Dakirennis

Name of your Charter:

Onyx Sanctuary

Owner's Username:

Dakirennis

Owner's Roleplay Name:

Dak'ir Des'Nox

Location (XYZ):

Prefer to say privately

Tier applying for:

1

Atop steed and wolf the kin of the moon had set out under Luara’s guidance and with the cloak of night to protect them as they made their pilgrimage to the frozen north. The sky began to turn to a soft pink as they left the forests, facing only the barren mountains before them. Dak’ir’s breath rose into the air as they stared at their next journey.

“Somewhere in these far cliffs we shall find the peace we seek. A mount worthy of calling home and practicing our faith. Our dream in Vira’ker fell long ago… Vulnir and Avurak’s dream will never be realized in that port state. I’ve faith in Xavis but I believe our home too far gone. To void mages and druids, pale-skins and to those of darker persuasion. Perhaps those of faith will seek us out, to learn the secrets of their people and their heritage. But for now, I see no place for us in this lost city. May the Ancestors and Spirits watch over the ‘Ker who remain… If they even care anymore.”

The kinsmen of clans Des’Nox and Isilioleth shifted uneasily before moving forward. Their resolve strengthened by their hope and faith. And the promise of peace through isolation.
 

“Skulls unworthy of Enorhk’s throne.” Mused a shaman. 

Dak’ir motions to rename the pact to the Pact of Ash and Onyx 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Hell yeah

Dak’ir arrived in Vira’ker’s caverns in his usual daze. A dull bliss, his senses ever on the edge of here or there. Though it was quickly shattered by the sight of his mate and daughter knelt before a cot welcoming him home. The two ashen women turned to him as the door clicked shut, neither saying anything in their sorrow as he’d approach the bed. His staff clattered against the floor whatever charms had hung from it now laying in a mess on the floor, some even breaking against the hard stone, as he fell to one knee between them. Taking Arveldir’s hand in his own, he recoiled a moment, the icy cold shocking even the old lutauman. The man far too acquainted with death. But here it was now. As real as it had been for every other ‘Ker that had come before him. As cold and lifeless as all the others... This night he lost much more than another soul. The fates of their kind had brought them together and Dak’ir had taken the young, lemon-eyed ‘Ker under his wing. He was much more than his son. He was his best friend and a brother. That young soul that had seen war after war, known the pain of loss over and over. No. Dak’ir knew that this wasn’t any different than another ‘Ker passing. His life was long and full and Dak’ir knew it was selfish to let sorrow take him so. Though he would revel in it for the days to come. Dak’ir knew he’d be guiding another soul beyond. He would meet him there in the everlasting beyond of his people. 

And in the desolate barrens before Kor’s great gate, he awaited...

“Your rest has come my son. May Delilah meet you at our great mountain. May the Ancestors and Luara watch over you here as well, you served them with honor. And... say hello to your mother for me...” 

Why must you scare me this way

“May Kor welcome you at his gate.”

+1 for the name alone

I miss the black scourge. That was the last time we had a damn good cult imo. 

I love the log pit and hell yeah for bringing back bone meal on flowers. 

I like this build way more than your current one.

I’m signin’, we tryin’. 

Dak’ir’s tired smile grew as ancient order began anew. Young ‘Ker coming to him with trophies from great hunts, offerings to their Ancestors. The pelt of a great bear was drying on the racks that evening in fact. Shrines popped up among the sands and defensive positions for the next bandit raid. A long since known pride swelled in his chest as their home was protected by these zealous younglings. 

KFC
The Ker’s Favourite Cuisine

 A guide to some basic old home dark elven cookery.

From hunters to house-mothers, the ‘Ker have had a knack for the culinary. Always enjoying delicious food no matter the meal. This is a small compendium recipes I compiled during my ventures into the Ancestral Plane. Delilah the Mother and other elders of ages gone offering what they could to comfort their kin from the other side.

The Talar’onn, the large, aloof lizards of the deep have ever been faithful companions to the ‘Ker of the deep. And of course, a wonderful source of fine cuts and hearty bones! Traditionally the heavy, thick hided lizards have been cultivated for years but now they’ve hand they years to get a little snaky and bred some ferocity. So they require a few good shots to the back or head to bring down. Hunters take heed, what these beasts lack in eyesight they make up for with their sense of smell and hearing. Keep a quiet foot and make sure your hunting hollow has no steam vents that may make a breeze. Once dispatched and cleaned, the loins and rump are brined in a mixture of salt and cave shoot sugar for a day. Once removed from the liquid, the fatty side is scored before roasting for about four hours and rubbed with a butter and herb mixture towards the end of cooking. 

The Cave Kuku. The small simply poultry, cousin to it’s above world dwelling is a favorite among the ‘Ker. Fried usually being the preferred method of cooking. Many wayward Ker travelling the depths to hunt would fry these up quickly on an oiled slate cooking stone, eating a small delicious meal on the go so as not to attract something larger than them… To begin, heat your stone and place a second, heavier slate at the edge of the flame to begin heating as well. After you’ve gutted and cleaned the bird (Stepping on the wings and pulling the legs slowly is a quick method to pulling the skin off the bird with it’s feathers in tow!), remove the spine with your hunting knife and flatten the bird. Take your firesalts and rub it onto both sides of the bird before oiling and placing breast side down onto your cooking stone. Place your secondary slate atop your chicken to flatten it and applying more heat to it’s back side. If your stones are heated properly, this should only take a few minutes at most to cook the whole bird, always check to make sure the meat is completely white and the juices are clear!

Deep molluscs’ cling to the walls for particularly moist caverns, regardless of the temperature. They can be found in small clusters roughly the size of a small rug, the shells growing as big as your palm. What’s inside isn’t much but full of flavour, so grab plenty! Once you bring your loot home, find a nice pan and give it a thin coating of oil before bringing it to a high heat. Add some minced garlic and as it turns a golden brown, add enough molluscs to fill the pan and give it a good shake. Your molluscs should begin to open almost immediately, add a generous splash of warm, high elven white wine to the pan (mind the flames!) and finally cover them with an old pie tin to allow the steam to build in the pan. Remain on a high heat till they are fully opened and cooked, there should be no clear or slimy bits! Served in a large bowl with the pan juices poured atop it for large gatherings.

Three Mushroom Fry

The far reaches of the deep offer many types of edible and poisonous fungi and while the list may be endless, this was a common recipe I found in my travels. So here is a delicious home meal featuring three, very safe and common mushrooms of the deep.

Dawn Trumpet - These tall stemmed mushrooms grow in the lights of bright crystals and tall glowing, mushroom trees. They are usually found in small patches around the brightest points of light. They are very sweet and hold a lot of moisture. They can even be eaten raw if you can stomach the stringy texture!

Table Malachite - Often dismissed as moss patches, table malachite coats the walls of many damp caverns. They are flaky and soft when cooked and their taste is somewhat salty but otherwise neutral. They do however absorb flavour very well and offer a nice texture difference to your meal. 

Dwarfs Toe - Smelled before seen, these bulbus fungi dot the rocks near underground lakes. They are large and hearty, usually one being more than enough as they can grow to the size of halfling’s head! Always add these to your pan first and cook first as they are rather tough and rubbery to the bite when raw. They taste rather tangy and earthy raw, but brings out a natural spiciness when cooked thoroughly. 

Now that you know what you’re looking for, oil and heat your pan atop your stove or fire until it begins to smoke very lightly. Add your dwarfs toe first, cooking for about two minutes before adding your table malachite and dawn trumpet. Season with salt, pepper, and a dash of fire spices and cook for about five to eight minutes. You can also add some of your meats before your mushrooms or dried meats at the end for an even heartier meal.
 

Aztran crept below the horizon and Luara’s gentle darkness began to seep into the sky. The cool evening air welcoming the onyx kin as they moved hither and thither among the encampment. The barren plateau now bloomed with life as fledgling clans worked in the dimming light spreading their homesteads and raising their keep. Aspirant Div’cruan piled the heads of bandits and beasts before their totem to the Moon Mother and their ancestral shrines. They gathered around their fires as the darkness fell, learning of elder times and boasting personal triumphs. Even the shaman of the uzg came to welcome their new neighbors among the sands, preaching the ways of the spirits to these new initiates. All had come into place for the ashen folk. High atop their peak they made their home, stone by stone end each day, the Sable Enclave grew, the onyx kin grew. As one.

The Primarch smiled wearily over the fire. Other ‘Ker gathered and introducing themselves to one another, from all walks of life. Friends old and new. Lighting his pipe he blew the soft cloud into the night air.

“And so we begin anew. May we bring the Old Ways into the eyes of our people and serve alongside our cousins honourably. Luara be praised, Ancestors be honoured.”

A distant dark skinned shaman nodded in approval at these gitz.

“Why are politics being brought into internal family affairs? Nonsense.”

Take the plunge brother. 

Imma eat a few of these.

17 hours ago, Snelfma said:

 

The Primarch would reply in turn...

“To begin with, quite frankly you may not call me uncle. After I’d had you exiled for spitting falsities of the Ancestors and Spirits, and no bounty has ever been placed on your head. There’s no purpose in killing you in such a manner, nor is it worth the thought or mina. Yes the Ancestors have a bloodied past, no matter how many times I had explained that to you, Khel was a murderer and once a mori sympathizer. Blessed Ancestors, he used to hunt for dryads in Darkhaven’s forest. But he atoned for his sins when his unresting spirit came to Athera. However in your own naivety, you forget that your own family was part of that inactive leadership. You’d had been given the opportunity then to exact all the wonderful ideas you spewed to me, but you didn’t. And while yes, I have of course been inactive, my training was the only way I could learn. I planned on stepping down centuries ago though my duty is still my duty. And I will do my best to carry it out as I always have. But between gender confused younglings and your incessant complaining, no I do not want that present among what I am trying to achieve or even the Dominion itself. I make this home not for any ‘Ker but those true enough who wish to know the Primordial Truth, our origins and history, our culture, the truth you kept demeaning but I simply did not know an elven year ago. But you couldn’t understand that because you wanted it now, like a child. And I am tired of you stamping your feet like one when you do not get your way.”

Dak’ir settled beneath fresh willow in Velunor’s new housing area. His students left for the evening and the moon’s familiar gaze soon peeked over Valleinor’s high peaks. After weeks of work and the blood, sweat, and tears of a few unwilling captives to appease the Spirits. The harbor had been fixed up following the recent volcanic activity. Expansion came with the repairs, homes for the new followers. Though many still remained hollow. The tired shaman soon rose from his place upon the tree, wandering the path to the nearby totem he’d created in dedication to the Mother Moon, Luara. Blood and the strands of white hair from a mutant still dotted the altar before the great totem, from a recent sacrifice. Tapping his staff twice against the stone he’d bow his head once to the totem before quickly departing again. Despite Dak’ir’s tenancy to slip away from the mortal world from time to time, the moment had finally come to bring his people together once more. His true kin, sons and daughters of the Spirits. That night, the squeaks and chirps of chittering grey jays scattered from Velunor and to the lands beyond...

The Primarch sat alone in Velunor at edge of the docks, a perpetual haze of smoke seemed to permeate from his being. The waters of the harbor were still that night as they shined softly under the moon’s tender glow. Dak’ir closed his eye and smiled softly, seeming to bask in the light as well, soaking up it’s silver warmth. His pilgrimage had come to an end, and his training finally complete beneath the Ancestors. Everything had finally fallen into line and his dedication had brought him to the very beginning and ending of it all. A sense of pride and peace came to the humble ‘Ker and so he closed his eyes and fell once again into the world beyond.

Dak’ir felt more at home within Stargûsh’stroh than in the mortal coil. It was where he truly felt free, where he felt he belonged but he knew better than that. Than to fall to that temptation. He sat at the top of the mountain that housed the souls of the long forgotten ‘Ker of old and those of renewed faith, in the shadow of a city they once knew. 

Night had fallen on the Ancestral Realm and all was quiet. The Mother Moon’s soft touch felt this lone peak in this realm as well and under her gaze, they met once again. A tall ‘Ker woman clad in a brilliant, simple, white dress. Her hair the same snowy white and her eyes a pale silver, a perfect image of primordial dark elven beauty. “You come once again, shaman? Do you not tired of this old soul’s tales?” Truth be told, he could listen to her for ages, as vague as she could be sometimes. The woman before him could inspire armies or move the hearts of a people. Which had in fact been her duty in life. Veluleai the Prophet stood before Dak’ir in all her grace. The sleepy shaman turned from the cliff’s edge to face her fully, his ebon mane falling around his face as he bowed before her. The Ancestor gave a tired smile, as if the gesture had been wasted. She never seemed to care much for formality or praise, Dak’ir had noticed, and after an awkward greeting he spoke what was on his mind. Seeking guidance once more. “Do you think they are prepared? Do you think some will care to know? Or even accept?” The elfess did not hesitate. “Gather your faithful, your strong, your kin. You cannot force that which is a constant motion. We are a wayward people, and the Old Ways are not for all in this modern time they should not be your concern. Our true people, the Ancestors and the Spirits should.” Dak’ir nodded at her wise words. He’d learned long ago that he could no longer waste time on those not wishing to learn. This was a game of preservation, not influence.

Dak’ir nodded to the wise elder’s words and the two spoke just a little longer into the night. The shaman sat and listened like an attentive child as she spoke of the times before conflict. Of peace and worship under the mountain and moon. Oh how he yearned for even a fraction of that. And as the crescent moon began to slip and they sky turned to the soft pink of the morning, Dak’ir bid his farewell to this most honored Ancestor, knowing their precious meetings were all too rare
 

"And Haelun'or finds it's way to the Dominion. Ancestors how Kalenz is probably spinning in his grave." The shaman would laugh to himself as he read the missive. "That means good tea is nearby though."