Phoenix

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

I'm sure this was stated/addressed earlier, but I just want to make sure: are we to keep the DMRoyale updated as the campaign goes on? For example: adding/removing equipment and items, HP, etc.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Hey everyone. Just wanted to let everyone know that I'm still here and eagerly waiting to be introduced in the IC. ^^
I've been keeping up with the IC as well. ;)

Magic: The Custom Set-ening (Recruiting new members)

Blood and horror screamed. The sentients of Viragraf fell as they were sacked. The Wardwall broke and those along the shore were buffeted and crushed. Some rushed into the foreign realm of the sea in the hopes to save themselves from the force of gravity. Others retreated only to meet a wall of opposition thirsting for blood and glory. Wardrenders soaked the sand with their blood with little resistance. Still, the chaos didn't instill insanity in the Viragrafi. They were prepared to die here as the first line of resistance to the Raldorans. However, they hadn't predicted such a large-scale assault.

Yalisphur whipped her head around to watch her brothers and sisters cut down by the barbarian-pirates. She released any energy that kept up the Wardwall as she equipped herself with her Halberd of Platad, one of the most powerful weapons forged by the dwarven forefathers of Viragraf. It was a relic, but harnessed a power that defied age. Being a distance away from the bombardment, she was free to defend herself against the raiders. She chopped down a few and stomped some others out of the way until she could find an escape that would allow her to gallop away.

She could see other centaurs far in the distance, no doubt with her same strategy in mind. What few Raldorans her brethren could slay at this juncture would cement their ultimate "victory" in this battle. But there would be too many casualties to properly call this battle such. She could only pray to Fla'vao that the lives lost would strengthen the land of Viragraf as she weaved and trampled over what she could to find herself a safe distance away from the battle proper. Her specialties didn't lie in mass combat, or even one-on-one combat. She needed to reach an area that she could affect in a benefit to those who were better-trained than herself.

Screams could then be heard up ahead. She gripped the halberd in her hands. The hooves under her pushed through the sand. They needed to get her past this assault and warm the second line as well as prepare her own defenses. She summoned enough magic to simply protect her body from physical strikes. Swords and blasts didn't even affect the hair on her back. She pushed through hard just to get past them.

She sprinted through the unforgiving Glassands until she reached the Grassills. The blades still danced in the wind as if they were possessed. She could feel a faint power in the greenery that suggested manipulation from Fla'vao, if no one else. She hadn't noticed it on their way to the Glassands. The land, itself, was preparing for battle. A hope of less bloodshed was birthed into her spirit. Yalisphur slowed to a trot and weaved through the Grassills in such a way that she could lay a hand on each rock in her immediate area. Temporary totems were empowered with each touch. The warriors and soldiers of Viragraf would find their skin more difficult to break and their bones less likely to crumble under intense pressure. If enough time would pass, they would also feel their vitality return slowly to them. It was a marginal effect, but the affect would be felt by her allies.

An hour after she escaped the Glassand Sack she had reached a second garrison of warriors and soldiers ready to take down what Raldorans they could before they could reach Platad proper. Yalisphur approached a young Leonin who wielded a shortsword and not much armor. She was adept in agility rather than power. Yalisphur doubted it would properly save the female Leonin from death at meeting the Raldorans.

"Tell the scouts to prepare to flank the enemy when the time comes," Yalisphur ordered.

Though the Leonin came from Celridth, a Kins'one far enough away to have its own form of structured authority, Yalisphur was above any other sentient save Montigue (to which she was an equal) and Chakaja (to which she was third-in-command to Vao'Hatash).

"Any Wardrenders are to be protected by scouts and placed a distance away safe from the main battle," she added.

The Leonin only nodded in a "yes ma'am" manner and turned to one of her subordinates. She reiterated the orders given to her and the human rushed to organize the strategy.

"And tell Chakaja that this isn't going to be like any other raid," she said in a hush.

Yalisphur was past the Leonin a body-length and didn't turn her head so she could hear. But she needn't do so for she was a body length taller and the others around her couldn't prevent her voice from traveling.

The Viragrafi couldn't know "doom" or "despair." They found pride and worth in a battle well-fought much like the Nakar felt invigoration and fervor in slaying innocents. A battle lost is a battle fought with valor and determination. This is all Fla'vao could ask in return for her preservation of their land.

Magic: The Custom Set-ening (Recruiting new members)

I'm not sure how much more dedication I can cling to for this RP. I may post for the sake of Mars, but we'll see. :/

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

@HekazuI was really just curious if your page looked different and what kind of mechanics you had compared to us. I was looking over other people's sheets and noting which ones were no longer relevant (just Trear right now, correct?). Although, it looks like Iatos added in their CS into the campaign as well.

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

@The Harbinger of Ferocity Yeah, it looks like an interesting group to say the least. ;)

Random question with no significance: is there a way for the GM to remove characters from the campaign on DMRoyale?

D&D 5e - Hoard of the Dragon Queen

Hey all,

I'm the one @Hekazu has been PMing about joining this RP.

My character should show up in DMRoyale (it seemed to have been kicked out, but I resubmitted the Campaign Code...)

I guess @Hekazu and I will be doing a little side campaign arc so I can get used to this (I've never played before) and get most of my noobness out of the way for the IC proper. :)

I've read the OOC and IC in its entirety already. Was there anything of note I should look at/keep in mind?

Wanting to learn tabletop RPing with D&D 5e/Pathfinder

This is a reversed interest check, if the title wasn't clear enough. I'm putting this here for GMs looking for more players who are also willing to teach new players.

I've never played a formal D&D game but I'm very interested to try it. I made a character with pathfinder but I like the comprehensiveness of 5e after reading it over today. I've a character in mind but will want someone to look it over to make sure everything is correct.

I'm going to look over how these threads are set up so I have an idea of flow and mechanics and stuff.

Questions and links are welcome. Pm me if you would like. ^^

Magic: The Custom Set-ening (Recruiting new members)

The elf seemed to fall into the tree, into Fla’vao, as if she was falling back into her natural state. The branches closed around her and the leaves formed a veil that helped her disappear. Syeena’s dress was camouflaged well by Fla’vao and her white hair faded into the sunlight shining through the branches.

Yalisphur caught herself gazing at the act, mesmerized by the cohabitation between the Prophet and Fla’vao. She had never seen her God interact with anyone in such a manner. What was so different about this alien elf?

The centaur shifted her legs beneath her to face the stone where her spear laid. She had to kneel so her hand could grasp the shaft. When she rose, the spear was equipped to her front waist. Yalisphur paused to look back at the resting face of Fla’vao which never seemed to move. But the face seemed more content than the last time she visited Fla’vao. Was this tree actually sentient?

She needed to return to Platad so they could restore and improve their defenses. Many of the totems at the entrance of the Weald had been destroyed and she thought it wise to erect them in the Grassills for further protection. She also didn’t want to be around when a Bellenar vessel would arrive.
____________________________________________________________________________________

A shadow encased Ma’vao’loth. It shrunk as the matte sheen of a metallic substance neared the ground. The Bellenar flagship had arrived for the resources they had requested.

The smiths and artificers from Belward traveled to Ma’vao’loth with excavated artifacts for which they had no use. Caravans were filled with ores mined from the Highills. Though they were less pure than the ores they kept for themselves, the Bellenar couldn’t know the difference. They weren’t permitted to inspect what was not brought for them. They weren’t even permitted to travel outside the capital proper.

But the Bellenar couldn’t complain for the free resources provided for them. Viragraf requested nothing more from Bellenar in return other than their absence and neutrality.

Veins of blue magic flowed through tubes which span in geometric patterns all across the entirety of the ship. This was how they made these vessels airborne and travel through the skies. Viragrafi just knew the magic to be a foreign substance that was prone to cause destruction to their lands. Though the Bellenari didn’t seem prone to using it aggressively nor against them, it was a threat on which Viragraf kept a close eye.

The Sunstrike was a trade vessel but primarily one of defense. Its captain was a kumi, a creature foreign to Viragraf. But Montigue, the leader of Belward, enjoyed conversing with them. They would discuss product, trades, and information of the outside world. He didn’t take this knowledge as fascination, however. He would publicize it so his people could prepare defenses against their enemies. They would treat Montigue’s information similarly.

“Captain Lockjaw,” Montigue greeted. The dwarf performed a bow which lacked the grace of other species. Regardless, it was a courtesy almost entirely unnecessary for the situation.

The kumi just nodded silently. The humidity of the Mountwoods in combination with the altitude made him physically uncomfortable.

One of the captain’s lieutenants approached the dwarf. The ainok was almost as tall as the kumi but much thinner. She was as feminine as the kumi was masculine. Her left arm was covered in a metallic sheet that erased any sense of natural organics. In fact, it looked as if the arm had been replaced. Montigue couldn’t help but stare at the anomaly.

She stuck her hands, or her right hand and her left contraption, onto her hips. The light blue trimming against the deep green fabrics of her uniform contrasted offensively against her fur. Still, she stood with pride knowing her affiliation while in a foreign territory. It was her first time to Viragraf and her first assignment as lieutenant.

“Montigue’vao,” she addressed, having learned the colloquial titles, “I am Lieutenant Shardshaw of Sunstrike.” She finished the greeting with a short bow.

The dwarf couldn’t tell if he should be amused or impressed by such a title.

“What can I do for you?” Montigue asked, still stifling a chuckle. He was curious as to the nature of this apparent meeting. Usually they’d just chat with each other.

“I request an audience with yourself and the other Vao’s.”

Montigue’s bushed brow arced high over his right eye. “I apologize, but I’m afraid that’s impossible on such short notice.”

“’Impossible’?” she echoed incredulously.

“Well, to be honest, Yalisphur prefers to keep from with the Bellenar and Chakaja hasn’t the time nor patience for such formalities. However, Hatash might be summoned to hear what you wish to relay.”

She thought it impressive the level of civility this dwarf presented. Rumors spread that the Viragrafi were only marginally more sophisticated than the Nakarans. It was true that Montigue was on his best behavior. But even then, their barbarism seemed only to describe their xenophobia.

“That should suffice,” the lieutenant said, seemingly unsurprised by the response. “Shall we?”

Again, he was intrigued by her demeanor. Initially she seemed insistent, but now she seemed to not mind.

Montigue led them to the heart of the citadel. He felt uncomfortable leaving the airship since he was supposed to oversee the shipment and departure. But he felt inclined to honor this request since they were otherwise silent of any complaints or additional requests.

“Hatash?” Montigue squeaked through the gates to the main room of the citadel. The wooden doors provided an unusual contrast to the white marble and limestone that made almost all parts of the complex.

There was silence at first. Montigue shrugged with a shy smile. The air was perfectly still as they waited.

“Enter,” a deep voice boomed from inside. “What do you need, Montigue?”

There was a tone of impatience in the voice. Neither could see from where it came. But they both entered and headed for the center of the room.

The ainok looked up and all around them. It wasn’t the intricate architecture found throughout Bellenar and its provinces, but there was a raw nature to it that betrayed the details of the moldings and the high ceilings and sleek lines. Pews and high-backed chairs were made of the marble as if it came up through the floor. It was as if the entire structure, including its furniture, was created from a single block of the mineral. Wooden beams stretched across the length of the ceilings. They were carved from a single tree that even bellenar could not grow to such a height. The faintest scent of damp stone with fresh-cut wood was almost too strong for the purified room. Despite the amount of natural sunlight, the gleaming white room didn’t blind her eyes.

A large elf, even taller than her, approached them from the left side of the room. He kept eyes on Lieutenant Shardshaw. His gaze was suspicious but his tone seemed friendly enough. His long white hair pulled only by a fine rope kept the front portion out of his face which was sharp and strong. Faded green markings were carved across his face, customary to the elves of Viragraf. He only wore an unbuttoned sleeveless white tunic to expose his trained arms and chest. The lack of modesty also exposed more of the faded green etchings which suggested they spanned the entirety of his body.

“And who is this?” he asked as he reached his arm out to properly greet his guest.

“Lieutenant Shardshaw of the Sunstrike and League of Bellenar.”

The whole title was largely unnecessary since he could easily tell that she was of the Bellenar League.

She shook his hand with impressive firmness. Hatash bowed his head as their hands released. “And why is it you need to see me?”

“I was ordered to meet with all the leaders of Viragraf, Vao’Hatash,” she began as a kind of sleight to the dwarf next to her. “But I was informed that such would be impossible.”

Hatash paused for a moment as he realized Montigue was the one who told her request could not be granted but couldn’t find the liberty to properly explain why.

“Alas, the Raldorans’ efforts to invade and pillage this land have seemed to improve in efficacy.”

Her brows lifted in surprise. Not due to what he said, but how he said it. He was even more articulate than the dwarf.

“Their last raid reached the boarders of our southern Kins’one of Platad. Due to this, extensive defensive measures are currently in progress to prevent an invasion from progressing further north. Yalisphur is working to extend the reach of her totems and Chakaja is working to prepare our troops for a more effective ousting of Raldorans.”

So what Montigue said before might have been true, but it seemed much more complex. However, she was already aware of the relations between Raldora and Viragraf.

“Very well, Vao’Hatash,” she said with a high bow. “However, it is that very reason I requested an audience with you.”

Hatash lifted a brow, intrigued with what she may propose to them.

“We would like to offer resources so you may better defend against Raldora and the increasing threat of the Escolan Church.”

Montigue’s eyes widened, knowing exactly what he was going to say and also knowing he’d have to walk back to the lieutenant’s airship with her.

“The offer is acknowledged but declined,” he said with a slight grin of either appreciation or amusement.

Shardshaw’s eyes and brows danced in confusion for a moment. She didn’t know what she should say. Press the offer? Accept the resignation and leave? Inquire further as to the nature of the decline?

“The captains often do this to new lieutenants,” he confessed with a corner of his mouth pursed in sympathy. “I’m not sure if it’s a courtesy or a joke, but this offer is often extended to us.”

Her eyes continued to dance in confusion. A touch of rage sparked in her. She blinked and it was extinguished.

“Thank you very much for the visit, Lieutenant Shardshaw, but I must get back.”

Regardless of his cryptic farewell, he took the ainok’s hand in another firm handshake. He then turned to disappear from where he initially approached.

When the elf faded into the shadows of the room covered in white, Shardshaw’s whole body began to fill with shame and frustration. It seemed Montigue knew this and tried to comfort her.

“I believe the Bellenar have good intentions, Lieutnenant. I think they do this so relations between us remain positive.”

She just glared at the dwarf before leaving the room aggressively which matched her mood. The pads of her feet almost clicked with intensity against the floor. Montigue sighed.

Vines hugged the walls and ensnared the edges of the open windows. Without panes, there was an impression that there was no real worry about weather. Perhaps there never was adverse weather here. It seemed nature worked with the architecture rather than being masked by it. It was subtle, but the craftsmanship of the walls and the masonry of the limestone bricks proved there was a reverence for the world in which they lived. The floors beneath her feet alternated from enlarged brickwork to massive slabs of the minerals. Wooden beams continued to frame the structure, but a skilled architect could tell that these were largely ornamental since they wouldn’t be able to hold up ceilings or walls should the structure crumble.

Lieutenant Shardshaw felt her departure from the citadel much longer than when she was led here. Am I lost? she would repeat to herself. Everything around her seemed familiar, but it could be a trick of the uniformity of the structure. The smell of heavy humidity grew stronger in the stairwells. Perhaps it was trapped, but she took it as a sign of nearing the exit.

She hadn’t noticed until now, but there was no one in the citadel. Only her own breathing echoed eerily throughout the corridors. There were no stewards or guards. There seemed to be no inhabitants for which to serve or protect, anyway. What was this structure’s purpose if not to house the natives of this continent?

Her breath escaped her in shock when she reached the main gates to the citadel. Montigue’s back was against a corner of the massive opening. His arms were crossed in patience, or was that impatience? A hand stroked his long beard which actually appeared youthful over his chin. She only noticed now how well-groomed he was, having only focused on his stature and civility up to this point. Despite his trade as a blacksmith, his clothing complimented his skin and hair well. Taking a step back, she looked less put-together than him.

“Ah, Lieutenant,” Montigue said as he inspected his nails for blackness. “I want you to meet someone. Would you please follow me?”

He was polite enough, but she needn’t his pity. She was matured enough to cope with embarrassment. But this didn’t seem like a trick to her. However, she knew hardly little of the tendencies of the Viragrafi. So she followed with a shorter and slower pace to match the dwarf. Even from behind he was handsome. He didn’t look like a child at all. He was strong and confident. But that could just be the nature of the waddle in his walk.

Small trees lined their walk. They had been planted last season and to which were still tended fondly. As they proceeded, vines stretched from the citadel and into the trees, which were taller than those they’d just passed. Then ornate flowers bloomed not just from the ground but through trees and off walls. Colors assaulted her eyes with their vibrant beauty. She found herself slowing her pace to absorb all she could. The brick path upon which they followed turned into soft dirt against her awareness. It hugged her toes each step she took, making it more difficult to continue following the dwarf and not basking in the splendor of nature she’d never experienced before.

“This is Fla’vao,” Montigue said, interrupting her awe.

She looked up to a face in a massive tree. Blossoms bloomed in any color and vines draped the branches like light green veils. Roots broke through the ground enough and in such a manner for stools and even benches to be pretended. It all looked so orchestrated, purposeful. There was an intention to be overwhelmingly gorgeous. Despite this, it looked so natural, informal.

She couldn’t summon words appropriate for meeting a deity. She’d originally believed them to be zealous as the Escolan for a tree. But gazing upon it now, she understood their reverence for this being.

“She is the reason for our seclusion. Well,” he thought how best to correct himself, “She’s the reason we feel we don’t require intervention from others. She protects us and has protected us since the end of the ancient empire. She has preserved us and so we preserve her. We’ve been shown that others don’t share the same opinion.

“I see,” Shardshaw yipped quietly and low after a pause.

She needn’t argue the opinion. It proved itself valid enough. Bellenar cared little for tradition and suppoied their own protection. Raldora and Nakar, both, wouldn’t mind seeing the continent in flames. Escolan wanted the Empire back and this tree proved an obstacle.

“But we are nearing a turning point in the world’s history. A Prophet has arrived from another existence. Possibly from Fla’vao, herself.”

“Why does that signify a ‘turning point’?”

“She’s here to preserve Fla’vao. That means our own efforts aren’t enough.”

There was another moment of silence between them. She could hardly comprehend what what the dwarf was saying as she continued to eye the tree-God.

“Something significant is on the horizon. Pay attention and be careful.”
_____________________________________________________________________

Whistles preceded the explosions. Yalisphur did all she could to naturalize the cannon fire, but the assault was more intense than she’d expected. They weren’t just firing cannon balls, either.

Centaurs and elves formed a line along the shore. An invisible wall prevented most of the blasts from explosions from reaching the soldiers crowded in front of them. More elves were among the leonin mass, ready to keep the Raldorans from proceeding any further inland than the Glassands. Yalisphur could already tell that this initial attempt on their own part was futile. But Chakaja was preparing for a full assault at Platad. He was right to station scouts at the southern coast of the continent. This was going to be a comment to the Raldorans. They would not allow those pests to irritate them anymore.

Magic: The Custom Set-ening (Recruiting new members)

The sand beneath his feet was hard with blood. His toes dug into it through his leather boots. His hand squeezed the sword in his hand, clicking as the leathered resisted the tightening grip. He squinted his eyes as the heat from his body escaped his panting mouth. The human female across him was proving a tougher opponent than he initially realized. She had trained much since the last time they met in the arena.

“You’re getting old,” she taunted him through her own gasping for strength.

“As are you,” he responded back in his own rocky bellow.

Their chests rose and sank in some kind of alternating synchronicity. They were pushing each other back and forth like the salted waves against the Droprocks just over the other side of the arena. They crashed against each other just as viciously, as well.

His left foot rose and crunched into the sand. His ears swiveled back, focusing his sight on his opponent. His eyes turned diamond and sliced through the female. She took a quick step back, but only to brace herself for the powerful impact that was inevitable. She wouldn’t back down from her former mentor. But the power he seemed to possess seemed to rise from a sudden surge of energy. Perhaps it was the unnerving glare he gave her.

Wild Glare

An elf sat in a booth by himself in a chair, unlike the benches which circled the two fighters. This tourney was being hosted by the Elf, the de facto leader over all sentients upon the island. The two duelists in the center of the arena were in the semi-finals. And the elf was hardly surprised.

Their swords clashed and they dashed and dodged around each other. The Ainok and the Human proved equally agile. They were both reasonably strong. But what both got them to the semi-finals was their skill with the sword and their endurance.

Hatash, the Elven Leader of Viragraf, analyzed each of the individual’s movements. He could see their small stumbles. He could see when either of their hands shifted the swords they wielded. Even at such a distance, he was envisioning combating them himself. He was also making mental notes to give them after the Tourney was over.

Hatash of Ma’vao’loth

The crowd was small this afternoon. The fights with the wild beasts found throughout Viragraf were much more entertaining to the masses than the tactical and, often, short bouts between expert combatants.

There was one such individual that Hatash knew would not be there. He was surprised, even startled, when she entered his booth.

“Greetings, Vao’Hatash.” The female’s voice was soft. It fell into the drapery around him. It sank into the stone under his feet, but still vibrated throughout his body. It held a kind of power not found anywhere in Viragraf. Fla’vao, herself, couldn’t even exude such power. Was she doing this on purpose?

“Please, you needn’t be so formal with me, Syeena.”

His own voice was young but strong. He was a larger elf than most of his species but dwarfed Syeena’s own stature. His tone was warm and friendly. It was quite different than when he would address soldiers, warriors, and troops.

“Forgive me,” she said with a deep bow. She needed to show her respect for the leader of the people who protected her. Who protected the being, the deity, that could save her home regardless how far away.

Hatash huffed an amused grin and turned his eyes back to the duel, though his attention was completely on Syeena.

“I apologize for the interruption, but you should know of a raid currently in progress. It is reaching closer and closer to the Weald and Platad. Reinforcements have been requested. Shall I be sent?”

“You needn’t my permission, Syeena. And you aren’t my messenger. Why is it you are telling me of this and not Mada?”

“The Totems seem to be ineffective against these particular Raldorans. I fear Lady Salna, herself, is part of the raid.”

He chuckled to himself and swallowed a chortle. “If Lady Salna was part of the raid, herself, they would already be at Ma’vao’loth.” He paused for a moment. A succession of sharp clangs sounded as the two duelists exchanged blows. “We wouldn’t even know that they made it that far.”

He forgot Syeena’s ability to sense and neutralize magics foreign to Viragraf. Syeena just remained quiet, however. She didn’t need to argue with the Vao’. She just cupped her hands in front of her and looked down at the stone beneath their feet.

“There’s something different about this raid. I don’t feel comfortable not intervening this time,” she confessed.

“Nonsense,” he scoffed. “I can’t let them know you exist.” He paused again. Another quick flurry of sword strikes against the combatants was heard throughout the arena. “Not yet.”

Syeena simply bowed once more and exited the booth. Her bared feet couldn’t make a sound as they gently caressed the hard marble. Her grace was silent and beautiful.

But she still intervened in her own way.

As Platad Centaurs and Elves cast protective spells against the wild Raldoran Pirates, the grassills came to life. Syeena had enchanted them as she knew the Raldorans usually raided Viragraf from the south since they didn’t need to climb the Droprocks to get to the loot they believed enriched the soils of the island. Few settled in the Grassills for this reason.

Platad Wardrender

The long blades of grass swayed in a breeze that was non-existent. The raiders slipped and fell. A few were ensnared by blades of grass that stretched from the ground. They were unable to move and were free to be attacked. Minotaurs swung their huge axes and hammers, splattering Centaur and elves across the hills.

Regardless of the pirate’s voraciousness, the Viragrafi could not fear death. They knew Fla’vao would reincarnate them into the land, itself. They would fuel the land that once provided for them. They would live on in a different kind of life.

The Grassills swayed and splashed more vigorously as each Platad Warden fell. Their energies strengthened the enchantment by Syeena. However, even they were ignorant of the enchantment.

Tide of the Grassills

When the grass sloshed and began to forcibly removed the Raldorans did they begin to retreat. They had come for what they were searching. This fighting was to kill time (and enemies) and prove themselves. It wasn’t any different than any other raid they had performed over the last few months. But it seemed the Viragrafi were weakening. This would be something Lady Salna would definitely want to know.

Syeena floated across the lands of Viragraf as she would have Naya. She arrived back at Ma’vao’loth by sundown when rain softly cried from the sky. She decided to walk on her own back to Fla’vao and her own “throne,” within the Tree Goddess.

She felt the conflict far to her south subside and took a deep breath to cure her of the anxiety that crept throughout her body. As she fell into a meditation, Fla’vao spoke to her.

“You needn’t listen to that child, young Syeena.”

The voice was large yet soft in her mind. It surrounded her in a firm warmth. It would have been overwhelming for most. But, to Syeena, this was comfort.

“But he must know best for his people,” Syeena responded in her mind. “And if that means keeping me a secret, then I shall keep from the public eye.”

“He’s only keeping you as a secret so he can overwhelm the Raldora should they push too hard. He quite fears that Lady Salna will organize an assault on me and take this land for herself.”

Fla’vao, the Great Cragfir

The tone was quite matter-of-fact. Syeena was unsure about the nonchalance Fla’vao seemed to show. Was the deity really so sure of her protection? Maybe she didn’t mind the natural turmoil of the sentients of the world. Syeena was sure Fla’vao could reincarnate herself if she cared.

“Fla’vao,” Syeena telepathized.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why do you treat me as your student as if I could be your equal?”

“Because, my dear. You will be my equal when the time comes. The Anima of this foreign world from where you originate is my equivalent.”

“And how do you know this?” Syeena was skeptical that a deity from a world not her own could have such prophetic understanding of something she’d never experienced before.

“If they’re like you without that Spark and more power, then you will soon reach such levels of influence.”

Fla’vao’s prophecies were usually entirely unhelpful in how to reach this level she needed to reach so she could return to Naya and save her realm. Her impatience toward this goal turned into determination and then acceptance that it would occur when it would. Only at the proper moment would Syeena come into her own and be able to save worlds. However, the end result might not be what she would expect.

She rested in her “throne” and meditated across all of Viragraf. The invasion had fled and the island had returned to its usual chaos and turmoil of duels and the manipulation of manas in a way to prevent intrusion.

Days passed while she sat there in the branches of Fla’vao. She was perfectly still and unbothered by small birds and rodents scurrying through the small forest within the walls of Ma’vao’loth.

“Syeena, dear. You have a visitor.”

She opened her eyes to reveal the glossy white that could see all within nature. She peered down to see who would be disturbing her meditation.

A foot descended down between two branches. A vine extended outward to catch her softly. It grew outward and toward Fla’vao’s face where the prayer originated. Syeena placed her delicate feet one before the other until she was past the canopy of the God Tree and looked down at the female centaur kneeling before her deity.

“My sister,” Syeena said. Her voice was soft but it was carried through the tree and into the ground. It touched the soul of the sentient and she raised her head from prayer to look upon the Prophet.

His centaur had traveled far. From the Kins’one of Platad, she had walked through the Weald and deep into the Mountwoods by herself. She was clearly skilled enough to navigate her way to the Kins’all, itself. Her large horns showed an age and wisdom beyond most and the spear resting upon a rock meters away proved to Syeena that this wisdom was not purely mental.

“What brings you to Fla’vao?” Syeena finished.

The centaur rose from the ground in a swift yet graceful manner. Her age did not show any signs of physical weakness, either.

“Ah, so you are real,” the centaur replied to herself.

Syeena remained silent until the centaur would answer her question properly. “I pray for support and strength…”

She wanted to address the being stories above her in an attempt at respect. “Syeena,” she said as the vine lowered her to the ground so the two could converse face-to-face.

The centaur withheld her confusion as Syeena neared. She was vastly different than the elves native to this world. Her stature was petite and her ears almost touched each other behind her head. Elves of Omara were usually broad, regardless of gender, and physically equal to the race of leonin found here. Her white hair was the only connecting feature between herself and other elves. However, her whitened hair was unusual for her own kind of elf. But this was not to be known by others.

“Syeena,” the centaur repeated with a bow. The elf extended her hand to wordlessly ask the centaur’s name.

“Yalisphur,” she said with another bow shallower than the last.

Hider

“Yalisphur,” Syeena repeated in a kind of whisper. But it was a statement as if to gather from nature more understanding of the being before her.

“And for what do you require support and strength?”

“My people of Platad and those who roam the Grassills.”

Yalisphur paused, thinking that would be explanation enough for the Prophet to grant her prayer. When a silence extended between them, she decided to elaborate.

“The bodies have decomposed nicely in the past fortnight since the most current raid.”

Syeena wasn’t bothered by the fact she had been meditating for such a period of time.

“However, the bones littering the Grassills have made it into a graveyard that reminds us of the threat the Raldorans pose to us.”

Syeena closed her eyes slowly and extended her consciousness like when the vine from Fla’vao extended to catch her from her throne. It traveled out of the Mountwoods and through the Weald until she coasted atop the rolling Grassills. She could feel the bones that pierced the soft loam and blades of tall grass tangled itself around them.

An echo sounded in her head from far away. “They demoralize those that travel it.”

And so the bones began to sink into the soft loam. The clean white of the fallen’s bones was rooted in the island. Her consciousness then ebbed back to her current physical location.

Hider

“And why is the reminder of death so unsettling?” Syeena asked. She was truly intrigued since she had the understanding that most Viragrafi didn’t fear death or mourn over it.

Yalisphur looked into Syeena’s eyes with confusion. Why had she closed her eyes for such a long time?

“It’s not the death. It’s how the death occurred,” Yalisphur said.

“Is this from where the ‘strength’ comes?”

Yalisphur curled her eyebrows in confusion. As much as Syeena didn’t care for the cryptic messages from Fla’vao, herself, she was quite prone to speaking cryptically as well. “Do you also pray for strength to better defend against our enemies?” she clarified.

“Yes,” Yalisphur said with determination.

“It is done,” Syeena said simply and turned to return to her throne within the tree.