Empire 6: The Coronation of Felessan and Pina-Mak

[BladeofObliviom]

Danneta-Yvaon: The Jewel of Tarandi.

Perched at the base of Kladi, one of the the Seven Maidens, and stretching across both sides of the River Yvaon, the city was a sprawling giant with a dozen inner walls like molted snakeskin, as it repeatedly grew to the limits of each new boundary built to safeguard it and burst forth only for the next walled segment to be built around that and the cycle begun anew. The streets bustled with activity, stalls hawking wares while it was warm and countless crafts from all over Tarandi for sale, even a few real spell-casters here and there mixed among charlatans selling minor wonders – cooking pots and bowls that were always cool on the outside, copper knives that remained sharp for longer than copper should, a silver goblet that the vendor promised would never tarnish. Above it on the mountainside the compound that was home to the Circle of the Strix’s Quill stood proudly, and from a distance seemed to shine with a striking crystalline light under the midday sun. No-clanhome, an hour’s hike outside the city’s walls thirty years ago, was now well inside the labyrinths of wood and stone and canals that was the city of Danneta-Yvaon as it continued to encroach on surrounding forest. More clanhomes had been swallowed and incorporated, but few were the clans that still did not bow to the House of Mak.

And the House of Mak was no more merely the foremost amongst a coalition of disparate tribes but a sprawling dynasty clearly blessed by Eauden and acknowledged in their greatness by the Truthseers, and all the greater their Chiefs who built all this over the last forty winters. With this in mind, perhaps it should come as no surprise that the occasion of this great festival was none other than the Noctrix Sere-Mak’s end, almost suspiciously timed as the eldest daughter of the pair, Pina-Mak, returned from her voyage victorious and nearly freshly come of age. It was customary when one member of a ruling couple died for the other to abdicate for their daughter and her husband to take charge as soon as affairs were in order; so Irin-Mak, beside himself with grief, had nevertheless worked tirelessly to ensure that the bereavement of his wife, the marriage of his daughter to her Betrothed, a young man from Star’s End deemed to have a decent heart and a good head on his shoulders, and their shared coronation ceremony were as excellent as they deserved.

The former Noctrix Sere-Mak was entombed in the mountain by torchlight on the first night, and though the Marriage of Pina-Mak and Felessan(-Mak; as a newly minted member of the house he was entitled to the honorific) on the second day was a private ceremony in which only the respective families were welcome, the third day’s Coronation was a more public affair – scheduled to be performed at midday before an assembled crowd composed of kin, prominent members of other clans, and a number of foreign representatives invited to witness the ascent of the new Nocter and Noctrix of the House of Mak. After the coronation ceremony, of course, it was time for the new rulers to hold Court and hear from their first petitioners and foreigners.

The Longhouse built atop Clanhome Mak was a feasting hall; it did not have thrones, but merely a granite bench at the head of the hall to sit together upon in front of a ceremonial reflective pool, and a fanciful feast was laid out for attendees now that the common petitioners had left. This now was a place for diplomacy, for the representatives of the invited foreign houses – nearly every great power of Tarandi, really, all those who had established standing relations with the House and also a spot for the Brayewen to be allowed, even though they had not – to speak to the incoming heads of the House and petition them just the same. After all, Danneta-Yvaon was the Jewel of Tarandi, the place where all roads led, a great nexus of wealth and magic.

While the Longhouse connected to other buildings in a sprawling compound home to many of the House of Mak and plenty of side rooms were available for discussions best performed away from prying ears, the main hall contained a selected set of guards, the new Nocter and Noctrix, an aging Irin-Mak and Kas-Mak, and the Magi Nila-Sen of the Strix’s Quill, one of the Rings of the Phoenix on her finger a demonstration that she had accepted the mantle of Kelsos the Lame as the City’s champion; she was clad simply and not visibly armed, though her keen observation of her surroundings and occasional flick to the ceremonial pool betrayed that she needed no weapon.

[Jade_Tarem]

The presence of four massive wolves bounding out from the true wild and into the cultivated garden-forest around the Jewel of Tarandi would have been cause for alarm, had there been more. As it was, four were enough - easily as high as a horse at the shoulder and mounted. While more than one land had mastered the canine riding technique, only one had tamed the tundra wolves of the Silver Plains, marking this as the delegation from the Star Kingdom of Solais.

In truth, their speed was hardly necessary, but their leader apparently saw no need for patience, pausing only long enough to display her invitation to the guards. Going through the streets slightly faster than might be considered safe and considerably faster than could be considered dignified, she seemed almost comically tiny atop the huge creature, but also completely in control of it, calling out directions to 'Ramoth' with alarming ease. For their part, her escorts didn't seem to have much trouble with their own mounts, and in no time they'd located an adequate kennel and left proper feeding instructions, as well as enough food to last and a hefty brush.

Making their way to the House Mak Clanhome, the leader was nearly dwarfed by her bodyguards, but nonetheless drew the eye of anyone looking their way. Lessa of the Stag had not known exactly what to expect from Danneta-Yvaon, but based on Felessan's descriptions had brought a little of everything. She was clearly dressed to ride or even fight, and in hides that could only have come from the blightspawn, seeming almost ready to go to war. She had, however, kept the better furs, hides, and robes stashed away, out of the weather. She currently had a bow for dealing with potential attacks from wild animals or monsters, a better-looking bow for a possible hunting party, a belt knife in the unlikely event of an honor duel, or perhaps just to cut meat or bread at the feast, and one of her guards carried a sack of gifts. Her one immediate concession for the sake of appearance was that she had taken the care to get her waist-length, forest green hair under control, tying back the bulk of it and adorning it with the one true treasure she'd brought with her upon moving out of the Sidhe Valley and into Star's End: her old symbol of leadership. A crown comprised entirely of fire opal, almost impossibly cut into the shape of a laurel wreath, glittered red and gold in the sunlight depending on which way one looked at it, seemingly almost on fire.

Her countenance was almost as brilliant, though. The Forest Folk fared well on tooth decay, and she had lost none to mishap just yet. She was pale by the standards of 'her' people, though still darker complected than most of the Children of Light, but what really drew people was her obviously eager smile. Indeed, those who knew her better knew that a smirk was the more common expression, but for once, she seemed genuinely overjoyed.

She stopped at the door to the longhouse and, not being entirely up to date on Dannu custom, banged one fist across her chest in greeting. "I am Lessa, Warden Thane of the Stag. Could one of you please direct me to my son?"

[Tentreto]

The Symphony delegation was once again remarkable for the plainness of the garments, all a mixture of browns and muted colours. It would only be the few bright beads in each person's hair, as well as the bright bangles each carried that denoted them of some rank. Yet each member of this group of 20 rode on a grey horse, each laden with a spear and bow, and a personal instrument of the rider.

Jia Polahi, the aged Keeper, had allowed herself the extravagance of six beads in her hair, in a chromatic display, and although she was clearly not a great rider, her gaze and demeanour would leave little doubt of how she had arranged her dynasty into such a wide reaching power.

Carefully, the group moved over to the entrance to the city. Though some whispered at the decadence on display: the variety of wares seemed somewhat uncanny, for the most part the group saw all the wares having some use. They once again listened in on the musical festivities, and the songs and tunes that filled the air, and a few jovial members pulled their instruments to entertain those nearby with passages of their own songs.

Eventually however, the delegation made their way to the Longhouse. Only five kept close by Jia, obviously her closest family and bodyguards, while the others ensured wherever they would be quartered would be adequate, or otherwise took a small excursion of their own into the city. Entering in, the old keeper handed off her furs to one of her guards, revealing a well woven woollen gown underneath, and her own bangles, one of silver, and another of feathers entwined with a lute string. Eyeing the guards, walked past them without flinching to approach the granite bench.

"The Symphony greets you here Noctrix and Nocter-Mak" she spoke in an almost fluent tongue. "I hope the songs of you and your people continue to flourish as I have seen."

Behind her, a man with dark hair and a lithe build stayed on her back, his own phoenix ring gleaming. Hinarah the rider could no longer be called young, but he was still a hero who had struck many a blow against the blight.

[Laura]

There are certain duties the rulers of peoples must be willing to take upon themselves. Among those are the willingness to go to war when necessary and also the willingness go to foreign courts when necessary.

It’s funny, thought Zan’Quezí as he tried to find his way through the bewildering streets of Danneta-Yvaon, Last time there was war to go to, there was also a duty to come here, to the “Jewel of Tarandi.” Last time he’d made Edge go to court and taken the mantle of war upon himself, this time it was the other way around. It was over twenty years ago now, but he remembered Edge returning from the Lands of Clan Mak and stating that he would have much preferred to have gone to war. Zan’Quezí had chuckled and made a joke at the other shán’s expense, but now, Zan’Quezí realized it was no laughing matter, no laughing matter at all.

To elven senses the smell was absolutely overwhelming. He’d already wretched once in the corner of one of the city’s many back streets and even after a hour to adjust himself the the cacophony of scents he still felt slightly nauseous. And, as if the smell wasn’t bad enough, there was so much noice… and so many people!

In all his centuries Zan’Quezí had never been in a place such as this. At least, he didn’t think so. There were uncounted decades of long forgotten years lost to the Madness. Maybe he’d once been king of a city himself, for all he knew! … Unlikely. There had to be more damned people in this one city than there were shaní in the whole world. This place was madness.

“This place is amazing!” Ocotlan flapped his wings giving himself a little more altitude, as he jumped to see over the flowing crowd. “So much to see! Look that merchant is trading in emeralds! Oh! That once says he has magic!” The dancer flapped his red wings again and fluttered up to the eves of a building and then glided over the heads of the crowd down to another tradesman’s stall.

“But ye’ve already traded all ye…” Zan’Quezí broke off, knowing there was no way the luminary would hear him over the noice of the streets. Taking a frustrated breath, the shan pulled his arms and pack closer into himself, as yet more people bumped and jostled by through the tight confines of the streets. He glanced back at Tessa’lyn and the two other dancers who’d accompanied Ocotlan. They were a meager entourage, but small numbers and light packs had allowed them to take a short cut over the Santishilo Mountains. There were small paths and trails blazed through the heights of the mountains, nothing that allowed for significant numbers or cargo to pass, but a handful of hardy souls and canny navigators could save more than a month of time by using them, rather than going by way of Serpent Pass.

Tessa’lyn met Zan’Quezí’s eyes and only shrugged, so Zan’Quezí sighed and pushed forward. He had to make some use of his greater height and strength to bull his way through the crowd, but finally caught up to Ocotlan, the rest of their entourage following in his wake.

“What if I give you FOUR feathers, and even so! I assure you, good merchant, the feathers of skyclad dancers are magical and wondrous beyond compare. They glow in the darkness, yes, and so, they give the power to shapeshifter and even fly!”

The human merchant was glaring, “I won’t say it again, Birdy, I ain’t taking your moldy feathers. I sell quality goods! Goods of true magic and enchantment!”

Zan’Quezí glanced down at the trinkets on the human’s table. Except for a strange smell that permitted the whole stall, the items appeared to be, not only mundane, but useless, poorly crafted figurines made of badly refined tin and silver. He reckoned the merchant’s goods and Ocotlan’s feathers were probably an even trade.

“Oh, but my good man!” began Ocotlan.

“If you don’t got anything to trade, just move right along!” snarled the human.

“Come, Ocotlan’Caí,” said Zan’Quezí in a low but firm voice, “We have important duties to attend to at the Mak Longhouse. There’s no need to be a’troubling this man longer.” Placing a hand on the dancer’s shoulder, he steered the luminary away from the stall and toward the thoroughfare again, hoping to simráh it was in the right direction amid this impossible maze of a city.

Behind him he heard the human merchant scoff and laugh, spitting after their backs. “The Mak Longhouse! Ha! That’s a good one! Dumb western vagrants!”

Zan’Quezí mouth tightened some. They’d traveled light and simply and fine clothes and items of wealth and grander had never been of much concern to the shaní. They had their tattoos, which distinguished them and marked their accomplishments and wisdom to all others among their kind, but obviously they meant nothing here. Here in the Jewel of Tarandi it was fine things, fine clothes, fine servants that distinguished one as a person of greatness among the commoners. He had none of that.

Ocotlan was chattering about something, probably either complaining or exalting over one thing or the other, but Zan’Quezí couldn’t really pay attention amid the all the chaos. He head was full of troubled thoughts. He’d thought long and hard, considering carefully what gift to bring for the coronation, but it seemed now that Clan Man had literally everything in the world flowing through their city. Gifts for the people who have everything? How ridiculous it seems now.

“I said,” squawked Ocotlan, “Maybe I should fly up there and get a better view of the streets!”

“What? Oh, aye, I kin that may be a good idea.” Zan’Quezí managed a small smile at his own expense, “I can find my way through the loneliest of high mountains, but I kin this city has finally gotten the best’a my sense o’ direction.”

Ocotlan smiled, “And even so, it is busier even than Thunder Cave in nesting season! I’ll be back soon. Try not to let all the smelly humans trample you to death Siah.”

“We’ll survive,” … probably.

As Ocotlan transformed and the flew up in the enchanting, spiraling fashion of the dancer’s flight, Zan’Quezí looking around at the river of strange faces, faintly hoping against hope to land on something or someone familiar.

Between the two duties of rulers, Zan’Quezí had to amid he agreed with Edge on this. He’d rather be at war.

[m9p909]

Thought King Kartoffel gazed walked through the market, a perpetual scowl on his face. Eent the 2nd walked beside regarding the wares with curiosity. "No, no, no this will not do"

He comes with a small honor guard of 20 of his most loyal soldiers. Zyklus, the new elder from Kartoffel city walked alongside him. They bore capes of Shark skin and smelled fishy. Neeschter, hero of the confidently walked alongside the others, smiling as if he had no care in the world. Reeschter sat on his soldier sniffing at the curious scents in the air.

Neeschter escaped the large group easily for such a large man, and made his way to investigate some of the more interesting wares. He found strange green stones, tools that don't seem to have been carved at all, and a very light metal.

"Tell me more about these green ones"

"Of course, these are emeralds from the mysterious Emerald Coast, they have healing powers if you leave one on your head at night" The shopkeeper hastily replied.

"and what is this metal, it is so light"

"Why yes good sir, that is a piece of tin. If you mix some shavings in your drink, it will make you see better and feel more. You'll be able to feel the wind on a still day, or see in a dark cave without a torch"

Neeschter is not at all convinced by what the shopkeeper is saying.

Kartoffel and his squad marches up behind Neeschter, casting a large shadow over the shopkeep. The shopkeeper looks at all the weapons nervously.

"Ah don't worry, my good friend. This is Thought King Kartoffel, he is with me. You may be crook, but that is OK we will not harm you this day"

Kartoffel makes his way to the front of the squad. "Neeschter, we need to go. The Coronation Party is waiting"

Neeschter sighs, "Yes, yes all right lets go".

The squad marches onwards towards the Longhouse. Zyklus takes the lead, "Greetings Noctrix and Nocter-Mak, I am Zyklus elder of Kartoffel city, here to present his Thoughtfulness, Thought King Kartoffel. "

[PepperP.]

Uldra

Three middle-aged women headed the delegation from Uldra, two of them, identical twins. Dara was the Uldra's newest leader, the daughter of Taran Icechaser walked with the assurance of one born of a powerful and respected family. She had taken the title High Chieftess as her territory had been unified and the holy Hiverness had come under her wing. This meeting would more then likely decide if the war with Braye would continue in the near future or not, and she prayed to Eauden that her pride might be tempered with forbearance. She wore a version of the usual Uldran attire, a tunic and leggings made of warm hides, dyed a lovely cream color and decorated with feathers and bead work. A fur-lined cloak was thrown over her shoulders, giving the diminutive woman a larger presence than she might otherwise garner. Her dark hair was braided into a thick strand that hung down her back to her waist, and the ivory circlet that sat atop her head was intricately carved in symbology that included the moon, wolves and owls all the way around it.

Despite her identical facial features to Dara, Kari Icechaser carried herself far differently from her sister. Uldra's newest Hero walked with a confident swagger. Her tunic had been dyed a pale blue, and she had cut the sleeves off of it despite the frigid cold, revealing arms that were thick with muscle. The underside of her hair had been shaved close to her scalp, and the top of her hair was fastened into a neat ponytail. Kari perused the various wares with a sardonic eye, not begrudging the opportunistic merchants their living, but they would have to make it off of others less canny than herself. The Hero carried no visible weapons on her, though her posture remained alert and her eyes roamed the crowds as if assessing it for threats.

The third woman that walked in front of their procession was Shira, daughter of the famously blessed Snow Wives, Neyrna and Shysie. Herself an Oracle in training, Shira carried an aura if innocent wonder with her and she often paused to gawk at the wares, or gape at a street performer, until having to trot to catch up with the others. She was dressed similarly to Dara, though her skins were dyed a bright indigo and her circlet was simply adored with a moon in the center of her forehead. A cheerful smile perpetually lit her pleasant features and anyone who knew her mother Neyrna, would recognize the Oracle in her daughter.

Walking just behind the women, as if to guard the rear, was the sole Nordgen representative in attendance. Viho Icewalker, colloquially known as the Fang of the North, towered over the shorter women. His broad shoulders made even more massive by the heaps of skins and furs that were heaped upon his shoulders. His long, dark hair was left down to flow over his furs and he carried no discernible weapons on him. it was he who presented their delegation to the Noctrix and Nocter-Mak.

"We are here from Uldra. This is my High Chieftess Dara Icechaser. Her Sister, Kari Icechaser, The Wolfrider of Uldra. The Oracle in training, Shira, of the Blessed Snow-Wives. I am Viho Icewalker, Fang in the North, of Hiverness."

[BladeofObliviom]

[Ahead Of The Wedding]

The boy on watch at the entrance glanced at the group and attempted to return Lessa’s gesture, assuming it to be a standard of the Clann. Eyes wide in wonder at these strangers, he stammered out a quick “I’ll inform the Nocter of your arrival!” and disappeared through the curtain of hanging hides that kept the cold out of the structure. He arrived again shortly thereafter, as good as his word, bearing the Nocter Irin-Mak in tow. He was quite old now, having passed his sixtieth winter, and though not withered it clearly showed on his face and body. Still, he could walk with no staff and the troubled expression on his face gave way to a gentle smile at the sight the Clann Solais party.

”Goodness, you look like you’ve scarcely aged a day. Good tidings to you and yours, and I welcome you to our Clanhome. Come, I’ll lead you to his chamber.”

The curtains were parted, and the path led down from the longhouse into the stone halls of the Clanhome proper, where outsiders were rarely welcomed as anything but prisoners. The moods of the many Mak scions inside varied from a certain glumness – having entombed the Noctrix the night prior – to excitement at the wedding preparations to what looked like a sort of confusion, whispers that the stone was acting strangely. Indeed, Irin-Mak was quick to explain once inside the security of the halls.

”The stone spirits have been active here, this morning. Moreso than e’er before. Pina tells me it is a blessing, a good omen, but can say little more. I have seen pebbles hanging in the center of a room, drifting off slowly when touched, passages that I know from years in these halls suddenly replaced by solid stone, and new ones opened elsewhere. At first I thought my age was catching up with me, but the younger ones also think it’s most strange.” He laughs. “Apologies if it seems like I don’t know where I’m going. I know the way to your son’s chamber, or did yesterday, but the layout is not quite as I remember today.”

As if to punctuate his words, a portion of the nearby wall simply descended into the earth, opening an entirely new passage. Irin-Mak nearly jumped, throwing himself against the wall, startled. “That’s one of the passages that closed, but I hadn’t seen one just open before me, yet.” It was hard to read his face, but he’d gone white. “This is the fastest way to your son’s chamber, though. Come.” He peeled himself from the wall and started down the newly opened route with a surprising calmness. It was only a short path, and the curtain to Felassan’s chamber was open; whatever he was doing, he’d heard voices down the hallway and dropped it. “Mother?” he asked, not quite surprised but still a little bit startled.

“I’ll leave you to it.”, Irin-Mak stated through a smile. “I have wedding preparations to oversee and people to yell at.”


[The First Court]

Arrayed in resplendent but undecorated garb and their circlets of polished stone, the newly-crowned Nocter and Noctrix received their guests. Both were dark-haired, though Felessan’s had a particular sheen to it that almost looked green when the light shined on it just so, and Pina looked quite pale next to her ruddy-toned husband. Where his eyes were full of fire and a sense of sizing up the oncomers, hers were a bit more distant, looking to things beyond what merely lay in the room.

"The Symphony greets you here Noctrix and Nocter-Mak" she spoke in an almost fluent tongue. "I hope the songs of you and your people continue to flourish as I have seen."

“Welcome to you, Keeper,” Pina-Mak was quick to begin, her countenance quickly returning to the here and now. And now that she was here, it was clear that there was no less fire in her than in Felessan, youthful energy and even impulsiveness, just directed differently. “We welcome you to the Court of the House of Mak.” She smiled, and looked to her Husband, who seemed for a moment frozen like a deer in firelight; though he’d lived here for years now, he hadn’t been raised from birth knowing he’d one day be sitting on this bench. “We’ll seek to live up to the expectations you’ve set.”

The squad marches onwards towards the Longhouse. Zyklus takes the lead, "Greetings Noctrix and Nocter-Mak, I am Zyklus elder of Kartoffel city, here to present his Thoughtfulness, Thought King Kartoffel. "

“Welcome to you and yours, Thought-King of the Braye. May your thoughts be enlightened and your ears free of falsehoods.” Despite his daughter’s words, Irin-Mak’s face twisted. There was a history. Felessan, for his part, didn’t seem to know what to make of this, and simply nodded at Neeschter, recognizing skill where he saw it. There was still something deeper in Pina’s smile as her eyes returned to things that others could not see.

Walking just behind the women, as if to guard the rear, was the sole Nordgen representative in attendance. Viho Icewalker, colloquially known as the Fang of the North, towered over the shorter women. His broad shoulders made even more massive by the heaps of skins and furs that were heaped upon his shoulders. His long, dark hair was left down to flow over his furs and he carried no discernible weapons on him. it was he who presented their delegation to the Noctrix and Nocter-Mak.

"We are here from Uldra. This is my High Chieftess Dara Icechaser. Her Sister, Kari Icechaser, The Wolfrider of Uldra. The Oracle in training, Shira, of the Blessed Snow-Wives. I am Viho Icewalker, Fang in the North, of Hiverness."

At the approach of this party, Pina-Mak visibly brightened, though Felessan seemed just a touch out of his element still; there was great uncertainty surrounding what would become of the marriage of Arrok and Nordgen, but it was no secret that Pina-Mak was a woman of deep faith, instilled in her by her mother and strengthened in her by her trials, and still looked to Hiverness as the center of the Way of Eauden’s teachings even as its moral authority had seemed to disappear. “Welcome!” shouted Pina-Mak with an almost shocking exuberance. “May Eauden’s light watch over you.”

As the Shani party entered, though they had yet to approach, Kas-Mak stiffened behind the bench, and whispered something to a boy who disappeared into the halls below.

[Laura]

With Ocotlan able to fly up the on roofs to help them find their way, the Shándole delegation finally arrived at the First Court. Ocotlan had choose to stay in his feathered serpent form, a long slender body with shimmering red and gold fathers and a face like a small dragon, wide wings and short clawed limbs. Walking was difficult in such a form, especially in crowed placed where most things were three times the dancer’s size, and flying, while a beautiful and elegant art, was not a swift means of travel, so he rode on Zan’Quêzí shoulders, gripping the color of the shán’s thick fur coat and looking over the top of Zan’ Quêzí’s head.

Behind the two high speakers came Tessá’lyn and the two dancer attendants. Compared to the dancer’s shining feathers and painted masks, the shaní’s garments of soft leather, furs and simply woven woolen sashes seemed a little dull and travel worn. But they were neat and clean and the shaní’s dark braids were smooth and shone with sweet oil applied that morning.

Zan’Quezí noticed Kas’s subtle reaction and the servant’s departure, but decided to keep his focus on the making a proper introduction.

Once the delegation of Uldra had finished their introduction, Zan’Quezí stepped forward, but before he could bow, Ocotlan lifted off his shoulder and flew ahead in an elegant serpentine pattern. Before the great bench the dancer preformed an intricate mid-air pattern, possibly a dance without the music, which ended in something that could be interpreted as a fancy bow, if one tilted their head the right way.

“Oh, great humans of Clan-Mak, the most radiant Noctrix and Nocter, oh happy couple! Greetings to you and even so, most joyful congratulations on this day! I am High Speaker Ocotlan, of Thunder Halls, here with the honorable Talákin’Záni’Quêzí of the Winter Council. We come on behalf of Shándole and are most pleased, and even so, to have this opportunity to witness your wedding and celebrate your auspicious coronation!”

Zan’Quêzí stayed back a couple paces, knowing better than to come between a skyclad dancer and the spotlight, but as Ocotlan paused some to catch his breath, the shán stepped up and bowed fist to forehead. “Long days an’ warm nights be with ye and yers,” he said. He hesitated a moment, still thinking of all the many wonders and flood of wealth and opportunities in the city, but then continued, “We have brought gifts, to honor our hosts an’ bless yer union.”

Tessá’Lyn and one of the other dancers stepped forward, each with a box. The larger one was held by the dancer and it was opened and presented first. Inside were two matching cloaks made of shining feathers, shimmering in shades of verdant greens, vivid blues and a trim of rare purple feathers. “From Trí’Meloa,” said Ocotlan, “These cloaks from the finest dancer feathers! May they keep ye warm in winter and allow you to always be in the most stunning of fashion!”

The other box was opened and there was a single white rose laying on a bed of bluish green leaves. Fur lined the box and it was clear that another small compartment could be opened below where the rose and leaves were presented, “This is a Winter Rose o’ Shandolýn,” Zan’Quézí explained, “If handled gently, it will last for many years, neither wilting nor loosing its petals. The leaves are leaves o’ the Kypher plant, also native to my home. It must be used sparingly, but the healing properties it contains are very potent, returning life an’ health, even in the direst circumstances.” He paused a moment, then added, “Within the box are also two bags of seeds, one o’ Winter Rose an’ one o’ Kypher. Tend ‘em carefully an’ these plans shall be not only yers t’ keep, but shall belong to all yer children to come. May lasting beauty an’ good health be with ye an’ yer family forever.” He bowed once more.

[Jade_Tarem]

"Felessan." The greeting was simple but warm. Lessa approached her son without reservation or fear and embraced him, even as her guardians fanned out, two of the three removing riding hoods to reveal themselves to be none other than Rauri and Fionn - their respective chestnut red and shining gold hair giving them away in an instant. It had been agreed upon that this would be Felessan's and Pina-Mak's day, and to a lesser extent Lessa's, and so they had come nearly anonymous and had said barely a word.

Given the difference in height and heritage, the hug looked more like a greeting from the expatriate's little sister, perhaps disconcerting to those unfamiliar with the arrangement. "It has been far too long. I hear only news of the workings of the Dannu-Gaon. Things are going well, I trust? Condolences on the death of your bride-to-be's mother, but... congratulations, as well! When do I get to meet her?"

The thane didn't wait for an answer before pulling away and planting her hands on her hips, all business now. "And what's this about willful stone spirits? I told Calder that he neglected the magical world at his peril, but no, he didn't grow up with monthly blightspawn rampages so he thinks he can simply leave everything to the Sentinels. Bah. Do you need aid on that matter? I could contact the Star Watch, or perhaps send a messenger to Hiverness. Brekke still owes me for smoothing things over with... well, she knows what I'm about. If that doesn't work, then-"

She was interrupted by a fake cough from the still-hooded guard. "Ah, I suppose I should let you get a word in. I'm just too excited! Your wedding day!"

[BladeofObliviom]

[Ahead of the Wedding]

The young man was utterly helpless against the grasp of a loving parent, pulled into an embrace which he returned a moment later, vaguely dazed as he tried to follow Lessa's avalanche of words, only to be spared by the last member of the party's intervention. "Ah, yes!", he started lamely, stumbling to his feet and trying to figure out how to finish that thought as he went, "Wedding day, yes. It's a lot!" Giving up on trying to sound completely composed, his answer quickly became no less unorganized as he tried to compress far too many things into a sentence: "She's, well, she's comely, healthy, a bit quiet and tends not to say things without purpose though also she's been a little more outspoken lately given the whole thing with her mother which Irin-Mak still won't talk about and also kind of disappeared for a bit a few months ago and came back, knows things she shouldn't and maybe is a little bit the chosen one according to the Truthseers? Not totally sure what that's about but..."

He takes a deep breath. "Okay, okay, sorry, I'm a tad on edge from this place turning into a labyrinth overnight. There's a lot of magic around here, it feels like I see a new enchanted goblet or a Magi making water flow uphill every time I turn around, but this is new, it started this morning, and I have no idea why. She, uh, she's been locked in her room, as in the passage is blocked, though she swears everything is fine and she's 'exactly where she needs to be', whatever that is supposed to mean! Most of the other closed passages are accommodating if you need to go somewhere, they seem to be listening? So...I think she wants to be alone until the wedding, while she works out...whatever this is." He scratches the back of his neck. "She's soooort of a witch (but the nice kind, I mean), pretty clever, seems to know what she's doing, and my shoulder hurts after the first five times I tried to remove the stone from in front of her chamber, so at this point I'm just letting her handle it and trying not to let nerves get to me. It doesn't seem like the bad kind of willful spirits, if that makes sense? Just...playful. Like a fox running off with your trousers while you bathe."

Felessan let out a deep breath, then perked back up.

"How's things back home?"


[First Court]

The pair listened rapt as Zan’Quêzí explained what he and his party had brought, fascination with these foreign precious things evident. "Thank you, we will treasure them.", Felessan smiled, still clearly out of his element but remembering his coaching, as a pair of young Mak women standing by accepted the gifts on their behalf. For her part, Pina-Mak smiles, her attention keenly on the botanical wonders of the Elven Lands, silently mouthing something to herself about where best to start a garden. Unheeding, Felessan spoke again to wish the Shani-and-Dancer party good health in turn, starting to find his verbal footing. It was clear the pair had far to go in comparison to Irin and Sere-mak's practiced displays of finishing one another's sentences.

Somewhere in the background, the buzzing of a housefly around a covered wooden tray being brought from below was abruptly stilled with a soft crack, followed by the faintest sound of a frosty speck striking the stone floor. A canny observer might have noticed Nila-Sen move her arms and briefly point in the general direction. Unceremonious. Only a flick of the eye from Kas indicates that any of the hosts noticed, Felessan's attention purely on Zan’Quêzí and Pina stone-faced, obviously concentrating on something before closing her eyes and returning to a certain serenity. "Welcome all to the home of the House of Mak," Pina announced as Felessan finished his formalities with the Shani leader, "in good health and plenty, we welcome our guests to feast with us in the bounty of Spring." The tray and a dozen more like it were laid out on tables, hot and fresh food acquired from the market that morning, some even from distant lands and kept from rotting with the blessings of Eauden.

[Laura]

Ocotlan beamed as the gifts were well received and gave a last flowing bow, before flying over to land on Zan’Quêzí’s shoulder again. The shán High Speaker smiled and gave a final nod of respect, before stepping away to look for seats at the feasting table.

His blue eyes swept around the room, taking in the numbers of people and animals, those armed and those not. He counted the numbers of Truthseers and numbers of guards. He glanced at the grim Kas-Mak and the many hallways leading out of the feasting room into unknown shadowed halls and rooms. His eyes took in the fine reflecting pool and then flicked briefly to Nila-Sen and then to the four humans from Uldra.

He was called Eagle Flies High and Sees All. Flying was obviously just fanciful poetry. He’d leave such things to Ocotlan and the rest of the skyclad dancers, but he’d earned the “Sees All” part of his name through centuries of careful observations and evaluation of the things, people and potential around him. Some shaní genuinely believed he had mystical powers to foresee the future, but such arts of magic were still beyond him. Zan’Quêzi just had a healthy sense of paranoia and many years of practiced skill watching his back and preparing for both the most likely and the most threatening of potential outcomes.

“A most beautiful couple and a fine feast laid out here, and even so!” piped Ocotlan in his ear.

“An' so,” agreed Zan’Quêzí, leading his entourage over to a table by the reflecting pool where the the delegation from Uldra were sitting.

“Warm days an’ long night to ye,” he greeted Taran and the rest, “I am Talákin’Záni’Quêzí of Shandolyn.”

Ocotlan slid smoothly from the shán’s shoulder and, in a shimmer of red and gold, transformed from his flying serpent form back into his humanoid form. He stood a few inches short of five feet, his body covered in red and golden feathers. A wooden masked painted in colorful patterns of green, and spirals of inlaid gold framed his face, leaving his too-large, avian eyes uncovered. He gave a sweeping bow that caused the long pinfeathers of his arms to sweep the floor. “I am Ocotlan, of Trí’Meloa. It is an honor to meet you, and so! And so!” He repeated his bow toward each member of the the Uldra delegation.

“Would ye’ mind if’n we took these here seats near ye?” Zan’Quêzí asked, motioning toward the empty chairs across from them.

[Jade_Tarem]

"Things are well, but irrelevant to this. Simply tell me what you need and I can provide as best I can. This is your day!"

[PepperP.]

[Ahead Of The Wedding]

Spoiler

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At the approach of this party, Pina-Mak visibly brightened, though Felessan seemed just a touch out of his element still; there was great uncertainty surrounding what would become of the marriage of Arrok and Nordgen, but it was no secret that Pina-Mak was a woman of deep faith, instilled in her by her mother and strengthened in her by her trials, and still looked to Hiverness as the center of the Way of Eauden’s teachings even as its moral authority had seemed to disappear. “Welcome!” shouted Pina-Mak with an almost shocking exuberance. “May Eauden’s light watch over you.”

"And may your Path be well-lit as well, Noctrix." Dara held out her hand to clasp Pina-Mak's arm in a friendly manner.

"Congratulations on your marriage, choosing to join your Path with another is a momentous occasion indeed." Shira chimed in.

"We have brought a gift, a rare white Northern Husky pup. We will leave it up to you to discover her name." Viho stepped forward and pulled out a bundle of white fluff from inside his cloak. The puppy opened his eyes sleepily and whimpered to suddenly be taken from Viho's body heat.

Spoiler

Show

Ocotlan beamed as the gifts were well received and gave a last flowing bow, before flying over to land on Zan’Quêzí’s shoulder again. The shán High Speaker smiled and gave a final nod of respect, before stepping away to look for seats at the feasting table.

His blue eyes swept around the room, taking in the numbers of people and animals, those armed and those not. He counted the numbers of Truthseers and numbers of guards. He glanced at the grim Kas-Mak and the many hallways leading out of the feasting room into unknown shadowed halls and rooms. His eyes took in the fine reflecting pool and then flicked briefly to Nila-Sen and then to the four humans from Uldra.

He was called Eagle Flies High and Sees All. Flying was obviously just fanciful poetry. He’d leave such things to Ocotlan and the rest of the skyclad dancers, but he’d earned the “Sees All” part of his name through centuries of careful observations and evaluation of the things, people and potential around him. Some shaní genuinely believed he had mystical powers to foresee the future, but such arts of magic were still beyond him. Zan’Quêzi just had a healthy sense of paranoia and many years of practiced skill watching his back and preparing for both the most likely and the most threatening of potential outcomes.

“A most beautiful couple and a fine feast laid out here, and even so!” piped Ocotlan in his ear.

“An' so,” agreed Zan’Quêzí, leading his entourage over to a table by the reflecting pool where the the delegation from Uldra were sitting.

“Warm days an’ long night to ye,” he greeted Taran and the rest, “I am Talákin’Záni’Quêzí of Shandolyn.”

Ocotlan slid smoothly from the shán’s shoulder and, in a shimmer of red and gold, transformed from his flying serpent form back into his humanoid form. He stood a few inches short of five feet, his body covered in red and golden feathers. A wooden masked painted in colorful patterns of green, and spirals of inlaid gold framed his face, leaving his too-large, avian eyes uncovered. He gave a sweeping bow that caused the long pinfeathers of his arms to sweep the floor. “I am Ocotlan, of Trí’Meloa. It is an honor to meet you, and so! And so!” He repeated his bow toward each member of the the Uldra delegation.

“Would ye’ mind if’n we took these here seats near ye?” Zan’Quêzí asked, motioning toward the empty chairs across from them.

"Of course not, feel free. You are of the Shan, are you not?" Dara gestured to the empty seats.

"I am High Chief Dara Icechaser and this is my sister, Kari Icechaser the Wolfrider of Uldra. This is our future Oracle Shira, daughter of the famously blessed Snow Wives, and that great hulk of a man is Viho Icewalker, Fang in the North." Dara made her introductions and Viho nodded at them.

"How do the marriage customs of the River-Smiths compare to those of Shandole?" She asked curiously. Though the Nordgen had wedding traditions, the Arrok had been slow in making such adaptations to their own culture, but marriage had been becoming increasingly common in the last few years.