Sybbyl
Blessed
=====================================================================
This is just where Ill be posting Skraag related things for Dorothy, very journal-like, but not written anywhere IC, Ill have a separate thread for that.
=====================================================================
This is just where Ill be posting Skraag related things for Dorothy, very journal-like, but not written anywhere IC, Ill have a separate thread for that.
=====================================================================
Dorothy kneels at the foot of the staircase inside the grand shrine to Skraag within her father's home. On the last step, she sets there a glittering green glass sculpture of a human skull which she had made some thirty years ago in his honor.
She looks up at the eyes of the face on the wall, remembering the many times that Skraag had graced she and others with his presence so many times before.
"I come humbly to you now, my Lord. What I have done surely would have hurt my favor with you, perhaps that is why I have not heard your voice in so long. I see now that my absence has affected your underlings greatly, as their priestess I should have been here, guiding them.. Now they run rampant, marring your name with their unsightly actions."
She shakes her head slightly, shameful that she hadn't been here to educate them of Skraag's virtuous ways.
"I will, from this day forward, rise again anew in your ranks, I'll spread your word across the lands and teach the people not to fear you any longer, but to welcome you and the kindness I have seen with my own eyes that you have given to the people. I'll show them ways they can gain your praise, build monuments in your honor, speak it and it shall be done. I vow that I will never again stray from your teachings, for you have lead me thus far in my life as your servant."
She smiles somewhat.
"Though it may not come in the same way as before, soon you will see my devotion. I may not rebuild what I had built before, but surely I will gather the following I had made for you again."
Dorothy remained there at the foot of the stairs for several moments, taking in the atmosphere she had missed so much. Her thoughts ran rampant over the old days, thinking back on all the things that Skraag had said to her, memorizing his voice. All the gifts he had given to her, burning into her memory the day that she and the other chosen had gathered before the gods and she heard his voice, granting her his blessing.. Only to lose it shortly after, when she escaped the isles with her daughter amidst the war.
She removed one of her gloves and reached out to touch the glass skull with her fingertips. She would make more, decorate the halls of her home with the statues of the minions she had met in her childhood. She thought of them, the tall skeletal creatures with blackened bones. She still had two of those old statues, but surely she would find a way to make more..
She put her glove back on, picking up the skull with her hands and watching it's eyes for some time, before she turned, her ambition ablaze once more, and headed for the library to start writing up plans, for how she would seek out her forgiveness from her Lord of Undead.
==============================================================
Dorothy now exits a large building upon the docks of Slyannen, a sign at the door of which reads "Embassy of Skraag".
In her arms, she carries two dark, shadow-y cloaks, freshly tailored. The arms of the cloaks are thinner than what would normaly fit on a man, but the length is much taller than any elf.
She turned around and faced the doorway of her building, her eyes set now upon the statues, that she and a smith had built in her younger years. She smiled, there before her stood two identical, beautiful replicas of the minions that had once accompanied Skraag, in his visits to the mundane world.
The statues were made of blackened steel, and 'donated' bones put together in order to make up the height of the large intimidating creatures. They held no weapons in their hands, and they stood straight and tall, their heads cast down to look upon all those who enter.
The two statues both wore cloaks over their bodies, now old and worn, black in color with a green rotting skull upon their breasts.
She set to work, removing the old and tattered cloaks from their shoulders and replacing once more with a new, worthy attire.
She stepped back after she'd taken care of the second statue, sweeping away some dirt from it's pedastol with her gloved hand.
She now held the old cloaks, folding them in her arms.
"May you always protect us.. Be it the enclave, as you once did, or here and now in this new world." She said, an endearing tone in her voice.
She gave a light bow to the familiar statues, thinking back in admiration of the protectors who oft would ward away unwanted visitors to the castle in the Sorrows, when their master was present.
She praised them, and prayed to the Lord of the Undead that they may serve her well, or at the least that they may watch over her and her family.
She stepped back inside the building, it's exterior still unfinished, and several rooms still in need of some furnishings, and returned to her desk to continue sorting out all the books she intended to keep. She set the tattered cloaks aside in a chest behind her desk, along with several others quite like them, just as worn and tattered by the weather.
==================================================
Dorothy sat inside her nearly finished embassy, whilst robed men walked around filling her bookshelves with all the old books from the enclave.
She sat at a desk in the front lobby, and before lay her journal. She dipped her glass writing pent in a well of green ink, and looked to the paper. Touching the tip to the fine pages, she wrote in solitude, her surroundings fading away.
"But a night ago, I witnessed a surge of violence in Storm's Landing that is somewhat concerning. This era of mortals is overall, I believe to be more violent than the ones I used to know. Reported by a few witnesses inside the tavern, a man was killed whilst his back was turned. Such dishonor is a terrible thing to see, a man could have been hung for such in the old days.. It is disappointing.
Then moments later, a fight erupted between a Moor and Caparii, I do not know their names. Whilst escaping the tavern, the Caparii attempted to throw another man into what was her fate, I question her morals at that point."
She sighed lightly, continuing.
"Then the Moor called out to an earthspawn, who I assume was his acquaintance, and a chase ensued. They ran down and away from the tavern, towards the docks. I cannot fathom why the caparii would run towards the waters, seeing as eventually she would have run out of places to go.. But perhaps she had another motive, I cannot say. The earthspawn struck her with a thrown club.."
She dips the pen in ink once more.
"...and forced her to stumble, at which point he tackled her to the ground, down a flight of stairs. I was watching very closely at this point, and there were some things I missed, but from what I saw the woman was fighting on even as she was taken by the earthspawn, I would commend her for her strength, if she had survived this altercation."
She taped her chin momentarily in thought,
"Needless to say, the woman was eventually murdered by the Moor after she was taken down. Why someone would get into a fight with such a group I would never know, but it was all very interesting."
She glanced up from her writing to watch the men for a moment, before continuing.
"Sadly, neither the Moor, nor the patrons of the tavern allowed me to dispose of the bodies for them, I worry that in time it will become very difficult to continue my physical studies of the races without any material to work with. Since Father no longer brings me any subjects, due to his overcoming his condition, I realize now how difficult it is to acquire them."
She turns the page.
"Perhaps at some point I may make some kind of deal with the Fuvurian country, or the Ignites. I do recall that in the old days, those of Lavoyard were quite happy to allow me to work out of a morgue with their executed criminals. I also hope in the future to regain contact with Josef Mandovi, perhaps he will be able to share new knowledge with me, as he did when I was young."
She smiles lightly, signing the page and dating it in calligraphy. She gently closed the book, touching it's cover softly before putting it on the shelf behind her.
She stood up, and paced the building quietly. She spoke to herself as she did this, her voice meant to carry on in casual prayer to Skraag.
"My event, in tribute to you will be coming soon.." She says with a hint of passion. "I can only hope that as time goes on I will once again regain the praises you once gave me, to hear your voice again would be the greatest honor.. I could die in peace, with that."
"Hopefully as well, as a result of this gathering, the minds of the people will be changed. We must return to the times when the following of Skraag was respected as the others were, when our events were public and mortals of all faith's came to enjoy the folly. I hear rumor of the dangers that openly worshiping you bring these days, but I will not fear them.
I will not hide under my cloak, in darkness, simply because your great name has been marred by these madmen who run wild and tarnish it.. I will bring you back to your formal glory.."
She looked back at the bookcase.
"And perhaps along the way you may gift me with materials to study.. It's a shame to have missed a caparii, I don't receive many of them."
She walked around her embassy, directing the cloaked men in their moving of furniture and interior items, discussing possible future deals with them as they did their work.
Her mind wandered, with the subject of the event from a few nights ago, she wondered about the structure of the caparii's legs, wishing she could have more practice.
Surely if one came to her with a broken leg, as informed as she is even now, she would not be able to mend it.
This agitated her, and she made a mental note to keep an eye out for any future circumstances.
[This is not meant as an OOC jab, my character would have total reason to write about this IC, and when smurf posted her recollection it reminded me that I should write one up as well, considering that it affected Dorothy in rp I have full reason to do so. Don't take it the wrong way, it's just IC
]
==============================================
Dorothy lie sleeping in her bed, and swirling dreams fill her mind, like they have many a nights before.
In the dream, Dorothy is suspended in an empty space of nothingness, black as far as the eye can see. There's no sense of gravity here, or direction.
She opens her eyes, her cloaks flowing around her as she turns in the darkness, and she turns her head, looking into the nothing.
Memories float around her, all the times she witnessed Skraag's image, his voice, his praise.
She stays suspended here in the dream as she reminisces on the days of old when things were easier, simpler..
An illusion of Skraag comes before her, a recreation inside her dream, surely it doesn't live up to his true glory, but she watches him. He speaks, saying all the things she had heard him say before, from when she was a child and onward.
She's at peace in this dream, she had this dream many times before. She reaches out for him, but as she does so his image fades away, his voice remains. He speaks the last words she heard from him, and then his voice is gone as well.
She lifts her head and closes her eyes, relaxing in the silence of the dream, wondering what it could mean.
For the remainder of the night, the dream would repeat, she doesn't question it much and just let's it play out, happy to hear her mind's weak recreation of his voice in her head, wishing to herself she could hear the true voice once again.
As the sun rose over the horizon and it's light began to bleed in through the window, her eyelids lazily fluttered open. She sighed lightly, sitting up in her bed and stretching. She reached over to her bedside table and picked up her journal, adding in any new details form the dream that hadn't been there before. Once she finished, she slipped the black ribbon into the page and gently cloesd the book, setting it back on the bedside table.
She pushed away the covers and got up, her bare feet touching the wood floor. She turned and made the bed, before going to her wardrobe and dressing herself.
She slipped on a pair of leather trousers and a black long-sleeved turtle neck top. She touched her fingers gently to the small glass skull that hung on a silver chain around her neck, dropping it at her collar bone and letting it hang. She glanced over at the loft, to find the other bed there already made, she smiled.
Isabella was already awake.
She grabbed a brush and brushed out her long hair, before putting it away and heading out of their room, moving through the halls and heading for the shrine room in Dum'ni's castle.
She quietly opened the doors, to find her young half-moor daughter standing at the bottom of the great steps.
She walked over and stood by her side, looking up at the decorations.
Isabella spoke, "This is where you saw him, right?"
Dorothy nodded in silence, "The first time, when I was just a girl."
Dorothy wrapped an arm around Isabella's shoulder, hugging her close.
"One day, perhaps you will get the chance to witness him as well."
She took Isabella by the hand, and they left to start their morning work, cooking breakfast and cleaning around the castle, before heading to the research hall so that Dorothy could do lessons with the young Isabella.
=======================================================
She looks up at the eyes of the face on the wall, remembering the many times that Skraag had graced she and others with his presence so many times before.
"I come humbly to you now, my Lord. What I have done surely would have hurt my favor with you, perhaps that is why I have not heard your voice in so long. I see now that my absence has affected your underlings greatly, as their priestess I should have been here, guiding them.. Now they run rampant, marring your name with their unsightly actions."
She shakes her head slightly, shameful that she hadn't been here to educate them of Skraag's virtuous ways.
"I will, from this day forward, rise again anew in your ranks, I'll spread your word across the lands and teach the people not to fear you any longer, but to welcome you and the kindness I have seen with my own eyes that you have given to the people. I'll show them ways they can gain your praise, build monuments in your honor, speak it and it shall be done. I vow that I will never again stray from your teachings, for you have lead me thus far in my life as your servant."
She smiles somewhat.
"Though it may not come in the same way as before, soon you will see my devotion. I may not rebuild what I had built before, but surely I will gather the following I had made for you again."
Dorothy remained there at the foot of the stairs for several moments, taking in the atmosphere she had missed so much. Her thoughts ran rampant over the old days, thinking back on all the things that Skraag had said to her, memorizing his voice. All the gifts he had given to her, burning into her memory the day that she and the other chosen had gathered before the gods and she heard his voice, granting her his blessing.. Only to lose it shortly after, when she escaped the isles with her daughter amidst the war.
She removed one of her gloves and reached out to touch the glass skull with her fingertips. She would make more, decorate the halls of her home with the statues of the minions she had met in her childhood. She thought of them, the tall skeletal creatures with blackened bones. She still had two of those old statues, but surely she would find a way to make more..
She put her glove back on, picking up the skull with her hands and watching it's eyes for some time, before she turned, her ambition ablaze once more, and headed for the library to start writing up plans, for how she would seek out her forgiveness from her Lord of Undead.
==============================================================
Dorothy now exits a large building upon the docks of Slyannen, a sign at the door of which reads "Embassy of Skraag".
In her arms, she carries two dark, shadow-y cloaks, freshly tailored. The arms of the cloaks are thinner than what would normaly fit on a man, but the length is much taller than any elf.
She turned around and faced the doorway of her building, her eyes set now upon the statues, that she and a smith had built in her younger years. She smiled, there before her stood two identical, beautiful replicas of the minions that had once accompanied Skraag, in his visits to the mundane world.
The statues were made of blackened steel, and 'donated' bones put together in order to make up the height of the large intimidating creatures. They held no weapons in their hands, and they stood straight and tall, their heads cast down to look upon all those who enter.
The two statues both wore cloaks over their bodies, now old and worn, black in color with a green rotting skull upon their breasts.
She set to work, removing the old and tattered cloaks from their shoulders and replacing once more with a new, worthy attire.
She stepped back after she'd taken care of the second statue, sweeping away some dirt from it's pedastol with her gloved hand.
She now held the old cloaks, folding them in her arms.
"May you always protect us.. Be it the enclave, as you once did, or here and now in this new world." She said, an endearing tone in her voice.
She gave a light bow to the familiar statues, thinking back in admiration of the protectors who oft would ward away unwanted visitors to the castle in the Sorrows, when their master was present.
She praised them, and prayed to the Lord of the Undead that they may serve her well, or at the least that they may watch over her and her family.
She stepped back inside the building, it's exterior still unfinished, and several rooms still in need of some furnishings, and returned to her desk to continue sorting out all the books she intended to keep. She set the tattered cloaks aside in a chest behind her desk, along with several others quite like them, just as worn and tattered by the weather.
==================================================
Dorothy sat inside her nearly finished embassy, whilst robed men walked around filling her bookshelves with all the old books from the enclave.
She sat at a desk in the front lobby, and before lay her journal. She dipped her glass writing pent in a well of green ink, and looked to the paper. Touching the tip to the fine pages, she wrote in solitude, her surroundings fading away.
"But a night ago, I witnessed a surge of violence in Storm's Landing that is somewhat concerning. This era of mortals is overall, I believe to be more violent than the ones I used to know. Reported by a few witnesses inside the tavern, a man was killed whilst his back was turned. Such dishonor is a terrible thing to see, a man could have been hung for such in the old days.. It is disappointing.
Then moments later, a fight erupted between a Moor and Caparii, I do not know their names. Whilst escaping the tavern, the Caparii attempted to throw another man into what was her fate, I question her morals at that point."
She sighed lightly, continuing.
"Then the Moor called out to an earthspawn, who I assume was his acquaintance, and a chase ensued. They ran down and away from the tavern, towards the docks. I cannot fathom why the caparii would run towards the waters, seeing as eventually she would have run out of places to go.. But perhaps she had another motive, I cannot say. The earthspawn struck her with a thrown club.."
She dips the pen in ink once more.
"...and forced her to stumble, at which point he tackled her to the ground, down a flight of stairs. I was watching very closely at this point, and there were some things I missed, but from what I saw the woman was fighting on even as she was taken by the earthspawn, I would commend her for her strength, if she had survived this altercation."
She taped her chin momentarily in thought,
"Needless to say, the woman was eventually murdered by the Moor after she was taken down. Why someone would get into a fight with such a group I would never know, but it was all very interesting."
She glanced up from her writing to watch the men for a moment, before continuing.
"Sadly, neither the Moor, nor the patrons of the tavern allowed me to dispose of the bodies for them, I worry that in time it will become very difficult to continue my physical studies of the races without any material to work with. Since Father no longer brings me any subjects, due to his overcoming his condition, I realize now how difficult it is to acquire them."
She turns the page.
"Perhaps at some point I may make some kind of deal with the Fuvurian country, or the Ignites. I do recall that in the old days, those of Lavoyard were quite happy to allow me to work out of a morgue with their executed criminals. I also hope in the future to regain contact with Josef Mandovi, perhaps he will be able to share new knowledge with me, as he did when I was young."
She smiles lightly, signing the page and dating it in calligraphy. She gently closed the book, touching it's cover softly before putting it on the shelf behind her.
She stood up, and paced the building quietly. She spoke to herself as she did this, her voice meant to carry on in casual prayer to Skraag.
"My event, in tribute to you will be coming soon.." She says with a hint of passion. "I can only hope that as time goes on I will once again regain the praises you once gave me, to hear your voice again would be the greatest honor.. I could die in peace, with that."
"Hopefully as well, as a result of this gathering, the minds of the people will be changed. We must return to the times when the following of Skraag was respected as the others were, when our events were public and mortals of all faith's came to enjoy the folly. I hear rumor of the dangers that openly worshiping you bring these days, but I will not fear them.
I will not hide under my cloak, in darkness, simply because your great name has been marred by these madmen who run wild and tarnish it.. I will bring you back to your formal glory.."
She looked back at the bookcase.
"And perhaps along the way you may gift me with materials to study.. It's a shame to have missed a caparii, I don't receive many of them."
She walked around her embassy, directing the cloaked men in their moving of furniture and interior items, discussing possible future deals with them as they did their work.
Her mind wandered, with the subject of the event from a few nights ago, she wondered about the structure of the caparii's legs, wishing she could have more practice.
Surely if one came to her with a broken leg, as informed as she is even now, she would not be able to mend it.
This agitated her, and she made a mental note to keep an eye out for any future circumstances.
[This is not meant as an OOC jab, my character would have total reason to write about this IC, and when smurf posted her recollection it reminded me that I should write one up as well, considering that it affected Dorothy in rp I have full reason to do so. Don't take it the wrong way, it's just IC
]==============================================
Dorothy lie sleeping in her bed, and swirling dreams fill her mind, like they have many a nights before.
In the dream, Dorothy is suspended in an empty space of nothingness, black as far as the eye can see. There's no sense of gravity here, or direction.
She opens her eyes, her cloaks flowing around her as she turns in the darkness, and she turns her head, looking into the nothing.
Memories float around her, all the times she witnessed Skraag's image, his voice, his praise.
She stays suspended here in the dream as she reminisces on the days of old when things were easier, simpler..
An illusion of Skraag comes before her, a recreation inside her dream, surely it doesn't live up to his true glory, but she watches him. He speaks, saying all the things she had heard him say before, from when she was a child and onward.
She's at peace in this dream, she had this dream many times before. She reaches out for him, but as she does so his image fades away, his voice remains. He speaks the last words she heard from him, and then his voice is gone as well.
She lifts her head and closes her eyes, relaxing in the silence of the dream, wondering what it could mean.
For the remainder of the night, the dream would repeat, she doesn't question it much and just let's it play out, happy to hear her mind's weak recreation of his voice in her head, wishing to herself she could hear the true voice once again.
As the sun rose over the horizon and it's light began to bleed in through the window, her eyelids lazily fluttered open. She sighed lightly, sitting up in her bed and stretching. She reached over to her bedside table and picked up her journal, adding in any new details form the dream that hadn't been there before. Once she finished, she slipped the black ribbon into the page and gently cloesd the book, setting it back on the bedside table.
She pushed away the covers and got up, her bare feet touching the wood floor. She turned and made the bed, before going to her wardrobe and dressing herself.
She slipped on a pair of leather trousers and a black long-sleeved turtle neck top. She touched her fingers gently to the small glass skull that hung on a silver chain around her neck, dropping it at her collar bone and letting it hang. She glanced over at the loft, to find the other bed there already made, she smiled.
Isabella was already awake.
She grabbed a brush and brushed out her long hair, before putting it away and heading out of their room, moving through the halls and heading for the shrine room in Dum'ni's castle.
She quietly opened the doors, to find her young half-moor daughter standing at the bottom of the great steps.
She walked over and stood by her side, looking up at the decorations.
Isabella spoke, "This is where you saw him, right?"
Dorothy nodded in silence, "The first time, when I was just a girl."
Dorothy wrapped an arm around Isabella's shoulder, hugging her close.
"One day, perhaps you will get the chance to witness him as well."
She took Isabella by the hand, and they left to start their morning work, cooking breakfast and cleaning around the castle, before heading to the research hall so that Dorothy could do lessons with the young Isabella.
=======================================================
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