An Order within the Mist

[Departed_Delmar 1302]

Spoiler

 

This is just an rp post, per usual, none of this would be common knowledge. Thank you

𝕬𝖓 𝕺𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙

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The Knight Commander about to lead the other knights and squires in a prayer to the Ancestors.

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Aurelion would kneel before that altar, eyes closed as he consumed from that chalice of twisted gold and silver. His tongue hung heavy with the herb mixture, honey and earth where two flavors shone through, as he let the twisted chalice rest upon the wooden altar. Slowly did he begin to take in deep breaths, that gray clouded mist of honey and sage, filling his nostrils as he knelt there. His fingers began to tingle, and his vision grew as hazed as the fresh morning time of Cartref. Slowly however, did his  mind begin to fill with that ever familiar gray haze. He felt as though he could sense everything, see everything within this area, and yet could see nothing at all. He felt one within that clouded room, within that clouded mind of his. His gaze started to pan about the endless sea of clouds, an infinite expanse of cold blue-gray. He felt a pull, a tug even, drawing him closer to a spot within the clouds, scarred digits extending out only to clasp a bench. Cold stone graced those fingertips, as his glowing gaze lifted to find in front of him a blade. Not one of any mundane origin but instead one of a noble crafted blade. A hilt of bear bone, with veins and ripples of anorum rippling out to form a crossguard that looked akin to rippling waves. As that anorum traveled up, so would it find itself clouded. Shifting between a state of solidness and formlessness. 

 

As he outstretched a hand towards the theurgic blade, so would he find those fingers of him to brush through the handle, as though it was but a cold illusion. Yet as his hand passed further, so would he feel a tug, dragging him forwards as he began to spiral into a free fall. His gaze flicked about, frantically searching for that path, that direction to go. It was only upon the feeling of solid ground on his feet, that he lifted his head up. Finding himself surrounded by mist covered woods. His gaze lowered to his hands, finding clasped within it, that spear of bone and salium. Tilting his head  forward ever so slightly, did  he see an armored figure. Blade resting upon his lap, as he kneeled in front of the adunic lord, forehead recently bearing upon it a dot of frostbite. Slowly however, did that dot spiral, turning into a spiraling carving of the twin trees of Cartref. 

 

As he looked upon this carved sigil within the flesh, so did his gaze tilt back upwards. From the trees, did he begin to see more armored figures, all faceless and all who bore that same sigil upon their head. Their forms laced and drifted with that cold gray mist. Following that commander, that first chosen, did they all kneel in prayer. Noiseless words leaving those lips, yet still did their intention show clearly to the lord, their prayers offered for their kin. Yet that was not all, for behind their words, where prayers laced in zealotry. For glory to the Ancestors, and thus, glory for GOD. 

 

As the Lord peered further into the faces, so did those clouded features, start to clear. Faces he recognized, faces that held the potential to do many great things within Cartref, faces he knew would do good by the will of the Ancestors. Upon his further realization, did he begin to slip, his body tumbling back as though he held no control. Before his glowing gaze opened!

 

He was once more within the room of prayer, his breathing labored as though he had been traversing those glacial peaks once more. He stumbled his way out of his room, his hands clutching the wooden railing of that lift as he descended down onto one of the lower balconies. Once he got to the door, did he find himself swinging it wide open. Where he had left the day at sunset, now was the sun just starting to peak over the horizon. Mist hung through the fields and lands of Cartref, as it usually did. “Cartref requires warriors, devout in their ways as much as they are protecting their own. Such as the mists form to cloud those unwanted gazes, so shall there be warriors prepared to guard from the unwanted gaze of those who would go after our kin. An order, perhaps,  within the gray mists of Cartref Mor. ” The prophet sighed, knuckles tightening as he still felt a light sting upon his back. Taking a deep breath, did he move, walking away from that stone ledge. He had waited long enough, and it was time to find those few worthy, and begin their trials. 

 

[flexMate 346]

Literally Adunian moment!!!

[Wizzar 613]

A young, grey-eyed Adunian throws his bruised and bloodied fists at a padded wooden statute. Beads of sweat drips from his form to leave a glossiness on his newly developed muscles. Aonghus' gaze peers through his wooden victim as his soul wanders in search of guidance. The Ancestors will guide him to this Order, whether he knows it yet or not.