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 The Sidhe Congregation (open) 
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Post The Sidhe Congregation (open)
Place the seats facing east, most of the meetings will be held in the afternoon. No, not in a row, a semicircle will do, and do not use the large oaken tables, this is not a huge feast. The light birch tables will suffice with the lace tablecloths. Shaking his head, Azrael walked away from the large open air gazebo located at the base of his tower.Will there ever be a day that I do not have to hold my servants hand for every minute detail?

There was much still to prepare, so instead of making the long climb to his study, Azrael cast the small spell which teleported him directly there. Once materialized in his study, he cantered over to his desk and flopped into the large leather chair behind it with a sigh.

In the quiet silence of his study, surrounded by shelves filled with ancient tomes and bottles of herbs, he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the peace. Some enjoyed the fragrance of flowers or perfumes, he instead adored the musty smell of old vellum and sharp scent of magical herbs and powders. This was paradise, this room with all the knowledge and ancient secrets it contained was his utopia.

Many times in his long life, for centuries at a time even, had he spent his every waking moment in this room. Now, as so many times in the past, he was forced to remove himself from his seclusion. This time it was for his Granddaughter Tierney. Through a strange set of events she was once again a child of five, the age she was meant to me. It could not leave her alone in the magic. She had her parents of course, his own daughter Oriana who was a great mage of her own right, but only he could train Tierney the proper way.

This event brought his mind to thinking. Azrael was a Sidhe, a race imbued with the magic. Not the magic of the Gods, but their own inhereant magic. No other race could match the Sidhe in those regards. They held their own standards, their own ranking tier, their own methods of training. Magic was a large part of their lives if not the most important part.

Immortal to age and disease, the Sidhe did not live life like other mortals. Considering a Sidhe did not die unless by the hand of another or by their own hands, population control was an issue. Therefore Sidhe who decided to have children usually only had one, some chose not to have children at all. This resulted in the Sidhe not being a largely populated race.

Azrael, like some of his kin on Maxim began his life on the world of Mo'Pri. There the Sidhe race was more prominent. Once he made the trek to Maxim, he found that only a few Sidhe of Mo'Pri had made the voyage. Maxim had its own indiginous race of Sidhe, but there were even more sparse than those on Mo'Pri. Frankly his race was dying off.

The Sidhe had not reached the point of no return yet, there were still enough left on Maxim to be considered a viable race, but those of ancient minds as Azrael, also looked far into the future. The future looked bleak.

He could not allow this. He could not remember a time on Maxim that most or all of the Sidhe had convened together to discuss the state of thier race, to discuss the state of the Art, to form a real conclave regulating the training and use of the Art.

Azrael decided this woudl be a start, an open invitation to all Sidhe of the realm to meet at his tower, as well as any other concerned about his race. He hoped they could meet here and dine, drink and talk together if nothing else. Discuss the old world to those who remembered, and even discuss rumors and myths.

Opening his eyes he sighed and looked down at his desk that had a copy of the invitation that was sent out. The creambone card with gold trim had been sent out magically, conditioned to detect the blood of a Sidhe and deliver itself to them. Those who were not Sidhe, would find the invite distributed in various Inns and Taverns across the realm.


To whom it may concern,

You are cordially invited to the Sidhe Congregation which is to be held at my tower. The tower can be found on the Isle of Winds of the southern shore of the mainland of Maxim. Once upon the Isle, held south from the northern shore past a small mountain range to the city of Arcanis.

Image

I hope you can attend and partake in the discussions. There is adaquate lodging in my tower for all Sidhe, and the city of Arcanis has many Inns that can accomodate non-Sidhe visitors. A dinner will be held every night in the gazebo at the base of my tower for all attendants.

The congregation will commence on the first night of the New Moon.

Sincerly,
Archmagus Azrael

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Wed Feb 25, 2004 2:16 pm
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Lyssia turned the invitation over and over in her hands as she looked at the lands about her. The invitation had been...unexpected to say the least, it had been quite some time since she had last heard of Azrael taking an interest in matters outside his domain, even longer since she had spoken to the Archmagus himself. Perhaps her fellow Sidhe had simply hidden himself too well for her eyes and senses, maybe he had kept his movements so secret that not even the Voralphian tribe of Culaearien had been able to discover what he was up to. Whatever she thought she knew, Lyssia could not deny the fact that though she might not have heard of Azrael's movements lately, he could very well have been playing some part in the affairs of the isle. The Archmagus was far older than she was, she would not attempt to guess what he was capable of.

Still the sorceress had hoped for this day, the day when Azrael would make his presence known to those of the isle who were interested in such things. There were few enough Sidhe in the isle as it was and it was good to know that, on this one day at least, their numbers had not decreased. She remembered a time when the Sidhe had been more well-known about the lands, upon the isle of Mo'Pri and, to a lesser extent, upon the isle of Maxim. They had never been as numerous a race as humans or even elves but there had been a time when they were a more common sight in the lands than recent ages.

It had seemed to Lyssia that the SIdhe had begun to grow less just after the great meeting at Noman's Point. Their numbers had decreased before then, but it had seemed that their numbers had dropped rapidly after that point. Some had said that the Sidhe were dying out, finally overtaken by their great age. Others had claimed that the race were withdrawing from the affairs of the allainces, turning instead to the study of their Art. There had been all manner of suggestions passing about the gossip-mongers and information-traders concerning the fate of the Sidhe. Lyssia had remained silent on the matter, her race was disappearing, that alone was enough to sadden her. Though there had to be others out there Lyssia knew of only a few other Sidhe; the Archmagus of course, his daughter Oriana, his grand-daughter Tierney, the rhyming mage Sorentio, her old friend Toph and her own apprentice Syek. Beyond that she knew of two that claimed Sidhe blood, though only through one of their parents, the tattooed Junn and the shapechanger Silverwolfe.

So few, she said softly, So painfully few. There were others though, there had to be, the isle was a vast place somewhere out there other Sidhe hid. Not all of the Sidhe who had passed from Mo'Pri to Maxim could have died, could they? No they had to have simply retired from the main focus of the isle, caught up in their studies or experiments, there had to be others, she had to hope that those few were not all that remained. She knew where at least one grouping of Sidhe kept themselves to themselves, holding to vows that they had given long ago and refused to break. True those Sidhe had never been a part of the isle's troubles, but they at least proved that her kind could hide away from the attention of others.

She looked down at the invitation once more, silently reading the words inscribed there in her mind. What had prompted the Archmagus to plan a meeting of their race? Did he wish to speak of something in particular? Some matter to discuss with other Sidhe? Or maybe he just longed for the company of other Sidhe, other souls who had lived through many ages, who experienced the world as he did? No she could not believe that, most Sidhe had a tendancy to keep to themselves. After all they had the Art, what need was there for company when they had the innate magic that flowed through their very souls?

And yet...yet the sorceress did find herself longing for company from time to time. She had long ago resigned herself to the fact that she would not be able to side among vast numbers of her fellows and talk of matters beyond wars, peace and alliances. The isle was so caught up with such things, it seemed to be the mainstay of conversation in tiny taverns and all the way up to the great halls of ruling lords. Sometimes the Sidhe found herself longing for the chance to sit down and not worry if the person opposite her was Isonian or Foretian or Dardenite. But the chance never seemed to rear its head, the divisions of the faiths and guilds ran too deeply to be ignored. She could not count herself blameless in the matter, there were old grudges and dislikes that coloured her perception of the world, ones that she didn't even try to overcome. Over the ages she had made her fair share of enemies, sometimes by choice, other times by accident or misunderstanding. But for the most part she had outlived the sources of the trouble, a benefit of being a pure-blooded Sidhe.

Sometimes it was easier to deal with matters when she considered that she would more than likely outlive them.

Or would she? The worrying visions of her own death had been becoming more vivid as the days passed, troubling her seemingly at random. The sorceress had not required sleep for several ages, she had denied herself it in order to escape the images of what had happened to her city of Gyppeswyk during and after its fall. But even though she did not sleep the visions of her own death plagued her, implanting themselves into her mind without any reason. She might be walking around the settlement of the red desert, or reading her scrolls in the silence of her rooms, it didn't matter what she was doing, the visions of her death were just as likely to appear in her mind's eye.

Why it was happening she could not say. All she knew for certain was that sometimes she would close her eyes and the whole horrible scene would play itself out before her. At first she had tried to tell herself that she was just the victim of some cruel prank and had set out to discover who is was that sought to earn her anger. But there had been no one to blame, no one to track down and force to answer for what they were doing to her. And yet she had always known that it would be that way, the visions had been too real, not at all like the illusions that she prided herself on, no the images of her own death had been almost like memories. They had seemed real, in her heart and soul she had known that they were real, memories of an event that had yet to occur.

Lyssia pulled her cloak closer about her, favouring the deep reds and browns of the desert people to the robes of blue that she had once worn. Blue...the colour of the goddess that she had once been willing to sacrifice everything for. Ahead she could make out the city of Arcanis, a sign that she was nearing the end of her journey. She had paid one of the traders who visited the red desert to take her to the port city of Ran'Kur. Ran'Kur, the traditional home of the Royal Knights upon the isle of Maxim, a place where some boasted that it was possible to charter a boat to anywhere else. Lyssia couldn't say whether that was true or not, but she had been able to find a boat heading south. The coins of Culaearien, though rare outside the borders of the desert, were still readily takenby the captian of the boat. He'd peered at them for a moment, squinting at the crude symbol of the blind, coiled serpent upon the coin but had accepted them in return for passage all the same.

And now she found herself in the heart of Azrael's lands, the invitation from the Archmagus in her hands. She had no idea what was going to happen, who was going to answer the invitation, what was going to be discussed. It had been too long though since she had been able to be among her own kind though and so she knew that she would take the chance that had been presented before her in the form of the invitation.

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Wed Feb 25, 2004 7:10 pm
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The Sidhe was reading in his study when the invitation fell into his lap. He looked at it curiously, though without any alarm. It would take a great deal of magic to send anything malicious through the intricate wards he'd set around his keep, and he'd felt nothing of the sort. Indeed, he'd twice sent mass messages in much the same way, once to prospective Royal Knights when he'd foolishly tried to revive that guild, and once to members of the Officium upon Maledict's latest return.

He grabbed the paper idly, opened the card, and read its contents. A meeting of the Sidhe race? He had not been aware there were enough Sidhe left upon the isle to even hold a sizable meeting. The only other he knew personally was Lyssia, and while he'd of course heard of the Archmagus, he hadn't heard any news of him in some time and assumed him lost or missing along with the rest.

He reached up and thoughtfully scratched at his shoulder with his one arm. One never really got used to the loss of a limb, he mused, though of course the price had been a small one, all things considered. Who'd have thought that the visit to the Onyx Lake, a simple exploration venture, could cost him so much? The waters had just barely splashed upon his fingertips, yet the poison had spread up through his arm, nearly reaching his heart before a phoenix had cleansed it for him. Unfortunately, the only way to rid the poison at that point had been to remove the infected limb.

The incident was not all bad, however. The onyx poison, while debilitating, had lent him the power of the magical waters. The magic of the onyx seemed to have fused with the Art lent by his Sidhe blood, enhancing his abilities tremendously. If only he'd ever had any formal training--he'd only discovered his Art shortly before becoming infected by the poison--then he might have perhaps become as powerful as the Archmagus, if not more so. That is, if he were not so limited by his other curse....

Indeed, being forced to speak only in rhyme hampered his day-to-day life as well as his magical ability. The effort of the singsong speech made idle conversation near impossible, since even when he did speak, his words were often difficult to understand. The only one he could call a friend was the only other Sidhe he knew, Lyssia. She had saved his life by bringing him to the phoeniz, Kara, just in time to cleanse the poison from his body. He didn't know why she'd done so--compassion for a fellow Sidhe, perhaps--but he still owed her a great debt. Perhaps not the same thing as friendship, but as close as he had. Others he interacted with--subordinates, colleagues of war and guildmates--he spoke with as little as possible, often relaying words by scribe (the fortunate thing about his curse was that it did not at least affect his writing in any way).

The Sidhe had done little since his small role in the rescue mission of DKII. His armies had swarmed the walls of Danyel's keep and secured it for his own, and there he'd resided ever since. The location was a prime one, edged against a cliff with tall, solid walls on the other three sides. It was not a large structure, but very well-defended for it. Danyel had made no use of it other than to keep unwanted armies from attacking him, but the Sidhe knew that he could do more, so very much more. No one had bothered him or objected when he took over, not that he'd intended to pay any who did any attention. He simply shored up the defenses, and set about constructing a pair of tunnels that would lead down to the shore at the base of the cliff, then afterwards a small docks and shipyards with which to defend the coast. The tunnels were near vertical, serviced by magical lifts of his own design, and could easily be collapsed or rendered unpassable, so he was not worried about potential invaders. He was far more interested in the potential for further expansion under as secure conditions as possible, and a naval shipyard was a must.

He rode down one of those lifts now, the invitation still in his hand. His realm would neatly run itself while he were gone, and even in the event of a catastrophe of some sort one of his Officium guildmates could send the orders necessary to right things again. He simply left word that he'd be gone and unreachable for some time, and that was that. Power did have its advantages, at times.

Another advantage was the personal ship he'd had built, the first constructed by his new shipyards. It was long and sleek and entirely black, made to move swiftly through the waters and be almost undetectable at night. Perfectly suited to his personality and his needs, he thought, as was the vessel's name--the Onyx Dagger. He found the captain in a nearby tavern, who gathered the crew together and readied the Onyx Dagger. The Sidhe waited patiently in his cabin while the preparations were made, until finally the captain informed him that they were ready to leave. He showed the captain were they were headed on his maps, and they were off.

The voyage passed uneventfully, and all the while the Sidhe thought about why exactly he'd decided to go to this congregation. He had no care about the future of his race, really, such noble desires were well and truly beyond him by now. Seeing Lyssia again would be pleasant, he thought, if she were there, and perhaps other Sidhe, perhaps this Archmagus, would prove to be equally so. He really could use some company, he supposed, and what better company than other Sidhe, really?

He soon arrived at the island, and rowed himself ashore in a small dinghy, leaving the captain with strict orders not to leave until he got back. They'd be fine for a couple weeks at the least, he was sure--he was certainly paying them well enough for it. He turned his thoughts instead to the meeting ahead as he walked towards the city of Arcanis, wondering what exactly would transpire there. Only time would tell.

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Wed Feb 25, 2004 9:11 pm
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"A meeting of the Sidhe." Toph muttered under his breath, turning the card he had just read over in his hands. The thing verifiably hummed with the magic inside of it, wrapped up somehow in the paper, beaconing him to read it.

Now that he had, the call was less, but still, this was powerful magic. As it should be, coming from the Archmagus Azrael himself. Toph had only met Azrael once before, long ago, seeking knowledge about a strange curse that had befallen one of his citizens. Azrael had thought for a moment, then quickly taught Toph a spell to dispel the curse. And now he was calling for a gathering of Sidhe. Toph set aside the letter for further study later, and stood to look out the window and into the forests that bordered his castle.

Toph was interested in who would come to this gathering. He didnt know of that many Sidhe who still walked the land. There was Azrael, and his friend Lyssia, and her apprentince Syek, but other than that, he had lost track of the rest of his friends long ago. Where they had gone... it was a question Toph often thought about. Perhaps they had gone back to Mo' Pri, to try and rebuild and recreate what they had once had on that island. Toph knew that he would never go back there. His parents had died on the journey over, leaving Toph, barely thirty, to fend for himself, at least, until he had been taken in by some elves, in the forests far to the south.

Toph turned from the window for a moment, looking above his desk to an old, brittle bow. It had been a long, long time since his "uncle" had given that to him, right before he met Lyssia, actually, and discovered that some of his kind still lived on this new island. And when he discovered his magic.

Toph snapped his fingers and smiled as he felt his Art flow through him, focusing above his fingertips in a small flame. It never got old, this feeling of power and peace that the Art brought him. It reminded him of the forests.

Toph turned to look out into the trees. Perhaps thats where the sidhe had gone, vanishing deep into the forests to live out the rest of eternity in peace and comfort, away from the tummult of the mortal world.

Or maybe they were all dead.

Toph shook his head and banished that thought. Of course not. Sidhe were smarter and better than that. Regardless... Im about to meet many more of them.

Toph walked out the door and across the hall to an effectively empty room, where he stopped, sifting through his memories for the proper location.

Ahh, there. Toph had in his mind an image of the road that led to Azrael's tower, when he had visited, long ago.
Toph concentrated a bit, and watched as a thin black line appeared in the center of the room, which rapidly opened up into a... hole, bobbing about six inches off the floor. Beyond, Toph could see Azrael's tower.

Toph stepped through the portal, and onto the road. Back in his castle, the hole snapped shut with a small pop.

Toph looked around.
"Now where is everyone?" he muttered.

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Wed Feb 25, 2004 9:44 pm
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Nodding to himself in satisfaction, Azrael cast aspell of protection on the last of many rooms that would not be open to the Congregation. Sociability aside, no mage wants people (be they mages or not) going into every room of his or her tower. Many rooms contain powerful and priceless magical items and tomes. His tower, Ilimurand-Ul, had many such rooms.

Ilimurand-Ul...it had been a while since he used the official name of his home. Meaning Night's Light in the Sidhe language, Ilimurand-Ul had been his tower for nearly three millenia. There were days in his youth when his doors were opened, accepting Sidhe apprenti or Tra'Ni to train under Azrael. He was a D'Ni, Master Teacher, in those days until the Curse and the Prophecy set him on a two thousand year oddessy that began with loosing the love of his life and culminated with him battling a God. Since the he has only had two students, his daughter Oriana and grandaughter Tierney, and his tower has only been opened to specifically invited guests for Guild purposes. It may take an inordinate amount of time, but eventually things do change, even for a Sidhe.

Content with his spells, he made his way out to the gazebo. The morning was pleasant and the night would be the first of the Full Moon, hopefully guests would be arriving. Once out in the gazebo, his hopes had become confirmation as he sensed at least three distinct Sidhe signatures already on the Isle not too far from Arcanis. As Sidhe senses went, one Sidhe could usually if not always detect the presence of another the closer they got. In the case of Sidhe who are known to one another fairly well, the signature becomes more of an image. Of the three he could pick out Lyssia quite distinctly.

Smiling and taking a seat at the table, Azrael munched absent-mindedly on grapes set out by his servants. Counting himself and his own family, he now knew there were at least six Sidhe still alive and well on Maxim.


And so it begins...so it begins.

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Thu Feb 26, 2004 12:30 am
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The young boy with an old man's eyes bit his lower lip and asked himself for the umpteenth time why he had come. Yes he was Sidhe, one of the last if he remembered his lessons and experiences of the world. But still he was a child, would the older members of his race even care to pay attention to him or would they usher him away, telling him to return when he had more ages under his belt? He didn't know and, he reminded himself, he would never know unless he went and confronted the fears of rejection. Yes he was a child, even his flesh looked no older than a human child of maybe twelve summers at most, but he was still a Sidhe. The blood in his veins held the Art, young and untested for the most part but the Art all the same, the innate magic of his people. Though he had to admit that he had not had much chance to interact with others of his kind beyond his lady the boy hoped that he would not show himself up at the meeting.

Got to put your best foot forward Syek, He muttered to himself, mimicking the words of a small elvish friend from ages before. He didn't repeat the rest of what she had used to say about never knowing exactly which of her legs was better. Syek smiled to himself, remembering his friend, her mischevious smile, the innocent glint in her eyes. He wished that she was with him now, the young Sidhe knew that Aurelia would have known what to do, she'd have taken the lead and given him courage. There again if the tiny elf had been with him the chances are that they'd already be in the tower of the Archmagus and Aurelia would have been talking everyone's ear off.

Syek wore simpel clothes that any child might have worn, if they had not looked at his features then a casual passerby could have mistaken him for a peasant boy. The clothes were a mixture of greens and the fabric was strong but had still seen good wear. He had never seen the point in dressing himsel fin velets and silks, what use was that kind of stuff on his wanderings? Better to wear plain clothes, simple clothes, clothes that could keep him warm and also aid him to just blend into the crowd. He had never enjoyed being the centre of attention, he hadn't enjoyed attention of any kind being by nature a quiet and shy child. Given the choice he would have gladly avoided places where people gathered, but sometimes there was just no avoiding the press of the other races.

But though he prefered his solitude as he walked through Arcanis Syek wished that his usual companions were with him. Since he had left the ruins of Gyppeswyk the Sidhe boy had not walked the isle of Maxim alone. Two others had chosen to travel with him, Kara, to mundane eyes a magpie, and Coristine, a young Isonian girl with a gift that even Syek, with his grasp of the Art, could not fathom. They had made for an odd group during their journeys, two apparent children and a bird were not what most people expected to find on the roads. Although people had tried at times to take advantage of the children and their 'pet', they had soon learnt their error. Between the three of them Syek, Coristine and Kara had been more than capable of dealing with threats to one another. And yet even though he would have trusted either of them with his life he had asked them not to accompany him when the invitation had arrived.

It had seemed sesible at the time, to leave them in the ruined city of the wasteland where they would be safe. He had known that he had to face the trial of going to the council alone, his heart had told him that the meeting of the Sidhe was something for him to face alone. But now that he stood in Arcanis itself, feeling other members of his race in the nearby lands, Syek wished that he had brought Kara and Coristine with him. He knew that he would still have felt nervous at the thought of attending the gathering but at least he would have had someone he knew to hide his worries from. Someone else to be strong for.

As it was he just felt alone. A child who really didn't understand the depth of the waters that he walked towards.

His hands were drawn to the two around his neck as he always did when he allowed his nervousness to overcome him. One amulet was a simple and common enough item, it was something that might have been found in any Foretian controlled region of the isle; a teardrop-shape of metal inscribed with the stylised crown insigna of the Eldest God. It was nothing exceptional, it had no charms or protective spells cast into it, it was exactly what it appeared, a focus for the young boy's faith. The second amulet, while equally mundane, was unique, not at all a piece that could be found in any jeweller's workshop the length of the isle. It was a common stone carved with the rune of his name and nothing more, but to Syek it was the greatest treasure in the world, the only thing he owned of his parents, or more specifically of his mother.

Syek had no idea who his mother had been, he didn't even know her name or his father's name. All he knew was what his lady had told him, that she had been a Sidhe and that she had held onto life just long enough to give birth to him. His mother, whoever she had been, had apparently been making for the safety of Gyppeswyk but had been overtaken by her pursuers and mortally wounded. Only his mother's will and his lady's Art had been able to keep her alive, though unconscious, through to his birth. He wished he had known who she was, where she'd come from, anything at all. And more than anything he wished that he knew who had been responsible for the injuries that had eventually taken her life. Yes that last he wanted to know more than anything else, though he prefered the quiet of study when he thought of his mother a rage boiled within him and Syek knew the taste of longed for revenge.

The Sidhe child bit his lip once more as he caught sight of the Archmagus's tower rising above him in the distance. What would he say to the Archmagus? How should he address him? Were their set rules of etiquette between members of his own race? The lady had never shown any sign of such ceremony when she had acted as his guardian and teacher. Still that didn't calm him down, all he could think of was how much he wanted for the first meeting with other Sidhe to be over and done with.

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Thu Feb 26, 2004 1:36 pm
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Médë had seen it when she had returned from breaking her fast with the ladies in waiting, a creambone card with gold trim lying upon the plump pillow on her bed. She never received correspondence and she had marvelled at it, turning it over and over, admiring it, before reading it.

Quote:
To whom it may concern,

You are cordially invited to the Sidhe Congregation which is to be held at my tower. The tower can be found on the Isle of Winds of the southern shore of the mainland of Maxim. Once upon the Isle, held south from the northern shore past a small mountain range to the city of Arcanis.

I hope you can attend and partake in the discussions. There is adaquate lodging in my tower for all Sidhe, and the city of Arcanis has many Inns that can accomodate non-Sidhe visitors. A dinner will be held every night in the gazebo at the base of my tower for all attendants.

The congregation will commence on the first night of the New Moon.

Sincerly,
Archmagus Azrael


"Oh! Oh!" She had trilled excitedly, and the ladies had run to her to discover what the excitement was about.

"An invitation! To me! By an Archmagus!" She had said giddily, spinning around and around, holding the invitation up high for all to see.

The head lady in waiting, snatched the invitation from her and read it, her face serious.

"It is to a Sidhe congregation." The woman studied Mede who had suddenly grown very quiet. The other ladies stood quietly listening. "While 'tis true, in the past few years you look quite different. I am old and I saw you as a babe. You were not a Sidhe then, despite what you look like now."

"It doesn't matter." The girl said petulantly, grabbing the invitation back. "There is room for non Sidhe. It says so. And why would they have delivered the invitation to me, had they not wanted me to come?"

"Yes. How did the invitation come to find you? There is that, I suppose."

"Yes. See. Besides... " The tall, thin, willowy young girl thought for a moment. "I see things sometimes, as if I remember... someone like me, yet not me..."

"Well, the Fanyare Istar will have to be informed. You cannot go without her permission, or without an escort. We must seek her out immediately."

"Oh, yes! Let's. Let us make haste. It is so exciting is it not?"

With a bubbling enthusiasm, which only youth can exude, the young girl led the way from the ladies' chambers down the hallway towards the Fanyare Istar's quarters.


Thu Feb 26, 2004 5:27 pm
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Astavia glanced at her travelling companion. She was a tall, thin girl, her neck long and elegant, her face more angular in the past years, as she had left her human features behind her, becoming more like that which was her destiny to become.

It was her destiny. Of that, Astavia was now certain. For her to have received an invitation to a Congregation of the Sidhe could not have been a mistake. She had been sought out because of what she was. None would be able to deny that now.

She laid a hand upon the satchel of papers, books and scrolls which lay upon the carpet beside her. Her grandmother's research and notes on the experiments she had performed. Médë was one of those experiments. A human child, now transformed into a Sidhe.

It was long past the time that Médë should have been placed under the tutelage of a Sidhe to learn of her art, her history, her race. Astavia had been very protective of her, keeping her hidden away, protected and sheltered within the walls of her House, until such time as she could find a suitable mentor for her. Surely she would find someone at this congregation who would be willing to take the girl under their wing, to accept her into their world. Astavia could not teach her, only a true Sidhe could.

Her eyes smiled upon the back of the girl. Médë was as excited as if she were going to a grand party and she were the guest of honor. It was surely her age. The girl was, if measured by human standards about the age of thirteen or fourteen summers, although she had lived longer than that. Her first few years, she had aged as a human and it was not until she hit the human age of twelve, that her aging process had slowed and she showed all the signs of being a full fledged Sidhe. Her looks had changed gradually throughout her short life, but had changed much more dramatically in the past years since attaining the human age of twelve, growing taller, thinner, more willowy, more ethereal, more feylike and regal looking. Normally a serious, considerate child, delighting in nature and learning, she had become more so, though always she had remained loving and caring, quick to smile, lighting up the rooms and the hearts of those she met.

She was open and honest. Astavia wondered if that would change now. She was about to see things, to learn things about herself, about her race, about her past, that could change and destroy her, or make her stronger. Astavia chose to believe the latter.

"Look Fanyare Istar! That must be it." The girl cried out, pointing to the horizon, where a small island had come into view. The carpet swept low as the tower of the Archmagus Azrael came into view. The view of the Isle of Winds in the morning light was one of beauty, and splendor and the girl marvelled at it.

The carpet landed in a small open grassy area. Astavia and the girl stepped off of it and with a few words, the carpet was rolled and reduced to such a small size that if fit into the satchel that Astavia carried upon her back.

"Here we are Médë. Are you ready?"

The girl nodded, her grey eyes shining, her face suddenly showing some uncertainty. "What am I ready for? I don't know what this is about."

"No. But we shall find out. These are your people Médë. It is time to meet them, walk among them and learn."

_________________
[center][glow=white]Alt of Ms Evernight 2003/2004
ISTARI D'TIAVAIN
[/glow]

My stave predicts my path, white on winter white,
cold as bones left in the ashes of abandoned fire rings
[/center]


Thu Feb 26, 2004 6:41 pm
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The child was in the city.

But there again why shouldn't he be?, she asked herself openly, knowing that there would be no answer. It had been quite some time since she had last laid eyes upon Syek, last watched him at work or at play. She had taken her leave of him in the ruins of Gyppeswyk when her path had drawn her away to strike out at Maledict. To others her behaviour might have been callous, almost cruel, but she had not left him alone, no she had left him with Kara, knowing that the bird would protect the boy with its life. The sorceress had known that the phoenix-magpie would watch over the child as if he was her own chick, she could not have hoped for a better soul to take over as the boy's guardian. Besides the child had needed to get away from Lyssia, even then, almost consumed by her hatred of the Torturer, still she had realised that. She had kept him so sheltered from the world for most of his life, he had needed to stretch his wings and find his own path in the world.

And now it seemed that his path had brought him to the gathering of the Sidhe of the isle. The thought of the boy roused strange feelings within the sorceress, emotions that she had been subjected to for untold ages. On the one hand the thought of seeing the boy again made her think upon the dark mood that had taken her when she had last been in his company. But on the other hand his presence awoke in her a curiousity about him, about how he was, what he had done, what kind of experiences had formed his memories since she had left him. In her heart a longing to speak to the child unfurled, a desire to talk to him openly and without fear of interruption.

But it would never be that way between them.

She remembered looking down at him when he had been a newborn, wishing that she had been able to lay him in the arms of his mother. Oh how she had wished that she had been able to give him to his mother and know that the woman was alive and healthy, ready to bring her child up in the isle. He had been so small and helpless, and yet so full of potential, his whole life laid out before him with nothing set in stone. The sorceress had remembered how he had looked up at her from his crib, crying softly, arms outstretched as if begging her to pick him up and hold him, to give him the love that he would never get from his mother. That was what he had always wanted from her, a mother's love, but that had been the very thing that Lyssia was unable to give him, would always be unable to give him. He deserved love, he deserved far more than she had ever been able to give him, not in terms of toys or the like, she had always seen to it that he never wanted for material things. But his emotional wants? Those had been another matter entirely.

The sorceress wondered if the boy had sensed her presence as well, he was quite capable of it as a pure-blooded Sidhe. Of course he had always been capable of far more than he ever achieved. That wasn't to say that he had not studied, quite the opposite, he had taken to his lessons with great eagerness. In fact as Lyssia recalled it had been the boy's insistance that had lead her to beginning his apprenticeship before she had planned to. The boy had been eager, he had been talented, the Art ran deep within him, but still he had always seemed almost surprised by his own abilities as though he wasn't really aware of what he could do.

Lyssia bowed her head and closed her heart to the feelings that the boy's presence stirred up in her. She didn't need to be distracted by such things, not with the meeting of the isle's Sidhe and those interested in them...now there was a thought. Who else would turn up? Who else would be interested enough to make their way to the Archmagus's tower and see with their own eyes the largest gathering of Sidhe in many, many ages? There were many in the isle to whom magic was a passion, if they caught wind of the meeting no doubt their own curiousity would draw them to the Isle of Winds. And scholars of history too, surely they would be tempted in like moths if they heard that the Sidhe were meeting as they had not done in many ages. The Sidhe were the longest lived of races, they viewed history very differently to the younger races.

She continued to walk towards the tower, sensing the Archmagus and even the traces of other Sidhe that had made their way to the Isle. So others of her race had answered the invitation? That was good, though they were only few in number they still cared for the company of others from time to time. The sorceress was used to being the only one of her kind in the red desert of Culaearien, she was used to only occansionally coming across Toph or Sorentio. It was the way of things, she was a Sidhe and for the most part she was alone, living among people who were not of her blood. She could not really imagine anymore what it was like to be surrounded by many of her own race. It was quite beyond her how humans and the other races managed to survive, crowded in by thousands of their own kind all living in less than a few mile sof one another.

Yes she was used to being the only Sidhe in the red desert, it was a way of life that she had become accustomed to. However that would not be the case for the length of the meeting that Azrael can planned. Upon the Isle of WInds she was one Sidhe of several, hardly a crowd, but still not at all the situation that she was used to. Not that she was the only one, surely the experience of being around so many other Sidhe would be an unusual one for all of her kind that came to the Isle? Who among them could claim to have grown used to the company of several Sidhe all about them? Though the numbers of the Sidhe population had once been far larger than they were at present the time when they had been more common was many ages ago. In the intervening years alliances had risen to prominance and then fallen to dust, men and women had been born, strived to make their mark upon the isle and then died, turning to bones and dust.

What were the Sidhe in the current days of the isle? A relic of past times, forgotten by most and dismissed as weak-willed fools by others? Misunderstood that was for certain but that had been bound to happen when their numbers had decreased and knowledge of the Sidhe had become rarer. When true knowledge was not to hand people often resorted to their own imagination for answers. How many times had she said, cloaked and hidden, in the corner of a tavern, listening as the locals told tales about the fireside? Soemtimes they had spoken of the Sidhe, the strange fae who had weilded a magic like no other, who had been made of magic itself, who had not aged or been able to die. Always she had smiled to herself as they span their tales, so obviously making it up as they went along to earn the favour of fellow patrons. Of course that was not always the way, some in the isle truly did know the truth of the SIdhe or at least strove to wipe away the lies that covered what some thought they knew. Not that Lyssia had ever helped either sort of person, she kept her truths to herself, not seeking to share them with outsiders.

She had learned long ago the lesson of letting anyone get close enough to learn too much of her.

Earning the trust of the sorceress was a difficult task, as many had found out she did not give it away freely. For the most part Lyssia's history was a mystery, an unknown that was only hinted at now and then. Nost of the larger facts could be discovered, but the specifics and the reasons, those were lost, the details hidden by a shroud that Lyssia herself had put up. What was the sorceresss hiding?

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Thu Feb 26, 2004 8:03 pm
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Toph grimaced slightly as his mind picked up traces of other Sidhe on the island. He had gotten used to, over the past hour, to the feeling in his mind that he referenced as 'Azrael,' some presence in the tower ahead of him, but these new things in his head were begining to disorient him. At least one was familiar. Toph smiled. Lyssia, his first teacher in the Art, was on the island as well, making her way to the same destination. Toph looked forward to meeting his friend somewhere other than the burning sands she called home. Not a natural place for a Sidhe, he thought, but Lyssia had always been a mysterious person, and Toph was sure that whatever reasons had drawn her to the red desert were quite valid.

After a few minutes of focusing on Lyssia's presence, Toph managed to push it back into his subconcious. Now then, who else was on the island? Toph detected 3 more eminations at the moment. One was... vaguely familiar... Syek perhaps? Toph had met the young Sidhe a few times in the past on visits to Gyppeswyk, before the city had been lost and Kara reborn, but had lost track of the boy after that. It was good to know he still lived.

Another one of the presences seemed... odd, somehow. It wavered in and out of focus, almost as if the Sidhe was trying to mask its presence from the others. Odd.

Maybe a Dozen. Only a dozen Sidhe left? Toph shook his head. So few. Unless some hidden enclave of Sidhe were found, Toph realised that his race was effectively doomed. Yes, some of them, some of them would live for aeons. However, in the end, death stalked even the Sidhe, not in the forms of age or disease, no, but in the inexorable probability of accidents or violence, that would someday catch up to all of them. And when the last one was gone? what then? Already there were too many stories about the Sidhe, some true, like their innate magical powers, some blatently false. Toph chuckled under his breath, recalling a particularly amusing tale he had heard about how Sidhe were made by the Gods, and convalesced on the tops of mountain peaks, fully grown.

They would only get more and more bizzare as their numbers decreased, and the generations of men flowed on. Sidhe are demons of the forest, Sidhe are able to turn into dragons at will- Toph smiled... he was actually working on that one right now... Llardorwyn was trying to teach him how he shifted to elf form from dragon, but it was harder for Toph than for the dragon, who had millenia more experice than Toph himself. Regardless, the thought of the Sidhe as ledgends and myths disturbed Toph. It wasnt often that you thought of yourself, or your people as myths.

Toph shook his head sadly, and continued walking towards the tower, which was now visible over the tops of the trees.

Mmmm.... Toph paused. One of the signatures was close... the one Toph thought was Syek. Toph altered his path to meet up with the other Sidhe. It would be good to talk.

_________________
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The "EpiToph of Faith" ~Nagash


Thu Feb 26, 2004 9:40 pm
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Without thinking he scratched at his arms, chiding himself as soon as he noticed what he was doing. Scratching didn't help he reminded himself solemnly, but neither did not scratching. The cloth on his arms was slightly thicker than the rest of his clothes and the sleeves ran long, covering even his hands. It might almost have looked slightly comical to an onlooker, a child who had perhaps been dressed in the clothes of an older brother, assured that one day he would grow into them. But that was not the case, the rest of Syek's clothes fitted perfectly, the sleeves were just deliberately long. It hadn't been too much of a chore to get the sleeves lengthened to the point that they were even if the seamstress that he had hired had asked a few odd questions. She'd asked but he hadn't answered, instead he had just watched her with the patience of one who knew that he had time on his side.

Time was an odd thing for the Sidhe, it did not effect them as it did the other races. He would almost have laughed at how humans raced and dashed through their lives, always hurrying from one thing to another, always so sure that they just needed to see tomorrow. They thought of things in terms of tomorrows, so eager to get to the future, to leave the present behind. In his eyes they scurried through life, never stopping to appreciate the time that they lived in, always hankering after the future. Perhaps if they only stopped and cared enough to look at the time they cast aside in their haste they would see things differently. After all they had such little time really compared to other races, so little time and yet they frittered it away, wasting it, hurrying it away. Sometimes he had to wonder if they were in a race to end their lives, competing against one another to get to the end. Yes sometimes he almost laughed at them, but he always stopped himself short as his thoughts turned to Coristine.

Coristine was human, she looked no older than him...for the moment. But Syek knew that it wouldn't be much longer before she looked older than him, aging as one of her kind did. The girl would age and grow older while time indulged him and let him casually wander through it. It was difficult for him to imagine what would happen to them in the years to come as Coristine aged and he took his time with growing up. There would come a time when people looking at them would think that she was his older sister, and then perhaps his mother, and then grandmother. And there would come a day, no matter how much he tried to deny that it would happen when he would stand beside Coristine's grave. When that happened the chances were that he would appear little older than he already was, a thought that sent chills down his spine. By the time he looked twenty summers in appearance Coristine's body would be little more than bones and her soul little more than memories for him to carry with him.

He thought he understood his lady now, or at least some small part of her. When he had lived in the city with her Syek had always thought that his guardian seemed weighed down by the burden of her years. But he knew now that it wasn't just that that pressed upon her soul, no it had been the memories as well. People of other races came and went, living their lives and dying while the Sidhe remained still. And it was the Sidhe that carried the memories of those that had departed with them into the future, they carried the weight of the past with them. Not just their own substantial past but the past of all those that they had met and remembered. It was a weight that could crush the hardiest of souls but the older Sidhe that he had met did not seem to shirk that duty to those that had died and were remembered only by them. One day he would carry a similar burden, he would hold the only memories of those that had passed on from the world. And Coristine's memory would be among them. He didn't want to think about it but still from time to time it rose up in his mind, making him look at the human girl with sadness.

One day she would be gone and he would remain as he was. Ageless. Powerful. Sidhe.

He had tried to explain it to Coristine one day after she had noticed the sadness in his eyes and asked him of it. It had been hard to find the right words to explain it to her, to make her realise that even though she was young with her whole life ahead of her, still he was already mourning her loss. She had just smiled at him and told him not to worry, that the span of her years had been laid out before her by the Goddess and that she would not fear them coming to an end. The girl had seemed so calm, so utterly at peace with what would be, as she had said "It is the way of things, I am human, you are Sidhe, we are different. I know that I will die long before you do but it does not worry me because I know you will continue, I know that you will remember me. And as long as I am remembered then I shall never really die, not in your heart, there I shall always remain alive". Her words had brought tears to his eyes, sometimes he wondered whether she was not far wiser than he even though she had lived a much smaller number of years.

Syek felt the tears pricking at his eyes once more and upon reflex wiped them away with a sleeve. The action caused the cloth to rise up, revealling his hands and wrists, revealling the horrible scarring that marred the flesh of his arms. Though it had been many ages since he had first suffered the injuries that had caused the scars his skin had never really healed properly. He still bore the marks of the magical fires upon both arms, though he tried his best to hide them. People tended to look at him strangely if they saw the scars, their curiousity he could stand, their pity he could not. They didn't need to pity him, yes he was scarred, yes his arms would never look normal but that didn't make him helpless, that didn't meant that he couldn't live as any other.

The Sidhe boy sensed another of his kind drawing near and quickly pulled his sleeve down again to cover the scars. He looked all around him, spotting a familiar figure heading towards him, a person that he had not seen in many years. Syek smiled shyly as he always did, Hello Toph, it's nice to see you again. I'm glad that I'm not the only one who answered the Archmagu's invitation, I would have been very embarassed had I been the only one here. But he wasn't the only one. He could feel them, not many but they were there, all drawing towards the Archmagu's tower and each other. There was no great horde of Sidhe coming out of the woodwork, just those who had always walked the isle. And...well he wasn't sure what that was. He could sense another, like a Sidhe but not like a Sidhe, perhaps it was a half-blood, perhaps it was nothing. Not that that mattered, he had found a familiar face to go to the meeting with in Toph.

And more than that, he had sensed her.

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Fate cannot be changed...but it can lead to better things


Fri Feb 27, 2004 6:43 am
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She had been very surprised when the invitation made it's way to her. How in the world Azrael had found her she could not guess. Part of his magic she presumed.

It had been a very long time since she had seen him. If she remembered right it had been on a plain and ther had been much pain and suffering at the time...but other than that she could not remember much.

It would be good to see him again, and to meet some of the other sidhe on the island. Even though she had lived her a long time, coming from the lost plains of Mo Pri herself, she had yet to meet many of her kind.

She had to admit to herself that she hadin't tried very hard to do so either. With the loss of her guildmates and their disappearance from the lands she had become quite the solitary creature. Only Atraea her fire lizard keeping her company.

She turned the beautiful invitation over in her hands as she thought all these things over. It would be nice to be around her own kind again.

_________________
[center] "Ex Umbra Inter Consilium Decerto"
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THE BRAT
Pixie Queen of Theives ~ SA[/center]


Fri Feb 27, 2004 5:01 pm
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And so it begins...so it begins.


With a shake of her head, her ebony curls bobbing, and a slight soft smile the woman mage donning black robes that matched those of the Archmage slid beside the man who had sacrificed more than any could have possibly been aware of to see to it that she lived. Recently passed events had given Oriana cause to pause and reflect back on many a thing, her own life and her relationship with her father. When the invitation arrived, falling straight into her hands she had stared at the parchment, feeling the arcanic energies flowing so smoothly over each particle, even then she smiled, before she would have stared in horror, but now, now was different. Her curiosity had been peaked and she was not one to ignore a calling, especially when that calling came from Azrael, in the past she had defied her father at every turn, she found great pleasure in goading the man, those days were over, not only because she had grown mentally, but because her most precious treasure adored the Archmage and all but worshipped the ground he walked on. Tierney, her daughter, Guidions daughter, would be leaving Tengwargul Tower for the Isle of Winds to study under her grandfather, no one was more suited for the task, in Orianas mind there simply was no one better than Azrael to guide Tierney down the path that all Sidhe walk. Azrael was the Art, it was only fitting that the granddaughter become the student and the grandfather become the teacher. Tierney however was not the reason she had come to the Isle, though the child had accompanied her mother, and Oriana would probably leave the Isle without her daughter, for the time being, the white haired little girl was in the company of Cirrah, a very ancient being, and a very close companion of Orianas. Until the others arrived, and they would be doing so shortly given the closeness of the signatures she felt, Oriana would make the best of the time she was to have with her father.....

It begins.... but I wonder father, how will it end. Hundreds of years have passed since a gathering of this magnitude has been called, granted our numbers are small but the amount of power that will confined to one place.... it truly is remarkable. I give you credit father, only you could pull such a convening together, and I mean no disrespect when I say I have wondered why you who enjoys solitude to such an extreme would call us all here. Are we in that much danger of becoming extinct father? Of course there is more, and I know what you will say, I will have to wait to learn your reasons and that is fair enough...

In a move so unlike her Oriana slipped her arm through her fathers, Azrael would probably think what he always thought of her, that she was too soft, to warm, an utter disappointment, but she was not going to let him get to her, she was there for reasons other than making nice with her father, though it didn't hurt to show a little love from daughter to father so long as they were alone.

I've brought Tierney with me. She is probably running Cirrah in circles.... you will be pleased to know that she passed your study without so much as an glance so you will not need to bandage any burned hands this day.....

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Sun Feb 29, 2004 11:24 am
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The Sidhe walked slowly, unconcerned with how much time was passing. For a meeting of such magnitude, it would certainly take a fair deal of time to gather everyone together. He was in no hurry.

There was a buzzing sensation in his head, all around him. No, rather, lots of smaller buzzing sensations all together. If he concentrated on it hard enough, he thought he even recognized one of them--Lyssia? Were the others then other Sidhe, come to this meeting? Once again he cursed his lack of basic knowledge in the Sidhe Art, never having known that Sidhe could sense other Sidhe like this. In fact, now that he knew what was happening, the buzzing sensations become more clear, resolved into individual presences that he could trace, although one of them seemed to be sick or something, only partially present in his mind.

Several were already clustered together at what he presumed was the tower that was his ultimate destination, so he continued in that direction after but a momentary pause. He soon came upon a road that led unerringly to what could only be the tower, and continued following it. There were two of the presences in his mind before him on the road, though he could not yet see them, and neither one was familiar. He continued walking, heading towards them.

He spotted them within a few minutes, stopped up ahead of him. Soon he caught up to them, noting their appearance. As expected, two Sidhe, like himself--at least, like himself in as much as they were Sidhe. One seemed very young, though how many years the child actually possessed was a mystery. The other was an adult male, nothing particular standing out about him. He realized both were looking at him now, waiting for some kind of introduction, or at least a greeting, and once again cursed his curse. There was nothing more difficult than introducing himself, given his name--probably what made it so appealing to the one that had cursed him.

"Greetings to both of you,
And a how do you do?
Sorentio is my name,
A pleasure all the same."

_________________
[center]Sorentio Rhicende
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1am GMT 27/3/04
[/center]


Sun Feb 29, 2004 2:04 pm
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Azrael popped another grape in his mouth as he felt his daughter sit down next to him.

It begins.... but I wonder father, how will it end. Hundreds of years have passed since a gathering of this magnitude has been called, granted our numbers are small but the amount of power that will confined to one place.... it truly is remarkable. I give you credit father, only you could pull such a convening together, and I mean no disrespect when I say I have wondered why you who enjoys solitude to such an extreme would call us all here. Are we in that much danger of becoming extinct father? Of course there is more, and I know what you will say, I will have to wait to learn your reasons and that is fair enough...

He cocked one eyebrow as she slid her arm into his, but he did not recoil from it and allowed her that. She was unusaully affectionate this day.

I've brought Tierney with me. She is probably running Cirrah in circles.... you will be pleased to know that she passed your study without so much as an glance so you will not need to bandage any burned hands this day.....


Azrael smirked as he finished his grapes and wiped his hands on a cotton hand towel. He understood now. Ever since Guidion was returned to her and Tierney was once again a child as she was always meant to be, she had shown an ungodly amount of motherly and familial tendancies. She was sewing for goodness sakes. Turning to her he patted the hand that entwined his arm.

This meeting is for you Ne'Fili. It is for Tierney, it is for all of our kind. There is no self serving purpose in my motive. I have lived long and experienced much. I suppose after so many eons a person begins to reflect on what has passed. A Sidhe unlike any other being see the passing of time in a much broader perspective. We do not notice how many hours, days, weeks...years pass as we live our lives, they are inconsequential to us for we know there is an infinite amount of possible time ahead of us. We do not live as other mortals do, scurring like rats from a sinking boat, only to dive into the ocean itself.

This is how I can cloister myself in my tower Ne'Fili. You are still very young in Sidhe reckoning, you have yet to see one century pass. You are less than half way through the life of a human. For the most part you live your life as a human save for your magic. You can see more clearly the terms of family life as they do. However make no mistake Oriana, you will outlive your husband. You will see all that youn know aside from us Sidhe eventually fall to dust. You will realize that for many points along your long life the only peace and love you will feel is with the Art.

This does not mean you are incapable of love and friendship. Only that you will learn to understand that those things are fleeting in comparision to the life we live. They are flashes in time Oriana, peebles in a river that cause some beatiful ripples for a time, but eventually they disappear in the steady flow of the river itself, only a memory. Focus too much on the images of those past ripples and you will not see where the constant flow of the river is taking you. That is the way of the older short lived mortals, those who know there is more of their life behind them than there is left ahead. All they have left is those memories, for they have little left ahead to worry about except death.

Your mother...your real mother is one of those ripples. If I pined away my life thinking of her, I would not have been prepared to deal with what I had to do with you and Tierney. I miss her Oriana, I miss her dearly. The fact she is not dead, but instead out of my reach makes it that much more painful. However I have a life to live, I have people that depend on me. I must move on.
Azrael turned slightly and took both of her hands in his.

This is why I am the way I am with you. I am trying to prepare you for what lies ahead, the life that you will undoubtedly face. I do not forget the past, I see your mother in your eyes everytime I see you, nor am I incapable of love, I just know that as much as those around me would enjoy it, there are more important things I must teach them. I cannot allow you or Tierney to be comfortable in love, for you will become used to it. I cannot explain it any furthur, you will understand once you have lived longer.

Clearing his throat, Azrael sat back in his chair

As for me...it does seem that my name upon this Isle has grown, especially amoung the Sidhe population. However that is the nature of our kind. Respect for elders in age and the Art, but it is not one-sided. The respect is given back in return. I treat the Sidhe I meet as my equals. There is no reason to nitpick on who is more powerful between us, for combined we can defeat and conquer any race if we so choose to. As you should know Oriana, there are not many of us left, and even less that come from the old realm.

There are more that arrived on the Isle, and are approaching as we speak. Most I recognize...

His words cutting off quickly, Azrael bolted from his seat and walked to the railing at the edge of the gazebo. His mirrored eyes narrowed as he looked to the north, seeing what was unseen over the mountains between Arcanis and the shore. He concentrated furthur as the picked up a bit, enough to blow his hood off, letting his white hair flow out.[i/]

That is strange, very strange indeed...

[i]He straightened now, one finger tapping the edge of his chin, his face in obvious concentration.


There is one that approaches, a female. I have never felt this before. She is Sidhe, yet she is also not. It is not the signature of a half breed...but something different entirely. This will definitly prove interesting...it may even be disatrous for us as a race. I will not know until I can furthur investigate. Turning his head Azrael looked at Oriana, the look of the father he had earlier had been replaced with the usual look of the Archmage.

Do you see now what I mean when I speak of not dwelling in matters of the past and of love? It only causes distractions.

If I am correct, a human Sidhe is making her way here.

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Sun Feb 29, 2004 2:45 pm
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The soft songs of the birds greet her as her eyes flutter open. The clean fragrant scent of grass is strong and the fine blades tickle her nose. She stretches and rolls onto her back, yawning. She sits up slowly enjoying the peace of the woodland morning, smiling as she watches a young pair of rabbits play a game of tag. She plants her hands on the ground, preparing to stand when her hand brushes against something. Looking down she sees a card that had not been there when she had laid down the night before. She picks it up, studying it closely. It is beautiful and she runs her hand over the inlaid gold trimming as she reads the words upon it. It is an invitation to a gathering of Sidhe. She thought the Sidhe were long dead. Alive only in the minds of children and the worlds of fantasy in which they played.

She is quite stumped at how the invitation came to be in this spot. She was sure she had not seen it the night before. Certainly no one could have passed so close to her in the night and not alerted her. Her sharp ears had set her apart in the human settlement that she had grown up in but they could hear things longs before human ears could. She was not human.

The couple that had raised her had found her in woods, quite similar to these when she was but a babe. They had guessed her to be about 5 moons old by her size though they were not certain. They had looked for her parents for several months, they had never had a child of their own and as they were an older couple. They were not sure they could handle the responsibility of a child.

When it became apparent that the child parents would not be coming for her the couple decided to take the chance and keep her. They named her Anwen and provided her with all they had. She had a wonderful childhood that ended four years ago when she was twelve. First the woman she called Mother had grown ill and died leaving her and Father alone. He had followed her less than a moon later, passing peacefully in his sleep. Anwen was alone again, having lost a second set of parents. The people of the village were good to her and they all pitched in trying to fill the impossible shoes of her parents.

Anwen left in the night, slipping out of town and into the woods a season later. She had always been drawn to the woods and had caused her parents hours of heartache worrying about her when she would succumb to the pull. She was looking, searching for answers that deep inside she knew she would never find. Yet she continued her journey, looking for her own kind. People who could explain why she was different, how she was different from her human parents and friends. Why she felt alone in a roomful of people who loved and cared for her and why she felt whole in the woods. So far she had come up empty and her resolve had been waning as of late. Perhaps she could find answers among this isle, in the town described in the invitation. At the very least it was somewhere new, there was always a chance someone would know something. A flicker of hope sparks within her and fills her with the energy of the young. She heads South at a fast jog, moving effortlessly thought the woods wondering how long her journey will take.


Sun Feb 29, 2004 5:28 pm
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Toph smiled at Syek,

"Its good to see you too. Still wearing those robes, I see. Makes you look more like a wizard, you know."
Toph chuckled, recalling all the pictures he had seen in books of wisards, wrapped up in giant robes of gray, black, brown, blue... the colors seemed unimportant, only the fact that the robes were absolutely huge compared to the person inside, as if that person was hiding from the sunlight and the rest of the world.

Toph wondered how those writers and illustrators, who had taken a long time to come up with how "wizards" dressed, would react to him, who had the Art flowing through his veins, and magic so close to hand, that he could summon it with a thought, instead of those silly incantations and foci that some human mages used. Toph glanced down at what he was wearing. A simple green tunic, cinched at the waist with a brown belt, and his bow and quiver over his shoulder. He looked more the part of an "elvish ranger" than a wizard, that was for sure. And that wasnt to say that he could not be a ranger if he so chose. Toph had been practicing for centuries with his bow, and, when he felt the need, would offer his services to the people as a tracker, to find... whatever needed to be found.

Toph paused in his walking. The unknown Sidhe was drawing near to Syek and Toph.
"Wait a moment, Syek. We have company."
Toph turned to watch as another Sidhe detached from the forest. Toph blinked in surprise as he noticed that the man had only one arm.

"Greetings to both of you,
And a how do you do?
Sorentio is my name,
A pleasure all the same."


Sorentio! The Rhymer! Toph did know of this sidhe, if only in passing, but had never had the chance to meet him in person.
"Good afternoon, Sorentio. I assume you are heading to the tower, same as we are? Come, walk with us. This is Syek," Toph gestured towards the young Sidhe, "and I am Toph."

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Sun Feb 29, 2004 6:24 pm
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Syek went red at Toph's comments about his clothing, turning as almost crimson with embarassment as only a child could. He had never felt comfortable with people turning their attention towards him, looking at him, even talking to him. The Sidhe boy had always felt that he would somehow be a disappointment to those that looked at him, not living up to their ideals. He didn't want to be a disappointment, but at the same time he was always haunted by the fear of it. In the end he had decided that it was better to simply not be seen, to fade into the background and be ignored. Better that people didn't see him and so turned their attention elsewhere, he hated to feel the gaze of others upon him. He got more than enough of that as it was in his life, the sight of the Sidhe child travelling the lands meant that he felt as though the whole world and its dog was looking at him whenever necessity took him to a settlement. Sometimes, with the weight of those stares upon him, Syek couldn't help but wonder if that was how the great heros of old used to feel when they averted their gaze from that of the terrible basilisk.

Still at least the looks of ordinary folk couldn't turn him to stone, no matter that he sometimes wished that they could. Stone could feel embarassed or awkward, stone didn't get afraid or worried over every little thing. A pebble in the road didn't get a second glance from those that passed by it, not unless it got caught in their shoe and even then it wasn't the pebble's fault, no then it was just being itself. Stone didn't bleed or feel hurt and though it could get broken down it was always still there, dust on the wind or sand on a beach, always there, always present. Timeless was stone and yet no one ever expected more of it than it gave. Not like him, he felt afraid, he felt scared, always so worried that he was going to let down his entire race with a hurried action or a word spoken out of turn.

Those who knew a Sidhe when they saw one always seemed to expect so much from him, always seemed to be watching him for some miraculous display of magic. It was almost as though they expected him to be able to summon up the Gods Themselves in order to prove himself to them. Coristine had always said that he didn't need to prove himself to anyone so long as he was content in his abilities. But it didn't matter how much she said that he always felt under pressure when confronted by those who knew the old tales of his race. The people always seemed to want him to prove that he was worthy of the name 'Sidhe', of the Art that flowed within him. They wanted to see the magic of old, they wanted him to show them the truth of the tales that they had heard round the fireside.

Syek had never bowed to the wishes of those that wished to see him 'perform' for them, the Art was not for such things. However much he felt pressurized, however much he felt their curious stares at him or heard their whispered gossip, he somehow managed to not submit to the whims of others. His cheeks would burn with embarassment as he ran away from his would-be audience, Coristine at his heels and Kara following on her wings. The Art was more than mere conjurors tricks, he did not need to prove that the blood that ran through his veins was pure.

Besides he remembered what had happened before...

The Sidhe boy shuddered slightly, pulling down his sleeves further even though nothing of his scarred hands and arms was showing. It was a nervous habit, one that he had never been able to break himself of. Still he supposed it was better than pulling the sleeves up everytime he got nervous, that would have been far more embarassing. The scars were awful things to behold, not at all the delicate criss-cross of silvery scarring that marked his lady's throat. His scars were wicked things, marks of fire and flames as if his arms had been subjected to a heat that had not touched the rest of his body. His lady wore her scars as if they had been a part of her since birth, carrying them with a confidence that meant most seemed to overlook them rather than question her upon them. The only time he had dared to wear his scars openly he had been chased from the village, hot tears running down his cheeks as the cries of "Monster" and "Fiend" followed him.

The boy didn't get the chance to reply to Toph as another of their kind of approached, one who spoke in a most odd manner. Syek risked an open look at the stranger, hoping that the Sidhe would not mistake his honest curiousity for an insult. He didn't want to make any enemies, especially not among his own people, there were few enough of them living openly as it was. If he made a powerful enemy at the gathering then there was no where on the isle that he would be safe...well except perhaps for the Sanctuary. But the Sanctuary was another matter, Syek wasn't even sure that he could find it again without the help of one who had bee born within its walls. And there was only one that he knew of who had been born of the bloodlines within the Sanctuary that walked the lands. Only one, his lady, his teacher, Lyssia.

The Sanctuary was out then if he made any enemies in his foolishness at the meeting. The boy mentally cautioned himself to tread carefully, safe havens for him were in short supply. Without the Sanctuary that left only the remains of Gyppeswyk and the storm-racked ruins in the wastelands. Neither of those places would necessarily have the magic to protect him if anything did go awry and another Sidhe decided to hunt him down.

He was glad that Toph had spoken for him, introducing him to the rhyming Sidhe, but still he felt that he should say something. But what? Just something, anything, anything at all to prove that he wasn't a mute or unable of speaking at all. It's...it's a pleasure to meet you too m'lord Sorentio, the words came out slightly stuttered but they came out all the same.

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Mon Mar 01, 2004 8:20 am
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On this cold day Nagash stood bare-chested by the edge of the forest. His feet were hidden in the snow, steam was rising from his sweating body. He was chopping wood. He liked this work, for it allowed him to train his muscles, clear his mind and gave him a feeling of content.
The cold was not so pleasant though. He didn't pay much attention to anything near him, and as he bent over to lay down his axe, an arrow flew past him. Either this was purposefully done, or it was an extremely bad marksman trying to shoot him. When he turned around there was no one to be seen though. No footprints (apart from his own) either.

So he walked over to the place where the arrow had thudded into a tree and pulled it out. The insignia on this arrow was unknown to him. It was beautifully crafted though, as if twas made a couple of hundreds of years ago. Thousands maybe. Did he do something to annoy his ancestors that much, that they decided to rise from the grave, craft an arrow and miss the shot by many yards?

Probably not. Nagash shook his head and broke the arrow, then cast it away. A letter dropped out of it, which read:

Quote:
To whom it may concern,

You are cordially invited to the Sidhe Congregation which is to be held at my tower. The tower can be found on the Isle of Winds of the southern shore of the mainland of Maxim. Once upon the Isle, held south from the northern shore past a small mountain range to the city of Arcanis.

I hope you can attend and partake in the discussions. There is adaquate lodging in my tower for all Sidhe, and the city of Arcanis has many Inns that can accomodate non-Sidhe visitors. A dinner will be held every night in the gazebo at the base of my tower for all attendants.

The congregation will commence on the first night of the New Moon.

Sincerly,
Archmagus Azrael



A sidhe meeting? He knew some Sidhe: Topheh, Oriana,Lyssia and Azrael himself. But the race was dying. Most had vanished from this world already, and those still here seemed a bit out of place sometimes. They could craft magics of a sheer force that even elves and elementals could not. Nagash decided that this was worth visiting. He took up his axe and headed home to dress himself. He would invite Flum of the OAFS to accompany him. Surely Azzy would understand. And the chance that he would encouter Topheh and Lyssia there were great too. As well as Oriana. Tomorrow the two non-Sidhe OAFS would ride out.

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Mon Mar 01, 2004 10:16 am
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A messenger of Nagash arrived early in the evening, carrying two letters. The first one was an invitation to some Sidhe party. Flum had heard of Sidhe in many faerie-tales (or indeed Sidhe-tales). He actually encoutered one too: Toph the Guild Master. And some said that Nagash once ate one.

Flum smirked because of the memories that flew by. He shook them off after a while and opened the other letter.


Quote:
Dear Flum,

I am going to attend the Sidhe meeting and would like you to accompany me. I shall ride tomorrow, so if you would meet me at the Crimson Pass at midnight tomorrow, we can travel together. We can learn much of this dying race. So let us do just that. See you tomorrow!!

~Nagash



Attending a meeting with these creatures? Now there was an unconventional thought. Flum liked it. Maybe a faerytale would be written about it someday, and Flum could tell his grandchildren about it.

Word had it too that Sidhe were magical creatures. Maybe one of them could make him a magical turnip....................



The following day Flum rode out to the Crimson Pass and met Nagash there at midnight. They greeted each other, exchanged pleasantries and rode on to the lands of the Archmage.


Mon Mar 01, 2004 10:26 am
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The sorceress paused, hesitating just slightly a she made out a large gazebo at the base of Azrael's tower. It was not the sight of the structure that made her pause just a vague concern about what was to come. How long had it been since the Sidhe of the isle had gathered together? Many ages and back then there had been far more of them, all ranging in their experience, ability and age. There had been a time when she would have probably been considered little more than a young adult in terms of her fellow Sidhe, now she had a nagging suspiscion that she was one of the eldest still walking the isle. Not older than Azrael, of course not, other than the Prophet Decae, Lyssia could not recall being in the presence of anyone older than the Archmagus himself. And how could even begin to estimate the age of the Prophet?

One of the oldest and one of the last, the suspiscions whispered in themselves in her mind, chasing their tails and forcing her to think on them further. She shuddered a little at the thought, not wanting to admit to herself that it might be true, not wanting it to be true. When had it happened? When had so many of her fellows withdrawn, or worse, from the isle? After the meeting at Noman's Point? Yes certainly back then, when Lord Busah himself had declared that it was the numbers of Droben that would reduce. But it hadn't turned out that way, if anything the Droben race had flourished while the Centaur and Sidhe had slowly withered away. Why had it happened then? What had it been about that time that had sent so many of her kind scurrying away into obscurity? Perhaps she was looking for a reason where there was none, just like looking for a monster in the shadows when there really was only darkness. Maybe it had just happened, one Sidhe at a time fading away into the past, and once one had disappeared it made the path into history so much easier for those that followed. One by one they had worn a path for the Sidhe into the history of the isle, their numbers waning till the Sidhe were so much of an rarity that they were practically considered freakish.

People believed the stories of the Sidhe that had been passed on from one generation to another. It wasn't so bad most of the time when those tales were in the form of the written word, though even that seeme to degrade over time. But when the stories were passed fron one to another by word of mouth...Lyssia shook her head sadly, so many falsehoods and lies that had become the accepted truth. She had no doubt that the tales of what her kind could supposedly do would become more fanastical as the ages passed and people embelished them. They wouldn't think that they were doing any harm, no they would just do it to please their audience or to themselves look wiser and clever than any other of their fellows. No harm meant, no harm at all but harm would be done to the reputation of the Sidhe, to the isle's collective memory of them. And there were no longer enough Sidhe remaining to correct all the bards and minstrels of the isle and provide them with the truth of their race. Besides the truth was no longer as interesting as some of the stories that flew about the lands of what the Sidhe were able to do.

It was strange for the sorceress to walk the isle and yet know that to many she was considered a relic of the past, a forgotten thing. She had even heard men and women say how the Sidhe had never really existed, how they had all just been a series of more powerful magic-users that had imposed their will. Sorcerers and mages who had been able to use all manner of skills and powers to make the impossible real. A tale, they said, for children about the hearth, but not real, no never real. Such tales were still at a minimum but still they were alive and once a story had taken its first breath it could survive far better than the hardiest of structures. A story had a life beyond that of most people, it existed within the souls and minds of the races, it could live long after the one who had first given it voice or set it down on parchment had passed into death. Would there come a time when all the tales of the Sidhe were nothing more than children's stories? When scribes and historians alike believed that they had never been a true race at all, just a series of magic-users beyond the norm?

Lyssia looked back, knowing that she could sense other Sidhe behind her as well as in front. A gathering of the Sidhe, she muttered to herself softly.

...who would have...thought that there...were enough left of...you to call...a gathering...the words were spoken directly into the mind of the Sidhe sorceress. They were an oily black taint upon her thoughts, slipping through her own thoughts and seemingly digging into her mind as if searching for something. No other had ever been able to hear the 'voice' of Lossandrea save for the sorceress, few were even able to sense her presence within the body of the Sidhe woman. Lyssia had carried the shadow soul within her for years, acting as both prison and jailer to it, refusing to let the vile creature have free run of the isle as it wished to. She had decided long ago that it was better for the thing's presence to remain hidden, only the dumbest of creatures, animals and the like were ever able to sense it within her. All others remained ignornant of it, not able to see the shadow soul that was held within the shattered remanants of the sorceress's own. The only visible effect was that animals had a tendancy to shy away from her, something that most people were only too glad to dismiss as an effect of her Art.

Enough remain, she said coldly, reaching up to touch the twisted circlet of black and silver that she wore around her brow. The tip of her finger brushed the circlet, barely seeming to make contact with it at all, but the faintest of touches was enough. Claws of white pain gripped the sorceress's head, her face contorting as she tried to hold in a scream. Lances of agony seemed to rip into her very thoughts, but as much as they hurt Lyssia she knew that they hurt the shadow soul far more, driving it back down into the depths of her mind, shortening its chains.

The sorceress slumped for a moment, almost looking as though she would fall to her kness where she stood. But the pain lessened and she stood up straight, all sign of the suffering that she had deliberately taken upon herself gone. The cold and controlled mask that she useuallt presented to the world once more covered the real Lyssia, letting nothing of her feelings or emotions show through. She felt numb once more, her feelings cauterized and cut off from her, but it was a small price to pay to silence Lossandrea.

She took a deep breath and continued walking towards the gazebo, able to make out the detail of it within a minute or so of walking. The presence of Azrael was unmistakeable, though it had been quite some time since she had last seen the Archmagus still had not forgotten him. And theother presence? That one she wasn't so sure of, it was not one of the Sidhe that she was more familiar with, not Toph, Sorentio or even Syek. Still she would soon be able to put a face to the sensation soon enough.

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Mon Mar 01, 2004 11:29 am
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Toph nodded politely to Sorentio and Syek, and gestured towards the tower.
"How about we talk as we walk, friends? Im sure Azrael is waiting for us, and," Toph smirked, "an Archmage is never one to be kept waiting. And anyways, we're going to be late! I sense that Lyssia has nearly reached the tower."
With that, Toph continued his walk to the tower, thinking to himself as he went.

Seeing Sorentio had been a shock to Toph. Sure, he had been aware of the "rhyming Sidhe," but he had thought that to be either a joke, or a nickname, nothing more. But Sorentio seemed to be only able to talk in rhymes. That, paired with his missing arm, was... disconcerting, to say the least.
Toph shook his head gently. He had almost fallen into one of the Sidhe myths himself! It was a prevalant one recently,that Sidhe could not be affected by magic, that it merely slid off of them like rain, leaving the Sidhe beneath unhurt, or, as recent stories had said, strengthened by the magic.

Sorentio was living proof that that was not true.

Syek too was wounded, Toph was sure of that. He had seen the boy, constantly fiddling with the sleeves of his overly large cloak, tugging them down so nobody would see his hands and arms. Toph didnt know what had happened, but he was sure that Syek's actions were one of habit now, which meant that the young sidhe had been hurt in someway long ago... and would have to live with it for the rest of his life. Ultimately, Toph mused, each of us Sidhe are tormented by our own demons. A byproduct of our long lifespans. Lyssia's battle with herself, Syek's arms, Sorentio's curse, even Azrael's solitude could be considered a burden.

And what was Toph's? Superficially, Toph realized, he didnt have any of the physical scars that others had. No, Toph's had been the burden of not knowing what being a Sidhe truly meant. He knew that he was one, but his adopted parents had tried in every way to make him seem just like everyone else. And Toph had thrown himself fully into the world, making large networks of friends and allies, and discovering happiness.

And then they had started to die. Not by war, but by old age. Toph had noticed that they were looking old, and he was not, and attruibuited it to his sidhe blood, which gave him a longer lifespan, similar to that of an elf's. The first few of his human friends were the hardest to bear, watching them slowly but surely succumb to time's embrace. Toph had finally gotten used to the idea, and resigned himself to living with his elven friends for the rest of his days, until he too, would join all his friends in the next world.
That is, until his elf friends had grown old and passed into the next world, and Toph had remained, looking much the same as he had when he had met them. Although Toph had finally met other immortals like himself, as well as Llardorwyn, the dragon, he still remembered his first friends.

But it was no matter now. Toph saw the tower come fully into view, and watched as Lyssia made her way towards the tower's door. She'd arrive before them, but not by long.

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The "EpiToph of Faith" ~Nagash


Mon Mar 01, 2004 7:29 pm
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"These are your people Médë."

The Fanyare Istar's words flitted through her mind again and again as they walked towards the meeting place.

Her people. What did that mean? She was born and raised within the House Dovanucci. Her people were the people of the city of Tiavain. She did not understand.

Impressions assailed her, the closer the girl and the Fanyare Istar drew to the Archmagus' tower, vague impressions of others nearby. She had recently had a similar experience, while walking near the gates of the House. An impression that someone, someone that she should know, or recognise, was close by. She had ignored it, because she had not understood it.

Médë had been told she was a Sidhe, but not until quite recently. Before then, she had not been told anything about her past, about her parents, her history. Living in the House Dovanucci, she had been educated, so she had some knowledge about the Sidhe race. What she knew about them, did not match what she knew about herself.

Médë looked like a Sidhe. When she was young, she had had the rounded face, ears and body of a human child, but that had changed. She was now tall, slender, willowy. Her skin was very pale, her hair barely showing the color of the sun's kiss, her features, longer, more pointed and angular. There was an elegance about her, that had not been evident in her as a young human looking child. Her age was indeterminate, although most would guess her to be, by human standards approximately fourteen summers, old enough to be taken as a wife, or as a member of a harem, by desert and Tiavain standards.

She had not always looked this way. Médë was quite aware of this. Her features had begun to change drastically once she had hit the age of ten, becoming ever more feylike, until she looked as she did today. Then, time had seemed to stop. She no longer changed. She had remained the same now for two summers, while it seemed that others around her matured and aged.

In that, she thought, she was Sidhelike, or elven perhaps. She had not experienced enough time to tell the difference. She had to believe what was told her.

They were in full view of the tower now and Médë could see a small group gathered outside. Her stomach fluttered nervously and she lay a hand over it, her fingers instinctively searching for and finding the gem which nestled in her navel.

"These are your people Médë."

That was what the Fanyare Istar had said, so it must be so. The Fanyare Istar would not lie to her.

Médë lifted her chin slightly.

The Fanyare Istar seemed to sense her mood and nerves and took her hand briefly, giving it a small squeeze.

They approached the group, the Fanyare Istar nodding in greeting to them. Médë looked at each one of them, her grey eyes taking in their features, but she remained silent, awed and confused by all that she was feeling and seeing.


Tue Mar 02, 2004 12:04 pm
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Father and daughter stood one older and far wiser, the other, still a fledgling in the world yet she had lived a thousand lifetimes in the few short years of her exsistence. Any who might have looked upon them would have thought them to be brother and sister, despite Azraels great age, he still looked to be no more than thirty decades old, and this is what Oriana was thinking when her father in his calm tone reminded her of who, what she was. A Sidhe of pure blood, blood perhaps purer than even the great Archmages own, yet raised in the human world by human parents, a human brother. Softly she smiled, something she did more and more in passing days.

I am aware of what is to come in my long life. Pa'tus, do not think I am trying to be the defiant child always trying to reason why I am the way I am... I think the way I do, because of the enviroment I was born and raised in, but I am not so naive, I know I will outlive more than most of my friends, I know that I will outlive my husband, I knew this even before I had made my first friend Pa'tus, before there ever was a Guidion in my life. This body is young Pa'tus, as only you can possibly know aside from myself, the soul that is sheltered within is thousands of centuries old. No I am not that naive and It is time I started knowing our people again as I had known them before, what is left of them anyway, I cannot shed my human upbringing that is fact, but I cannot constantly surround myself with so many others and not involve myself more with my own.

A slight breeze blew across the Isle as if the ancients were echoing and agreeing with her words, a peace settled into her recomfirming that it had been the right decision coming to the Isle.

Closer now they came, those answering the Archmages invitation, all alike but like her different in their own right, but there was one, one who stood out among the few, one that any Sidhe would have known was not of the natural order. Even as her lips parted to speak to make mention of what her father himself had spoken of, Tierney came running wide eyed to where her mother and grandfather stood with Cirrah following close behind...

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Tue Mar 02, 2004 8:54 pm
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Avus! Avus!

Tierney had been driving Cirrah mad, she knew she was but being five, she couldn't help egging him on, making him come at her chasing her through her grandfathers tower, her curiosity was much like her mothers' though she could never be so bold as her Mama. Her Mama told her the stories of how she would tear through the tower investigating, always searching for something new to hold her interest, her need for knowledge had often landed her in more hot water than she would have liked, but that was just how her Mama was. She on the other hand would never ever have thought to even try to get into one of the warded rooms of the tower. No sir, she didn't want to have bandages on her hands, or anything else like it. Most of all she did not want her Avus to be dissapointed nor did she want him to look at her the way she had seen him look at Mama when Mama did something he did not aprove of.
The feeling that something wasn't quite right had hit her when she had just tore into the open library, she knew the other Sidhe were well on their way and drawing closer with each passing second, she could feel them, hear the song of the Art flowing through their veins, but there was one song that was not as strong, as pure as melodious as the others, and that had stopped her dead in her tracks causing her to do a complete turn around and set out to find her Avus and Mama. Something she couldn't quite place her finger on was coming to the tower, something... something..... unnatural, something that should never have exsisted....

Avus.... what it is?! I can feel it, I know it is near, I don't know what it is.... it can't be Sidhe can it?


Tue Mar 02, 2004 9:05 pm
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