Alorin

Alorin looks at the druid, a brief flicker of hesitation at walking into something he doesn't quite understand flitting across his face. He looks at his friends, and does not see either of them making a move to stop him at this point. He steels himself, thinking "Not like this is the first time I've done something crazy. Guess I must go with the flow here. And if neither Moz nor Angus thinks this is a problem, maybe it isn't. Maybe."

He starts pulling up one of his long coat sleeves, exposing his left forearm, speaking as he does so. "If I have time to spare after killing an enemy, I will try to take the time to dedicate the kill to Kromac. I will try to incite my enemies to fight each other. I will look for enemies upon whom war may be waged, and between whom war may be incited. All this I promise to do, so long as it does not impede upon my existing oaths - to protect and heal the land, and to keep safe my friends and family and the helpless young. And I add this caveat so you know how seriously I take my word, for even this promise I make cannot supersede the earlier promise in whose interest I make this one today."

He adds, with a quick look to the druid, "And by that I mean that I hope you agree to hold off on inciting war here on Skye, at least until I can discern other prospects for war further from home."

Moz the Magnificent 

Walking up to the hilltop with the others, Moz simply hangs back, watching the ceremony. Shaking his head he thinks to himself. "Ohhhh Alorin always trying to fix everything, even messes created by others. If only the Silver Order had half the nobility you do." Listening to the terms of the oath.  "Let's hope you know what you are doing, Kormac isn't as open minded or forgiving as Arwyen.   

(Moz is just studying the ritual and trying to ascertain how it works and any particulars about it.)

The Druid nods solemnly. "Kromac will accept your promise. You wish for their not to be war on Skye--but there is already war. I have not incited it. Those who have insulted Kromac and destroyed his sacrifice have incited it. They have committed an intolerable blasphemy." His eyes flicker down to the circling hoof prints. "It is a fitting sacrifice to Kromac that all who follow the blasphemous Flame should die. But Kromac tells me now, that other sacrifices may be substituted, excepting this one. The paladin who destroyed the crystal must be brought back to me, and he must offer sacrifice to Kromac, and he must die. His sacrifice alone may spare the sacrifice of the people of the Flame on Skye. But the Flame must be destroyed. Other sacrifices of its followers must be substituted."

The Druid lightly grasps Alorin's bare forearm, and pulls it over the flat stone laying on the ground. Holding his wrist, he lifts the knife and makes three long cuts, first in Alorin's forearm, and then in his own. Blood wells from each man's wounds, dripping down their wrists and hands, and splattering on the stone and the surrounding snow. "Kromac accepts your oath. You are bound to his promise. I will instruct you on the proper method of offering to him."

Releasing Alorin's wrist, he lifts both of his arms, the knife held in one hand, blood streaming down the other, and he shouts, in a terrible, booming voice that echoes throughout the fir forest. "Glory be to the Ravager! Alorin Vonsin is bound to Kromac's service! Let all life witness the eternal bond!"

Then reaching down, the Druid sheathes his knife, picks up the flat stone, and breaks it violently in half with a loud CRACK. Two blood-smeared halves fall apart in his hands. The Druid slips one beneath his bearskin cloak to a pouch at his waist, and he holds the other out to Alorin. "By this, you may contact me, and I you, as often as once a day. It will only work for you and I. Kromac will be with you. Now, I will explain the rite of sacrifice." The Druid has given Alorin one of a pair of Sending Stones.

"When you make a kill yourself, you must drain the blood from it. Drain it into a container. If you do not have a container that can catch all the blood, cut the body into quarters, one for each direction, and still drain the blood onto the ground. Whether or not you have a container, capture enough of the blood to paint four marks onto your face. On your cheeks, three lines running vertically. On your forehead, a solid circle. A dab. It need not be perfect. And from the corners of your mouth to your chin, two more lines." Collecting blood from the wound on Alorin's arm with his fingertips, he demonstrates, drawing the aforementioned marks on Alorin's face, so that he can feel where they go.

"Take then the container of the blood of the sacrifice, and pour it out in four directions around the body. By yourself, this may be done silently, though you may echo the chants and howls that are done in group sacrifices if you wish."

"If the kill was not yours, but merely one that you incited, or you do not have access to the body, mark your dedication on your face with any blood that you can find, even your own, and offer it in the same fashion. Kromac will accept this as well. But you must have incited the killing in some way, you cannot merely witness it, for it to be an appropriate sacrifice."

Alorin

Alorin puts away the sending stone and shakes his head at the Druid’s unreasonableness. “Are you sure about this course of action, wise Druid? Must you insist on the life of the man who saved me, perhaps even due to the guidance of Kromac, all because of the loss of a stone that may not even have been a viable sacrifice? A stone that may have been more poison than offering. Are you sure you do this in Kromac’s name, and not out of a misplaced sense of hurt pride?”

”I have already agreed to bring Kromac the blood of monsters I might slay, and my enemies that I might incite to war. But I refuse to sacrifice the innocent who dwell elsewhere, who have done nothing to harm you, yours, or Kromac himself. I already told you of the prior oaths that bind me, and yet you ask me to break them. What value would my promise to Kromac have if I were the sort to so easily break mine? These don’t seem like the actions of a Druid of Kromac. Are you sure you haven’t been unknowingly tainted by that stone you carried, much like the monstrous abominations I hear tell of from travelers from the mainland?”

”I told you of my dreams, given by the gods themselves, of how this stone brings only ruin and horror. I ask you now to wait a while, to give me some time, so that I may investigate that stone, find other sacrifices, and prove whether that stone is a sacrifice or a poison that someone would use to harm Kromac. If the stone is indeed poison, would not the hand that tried to use it on Kromac be a better sacrifice than the hand that prevented it from harming him?”

”Please don’t start a war that won’t benefit anyone, Kromac included, when there is much more to be gained elsewhere. Would you not say, my friend, that investigating that stone is the priority here?”, he turns to Angus as he concludes. 

"The stories I've heard from the port is that men are twisted into abominations because of those strange crystals. Perhaps those strange fish creatures that harassed the raiding party were once men, malformed by the stones, not emissaries of Noden. You said prior that they were where you found the stone." Angus says to the Druid.
"I think another trip to the mainland would give us a clearer image as to the nature of rocks. And if those creatures are a consequence of the rock, then wouldn't it be a fitting sacrifice to spill their blood in its place?"

The Druid frowns. "Nothing can harm Kromac. Kromac is the force of life. Where one life ends, another feeds upon it and takes its place. Kromac is glorified in power, in the transfer of life and blood from one to another. This is the order and circle of life. Life is the most powerful of all things, more powerful than magic. You say that this stone is an abomination, a curse on the natural order of things. That is what the Flame is--a disruption of the natural order. Yet even the Vague, in its power, sometimes reverses life and death. The strange things of the fey disturb the natural order, but their power is limited. Whether the stone's power is an abomination or not, it may still be sacrificed to Kromac. Just as followers of the Flame, though their faith is an abomination and a blasphemy, may be sacrificed. Kromac overcomes all over powers, and he is glorified when abominations meet their end in his maw. If Nodens has grown in power in Drannsmund--and he should, for our raiders have blessed their coasts for many years--it is only that he may present a greater sacrifice of power to Kromac. Thus, those mutated sea creatures are a fitting sacrifice. But they are not the only sacrifice that Kromac requires." The Druid nods to Angus, and then turns again to Alorin.

"Your faith has not developed yet, and you cannot yet see. No, the paladin must die. He has committed an unforgiveable offense. But he does not have to die by your hand, or your doing. You may offer other sacrifices to Kromac. But what I have said stands, of what my offering to Kromac must be. You, Alorin, will find your own offerings. But offering you must make. I have given you instructions." He stares down at the circling hoofprints once more, and then begins to walk back towards the longhouse. "We will rest tonight, and I will meditate on the will of Kromac. In the morning, I will speak with the chieftan of Darryl."

Alorin

Alorin sighs to himself, "Had to try, didn't I? Let's hope there is something else we can do. Maybe one of the others has a backup plan."

He turns to Moz, and with a weak grin, sends him a Message, "Mind cleaning me up a bit before we head back to the others, Moz? Not sure I want anyone else seeing me like this."

Moz the Magnificent

Stopping Moz gives his friend a grin. He motions for Alorin to bend down. " Of course, can't have sweet Neris see you covered in blood, what would she think?" winking and laughing. Uttering an arcane word he waves his hand across his face (Prestidigitation) and the blood flakes away and falls from his face. " It was a very noble thing you did today Alorin, it is one of your more endearing and utterly annoying characteristics about you that I like. I hope you you know what you are doing getting into a pact with a God, it is no small thing, I speak from experience. I do commend your attempts to end this war before it begins, but the Druid was wronged and not lightly. What that metal clad buffoon did demands reprisal, Kormac does not forgive nor forget, something you should understand now that you are bound to him. Now I know you don't want to hear this but the Druid gave you the way to end this war. Sir Lorin must give give himself to Kormac." Rising his hands to ward off protest. " I am not suggesting we hog tie him and drag him back here, even though that sounds like fun. All I am saying is that we present it to him and let him make his own decision. If he has even half the honor and nobility you do he will end this war. After all I have no doubt you would give your life to save hundreds or thousands of lives." Looking at Angus "And from what I know of the character of those chosen to be the Steward of the Silver Sword, he would as well."  Giving him a grin "Not me of course let's not be crazy."

Valanthe wakes with a start and a moment of confusion. She looks around at the unfamiliar surroundings before remembering where she is. Getting her bearings, she reaches out to pat El who is still curled up in front of Lorcan's fire. I must have dozed off when I sat down to stroke you, she thinks looking down at the elegant hound. She sniffs, stretches and stands up, wondering how long she has been asleep. Lorcan was still here, and the baby. And if El was still sleeping by the fire, it was unlikely Alorin would be back from whatever he was doing for that druid.

Valanthe gratefully accepts some of the stew Lorcan had prepared whilst she slept: it was tasty! A little thin but well-seasoned. Thanking Lorcan, she shuffles (now sleepy from the warmth filling her stomach), to the doorway to go and wash her bowl in the snow outside.

Leaving the cabin, Valanthe ventures outside looking around to see if the others have returned but instead sees Rivyre and Sascha sitting by the fire Moz had made earlier. The two women look deep into a serious conversation, probably talking about history or politics or cheese or something - none of which Valanthe knew anything about.

Squatting down to wipe the bowl clean using some fresh snow, she debates whether or not to join them: Valanthe needs to have that conversation with Sascha but does she want to do it in front of Rivyre? Finding out who she is might make the cleric more respectful of her. It might make her more protective... But Sascha! It was kind of rude not to tell her what was happening. And it's not like Valanthe was hiding anything: you don't just go around shouting "Ooh la di di - I'm an elf princess" when you encounter some randos hanging about in the Vague.

Taking the bowl back inside, Valanthe appears moments later and trudges across the snow armed with two bowls of stew.

Rivyre looks up as Neris exists the longhouse cleaning a bowl w/ snow. She wants to say some things, but thinking on what she asked of Sascha & telling her own feeling on trying to get to know Neris. Instead..., she decides to wait & see what Neris will do first & looks back into the fire.

A little time passes, & Neris comes back out w/ 2 bowls in her hands. Rivyre looks back up & repsonds, "What have you got there Neris? You're looking much better. Will you join us by the fire?" Rivyre asks as she extends her hand & ushers her to sit down.

"This is from Lorcan." Valanthe says as she passes Rivyre one of the bowls "I didn't make it!" she hurriedly adds knowing what it would taste like if she had. Passing the other bowl to Sascha, she sits at the fire. "I mean, don't worry, I didn't make it."

Valanthe clears her throat and straightens her back, like she does when she's doing something official "Lady Sascha, it's good to see you again. My apologies, but there wasn't a moment before - after our flight here, that is - to properly greet you. It is good to see you on Skye again - I hope you're well." Valanthe says warmly before pausing for a moment and then continuing "I... I probably need to explain why everyone keeps calling me Neris... see Valanthe is my adult name - now I have come of age so I am officially Valanthe." And now turning to Rivyre to explain the strange conversation "Lady Sascha and I met in Eladria a short while ago and I was introduced using my official name. So, Sascha knows me as Valanthe."

The young elf continues and as she does her posture slips and she no longer addresses either of the genteel warriors and instead seems to address the campfire "But Neris is what my father named me as my childhood name so Neris is also my name and I like being called Neris - it feels like my real name, to be honest - but different people know me by different names and I haven't told Alorin yet so..." her voice peeters out as she realises she's rambling.

Rivyre listens w/ care as Neris now explains her 2 names & why which one is used in which context. Rivyre is not unfamiliar w/ such a custom, a childhood name & name given once reaching adulthood. Knowing the animosity & suspicion Neris has felt toward her..., Rivyre feels using the name that she likes will help foster a better relationship between the two of them.

Rivyre smilres & responds, "I'll be sure to thank Lorcan for his stew, & thank you for brining us some he prpepared for everyone."
She pauses & continues, "I'm familiar w/ the custom of a child name & adulthood name. If you like being addressed as Neris, I will continue to do so unless you tell me otherwise." She smiles & continues, "I am glad you know Lady Sascha as well. She is a wonderful perosn & I was glad to meet her during her short stay in Altbruke before she continued her journey here to Skye."

Blood. The essence of life. Angus thinks back to the first time he spilt blood. His father and uncle were teaching him and Lorcan how to hunt and scavenge. The adults carried axes and set traps for deer. The boys were given short bows and told score some smaller creatures, rabbits and squirrels and the like. The children spent most of the day slinging arrows at pretty much everything that moved. They never hit anything of course. Eventually his father and uncle came back with a large buck. He learned how to skin and dress a kill that day.

His mind rushes forward to the first time he spilt blood to protect the Flame. He was older then and lived on his own at Giant's Lean. It was the first time he met with the Flame, a monk had gotten lost in the forest and had set off a hunting trap. He had been sitting on the dirt trying to untie the rope around his ankle, now swollen from having his feet pulled out from under him. Angus happened to be nearby when he heard the monk scream. A lone wolf came upon him before he could untie himself. The beast was gnawing on the bound foot before Angus could put it down with a javelin. He helped set the monk free and brought him to his cabin at Giant's Lean where he tended to the wounded leg. There the monk told him about the Flame and the miracles it brought. Angus listened and learned, the martyrdom of Saint Tarna caught his ear the most. He thought of the striking similarities between Nuada and Tarna.

Angus concludes. Sometimes blood must be shed. For now, he will shed his own.

He made sure to watch the performed ritual with great care. He waits until the Druid, Alorin, and Moz begin heading back. Angus kneels amidst the fresh blood before the altar, takes off his cloak, and speaks.
"Kromac. I come before you this day, to sate your bloodlust and hunger." Angus takes his great-axe and stuffs the handle into the ground between the halves of the altar. "I give you my axe, that you may devour the flesh of those I cut down." He takes the skull of the bear that was raised from the nearby ground. He holds it in his hands and presses its teeth into his shoulder, as it would if it were still alive. "I give you my blood now so that your future hunger might be filled." He runs his hands across both of the bladed edges, letting his blood drip down the handle and onto the stone slabs. "In return, I ask you to stay your hand for a time. Let peace claim these lands for a while longer, and you will have my blood." He sets the pieces of the altar close enough that the bear skull bridges the two halves. Angus stays kneeled in meditation for a moment, awaiting a sign or symbol that his prayer was at least heard.

Angus

Angus' blood slides off of the stone slabs and onto the sparse layer of snow covering the forest floor, the ground sucking up the red liquid as if it's thirsty. The forest is quiet around him, like the quiet peace of a satiated predator... but it has the feel of a temporary peace, of a hunger that, while sated now, will stir again. The stillness is almost uncanny, the chilly mist of the Vague hanging low over the ground, cold, static mist that hangs there and doesn't move, diffusing the light, obscuring the ground. For a moment, he swears the bear skull laid on the altar before him, its teeth still red with his blood, moves--grins--a living glint in its empty eye sockets--just as quickly as the perception registers, it is gone, and the skull sits lifeless and unmoving.

"Neris." Sascha greets the other woman as she cleanses her bowl in the snow. Her eyes drifting from Rivyre to take in Valanthe's appearance. Sascha was prepared to ask some questions, and to unpack what was happening here, but it turned out she didn't need to. The woman seemed eager to explain herself, and it was, mercifully, a fairly simple explanation. Not a case of some complex political situation that necessitated hiding her identity. Sascha considered for a moment. She was among Elvish company, and she wanted, in this moment, to demonstrate her understanding of their customs. When next she spoke it was in Elvish, accented, but practiced and fluent.

 "I had been wondering. But, no matter. Which name would you prefer for me to use? I understand that culture can be at odds with one's preferences. If you would sooner be known as Neris, then there's no reason we shouldn't respect that." 

Valanthe throws her head back and giggles at Sascha speaking Elvish "Oh, Sascha - you speak so perfectly you sound like my mother! But you should call me Valanthe, because, y'know" quietly acknowledging the connection the two noble women share. "Plus hearing you say Neris sounds weird. I don't mind - I still answer to both. But..." Valanthe pauses in a moment of thought "...maybe I should be more Valanthe" she says with bigger emphasis on the name as if being Valanthe is who she's supposed to be now: an adult, responsible, wise... Valanthe gives an internal shiver at the unlikelihood of achieving wisdom.

"Do Eladrians share the adult naming tradition, Rivyre?"

"There's a lot to a name. It's... Not the same, but people expect very different things from Sascha to what they do Lady Von Syndow. It sounds like you're feeling the weight of that expectation, Valanthe. I know that feeling. I hope whoever you need to be, you're comfortable with it."  Sascha takes a deep breath of warm, slightly smoky air, and looks away from everyone present. :It seems as though we're in quite a mess here. Abandoned children and angry druids. I don't know what comes next here, but I doubt I can stay on Skye at this point. More's the shame, I needed this place after all the blood, and chaos. of the war. Until I took the job watching over that damned Monk I was getting to be Sascha. But, I suppose it's time to get back to reality." 

Sascha's attention flicks back to Rivyre. "Did I do the right thing, Flamekeeper? I had a moment where i could have killed the Druid. It didn't feel right to disrupt their ritual and put a man to the sword all because he didn't know what he was doing with that stone." 

"Yeah, what's the deal with the stone?" Valanthe adds looking to Rivyre for answers.

Rivyre smiles as Sascha & Neris converse. It's comforting to see Neris is starting to let her guard down & open up now that she's around a familiar face. Maybe this what Rivyre should have waited for all along instead of trying to force the issue. "We never stop learning do we?" she says in her mind as she chuckles a bit. Rivyre looks up & adds her insight to the topic of names, "Who says that names & titles are required to evoke different people & behaviors?" She asks to Neris & Sascha. "You should always choose who you want to be in your hearts (as Rivyre points to the chests of Sascha & Neris), & no nobility, religious, or royal title should affect who you are as an individual." I may be a Flamekeeper, but I don't let that title change my personality, morals, ethics, & behaviors. I am, that I am. As both of you should be too."
She turns to Sascha, "And please Sascha, call me Rivyre. Since i've taken a leave of absence from the church, there's no need for you to use my official title." She smiles.

Turning back to Neris, "Now an answer to your questions. First off, no. Eladrin do not use child/adult naming traditions. We are given one name & that is the name most Eladrin stick w/ their entire lives. However, is not unheard of for one of us to change our name if we want to. Our names often evoke meanings of natural phenomena, the cycles of nature, magic, & ethereal beauty. If you've ever walked the Faerie Roads, you know firsthand the ethereal beauty the Fey Wild has!" She smiles reminscing living in the Fey Wild w/ her family before migrating to Almorra. 

Continuing, "Now to your question about the delerium crystal. That purple crystal harbours immense arcane energy. It's one of the many side effects caused by the meteor that hit Drakkenheim on Westemar 15 years ago. I've never actually seen the horrors it inflicts, but I know rumors & comforted many a failed treasure hunter who watched friends succumb to the evils these crystals contain. The corrupted arcane magic is said to twist & transform any living being into a horrific monstrosity! Creatures w/ tentacles, claws, fangs, elongated mouths, & glowing purple eyes w/ nothing left of their mortality, but a mindless bloodlust for death & carnage. From what I hear the transformation is irreversible..., hence why I do not begrudge Sir Lorn for destroying that abomination & sparing Skye..., OUR HOME the evil that crystal brings."
She further says w/ a confidence in her tone, "If raising the numbers of undead from the Vague in Kromac's Clearing was the only side effect of that abominations destruction...., we should be thankful that's the only thing it did!