Dwarves = Wussy Girly Painter Mens

But I can't believe Volkh bit it, I always assumed (for some unknown reason) if any God was to survive, it'd be Volkh. So much for that. And I love the fact that we actually had Great Spirit action, I love that Lake went all Gandalf on Sun, I love that Lusternia likes to keep the moral ambiguity and Light doesn't necessarily equal good. (Even when night is supposed to be bad too)
I hope to see more Moon/Night happytogether snugglefest parts. It's a refreshing change. And now we know why there are two Great Spirits to a forest! Which is completely and utterly cool. Hmm. If Jojobo were ever to be an actual commune (I'm talking RPwise, not necessarily player-driven), would it be all crazed? Sun LOL LAKEKILL NIGHTLUB vs Great Spirit 'I got bound to this stupid jungle with crazy Sun, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt' Lion. Orlachmar gets cooler every Book.

Zoaka is almost definitely right, I hadn't thought about Skarch though.

Fain sighed and laid a hand on Loboshi's shoulder. She dropped down next
to Orlachmar, who stumbled away from her. His eyes were wide with
struggling emotions, as though he feared her touch. I motioned him to
step away, as I knelt by Loboshi and tried to comfort her along with
Fain.

shot up from the teaming vines. At the top of the stem, a bud formed,
inflating larger and larger, until it burst open to reveal the lush
velvety petals of an enormous, perfect rose. Even from where we stood,
we smelled the intoxicating fragrance. As the rose bloomed, a pink
glowing shape emerged from within, a cloudy pink wisp of smoke. The wisp
held a vaguely feminine shape and it vibrated to the rhythm of the
chanting of the fae.

Is it just me or is something missing between these two paragraphs? Doesn't seem to make much sense to me...

While I have not checked this with Estarra, I am almost completely sure that the reference isn't to mount Zoaka, as mount Zoaka is a by-product of the Elder Wars.

Is it just me or is something missing between these two paragraphs? Doesn't seem to make much sense to me...

Is it just me or is something missing between these two paragraphs? Doesn't seem to make much sense to me...

Fain sighed and laid a hand on Loboshi's shoulder. She dropped down next to Orlachmar, who stumbled away from her. His eyes were wide with struggling emotions, as though he feared her touch. I motioned him to step away, as I knelt by Loboshi and tried to comfort her along with Fain.

As she continued to wail, I left her with Fain and went to Orlachmar. His eyes were haunted, and he appeared near collapse. I put a hand on his shoulder and began to lead him away. Great Spirit Wolf began to follow Orlachmar, his head hung low and eyes staring mournfully at him. Did the Great Spirit sense Volkh's essence within Orlachmar?

"Go away!" Orlachmar hissed to the Great Spirit. "I am not Volkh and want nothing of his!"

The Great Spirit hesitated and tried to follow us several more times, but Orlachmar repulsed him each time. Finally, Great Spirit Wolf stopped and simply watched reproachfully as Orlachmar strode away.

With nowhere else to go, Great Spirit Wolf turned to Volkh's mate, Loboshi, and approached her on his haunches, shuffling towards her with his belly on the ground. When Loboshi let him gingerly lay his snout on her lap. She sobbed and threw her arms around this great shaggy head.

At least he found comfort somewhere.

Not so for Orlachmar, who quickly backed away from the scene. I trailed behind him, worried what my friend would do in such a distraught state. He didn't stop until he had climbed halfway up Mount Zokala. He leaned his back against a large rock, and stared out at the remains of the Sakarich Forest. All that remained of the once numerous trees were blackened stumps, and the sky above was thick with black smoke. The soil was dried and cracked, covered in the chalky white ash, the detritus of Zenos.

"You did what he wanted," I said softly, sitting down next to Orlachmar.

"I should not exist," he said. "I wish I were dead, Clangorum. With all my heart, I wish I had died."

"Keep talking like that," I growled, "and I'll help you along with that desire."

"I am what Meridian called me. An abomination."

"You are also my friend."

"You always had terrible taste."

I chuckled softly, and Orlachmar sighed, looking more tired than I had ever seen him. We stared down at the smoking remains of the forest, knowing it would never heal. Daylight fled as Spirit Night vanquished the summer heat and cloaked the sky with stars. When I looked at Orlachmar, his glowing green eyes reflected sorrow and pain, but also a hunger that disturbed me more than I would ever admit.

Eventually, Orlachmar and I agreed that we would never discuss with others what happened with Volkh. I also vowed that I would support him in his effort to overturn the decision to use Fain's Elixir. How we would do that, I had no idea. But, certainly, I swore that I'd never let that elixir pass by lips.

Spirit Sun eventually rose over the horizon, shining golden white and sending rainbow beams scattering through across the horizon. Contrasted against the glorious dawn, the full destruction of the Sakarich Forest was laid before us, revealing itself now to be a scorched ruin. Our contemplation was interrupted by a mental call to gather on the ethereal realm. Though I told Orlachmar no one would notice if we didn't answer the call, he simply shrugged and made his way toward a spatial fold that would lead us to the gathering.

We arrived at the Fields of the Maeve, and not only were our brethren gathered, but so too were hordes of awakened fae, the lesser spirits awakened by the Sixth Circle. Orlachmar and I joined those of the Second Circle who clustered upon a hill rise. The Greater Spirits had also been called, both the great animal spirits of the Creators and the great awakened spirits of the Awakeners. I noticed that Great Spirit Wolf stood near Loboshi, leaning against her leg. I also noticed Orlachmar pointedly ignoring both of them. Carrying Volkh's essence within, I can only imagine the conflicting emotions he felt towards them.

The Sixth and Seventh Circles were in the center of the fields surrounded by rank upon rank of the lesser spirits. Floating above us were Aslaran and Shairim, both of the First Circle who focused their works upon overseeing the Awakeners and Creators. As we waited, more of the fae appeared, packing tightly into the fields. Aslarn lifted his arms and called for the attention of all gathered.

"It has become clear that the forests be needing greater protection," Aslarn boomed. "As some may know, the forests be anchors for much of the First World's lifeforce. With the fall of Sakarich Forest, it be clear that we need to take further measures to ensure the protection of the forests. Thus, we call this gathering."

"The ethereal realm reflects the natural world on the prime material plane," continued Shairim, her tawny skin gleaming under the ethereal sun and her green-gold eyes filled with the weight of sorrow. "And the Fields of the Maeve is the crossroads where all forests meet. It is at this place that we shall attempt what has never been done before. We have called only the fae of the forests here. The Seventh Circle shall attempt to help the Sixth Circle use these lesser spirits to merge together to create a hive soul. If successful, their collective strength may offer the forests more protection against the Soulless Ones."

The Sixth Circle and Seventh Circle joined hands in a circle, and began a low chanting as they slowly danced counter clockwise, spiraling out among the gathered forest spirits were gathered. Lines of green and gold domothean energies rippled out in spokes, as they wheeled around, dragging the fae in haphazard dance. As the ritual gained in power, the voices of the fae could be heard, rising in volume, the faster they spun around.

"We are one!" the fae sang in unison. "Together, forever, the sum of us all, together we blossom, vines twist, trees grow, strength together, forever, united, never divided, our strength is the strength of all."

Within the center of the frenetic dance, a green tendril sprouted from the ground, quickly growing and thickening. The tendrils thickened to enormous vines upon which sprouted sharp hooked thorns. Leaves unfurled on the vines and finally a single stem, thick as the trunk of a tree, shot up from the teaming vines.