RipTheShrimp

[ Aphorinai ] Spirit of Seafoam (Lesser Water Elemental Spirit) "Extend your arm; I shall inflict my mark upon you." ———⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･——— The maehr awoke half-dipped in water among calm tides, waves slowly lapping around the elfess as she laid in the sand. Warm sunrays came down from above to heat her skin, light pouring onto her eyelids. The drow sat up as they opened, water dripping down from her braids. She was immediately met with an all-too-familiar view of a beach; it seemed to limitlessly expand, the dark elf standing up. A ringing began in her ears, a voice resounding in her mind, "You have entered my realm; speak to me—come in.” The dark elfess’ gaze looked around—nothing else was in sight. It fell to the water with a light huff, and with a small bit of hesitance, she waded into the water, the white sheet she was dressed in flowing as she continued down further. The waves rose up to her chin as her height left her, relying on swimming as there became a dreadful realization that it would not be on the horizon, the voice echoing a single word that confirmed her belief: “Descend.” She took a breath, holding it as she then dived into the water, the beams of light shooting past her, though their intensity fading. The maehr continued swimming downwards, her lungs beginning to burn, a slow instilling of panic forming within herself. The elfess continued her journey despite her body’s warnings, her lungs fiery as she could feel the water pressure increasing upon her descent. Her eyesight began to fade; Ilmra wanted to turn back—to save herself. However, she didn’t, the single word resounding within her mind, continuing downward. The maehr lost consciousness, washed up on the shore as she once more awoke, the same waves slowly lapping up around her as she sat up. She was completely drenched, reaching up to scrub the wet hair from her eyes as she took a peek around. Infinite shoreline, as before—no marks in the sand, still clear skies. Ilmra was likely further down the coastline from before. Below the reflection of the water, something glowed—she squinted, standing up as she peered towards it, focusing through the haze as she saw the outline of a creature. A jellyfish? Before she was able to call out towards it, the same voice from before continued: “You have passed my challenge. Now, come to me.” As much as the dark elfess wished to retort with a smart remark, she held her tongue, nodding as she once more waded into the water. Her head submerged, now capturing the full view of the giant jellyfish of varying, colorful patterns. Upon her attempt to speak, bubbled water dived down from above, rushing into her throat and into her lungs; but instead of choking upon it, her suffocation ceased—it was quite the opposite, in fact, able to breathe in the foamy liquid. Her voice poured out, “I wish to serve your will—to pact with you.” “Then my price is as follows. You will erect a shrine and offer in my name, and my will should be spread. Extend your arm; I shall inflict my mark upon you.” The maehr nodded, offering the left arm towards the figure, finding the terms acceptable. Its tendrils surged forwards, wrapping around Ilmra’s limb as bubbles of heat dispersed from her ashen skin. She bit down on her lip with a deep breath as the brand was administered, watching the tendrils leave an iridescent layer of seafoam bubbles upon her arm. The limbs of the being unraveled; before she was able to look up from the mark, she was returned to the material plane.

[ Meridias ] Spirit of Scouring (Lesser of Scorthuz, Spirit of Cleansing, Purity and Purging) “Clean yourself, darkness around.” 🪶———————🪶 The maehr awoke, surrounded by a warm, dense forest of huge trees looming above as her sight returned to her. Sunlight streamed in from the branches and gaps from the leaves; she sat up, finding herself on a natural, dirt path. Rustling was heard from above, the drow’s ears twitching as she looked around–a singular feather drifted down from above, the breeze conforming against her back in a light push, guiding the dark elf down the pathway. After a bit of a walk, the road led to a mass clearing–the field filled with white flowers, the sun’s calm gaze reflecting off each petal. In the center, a gargantuan tree stood, swaying in the breeze. Her ears began to lightly bob, the warmth absorbing into her skin, a smile forming upon her expression, taking in the scenery. Her deep, purple eyes settled upon the central tree. Light reflected from a surface high on a branch, soon realizing that she was being watched. The maehr turned, waving in the general direction, positioning herself to get a better view–a large, bright-colored owl came into view, its eyes gently locked onto the dark elf, seeming to follow her. From high above, the being hooted, its wings fluttering open a moment as it spoke: “Come here,” it beckoned, and so she approached–though, she quite noted the height she would be required to climb. She lacked the gear to do so efficiently, only presented in little clothes; however, the lack of extra weight would make it easier. The drow obliged with the spirit’s request, beginning her climb with what little she had. The owl waited in the branches, the sun still streaming in; the trip didn’t quite take as long as she thought it–the further she climbed, the lighter she felt. The maehr reached the same branch as the figure, stabilizing herself on adjacent branches, her eyes now locked with the spirit’s piercing blue gaze–they seemed to study the woman’s very soul: “Why you here?” Its wings ruffled to readjust them, looming. The woman had caught her breath, placing her back against the trunk of the tree, holding onto branches in both hands to steady herself. She cautiously glanced around, looking down towards the ground; however, her gaze seemed to soften as it rested upon the owl, answering: “Need help.” The dark elf's grip was quite tight on the branch, her knuckles quite the lighter shade; her gaze occasionally bounced down towards the ground, then back up towards the owl, each glance a reminder to keep her eyes on the figure. She seemed averse to the height, but was up there anyway. The owl beckoned her on, and so she let go of either branch approaching, her gaze now only focusing on the owl, her deep, purple eyes resting on it, continuing: “Want to spiritually bind.” The spirit sat back, its tail flicking to the side, replying, “Clean yourself, darkness around.” The large wings of the owl flapped, causing a breeze to pick around the elven woman, the bird continuing to speak: “Make shrine, our pact is fate.”

[ Iusrzfel ] Spirit of the Watch (Lesser of Vulka, Spirit of Warfare, Strategy, and Siegecraft) (Err-serrz-fel) "Walls do not fall when they are struck. They fall when those atop them stop watching." ⏿——————— The dark elf stood atop a great wall built atop a mountainside; it was very quiet, the wall stretching from one side of her view to the other, filling the horizon. In the cold air, frost clung to the armor she now wore; a torch became her only source of heat. Hours passed as the night grew frigid, her torch no longer burning steady, now sputtering. In the tower, her eyes rested upon what appeared to be a war horn; it was larger than her, however a mouthpiece was in reach. Ilmra continued to shiver from the harsh cold, her gaze tracing the horn from bottom to the top. Crudely wiping the mouthpiece with the leather palm of her gauntlet, she took a deep breath before beginning to blow. The war horn echoed through the valley, soundwaves bouncing back and forth. A whisper came upon the winds, spoken by an unseen voice: “Tell me child, why did you sound the alarm?” The maehr leaned up from the horn, becoming still; her teeth chattered frigidly. “My home is under threat,” she responded firmly, not straying from the voice, teeth now clenched. A figure descended from the skies, hovering before the tower; it filled her view, “You are late. But you came before it was over.” The dark elf kept her eyes locked with the spirit’s, unwavering, “I could not prevent the start, but now I must defend my home.” “Every wall has held a thousand names. When the night comes, you will be awake. If you want thanks, leave. If you want your home standing, stay.” The maehr’s eyes steadily concentrated on the figure, refusing to turn her attention away as she spoke with determination, the cold no longer affecting her, “I do not care for gratitude; I will protect my home for as long as I stand. Those that I love are within my walls. And I will not let rancid barbarians impede on my city and my citizen’s wellbeing.” “Many desire responsibility, few want to bear it; you will come to know its cost. A horn you shall always keep on you, and a shrine upon your walls are my price, should you accept.” “I accept, and I will; it is a small price to pay. I accept the responsibilities of the watch.” “Good luck.”

[ Zagraath ] Spirit of Maehrian Vitality (Lesser of Akezo, Spirit of Healing, Health, and Vitality) 'Osyren aeth nyraz maehrvot' "You may call upon my boon whenever you need it." ————𐂂———— Hidden within Cerulia, a bustling coastal city in the realm of Azuras, a group of dark elves sought to visit the realm of Zagraath. The pair of maehrs awoke in a lush forest of shimmering trees--leaves of pinks and oranges glistened in golden light. The forest was calm, welcoming, and warm. The trio stood upon a dirt path that snaked tightly between the trees and shrubs of the woodlands. A sudden flash of a white blur burst past them, galloping along the trail. “Well… What are you two waiting for? Chase it.” The dark elves pursued the spirit through the grove; with grace, the stag leapt over a large stream, planting itself on the other side. His head was held tall, his horn resonating with the glow in the forest. Either leapt, though one quite less elegant than the other, approaching as the stag spoke: "What is it you seek?" - “Why do you run through my forests so?” The young female maehr dipped her head, water still dripping from her hair as she made her requests known: “I would like to pact with you, to serve your will.” Zagraath drew in a deep breath; he lowered his mighty head, looking closely at the two young maehr before him: “I demand a shrine made to honor me, forevermore. Offerings should be given in my name… Mend those who are in need, remind them of my might. Place a hand upon my horn and seal your pact, mortals.” Ilmra closed her eyes, bowing her head as she placed her palm against the spirit’s horn.