrets are all his,
Seekers find what madness is![/i][/centre]
That was how things were across the dimensions of the Immaterial planes when the fair folk came forth. But beneath those great lords, there were many of lesser power and might. 

[hr]
Barken Elboria, Trunkueen of the Court of the Little Wildwoods, was little more than a petty-queen within the Veil. Sturdy and stubborn, she resisted all attempts by more powerful neighbours to subdue her and was of those either mad or ambitious fae who burst forth across the Immaterial realm. Unlike Hecate and Eirgwyn, she made no war with the cantars but greeted them as the sycamore does the fungus at its root. No animosity moved in her barken heart or that of her twig- and vine-haired hosts against the astral mushrooms, but only amiableness and natural friendship. Where the Court of the Little Wildwoods stretched into the Astral Realm, there was friendship between faerie and cantar.

Sat high atop one of the many ethereal trees that marked the Astral stretches of her Kingdom of the Little Woods, she observed the reflection of the material plane that the Astral Realm was. Lesser beings might have grown confused and weary by the inconstant form, the ever-shifting nature, the elusiveness of the Astral world. That was not so for the fair-folk, and certainly not for one like Elboria. She had felt a peace here unmatched since she first set eyes on the Highholt of Taramanca and bathed in the Sweet River Rois. Aye, her kind was ever a-warring, it was true, but whenever battles subsided she had little heart or mind but for the whispering flows and veins of Lumen that called on every fibre of her being. She sat atop trees, at the bases of trunks, by shifting streams. She breathed it in and listened to its thrum and call.

Day by passing day she listened and trailed the pulse of the living realm. It was like an ever-swelling artery, hot with flowing life and magicks. The closer she listened and meditated, the more she neared its throbbing heart and source. The days of her searching became weeks, the weeks grew into months, and the months became years. The affairs of her kingdom were handled by her powerful barken [i]Eshgaebars[/i] and only in the most dire of moments was she approached meditating now in a glade of throbbing crystals and now contemplating by streams of viscous Lumen that sporadically rose up into vapours or poured forth into waiting crystalline formations. 

So long did she meditate in the Lumen glades that her barken form was no longer quite like any fae’s. The twigs and vines of her hairs shone with a certain luminescence that was not of Glamour but Lumen, and little crystals seemed to have taken form in her irises so that they glowed ever pale and white. Her barken skin too boasted seams of Lumen that rippled with a cadence of barely restrained power. She seemed closer to cantars and other Astral beings than to faeries, and yet she was a faerie too, and bright, with something of Roisinic light.

Many years later, when Elboria had been absent from the court of Roisin Magnolia so long that the High Queen asked about her, no one knew what to say or how to explain the Trunkueen’s state. “Let her attend me,” the Little god of the Little Things decreed. The [i]Eshgaebars[/i] of the Little Wildwood flew forthwith to their Trunkueen and, finding her in a deep cave surrounded by enormous Astralite crystals, sobbed magicks and glamour everywhere at her feet as they explained how her absence had brought them into disrepute in before the High Throne at the Highholt of Taramanca, and how even now the heart of Roisin Magnolia was brought pain that she had gone so long without attending her at court. Elboria, drawn from her meditation by their cries, soothed them with a Lumen-escent wave of calm. “If there is an iota of displeasure towards me in the heart of the Feighdfulc Mathair, then I have sinned terribly and must make amends. Perhaps she will see it in her heart to forgive her granddaughter when she sees what I have found for her.”

Raising her wand, Elboria weaved such magicks through her grotto and summoned such energies and faerie arts as to bring her [i]Eshgaebars[/i] to wonder and awe. A great Astralite node was gently dislodged from beneath the Trunkueen and rose above her. It was easily ten times the size of the sovereign of the Little Wildwoods and hummed with unfathomable powers. It hovered on a bed of glamour conjured by Elboria, and even as the Astralite hovered there the Trunkueen leapt to the gap where it had not so long before been and peered into the earth below. A smile grew on her face of bark and Astralite. She whispered magics into the gap and from that vein emerged a flow of metal no faerie had ever seen before. At first it seemed like any other melted metal, but as Erbolia’s glamorous coaxed it from the Astral earth it changed and became something else entirely. They heard its song alongside that of Erbolia’s chanted spell, but when her voice subsided and the metal had gathered beside the Astralite on that bed of glamour, any song the strange ore might have known before was silenced. It was almost like it had become a corpse.

They did not let that weigh to greatly on them but cheered instead and, brandishing flutes and harmonicas and drums and lutes, paraded their Trunkueen and the great treasures she had brought forth all across the Kingdom of the Little Wildwood. Across the Astral territories of the Trunkueen did their procession take them, and then off into the Veil and across her forested territories there. Through jungles and across streams, up mountains and down hills and by canyons did they march and sing and blare the polyphony of their musical joy. They did not cease even as they crossed the Sweet River Rois into the Highholt of Taramanca and knew no stopping even as they streamed into the Court of the High Throne where Roisin Magnolia, engulfed in splendour and veiled from all eyes, was enthroned.

“You were a long time gone, my dearest Elboria,” the High Queen cantillated. The Trunkueen let her wings cease and fell on her hands and knees before the hem of Roisin Magnolia overflowing skirt. “It was not for a lack of yearning for you, Mathair, that I was so long gone. I was searching for something; the search did not take me across any great mountains or seas but forced me to sail the crashing waves of my innermost self and dive into the deepest darkness of my soul! I come to you changed in form because I have had to hew anew my inmost heart. I fall at your feet, oh fairest of the fair, and kiss the hem of your skirt that you may forgive my neglect!” The High Queen kneeled forward ever so slightly and, with a flick of her hands, caused Elboria to rise to her feet. “You have no need to cast yourself down at my feet, Elboria, or ask my forgiveness. The one who is absent carries with them their excuse. My heart only grew fond and wished after your presence.” The Little god of the Little Things drifted from her High Throne and cupped Elboria’s face in her gloved hands. Even so, Elboria felt her body explode with warmth and deepest, purest desire and yearning for the very theophony of Beauty that Roisin Magnolia was. “You have changed indeed, just as you said.” Roisin Magnolia affirmed, releasing Elboria. “Your beauty was always dominant, but now it is almost complete. You have done well to hone your spirit so, granddaughter.” Elboria’s lips trembled and her eyes welled up, “Th-thank you, Mathair.” She managed. “I-” she sniffed and looked down for a few moments, composing herself, “I brought you something. I thought to give it to you by way of apology- but as you are after no such thing, I give it to you by way of love. Small tokens, trinkets even, when compared to the endless sea of love for you.”

The Little god of the Little Things soared back to her High Throne and spoke a spell of pleasure. “A gift?” She chirruped happily. “For me?” Her voice was the very art of joy. “No faerie has ever given me a gift!” The childlike delight of her progenitor brought Elboria joy also, and she hurried to wave the enormous Astralite crystal and the strange ore before the High Queen. “They are from the realm of the Astralgod, my most beauteous Mathair. A great node of Astralite, the largest I have ever found and…” Elboria paused and glanced at the metal, “and Magnolium; the singing ore of magick.” A hush came over the High Queen of the Faeries as she surveyed the gifts, bringing now the Astralite to her and now the Magnolium ore. “Elboria these…” she whispered, “are no tokens or trinkets. These are things of formidable power and great value.” She seemed quite torn. “It would be most unseemly of me to reject a gift but… this is just too much. I could never gift you anything nearly as beautiful or valuable!”

Elboria was swiftly at her queen’s side. “No, my lady, I wish for nothing. Only please accept this from me and consider it a small symbol of my love. Perhaps whenever you see either you will remember me; by occurring for even a moment in the mind of my beloved, I will be both glorious and blessed!” On hearing these words, Roisin Magnolia brought a hand to her veiled face as if to cover it further in embarrassment. “Your hewing of your soul has remolded your tongue out of honey!” The High Queen intonated. “But very well, it will be as you desire. And I will keep both of them ever close to me that you may always be on my mind. Here, look now,” Roisin Magnolia raised her wand and swept it. Immediately the rose-red wood of the Godwand cracked and into those cracks the Astralite flowed and concentrated and solidified so that across the form of the wand both wood and Astralite melded into one whole. The Magnolium followed, flowing through the heart of the wand and shaping itself into a handle of gold. It was no less than three wands now, a veritable God-Triwand. The power of that Gramarye-font was such that magicks and Lumen gathered unbidden about it, its very presence a great magnet even as it was simultaneously a great wellspring of both. Roisin Magnolia placed a hand on Elboria’s head and ruffled her hair of vine and Astralite. The Trunkueen looked up into the veiled face of Ladyprince of the Fae-Finte and thought that, beneath the impenetrable veil, she could make out her beloved god’s smile.

The gathered [i]Eshgaebars[/i] looked on in wonder too. Purpetal, however, who was no [i]Eshgaebar[/i], could only gaze with awe at the newly forged wand; his little faerie heart hammered for it.

[list][*][hider=Summary]Faerie kingdoms spread across the Veil, Material Realm, and the Immaterial Realm. One faerie, Elboria, established a foothold in the Astral Realm and gets to meditating. She becomes quite Astralite-like after years of meditation. Summoned by Roisin, she brings a gift of Astralite and Magnolium, which Roisin forges into components for the Godwand, making it into a 24 Might three-artefact amalgam.[/hider]
[*][hider=Of Might & Glamour]Roisin’s opening Might: 14 Might

–3 Might (enhanced to 9 Might by Glamour and Beauty) to Create the Transcendental Artefact Component known as “the Astrarod”
[indent]The second ‘wand’ in the God-Triwand, this component is made from a massive Astralite crystal nearly a metre tall. The crystal was concentrated by means of divine glamour magic and forged into a component part of the Godwand. Due to its attachment to the Godwand, and its restructuring by divine means, it is now in itself a font of Lumen. So long as it is attached to the Godwand, it can therefore never run out of Lumen and dissolve. Though beautified and purified by Roisin, and forged of glamour, the Astrarod maintains the cardinal features of Astralis Lumen. This allows it to interact with thoughts, emotions, potentialities, and spiritual substances, thereby intertwining with the fabric of reality in both the Astral and Material Realms. The wand can therefore influence beings by infusing them with visions, power, or insight, based on the abstract laws governing the Astral Realm. As with Astralite-infused objects, the Astrarod can obtain ethereal properties, allowing it to phase through other solid items; a trait beneficial for creating concealed passages or aiding stealth operations. Its high Lumen concentrations also naturally enhance the Godwand’s magical capabilities generally, permitting it to weave magicks with even greater power and ease. Being a veritable font of Lumen, the Astrarod is also an extremely powerful reality anchor, granting it impressive resistance against other mystical forces and protecting it from uninvited magical alterations.[/indent]

–3 Might (enhanced to 9 Might by Glamour and Beauty) to Create the Transcendental Artefact Component known as “the Magnolium Branch”
[indent]The third ‘wand’ in the God-Triwand, this component is made from the first known extract of Magnolium divinium. Magnolium eases using magics and reduces any negative side effects; it is also noted for its exceptional physical beauty. While it can be a powerful wand on its own, as a component of the Godwand it acts as a great amplificationary catalyst for Glamour and All-magick. Even as it is a great magical catalyst, the Magnolium Branch intensely beautifies the Godwand and attracts every eye and heart towards it. No one who sees it is able to resist the desire that erupts in their heart for it, even if they can withhold from displaying that in an embarrassing manner.[/indent]

Roisin’s closing Might: 8 Might

Explanatory note:
[indent]The God-Triwand (aka Godwand, Gramary-font etc.) is now a 24 Might compound of three interdependent artefacts. Its hilt and heart are of golden Magnolium, and its outer casing above the hilt is of rose-red wood intermelded with white and pale Astralite.[/indent][/hider][/list]