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Winter's Gloom
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written by Lendren Starfall

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Being the true story of the final desecration of Gloriana and descent into
delusion of the remnants of the Summer Court.

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the third of three parts of the play cycle
-- Gloriana's Second Fall --

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Cast

Viravain, Mistress of the Webs: Elder Goddess of the Seventh Circle
Rowena Nightshade: former High Priestess of Night
Gwynevere Whytetower-Draknoris: a member of the Summer Court
Erion Faeshade: founder of the Night Coven clan
Laeroc, the Queen's Consort: companion of Queen Maeve of Faethorn
Daganev Treeripper: an ur'Guard of Magnagora
Bau Sayelle-Gladheart: a former Seren come to Glomdoring
A storm crow: an image seen in a dark dream
Visaeris Mae'loch: one of the Disciples of Crow
A teacher of the Serenwilde: a Seren charged to help the young
A Seren novice: a young, new member of the Serenwilde commune

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Warning

This play depicts scenes and events of an adult and sometimes disturbing
nature, as well as distorted imaginings seen as truth through the eyes and
minds of the victims of false memory. Audiences are encouraged to approach the
play with discretion.

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Production Notes

In order to minimize the size of cast required to produce this play, the
following roles may be combined:

- Rowena and Stormcrow
- Gwynevere, Bau, and Novice
- Erion, Laeroc, Daganev, Visaeris, and Teacher

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Dedication

Thanks are due to Jasper, Nejii, Gwynevere, and many others who helped the
playwright with research and preparation of this play.

Produced in association with the Seeds of Change Repertory Company.

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Act I Scene I - Before the Master Ravenwood Tree
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CAST: Viravain, Gwynevere, Erion, Rowena

SCENE: A1S1

The curtains parting reveal a grove around a great ravenwood tree. Beneath and
behind it, a grand panorama of smaller trees stretch to the very edge of the
mountains, over which the sun hangs heavily laden with its burden of warmth,
sinking already behind the highest peaks.

As the golden light of the sun slants across the trees, they seem to squirm,
their surfaces covered with countless crawling particles of corrosive blight,
each tree straining as if trapped within the movement, trying futilely to
escape the illness.

ENTER Viravain descends from the sky, Her movements unsteady as if She is still
recovering from some affliction of which She herself is unaware.

As the last limb of the sun sinks below the mountains, night descends across
the forest, a wave of darkness which obscures, seems to absorb and consume, the
corrosion. In the concealing blanket of shadows, the movement of the trees
seems like little more than the gentle dance of an evening breeze.

Viravain: beams broadly, raising Her arms in an expansive gesture to enfold
within Her embrace the entire forest.

Viravain shouts: "Come to Me, My Summer Court! Glomdoring is restored to
health! My efforts have succeeded! It is time now to rebuild the glorious
commune of Glomdoring!"

A ripple swirls through the shadows of the forest, the trees shivering in
excitement.

ENTER Gwynevere enters the grove, trailed by some of her Summer Court
compatriots, looking around uncertainly.

Gwynevere, to Viravain: "Lady Viravain? Are You recovered from Your injuries?"

Viravain: stares blankly at Gwynevere.

Viravain, to Gwynevere: "What injuries? I feel fine. Better than ever now
that our work has proven so successful!"

Gwynevere: (looking around dubiously) "Successful?... yes... somewhat
successful."

Viravain: (with a flash of anger) "Entirely successful! Unreservedly
successful! Right?"

Viravain: stares angrily at Gwynevere, throbbing black power pulsing in Her
hands.

Gwynevere: (quickly) "Yes, the forest seems... is! Is much improved!"

ENTER Erion bustles in with several others in tow, including members of the
Disciples of Crow, the Night Coven clan, and a number of Magnagorans.

Erion: (looking warily at Viravain, disgust barely concealed in his expression)
"If there is work to be done building Glomdoring, we should be part of it. With
respect, Lady Viravain, some of us have been working on this as long as any of
the Summer Court, and harder. And we come to it with a respect for what
Glomdoring is, not trying to change it into something that is gone now."

Viravain: (barely glancing at Erion) "Yes, yes, there'll be enough work to do
for everyone. We have to pry the secrets of Night out of that bitch Rowena's
throat. Someone should start by scooping out her eyes to get her to talk."

Gwynevere: blinks in surprise.

Erion: (blanching slightly) "I'm sure that won't be necessary. She will share
her knowledge when she learns of the commune being rebuilt. As I was saying,
unlike these Summer Court... people, we have an appreciation for both nature
and the Taint, and the promise of the combination in--"

Viravain: (curtly) "There is no Taint."

Erion: (stumbles over his words for a moment) "I mean the effects of the Taint
on the Glomdoring, which we think can strengthen--"

Viravain: (in an icy, clipped voice) "There is no Taint in Glomdoring. I
cleaned it all."

Erion: looks around, slowly considering this as he stares at the shadowy
forest.

(pause)

The Master Ravenwood Tree sways in the breeze, its long branches reaching down
to brush gently against the cheeks of several of the people present.

Gwynevere: coughs delicately.

(pause)

Viravain: "But we need to raise Raven first. My beautiful Raven! Summer
Court, see to it, immediately."

Erion: "Surely, You mean Crow."

Viravain: (waving a hand dismissively) "Same thing. Get it done! I will be
pleased with whomever finishes it."

Gwynevere: "But that involves murdering an innocent baby. There must be
another way to do it."

A number of the Magnagorans and Disciples of Crow scatter quietly into the
darkness, leaving Erion with a few nods.

Erion: "There is only one way. It will be done, Lady."

A faint red haze swirls through the air, as a slender crescent of moon rises
and quickly climbs into the sky.

Gwynevere: (to the Summer Court) "We should see if we can find another way
without shedding the blood of an innocent."

The members of the Summer Court murmur their assent and disperse, already
beginning to speculate aloud on possible methods.

Viravain: (growing impatient) "Kill the damned baby. Who cares about some
mewling little pest anyway? I must have my Crow!"

The gibbous moon drops quickly through the swirling crimson sky and sets
abruptly, its narrow crescent slipping all at once behind the mountains,
leaving the blanketing thickness of the shadows to enfold the forest in a
comfortable embrace.

ENTER Rowena strides in with a wary glance at Viravain, followed by Brennan
Stormcrow and a host of inky figures of indeterminate form.

Gwynevere: "We're still trying to figure out a way to raise Raven without--"

Viravain: "Let us commence! Mother Night turns her deepest beauty upon us and
the time is come."

The keening of a thousand wild things fills the air, causing the shapes of
things to shudder and bend for a moment. When the ripple has passed,
everything seems to be as it was, but something undefinable has changed.

The shadowy shapes gather around Brennan Stormcrow as he holds a glowing egg
over his head, then lowers it into the clotted mass of darkness.

Rowena: "Mother Night, help Crow return! Now! Kill the child now!"

Gwynevere: chews her lip thoughtfully.

Erion: brings a wicked knife of twisted shadows down upon a shapeless form
amidst the gathered crowd.

One of the howls of the forest creatures is suddenly silenced.

As the egg shatters, a monstrously large Crow arises from the shell, tattered
bits of blood in its beak. It caws triumphantly as it rises into the trees.

Rowena shouts: "Mother Night, your child returns!"

Viravain: (exultantly) "My lovely Raven, he is as he ever was. All pay homage
to Crow, My creation!"

All present turn their faces towards Crow with reverent adoration.

One by one, the stars blink out, filling the world with a darkness so thick it
can be tasted, the cloying flavour of an abattoir over-rich with the sickly
sweetness of fermenting roses.

Viravain: "Glory be to Glomdoring!"

A chorus of echoes fill the forest, and even the trees take up the chant, the
hideous creaking of their swaying branches exulting in a solidarity of
exquisite agony and desperation.

EXEUNT

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Interlude - Midwinter's Night
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There's a power of creation
In a willed act of negation;
Eyes shut tight can choose to see,
Rebuild lost past in false mem'ry.

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Act I Scene II - The resonating centre of Glomdoring's black heart
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CAST: Viravain, Rowena, Laeroc

SCENE: A1S2

Like the glossy sheen of the darkest leather, the night itself glows ebony,
filled with shrieks as unseen spirits rush past in the air, all seeming to
converge on the ethereal shadow of a ravenwood standing in the shattered,
broken grove.

ENTER Rowena shimmers into existence, arriving through the cracked remains of
an ethereal gate still squatting amidst the wreckage of the broken ravenwood.

Rowena: shifts her eyes from side to side, alert and wary for unknown danger,
then relaxing suddenly as the grove turns out to be empty.

Rowena: "Though the Almighty Presence has abandoned me, am I not still as
beautiful as I am terrible? Many changes have I survived before this, and each
one has made me stronger, has stripped from me the stupidity of that pathetic
fool who once wrote with my hand and spoke with my voice. Mother Night, grant
me cunning and resolve, that I remain Queen of the new order come at last."

The darkness shifts around Rowena, enveloping and concealing her, for a moment
making her seem small and insignificant against the backdrop of the blasted
landscape.

ENTER Viravain appears in a swirl of shadows, looking cross and upset, not
seeming to notice Rowena.

Rowena: (speaking to the audience) "I will make a place for myself in the new
order by staying true to Mother Night. I will tell Viravain I can bring
Night's blessings to the newly rebuilt commune. No one can serve better than
me."

Viravain: (not seeming to notice Rowena) "We need to awaken the fae sworn to
Mother Night, and her Avatars, now that Crow is returned to us."

Rowena, to Viravain: "Of course, I will see to it immediately."

Viravain: turns to face north, ignoring Rowena.

Viravain shouts, "Lisaera! Help Me awaken the fae who have slumbered in
Night's embrace!"

Rowena: (speaking to the audience) "Why does She dismiss me so? I am Rowena
Nightshade! I am chosen of Mother Night!"

A perturbed ripple of green and silver shoots through the air briefly and is
lost in the devouring darkness.

Viravain shouts, "Will You not help, then? I remembered that You used to care
for the fae once. No matter. We can do it without Your assistance or
interference."

The shadows writhe with all the colours of nothingness, a beautiful song made
of silent movement.

Rowena: (speaking to the audience) "So it went. I toiled as ever I have to
serve Mother Night and Glomdoring, and with my help, the Avatars were returned
to us; and at every turn, Viravain treated me as a burden, someone from whom
the secrets must be stolen. She despised me, but in Mother Night's enfolding
darkness I stayed strong and sure."

Here and there, scattered patches of shadow break free from the sky and seem to
fall into a hole in the air, descending and disappearing, but gradually filling
it up.

Rowena: (turning to face the gathering darkness) "Leading the pack was Gwyllgi,
Dog of Darkness, called forth by toil of many, guided by my wisdom."

The gathering cloud of darkness shifts, then bounds into the distance with a
terrifying growl, pouncing on something unseen with powerful jaws. Blood
sprays from the squealing prey and covers everything around, though somehow
Rowena remains untouched as the blood passes through her.

Rowena: (facing the fallen prey) "There was blood and suffering and then came
forth Glumki Thorneye, the King of the Redcaps."

Through the mist of sprayed blood, a hook-nosed shape rises impossibly large in
front of the still-unseen shattered body, then swings his claws abruptly through
it, causing its fluttering motion to cease.

Rowena: (turning back to the audience) "And at last when Lhiannan Shee-Slaugh
returned to us, even then, Viravain paid scant heed to me, and spoke of plans
to wrest from me my knowledge and discard me, when She thought I did not hear."

From behind the motionless form of Viravain, a slinky, beautiful woman steps
towards the fallen, slain prey and, with one dainty hand, scoops up the torn,
broken shape of a pixie.

Rowena, to Viravain: "You seek to destroy me, to ignore my service and my
value, but I will make a place for myself. I will stall while I form allies...
I will find some way to make You see my worth to the commune."

The three Avatars lope into the distance, vanishing into the darkness.
Viravain, completely unaware of Rowena, follows them with Her gaze, clapping
Her hands merrily.

Rowena, to Viravain: "I will wait for an opportunity, or create one if I must."

The darkness seethes, filled with menacing shapes just beyond sight, moving
with an inexplicable coordination and a palpable menace.

EXIT Viravain (silent)

Rowena: (turning back to the audience) "All struggle is the clash not of armies
but of principles. When Queen Maeve set the communes against one another, and
the Daughters of Night matched their might against the Silver Ladies to seize
for the fae queen the staff of Kiakoda, the battle of arms was of no import."

All around, the shifting shadows fall upon one another, sending ripples that
tear shreds in the air as they clash, a battle curiously devoid of sound.

Rowena: turns and tiptoes through the darkness, weaving between the battling
wisps of nothingness.

Rowena: "Let the simple-minded fight a simple battle they can win, while a
truer struggle is being won behind their backs."

Rowena: draws bits of the shadows of night into her cupped hands, forming a
liquid from which colourless fumes rise.

ENTER Laeroc (silent)

The struggle all around begins to slow as more of the shapeless, frothing
patches of darkness fall silent, gradually revealing a tall, pretty fae
standing in a blue robe.

Laeroc, to Rowena: "The Daughters of Night are falling. Mother Moon shall
triumph, and the fae spared enslavement, by my Queen's decree."

Rowena: glances around disinterestedly at the battle around her and then steps
closer to Laeroc, tilting her hips provocatively.

Rowena: (holding up her hands to Laeroc) "Mother Night concedes the first
battle and offers you wassail in gracious surrender and celebration of Mother
Moon's victory. Drink deeply from my cup."

Laeroc: steps forth warily, then nods and drinks of the brew in Rowena's hands.

The cloak of shadow surrounding Rowena shifts to cover Laeroc's face, then
draws back to show Laeroc, still in the same posture, but now locked in a
passionate kiss with Rowena.

Rowena: (breaking off the kiss to whisper breathily into Laeroc's ear) "And
shall I drink to your health and the health of Mother Night!"

Rowena: pushes Laeroc down and climbs sinuously atop him, their bodies
beginning to blur together as the cloak of shadows flutters about them.

Laeroc: stares up at Rowena, his expression rapidly shifting between lust,
despair, and helplessness as his body responds to Rowena's movements in kind,
even as he struggles futilely to escape her grasp.

Rowena (speaking to the audience from her perch atop Laeroc's groaning body):
"And from the loins of the Queen's Consort I took my opportunity."

Laeroc: shudders and convulses with a moan of agony and pleasure, then falls
abruptly still, his struggles ceased.

Rowena: rises from Laeroc, her skin a sheen of sweat, and strides purposefully
away from him.

Laeroc: "What have I done?"

EXIT Laeroc collapses into a heap of effeminate sobs and is soon swallowed by
the distance and darkness.

Rowena: (patting her stomach) "Or create one if I must."

EXIT Rowena strides into the vanishing gloom.

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Interlude - Barren
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No seed may grow in the cold hard ground,
No life may be born of that which is dead.
When winter bears flowers of frost and gloom,
Only empty shadows might thus be bred.

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Act II Scene I - Under a dark root
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CAST: Gwynevere, Rowena, Erion, Viravain

COSTUME: RowenaPregnant

SCENE: A2S1

Dappled sunlight filters in through cracks in the roots above, struggling to
shine some cheer on the tenebrous cave, but the cloying shadows continually
pursue and smother the shafts of shining as darkness slowly claims the cave.

ENTER Gwynevere walks into the cave, her steps light and merry.

Gwynevere: "Are you sure you want these icky wasps? I have a delicious
cheesecake, see?"

Gwynevere holds up a happy cow cheesecake.

Gwynevere: (bubbling over with cheer) "Look how happy the cow is. It's a pink
cow with purple spots! Better than a nasty wasp."

The shifting shafts of sunlight, snuffed out one by one, converge on Gwynevere,
feebly clinging to existence to illuminate her alone.

ENTER Rowena comes into view as some of the clinging shadows shift, revealing
themselves to be her liquid gown, drawn tight over her enormous belly which she
cradles in her hands as she lies groaning below the cauldron.

Rowena: "Ah, I am ravenous! Bring me some wasps!"

Gwynevere: shrugs, the smile fading her from face with weary resignation.

Gwynevere: (handing the corpse of a giant wasp to Rowena) "I suppose wasps have
a nice crunch."

Rowena: thrusts a bag of gold to Gwynevere.

Rowena: "I am starving! Someone bring me some pythons!"

Gwynevere: attempts to smile, but the expression looks unnatural and strained,
and she abandons it, lowering the happy cow cheesecake into the darkness at her
side.

The shadows snuffs out the last of the sunlight, shrouding Gwynevere in
complete darkness.

Gwynevere yells, "She wants pythons now. I feel the time is coming soon!"

The cave contracts and expands in a slow rhythm, like the beating of a dying
heart, as the shadows gather and multiply, a bustle of people and activity
concealed within the folds of darkness.

Gwynevere: "She's been like this for months, and the things she eats, all these
tainted creatures, such a strange and strong appetite. Ravenous. Hmm,
ravenous... that means like Raven. Raven-ous. I never thought of that!"

Gwynevere: claps her hands together merrily.

The pulsing of the cave picks up slightly in rhythm, as it constricts around
the gathering crowd.

Rowena: sits up and screams, her belly suddenly expanding and rippling wildly,
beads of black perspiration breaking out on her forehead as she pants and
moans.

Rowena: "Oooooo, the pain! Oh, Mother Night! The pain!"

Gwynevere: wraps a comforting arm around Rowena.

Rowena: growls menacingly at Gwynevere.

The cave contracts more tightly, more quickly, as the shadows multiply, a
thickening crowd and a murmur of uncounted voices speaking vague concerns and
suggestions.

ENTER Erion is swept in with the crowd and hurries to Rowena's side, gazing at
her with an expression of concern and unseemly fondness.

Erion: kneels before Rowena Nightshade, swearing his allegiance to her.

Rowena: spits in Erion's face.

Erion, to Rowena: (brushing a strand of Rowena's hair away from her face) "You
must be strong, my Queen. The pain is a test of your will to survive, the
child a triumph over the impossible."

Rowena: (ignoring Erion completely) "Oh, the pain, the pain!"

The cave throbs, contracting quicker, an insistent rhythm that demands
resolution.

ENTER Viravain (silent)

A carpet of spiders crawls in and forms into Viravain, followed by Mighty Crow,
flapping his great wings.

Viravain: sweeps Her eyes over the crowd of mumbling shadows, Her gaze resting
on Rowena with concern and a new respect.

Viravain, to Gwynevere: "The contractions are coming closer together?"

Gwynevere, to Viravain: "Aye, m'Lady, quite quick now."

Viravain: (exultantly) "It is time!"

Rowena: (moaning and thrashing violently as blood gushes from her nose) "Mother
Night, help me!"

The shadows in the cave seize and convulse in an erratic, quick rhythm.

Viravain: "Hmm, something seems wrong."

Gwynevere: (forcing a cheerful, optimistic smile) "What is wrong, m'Lady?"

Viravain: "SILENCE!"

Gwynevere: nods her head quickly, the happiness draining away all at once.

Viravain: plunges Her hands into Rowena's belly, causing the shadows in the
cave to shudder in a sudden spray of blood.

The bright red of the blood adds colour to the gloom, but as it soaks into
Gwynevere's robe, it quickly turns rust-brown and then clotted black, staining
the robe the colour of night.

COSTUME: GwynevereNight

Viravain: wriggles Her hands within Rowena's belly, then pulls forth a faeling
infant whose shrill, plaintive wail fills the convulsing cavern with agonizing
contortions. The infant's skin is unnaturally dark, crawling with shadows, and
it spreads its bat-like wings, its eyes glowing a livid red.

Viravain: "It's a girl!"

Erion, to Rowena: "My Queen, your child is beautiful!"

Gwynevere: smiles broadly, dancing in glee, her movement taking her into a
lingering shaft of moonlight for a moment.

Rowena: (groaning and thrashing in obvious agony) "The pain has not stopped!"

The cave convulses in another contraction, the shadows strangling the tiny hint
of moonlight, casting Gwynevere into darkness once more.

Viravain: (reaching again into Rowena's belly) "Another?"

Gwynevere: frowns and slumps to the ground, her balance broken by the cave's
pulsing contraction, her footing lost in the sudden darkness.

Viravain: (pulling out another, nearly identical, child) "A boy!"

Erion, to Rowena: "My Queen! Oh gods, my Queen!"

COSTUME: Rowena

Rowena: pants and falls silent, affording Erion a brief, withering glance of
disgust.

Viravain: "Excellent, Rowena! You have proven to me that you are not barren!
Twins! I must reconsider the potential of the fertility of the dead. I shall
name these shadow faelings Dominique and Damian. Now that you have proven
yourself, I will honor My bargain, but you must honor it as well, and hand over
the secrets of Night to my chosen."

Rowena: (with an exhausted sigh) "I will keep the bargain."

Shadows creep out of the corners and form into the dark form of Mother Night,
whose sibilant murmuring echoes, "Who seeks to be my voice?"

Viravain: "It shall by Gwynevere, my chosen."

Gwynevere: stumbles in surprise, falling into a pool of darkness. A strange
smile creeps over her features, pleased, yet devoid of mirth, cold and
unfeeling.

Mother Night swirls in the shadows, murmuring to Viravain, "Well met, sister."

Viravain: "I AM NOT YOUR SISTER!"

Mother Night shudders, momentarily dispersing before reforming with an
insidious whisper, "Forgive me, my Mistress. You are the Glomdoring and I
serve You and no other. Gwynevere, there is no turning back from this great
honour. Will you be my daughter, to rule as Queen of the Night over
mortalkind?"

There is a wet splat as Gwynevere, unnoticing, drops the cheesecake and then
steps in it as she advances towards Mother Night, her head bowed. The
cheesecake smears into the dirt of the cave, its cheerful colours consumed by
the corrosive taint, bubbling slightly before disappearing.

Gwynevere: "I will."

Mother Night passes her hands over Rowena Nightshade's brow, and a shadowy
crown forms on her head. She lifts the shadow crown up and places it upon
Gwynevere's head, and Gwynevere's eyes begin to glow with a dark aura, which
presses down on her like a great weight, crushing the last remnants of gaiety
from her posture.

EXIT Rowena cloaks herself in shadows, tears filling her eyes and running
slowly down her face as she vanishes.

Mother Night whispers, "By all the laws of three times three, Gwynevere, you
are marked to belong to me! So mote it be!"

Gwynevere: (looking around with a dark gleam in her eyes) "So mote it be."

EXEUNT

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Interlude - Summer's Shadow
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Long and lazy the days of summer,
But every warmth will have its cost.
Just as long the night of winter,
In its dark the sunshine lost.

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Act II Scene II - Before the Master Ravenwood Tree
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CAST: Viravain, Rowena, Daganev

SCENE: A2S2a

Sunlight floods the clearing, the shockingly bright light bringing no warmth to
the blackened trees. Perhaps it's the brightness which gives the vista a
washed-out appearance; all the lines and shapes are too simple, the scene
looking more like a child's drawing of the forest than like the forest itself.

ENTER Daganev shambles into the clearing, looking around at it and nodding with
satisfaction.

Daganev: "We got fix da tree, but dis good so far."

A skeletal shape in a black cloak shambles with jerking motions into view,
nodding to Daganev.

Daganev: (to the new arrival) "Hi Brennan. How we make tree better?"

Brennan Stormcrow shrugs slightly, his head bobbing with maddening regularity
from side to side.

Daganev: (scratching his shaggy hair) "Mebbe just need put mud to patch tree.
Good for when bees bite. Work for trees too."

Daganev: begins scooping up mud and smearing it on the broken ravenwood.

ENTER Viravain materializes from a swarm of scurrying spiders.

Viravain, to Daganev: "What are you doing, bear?"

Daganev, to Viravain: "Me fix tree. Bees mad when take honeycomb, bite fur.
Mud make better. Mud fix tree too."

Viravain looks at Daganev in astonishment at his ingenious idea.

Daganev: (to Brennan) "All should help fix tree. Easy now I thinked how."

A shadow swirls up and enters the gaping knothole in the Master Ravenwood Tree,
solidifying the packed mud, and from it, the tree begins to regrow its missing
parts, becoming taller and spreading its branches over the forest. The
Ravenwood begins to glow with a dark aura, pulsing with power like a beating
heart.

SCENE: A2S2b

ENTER Rowena materializes from a swirl of shadows, staring in rapt awe at
Daganev and the restored tree.

Viravain, to Daganev: "Bear, the Ravenwood is rebuilt now."

Daganev: shuffles his feet, blushing a little.

Viravain, to Daganev: "You took initiative. I like that."

Daganev, to Viravain: "Me no take what not mine, not even nish-tive, not know
what dat be but me not take it. Except honeycombs."

Viravain: stares in awe at Daganev, obviously impressed by his honesty.

Viravain, to Daganev: "Will you be learning the ways of the Shadowdancers?"

Daganev: (shaking his head) "Me want be warrior, to guard Glomdoring, strong
and brave."

Viravain, to Daganev: "You should lead our warriors. What should they be
called?"

Daganev: (turning to Brennan with a discontented grumble) "Why Spider Lady need
fancy words for everything?"

Brennan makes no answer, his head continuing to rock from side to side.

Daganev frowns in deep concentration, mumbling fragments of names to himself.

Daganev: "Glom warrior... ebonglom... wyrm warrior... that no good... glom
ebon... dis hard."

Viravain, to Daganev: "Ebonguard, did you say? That's a good name. You're so
smart, bear."

Daganev: (blushing) "Good name. Yeah, dat be smart name I thinked."

Viravain: "We don't have a guildhall for you yet. We have many things to build
for the commune, which will cost a great deal."

Brennan Stormcrow's head continues to rock back and forth with infinite
persistence and precise regularity.

Rowena, to Viravain: "I saved lots of gold while I was brewing potions for the
accursed cityfolk, and with it I have started to build many things already."

Viravain, to Rowena: "But not an Ebonguard guildhall?"

Rowena, to Viravain: "Not yet. I didn't know we'd be needing one so soon."

Daganev: "Me have idea. Build other things first, then Ebonguard have
guildhall later."

Rowena: "I have already begun on the other things."

Daganev: "See? Good idea."

Viravain: pats Daganev's head gently in gratitude for his wisdom.

Daganev: (to Brennan) "Spider Lady smart."

Viravain, to Daganev: "Your Ebonguard will protect my Glomdoring and I will
keep strict control over the commune and everything that goes on in it. There
will be no elections. Lady Estarra has agreed to this."

Daganev: "Why no vote?"

Viravain: "Too many people with different agendas and past loyalties. We have
the Summer Court, and Erion's Night Coven, and Disciples of Crow, and people
from the cities, all trying to make Glomdoring what they want. What their old
city wants Glomdoring to be, or what they wish their old city would have been.
Not what it is. Glomdoring is My creation. Only I can make sure it is not torn
apart by rival factions or reshaped to serve someone else's ends."

Daganev: (to Brennan) "Spider Lady smart, but have too many words."

Brennan nods his head to Daganev.

Viravain, to Daganev: "I will appoint leaders from my chosen. Gwynevere is
Queen of the Night, and you will be the Merciless Chieftain of the Ravenwood."

Daganev, to Viravain: "Will be good, Spider Lady."

Viravain: "And I will be known as Viravain, Mistress of the Webs."

Daganev: (to Brennan) "See? Spider Lady, like I said."

Brennan seems to grin as he nods vigorously at Daganev, his head bobbing
energetically.

EXEUNT

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Interlude - Web-Spinning
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Shows of force, threats, and loyalty oaths
Keep power free from challenge, enshrined;
But better yet to choose lieutenants
From those weak of body, will, or mind.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Act III Scene I - Within a dark dream
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

CAST: Bau, Stormcrow, Visaeris, Viravain

SCENE: A3S1a

Black clouds, hazy shadows made up of nothing, coalesce and rush past at an
accelerating rate, and suddenly the ground looms in the distance, growing
steadily closer as the wind whips past.

ENTER Bau plunges into view, also in a free-fall towards an inky-black forest
rushing upward.

Bau: looks around in a daze, holding her arms out as if trying in vain to
control the rapid plummet.

Out of a stormcloud flaps a crow, which holds in one clawed talon the spine of
a great feather.

ENTER Stormcrow (silent)

Stormcrow: (holding the feather up high) "This gift will pass to the new Chosen
One of Crow, who must sing the Song of Returning in the ethereal branches of
Glomdoring's dark heart. Glomdoring itself must decide who the new master of
Blacktalon shall be. Choose wisely and may Crow guide you."

Bau: nods thoughtfully.

One of the diseased trees below looms up quickly, and with a dizzying wrench,
rotates to a horizontal position. Sitting on one of its branches, the crow
turns to face Bau, who also is seated on another branch high in the Ravenwood.

SCENE: A3S1b

Stormcrow, to Bau: (its feathers glistening with youthful vibrancy) "It is the
time of Crow but he will not name a Chosen until he finds his shadows."

ENTER Visaeris floats up from the ground, trailed by a hail of stones and
burning gobs of ichor, which he ignores as they splash against his feet.

Stormcrow: (leaning against the fungating tumours on the trunk of the great
tree) "This oak thirsts greatly, like one of Crow's shadows. Listen to its
song."

Bau: turns to look at Visaeris and smirks.

Visaeris, to Bau: (his mouth dribbling a sickly yellow-brown exhalation as he
speaks) "What gives a filthy Seren the right to pursue Crow's dreams? You've
only just barely joined the Glomdoring, long after all the hard work has been
done by others. The Disciples of Crow should bear this honour."

Bau, to Visaeris: "And yet the Glomdoring prefers me. I could win their
blessing for no better reason than that I am not you. Look, you, how they
despise you so."

COSTUME: VisaerisNaked

Visaeris: looks down at the hail of items being hurled at him, and notices with
some chagrin that he is completely naked. He looks around in blossoming
embarrassment, but the others do not seem to have noticed.

Bau, to Visaeris: "And you have only just returned from slumbers. Imagine how
they would hate you if you had not left."

Stormcrow: (casually ignoring the bickering) "She sat on the council and holds
a great sorrow like that of one of Crow's shadows. Her song can only be heard
in the center of her home that she built after her husband died."

Bau: begins to fidget and squirm, crossing her legs with a distressed look.

SCENE: A3S1c

EXIT Visaeris (silent)

Bau: steps down from the branch, squirming as she starts to lope with rapid
urgency across the rumpled ground.

Nearby, the bubbling, churning flow of the putrid river tumbles over a
waterfall, kicking up a noisy splash as sickly yellow water sprays in all
directions.

Bau: leaps over the river, flapping her bat-like wings to help her make the
leap, and hurries into a faintly-flickering, domed building.

SCENE: A3S1d

Stormcrow: (perched atop a stately dresser) "Many memories are here, made
better by one of Crow's shadows. The flag that does not wave holds a song of
such memories."

Bau: steps towards the center of the round home, gazing around at the tasteful
yet intimate domestic appointments. She stares raptly at the spine of a great
feather which hangs in a frame on the wall, and reaches out a hand towards it,
but it seems to retreat from her grasp.

A stray breeze catches the feather's spine and carry it out of the frame and
into the open sky, gliding upward in unbounded freedom.

SCENE: A3S1e

Bau: lifts effortlessly into the air with a few flaps of her creaking bat
wings, then glides effortlessly after the feather's spine, her wings not even
beating as she floats with elegant grace after the pirouettes and twirls of the
feather.

Stormcrow: glides with outstretched wings, seeming to split into dozens of
identical crows, the murder surrounding Bau and the feather in an ever-shifting
circle.

Stormcrow: "This is where we held many rituals, and where Crow's spirit is
strong. The remains hold a song."

Bau: glides through night's darkness, plunging into a sea of shadow in which
even the stars cannot be seen; now there is nothing but the feather's spine,
the faeling pursuing it, and the murder of crows, in a void of darkness.

Stormcrow: glides downwards towards a round form, almost invisible since it's
as dark as the night around it, sensed more from the putrescent aroma of
rotting carrion rising from it than from the shape of the nest.

SCENE A3S1f

Stormcrow: (perching on the edge of the nest, which has consumed the rest of
the murder) "Crow thirsts for his shadow and his shadow thirsts for him. So
begins the first line to the Song of Dark Returning."

Bau: (landing at the edge of the dark nest) "Azea slorina f'olo Gloriana!"

COSTUME: Visaeris

ENTER Visaeris crawls up the inside surface of the nest from the rotting
carrion, which clings to him, giving off a repellent stench.

Stormcrow: "Great Crow has many sorrows that the mortal heart cannot ken. So
goes the second line to the Song of Dark Returning."

Bau: (turning her eyes to face the sky) "Melia s'ai doringia helioma!"

Visaeris: claws his way up the side of the nest, trying to reach the crow
perched on its edge.

Stormcrow: "The memories of Great Crow are a truth that some deny. So goes the
third line to the Song of Dark Returning."

Bau: (spreading her arms wide) "Azeo moromo l'ai larililia!"

ENTER Viravain materializes from a fluttering gathering of bats.

Sickly tendrils of rotting vegetation and putrescent flesh rise from the nest,
clawing at Visaeris and dragging him back.

Stormcrow: "One of Great Crow's shadows reflects his spirit, a most powerful
aspect that holds the last line of the Song of Returning."

Viravain: casts a sidelong glance at Visaeris as he is engulfed, howling, in
the roiling pit of decay, then with a sharp gesture of dismissal, turns to Bau.

Bau: (standing tall at the edge of the nest) "Shazbat Gloriana! F'ai
Glomdoring!"

EXIT Visaeris is completely surrounded in the rotting mass and vanishes beneath
it.

Viravain (nodding to Bau with a look of satisfaction) "Glomdoring has chosen."

EXIT Stormcrow leaps to the air with a loud flapping of its wings and flies
into the night, dropping the spine of a great crow feather into Bau's hands as
it passes overhead.

Bau: cradles the feather's spine in her hands.

Bau: sings, "Azea slorina f'olo Gloriana! Melia s'ai doringia helioma! Azeo
moromo l'ai larililia! Shazbat Gloriana! F'ai Glomdoring!"

The dark nest below swells and grows, as a vast infestation of ravenwood trees
appear over its rim, a boundless forest full of rot and choked with twisted
growth writhing in its attempts to consume itself.

Viravain: "The Dark Nest is opened, and the Blacktalon are founded to tend the
beautiful forest of Glomdoring!"

A chorus of voices rise from the murky ground, intoning in a mindless monotone,
"Glory be to Glomdoring!"

Bau: "Glory be to Glomdoring!"

The shuddering of the twisting growth of rotting vegetation rises up, its stink
filling the nose, as the diseased fronds wrap around everything in a sudden,
entrapping grasp of blackness.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Interlude - Blizzard's Prison
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Frightful is the blizzard's howl,
But far far worse is snowfall quiet;
Bewildered, lost in winter's trap,
By willing choice, you shut your eyes tight.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Act III Scene II - Clearing at the edge of the woods
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

CAST: Teacher, Novice

SCENE: A3S2

The last vestiges of midnight shadows flee as Mother Night hides herself from
the luminous arrival of her shining mate as he chases her across the bowl of
the sky. The rising sunlight shines warmly on a clearing at the edge of a
vibrant, healthy forest, near a shining silver river.

ENTER Teacher steps into the clearing, leading a young elfen lass who follows
attentively.

ENTER Novice (silent)

Teacher: "This is a nice quiet spot to continue this conversation without being
interrupted by the preparations for battle."

Novice: "Who do they ready to fight?"

Teacher: (sitting down at the edge of the clearing) "The tainted commune of
Glomdoring."

Novice: (frowning in surprise) "Why do we do battle with the other forest?
Shouldn't we be working with them to tear down the cities?"

Teacher: (speaking very patiently) "That's a very good question. Have you
heard the story of how the Glomdoring commune was founded?"

Novice: (sitting down on the grass) "I've heard some tales, though they were
confusing... didn't make much sense, most of it didn't seem real somehow."

Teacher: (with a knowing grin) "That's a very good answer. There are a lot of
stories, but most of them are told only by those who were involved, and those
stories tend to be touched by madness, by a willing journey into self-delusion,
what they call False Memory."

Novice: (frowning in confusion) "That doesn't make sense either."

Teacher: "Well, you have to remember that Viravain was touched by madness when
She was possessed by Kethuru, and this rubbed off on those near Her, including
the Summer Court. Why they descended into madness is a mystery, but they were
dragged into it, or walked into it willingly; and the stories of how it
happened are forever touched by the madness itself, obscured by it."

A loud bustling can be heard to the north, the sound of people gathering,
barked orders, spells readied, weapons drawn and honed.

Novice: "Even so, shouldn't they be, if not our friends, then at least less our
enemies?"

Teacher: "Considering how they enslave, torture, and murder the fae, are you
sure you want to consider them our friends?"

Novice: (squirming uncomfortably) "But they at least honour nature, and the
Great Spirits. They are at least a forest."

Teacher: (nodding sagely) "That's a good point. And you no doubt remember
reading of how closely allied we were with Gloriana before the coming of the
Taint."

Novice: (nodding enthusiastically) "That's right!"

Teacher: "Now, imagine how you would feel if someone murdered your best friend,
and left his rotting corpse to fester."

Novice: falls silent, a troubled expression on her face.

Teacher: "Surely you would want some vengeance."

Novice: (speaking hesitantly) "But... how does vengeance help anyone? What's
done cannot be undone."

Teacher: (with a pleased smile) "True, but I'm not finished. Now, imagine if
the murderer dug up your friend's festering corpse, and hollowed it out,
turning it into a sort of costume."

Novice: falls silent again, her expression pained as she considers this.

Teacher: "Now imagine the murderer walked around the world wearing your dead
friend's body, claiming to be that friend, and performing the most monstrous
atrocities, the most heinous crimes, the most egregious betrayals of every
belief and principle you and your dead friend shared, everything you hold most
dear."

Novice: stares blankly, aghast.

Teacher: "So long as this continued, could there ever be enough revenge?"

Novice: pauses a long time in thought, before shaking her head.

Novice: "But... when can it ever end?"

Teacher: "Not until the corpse is finally laid to its proper rest. You cannot
pick the parts of nature you like and ignore the rest. Just as death should be
accepted as part of the natural order, not twisted into the abomination of
undeath, so some things cannot be healed, must be let go."

In the distance, the sounds of battle can be heard, the clash of metal and
fire, the wet thud of falling bodies.

Teacher: "Gloriana is gone forever, and that atrocity that wears Gloriana's
face in its betrayals cannot be fixed, can only be destroyed. Neither will
ever return, and we must not waste our hope that they might; that is the same
path of self-delusion that swallowed those lost to false memory."

Novice: shuffles her feet, her eyes falling in sadness, tears welling on her
cheeks.

Teacher: "But even in the coldest of winter's gloom, do not despair. When the
corpse is laid in the ground, something may grow when spring returns."

Novice: looks up with a glint of hope in her eyes, sniffling and brushing away
tears.

Teacher: "Not what grew before. Something new. There's always room for
something new. Spring is a time for beginnings."

The river flows by with a quiet burble, just as it has always done.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Scenes and Props
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Interlude

The stage is bare and dark, except for the balcony perched in the tree behind
the stage, which is illuminated with a shining silver glow to draw attention to
the musician perched there.

A1S1: Before the Master Ravenwood Tree

The dark heart of Glomdoring Forest is almost audibly beating in this, its
shadowy centre. Tall, blackened trees surround this clearing, pressing together
into an imposing barrier of rotten vegetation. Moulds and fungi are smeared
across the plants, their pungent stench suffusing the forest. The branches are
coated in dark slime, slick tendrils that hang downwards. Although a variety of
trees might actually grow here, the black tar that coats them renders them
indistinguishable. A thin black mist creeps between the trees, hanging low
across the ground. The floor of the clearing itself is simply bare earth,
cracked and dry. Overshadowing all is the Master Ravenwood Tree itself, jutting
into the sky like a twisted fist. The sound of laughing crows echoes down from
the treetops, a harsh sound for the ears below. The atmosphere vibrates with a
palpable power. The Great Ravenwood Tree towers over everything here, silent
yet haunted with the echoes of power.

MasterRavenwoodBroken: The shattered trunk of this once-mighty tree swirls with
an oily substance which seems to give off unseen, radiating waves of menace and
darkness. Broken splinters of wood jut at all angles, hinting at the mighty
tree's past glory, suggesting a fist reaching up to grasp the sky in its thorny
crown. Long and grasping roots extend outwards for quite some distance from the
broken stump, clawing into the dark soil.

A1S2: The resonating centre of Glomdoring's black heart

Utter destruction has rampaged through this room and the Taint left behind
pulses with a rhythm that reverberates through every leaf and twig. The entire
glade is dwarfed by the massive shards of tree that emanated from the centre of
the explosion. Ebony sap pools in little basins around its massive girth and
they glow with a sepulchral luminescence that highlights the surroundings in a
baleful light. The surrounding trees leer with rictuses of death, howling for
release from this forsaken place and their obeisance to the central area.

A2S1: Under a dark root

The first impression of this area is the thick smoke that obscures everything.
This underground room consists of hollowed-out dirt walls, the soil packed back
until there is a circle barely five feet across to stand in. The walls of the
chamber are supported by great columns, looking like the wrinkled fingers or
legs of a giant. On closer inspection the forks in these structures and the
occasional tubers mark these wooden structures to be the roots of a great tree,
which must still exist some distance above on the surface. Indeed, the various
roots move upwards to meet at a giant root that forms the ceiling of the
chamber. On the floor an area of dirt has been burrowed into to create a fire
pit, in which a small fire lies. One of the tree-roots branches downwards into
the centre of the chamber above the fire, and has been blackened and tarred by
the fire-smoke. Suspended from the large black root hangs a large black
cauldron.

Cauldron: Hanging from an enormous warped root that protrudes from the earthen
ceiling hangs a black cauldron made from thick cast iron. The bottom of the
cauldron is covered with a dark, sticky substance which smells uncommonly bad.

A2S2a: Before the Master Ravenwood Tree

The dark heart of Glomdoring Forest is almost audibly beating in this, its
shadowy centre. The tall, blackened trees surrounding the clearing are simple
in design, just straight vertical rises with evenly-spaced branches jutting out
at the same acute angle. Dark fungi and rotting vegetation are smeared over the
trees in hazy swirls of blackness, vaguely defined like a child's sketch. The
clearing is almost monochromatic, just simple lines in black and gray. A
cracked ravenwood stands strong in the clearing's center, rising like a twisted
fist.

RavenwoodBroken: Straight but jagged lines suggest a twisted fist rising up
from the ground, grasping at the sky, made of straight lines edged in with
diagonal streaks of darkness. A few roots jut out at right angles at the
ground.

Brennan: Seeming more a caricature than a person, Brennan is barely
recognizable as a skeletal humanoid. He rocks back and forth in an
oversimplified mime impression of a bird, though lacking a bird's irregularity
of movement. His only noteworthy feature is a tattered cloak of black.

A2S2b: Before the Master Ravenwood Tree

The dark heart of Glomdoring Forest is almost audibly beating in this, its
shadowy centre. The tall, blackened trees surrounding the clearing are simple
in design, just straight vertical rises with evenly-spaced branches jutting out
at the same acute angle. Dark fungi and rotting vegetation are smeared over the
trees in hazy swirls of blackness, vaguely defined like a child's sketch. The
clearing is almost monochromatic, just simple lines in black and gray. A
cracked ravenwood stands strong in the clearing's center, rising above the
other trees with an implausible breadth and height.

MasterRavenwood: The great tree is broad and straight and impossibly large, not
merely gargantuan but exaggerated out of proportion, its crown wider than the
whole forest it surrounds. In place of leaves, it has merely a cloud of uneven
colouration, dark and hazy in shape. Roots jut out at right angles along the
ground.

BrennanStormcrow: Seeming more a caricature than a person, Brennan is barely
recognizable as a skeletal humanoid. He rocks back and forth in an
oversimplified mime impression of a bird, though lacking a bird's irregularity
of movement. His only noteworthy feature is a tattered cloak of black.

A3S1a: Within a dark dream

Insubstantial wispy clouds of ebon thunderheads rush past in a dizzying
free-fall, but though the plummet is unrelenting and the ground, covered with
rotting growth, looms ever nearer, this plunge somehow seems unthreatening,
almost natural, as if the inevitable collision and death that approaches will
be a welcome end to a long journey.

A3S1b: Within a dark dream

The branches of the Master Ravenwood Tree form a thicket in all directions,
crossing one another like the bars of a cage. The ground seems impossibly far
below. Mutated, fungus-infested tumours and boils mark all the branches, and
shadows seem to dance around these hideous protuberances, or seep out from it
with a liquid, insidious noise.

A3S1c: Within a dark dream

Flowing water fills the air of this cluttered, pockmarked forest with sound and
spray. The water is a sickly yellow hue, but though it looks lifeless, it flows
with unrelenting urgency, tumbling over rocks and down falls with reverberating
churning sounds.

A3S1d: Within a dark dream

A beautiful domed building, this home seems both opulent and intimate, somehow
both a personal portrait of the woman who built it and lived in it, and an
austere, grand vision of that woman's high standing and relation to the
inferiors that would visit the house. Though the house is well-appointed, the
accoutrements of a domestic life flicker and shift, appearing first in one
place, then in another. Doorways appear and disappear, each one promising some
unknown discovery beyond its threshhold, and the entire building shimmers as if
it might vanish at any moment.

A3S1e: Within a dark dream

The sky beckons, open and cloudless, shot through with stars which seem to move
about on the lightest of breezes. Though the air is in constant motion, it
feels somehow to be perfectly still, as the things suspended in it carry
themselves with the slightest of whims in all directions.

A3S1f: Within a dark dream

A dark nest is barely glimpsed here amongst the shadows, more easily noticed by
smell than sight due to the putrescent aroma of rotting carrion which wafts up
from its churning inner curve. Twisted branches and feathers make up the nest,
shifting as if part of the nest is itself a murder of agitated crows.

A3S2: Clearing at the edge of the woods

The trees thin out here, forming a small, cosy clearing. The sun shines
brightly down upon the grass, green stalks gleaming sharply in the warm beams.
A raised mound dominates the centre of this grove, adorned by a single tall oak
tree. A rabbit has carved himself a home on the eastern border of the clearing,
a miniature opening dropping sharply into a dark abyss. To the south, the grass
drops away, the path having reached the very edge of the Serenwilde.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Costumes
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bau: She is a nimble shadowcaster faeling and rather fragile in appearance.
Her flawless, inky skin is almost translucent, and large red-gold curls tumble
around her face and shoulders, often appearing almost like flames when struck
by the light. Huge ice-blue almond-shaped eyes stared from a heart-shaped
face. The tips of her ears poke out from behind the curls, the tips pointed.
Her tiny frame is lithe and graceful, not a spare ounce of flesh to be seen.
Bat-like wings of a midnight blue spring from her back with a crackling rustle,
shot through with streaks of twilight violet. She is wearing a shimmering white
dress, a silver and onyx black-widow ring, and a silver torc.

Daganev: He is a burly tae'dae and stands tall and broad, his body a curious
mix of sturdy muscle and withered, skeletal flesh. In many places, the lush
brown fur of his youth is worn away entirely, or has fallen out in patches,
leaving him tattered and sickly in appearance. His abnormally large, sunken
eye sockets give his head the ghoulish appearance of an animated skull, despite
the vivid red eyes ringed in black fur. A large pink scar marks the balding
hide across his skull. He is wearing a suit of midnight flight field plate.

Erion: He is a noble merian and pale in colour, his pallid, rubbery aqua-blue
skin drawn tight over lean muscle. His dark, slanted eyes glitter slightly,
filled with roiling darkness, shadows wisping from the corners and running down
his cheeks as though malevolent tears. Waves of silky sea-green hair frame his
elongated face, marked with dark criss-crossing lines around his right eye.
The webbing that once graced his arms is partially rotted away, leaving only
bony spines. He is wearing midnight black robes.

Gwynevere: She is a noble merian and stands around five feet six inches. Her
lithe and well-formed body is covered in a faint patina of aquamarine scales,
thicker along her arms and legs, pale compared to most of her kind. Her
muscles are toned and her feminine curves are beautifully formed, with long
limbs, a flat and firm stomach, and a full chest. She has narrow, slitted eyes
of a mesmerizing sky blue, kind and twinkling with playfulness. She is wearing
a royal blue dress, a soft, crystal blue leather pack, an entrancing red rose,
and a tiara of yellow roses.

GwynevereNight: She is a noble merian and stands around five feet six inches.
Her lithe and well-formed body is covered in a faint patina of aquamarine
scales, thicker along her arms and legs, pale compared to most of her kind.
Her muscles are toned and her feminine curves are beautifully formed, with long
limbs, a flat and firm stomach, and a full chest. She has narrow, slitted eyes
of a mesmerizing sky blue, kind and twinkling with playfulness. She is wearing
a splotched dress of midnight hues, a gleaming black leather pack, a midnight
black rose, and a tiara of midnight roses.

Laeroc: Long robes of twilight blue cover the form of the Queen's consort
leaving little of his form viewable. Blonde hair cascades down to his
shoulders while a mirthful twinkle sets his eyes alight with compassion and
intelligence. His face is beautiful and somewhat effeminate.

Novice: She is a graceful elfen and listens attentively, her youthful looks and
wide eyes belying her eager curiosity. Pale greenish hair bounces lightly on
her shoulders as she tilts her head. Her slim figure does not yet show the
blossoming of maturity, but her nimble fingers, delicate cheekbones, and clear
blue eyes promise beauty to come. She wears a pale green dress edged in sea
blue fringe, a necklace depicting a moonhart tree, and a pair of brown leather
sandals.

Rowena: Rowena Nightshade is a stunningly beautiful elfen woman. Her raven
locks are as dark as pitch and her skin is as pale as bone. Her lips are bright
red and glisten, parting to reveal perfect white teeth. Her almond eyes are dark
violet, glittering coldly and cruelly, penetrating into all those before her.
Clinging to her curvaceous form is a dark black dress that moves of its own
accord around her body, made not of cloth but of animated shadows.

RowenaPregnant: Rowena Nightshade is a stunningly beautiful elfen woman. Her
raven locks are as dark as pitch and her skin is as pale as bone. Her lips are
bright red and glisten, parting to reveal perfect white teeth. Her almond eyes
are dark violet, glittering coldly and cruelly, penetrating into all those
before her. She lays down here, cradling her enormous belly which glows with a
dark aura. Clinging to her curvaceous form is a dark black dress that moves of
its own accord around her body, made not of cloth but of animated shadows.

Stormcrow: A shifting form whose shape adjusts impossibly, without seeming to
be thus changed, this crow bears around it the rumblings of stormclouds, black
and shadowy. Inky feathers glisten dully, hanging from an almost skeletal
body, while its head darts from side to side, always searching for something.

Teacher: He is a regal aslaran and stands tall and proud, with clear eyes
showing a twinkle of the wisdom of years. His tawny hair contrasts with darker
streaks of brown through his mane. Confident and at ease, his attention is
fully focused on his student. He wears a royal blue shirt, a tartan kilt, and
a hunter green cloak.

Viravain: She is a radiant immortal and displays a ghostly countenance, a pale
apparition amidst an ambience of unnatural darkness. White hair coalesces about
Her frame in soft waves, the sinuously twisting and flowing locks caught forever
in some unknown breeze. Shimmering dust of violet and silver seems to have been
brushed over Her white flesh, unblemished by the passage of time. As befitting
a young woman, Her form is slight and each limb delicate, hands ending in long,
slender fingers. Devoid of iris and pupil alike, Her eyes are fathomless,
blacker than pitch yet scintillating with their intense luminosity. A slight,
enigmatic smile plays eternally at Her dark lips, a silent testament to Her
tenebrous demeanor. She is wearing a crown of midnight black roses, an obsidian
and silver knotwork ring, an exquisite gossamer necklace, a shadowy black gown
adorned with cobwebs, a hooded cloak of stygian darkness, and a glittering belt
of thin silver chains.

Visaeris: He is a fiendish viscanti and stands at a towering 6'8". A mane of
thick, shoulder-length white hair contrasts sharply with midnight black skin.
Two eyes, their pupils coloured a gleaming red, survey the world with a harsh,
threatening gaze. Despite great height, this being possesses a slender,
athletic build. Wiry bands of corded muscle ripple beneath cracked, tortured
skin, graceful movements reminiscent of an agile cat. He is wearing blackened
platemail of fiery iron.

VisaerisNaked: He is a fiendish viscanti and stands at a towering 6'8". A mane
of thick, shoulder-length white hair contrasts sharply with midnight black skin.
Two eyes, their pupils coloured a gleaming red, survey the world with a harsh,
threatening gaze. Despite great height, this being possesses a slender,
athletic build. Wiry bands of corded muscle ripple beneath cracked, tortured
skin, graceful movements reminiscent of an agile cat. He is completely naked.

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