A script, by ~S. Nightshade

 

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CAST OF CHARACTERS (not in order of appearance):

Roderick (notated as ROD.):

Swarthy and with a raven-hooked mien, this elfen man stands alert and anxious dressed in shades of obsidian and grey. Two nekais are pressed at his hips, and his long legs appear to tremble with each step. A votive tattoo of Scorpion swirls long his right, bulging bicep. His long onyx hair is streaked with shocks of silver, like lightning through a dark night, and his red-rimmed dull green eyes glimmer with silent despair. Whenever he speaks there seems to be an unsettling air to his voice, languid and eerily containing patience.

a pride of black leopards (LEO): Elegantly crafted, this pride of black leopards are life-like and yet reminiscent of their puppet-crafted features with dark pelts, clawed paws, muscled limbs and yellowed eyes. Their razored teeth and jaws are subtly hinged, as are their tails. Under the body of the pride is someone dressed in dark clothing, controlling the sinuous movements of these artistic representations of the sacred animal of the Lord Predator.

a trio of shadow faeling mystics (notated as S.F.M):

Adorned with the flowering shadow-rose tiaras blessed of Mother Night, this trio of bat winged feelings hover in the air with predatory focus. The stare of their smoking ruby eyes burns in the viscous shadows that enfold them, only drawing note to their silouhettes moving slowly in time with one another. Soft whispers rise from the blot of darkness that houses them and swallows up the light of wherever they tread.

a trio of shadow faeling ritualists (notated as S.F.R):

Their crow feathered headdresses high upon their heads, these swarthy shadow faeling ritualistic all step in time to the ominous rhythm of their leathery bat wings. Corded warbraids cut scythe-like lines across each of their faces which appear on occasion to blend into one with their synchronistic nature, their pale tribal paints and piercings viciously granting them an aura of foreboding and masculine prowess. Each bearing an obsidian-handled sickle, they step as one.

Eliana: Not seen. Only mentioned as the mother of Rosaline and Roland by Roderick.

a wyrden courier (WC): This simple, illithoid herald is segmented and clothed in a robe of silver. A lyre clutched to his chest, he appears to be a low peon within the Harbingers and not yet a proper herald. His voice is clear, and his expression is one of solemn despair.

a blind, wretched hag (notated as HAG):

At the height of the epitome of what one considers ancient and gnarled, this mugwump is dressed in shambles of a dark cloak. With no eyes to speak of, she gazes emptily through her unseeing sockets. Her lips are thin, and her lined face is hooded by the cowl drawn jauntily to one side. At her hip rests a belt of various herbs and a crooked ravenwood cudgel, she bears the weight of the world on her shoulders as her gait is crooked, and lurching in peasant-worn shoes.

Rosaline (ROSL):

Built narrow at the waist and flat at the chest, this young elfen maiden bespeaks that of an innocence which has been safe-guarded overly long. Her pale skin shines bright like dew-laced cobwebs, and holds the blush of the humid heat of the swamp. With features fragile and bright, her eyes shine like emeralds and her lips are colored like the inside of a fragrant peach rose. She wears a sweeping bell-sleeved gown of alabaster, with a mantle of gold-dipped crow feathers, her feet are bare and muddied from wild runnings. Straw-colored hair curls in loose ringlets where it is not swept into a thick braid woven bedecked with blackthorn flowers.

Roland (ROL):

This tall, striking Ebonguard elfen does not lack for muscle or physique in sleek armor that belies both grace and predatory prowess. Scarred from minor cuts, to fresh bruises, his weathered skin is as tan as bronze reflecting against Father Sun in summer heat. His long, sinuous locks of gold are pushed back along his helm in ragged layers of feather, bone and scorpion chitin. Eyes of a darker green shimmer serenely through a broad, square-jawed visage and the mouth of his snarling leopard etched-helm, while masculine lips portray an air of graceful, but guarded hostility. At his belt, rests two crimson-bathed katanas on each side sheathed in the crest of the Heart of Darkness.

Sestimus (SES):

Tae’dae-like in nature, this costume reveals very little of the bulk of its weight - Giving one a guess as to the actor portraying this character is standing upon short stilted legs covered in a dark pelt of fur to grant him a looming height. A grand, ursine mask covers the top of the head of the actor, its details exaggerated to be viewed even from the last seat of the stage. The mask holds empty, deep-socketed golden eyes placed within the mask, while the leather-stitched nose forms a muzzle with snarling, jagged teeth that encompasses the lower half of the actor’s jaw and lips. A mane of grizzly grey and obsidian smooth down the back of the mask, brushing along the barreled full plate and two katana’s sheathed at his waist.

Cassandra (CAS):

Graceful and rigid in posture, this faeling woman bears a subtle disposition with auburn hair and gaunt eyes of shadow-grey, her beauty is graced by the dark kiss of Mother Night as a pall of shadows surround her, nearly concealing the elegance of her silver-toned gown that accentuates the lines of her neck and ever hovering wings. An athame rests in her hand, and a silver torc runed with the glyphs of fae-speech rests tight against her throat, and whenever she speaks, it appears to constrict her voice to a mere whisper.

a murder of crows (AMC):

A singular acrobatic body is sheathed in dark silk, to conceal the true nature of his purpose to allow the focus to be the puppets at their control. Many lines of clear string hold the fragilely constructed murder of crow puppets in place, so that they may be directed to movement whether aerial or to the stage’s floor. Each crow puppet is feathered in a mangled array of bone and carrion, the plague-like atmosphere of one crimson eye for each of them turning this way and that as they scavenge about. Both elegant, and jolting in their movements, this murderous group of crow puppets are obviously within the hands of an apprentice puppeteer.

the crow-formed (TCF):

Cruelty from the skies of the stage, these crow-formed faeling acrobats move in tandem in the fray of the battle, supported only by a belt about the waist which allows them to perform their daring feet without possible injury or danger. Their faces are painted in the auric skeletal lines of the Crow death-mask, which catches the gleam of the stage lights to create horrifying silouhettes upon their faces.

Esandru (ESA): A plain, yet slightly pretty mugwump, Esandru is tall and lithesome with webbed hands and rather distant eyes. The cowl of her cloak is drawn across her face, and a violin lingers in her hands.

- -

SIGN OF THE SPIDER
Written by Salome Nightshade

ACT I: SCENE I: THE GROVE OF ULTHAED

Shadow glade before a hollow ravenwood.

The dark ash trunks of giant ravenwood trees ring this secluded glade with solemn authority, their feathery fronds undulating in ripples of excitement. Shadows race along the ground as they form haunting shapes and eerie frescoes, the branches overhead glinting with hundreds of tiny eyes and glittering with dense cobweb lattice. Spongelike fungi of muted chartreuse and vermilion carpet the earth underfoot, occasionally releasing clouds of pungent spores that drift slowly upwards into the sky overhead. Lovely coltsfoot carpets the forest floor. A warped ritual ravenwood rises before you, blackened bark knotted and scarred.

- -

backstage effect create A 135 The beauty of the Dark Mother surges to overtake the brash nature of Father Sun in one graceful swoop, dampening all light. The hazy, summer sunset of magentas and purples lost in the gloomy serenity of Night that paints the ceiling with its dark haven over a shadow glade before a hollow ravenwood.

[silent enter S.F.M]

backstage effect create B 8 A sliver of movement far beyond the dingy shadow is barely heard as a shuffle on stage, enough to catch attention at something or someone striding unseen.

backstage effect create C 9 Slitted eyes as burning as crimson-stoked coals flutter slowly from the fathomless black of the dead of night, silence borne upon their appearance as the sounds of the Wyrden forest rise to life in enigmatic song; a creak of ravenwood, the flutter of murder taken wing, the empty wind whispering forgotten tongues, the beating of a distant drum, the industrious and ominous buzz of wasps.

S.F.M : say (The centre mystic pointing with a gnarled finger to the skies) Sisters attend, the sign has aligned! Let us gaze through our the blessing of Night, to see what we shall find.

S.F.M: say (The left joins the centre, their figures shifting through fingerling branches)
For good…

S.F.M: say (Their hoarse voices speaking as one) Or worse.

backstage effect create D 75 A greying nimbus cloud shifts above the stage’s backdrop in a ripple of silk, revealing a natural furnished spotlight representing the Moon. Its cold rays illuminate the unified figures of the shadow faeling mystics gliding toward the ritual ravenwood in hoary shades of grey as they slip through the glade.

S.F.M: backstage emote stop before the ravenwood, dancing in disturbing undulation clasping their hands outwards as a shadow cauldron appears from the dark.

backstage effect create E 135 Shadows stretch and moan in warped deluges about their feet as the cauldron hovers in the centre of the glade. The Drums of the Dead an ever-steady rhythm underneath their dialogue.

S.F.M: say (Together, glancing down into the cauldron’s depths) Shifting, spinning, strange delight, lift the cosmos’ veil to-night; Seek and find, the connections thus, to spin the webs of Wyrden trust.

backstage effect create F 118 With a flash of swirling mist, the hands of many shadows reach and pull at the beauteous faces of the trio of shadow faeling mystics drawing their own shadows from their bodies in a horrifying pull of their struggling counterparts.

S.F.M: say (Their voices suddenly booming with the depth of age) We witches three call to thee, reveal to us, Mistress of the Dark, what it is that is the harbingers of Glomdoring’s triumph!

backstage effect create G 9 A tongue of crimson thunder strikes the cauldron’s centre, sending stained shadow swirling about the three mystics drawing the last of the blessing of Mother Night from their mortal shells. When all fades, the cauldron is split in twain.

S.F.M BACKSTAGE EFFECT AFTER G -

backstage effect SFM1 105 Their beauty decayed to nothingness, a trio of shadow faeling mystics lean against one another wrinkled, worn and gasping for breath. Soon recovered, they lift the hoods of their robes to vainly conceal the cost of the ritual.

S.F.M: say (With empty eyes gazing listlessly) It is finished.” The centre sister reaches for the cauldron, and her eyes become transfixed with what lies within. “This cannot be…

backstage effect create H 125 Scarlet floods the foreground of the stage, bathing the scene in bloodied rays of infallible light that leaves the trio of shadow faeling mystics frozen in place. A chilling mist swirls about their feet, and up to their hooded faces as the call of Brother Crow can be heard echoing in the distant reaches of the Master Ravenwood Tree.

S.F.M: recite (Their voice a drone) Under the sign of the spider, born of still-death two shall come. They shall be known by the glint of their eye’s in Summer’s sun, through many seasons they will pass, until their time of sacrifice - Where all things shall begin again, when the roses rise at last.

backstage effect create I 135 The glade reverberates with a sense of finality as the last of the shadow faeling mystic’s words conclude. The trees rise and tremble along their crooked branches as a humid breeze carries the faintest scent of decay.

S.F.M: say (The right moving away from her sisters a fraction) So, thus comes two. But when, is it now?

S.F.M: say (The centre of the three narrows her gaze) Not now, but -when-, sister of mine, the cosmos are not in alignment.” She turns to her left, her beady eyes glazed. “What can you see, last sister of the three?

S.F.M: say (The left shaking her head) The future is clouded, our Mistress provides no more leverage this eventide.

S.F.M: intone (With a maleficent gleam in their eyes) Time and patience. Patience and time, thus we say and thus we rhyme - For who can say how time can fly, for who can dream of how much shall pass by? Will it wander here or there, shall it come to rest upon the cliffs of Black Sorrow and Despair? Glomdoring’s heirs, the truth we swear! They come, upon the heels of a barghest’s howling blare!

S.F.M: backstage emote lift their heads, their croaking laughter ringing emptily through the deadened air as they  flutter to and fro across the branches before settling high above in predatory crouches of wing and feet.

[silent exaunt S.F.M]

END OF ACT I: SCENE I

Silence falls once more upon the glade, as a mesh curtain is lowered to allow a change of scenery. Whispers of fabric and moving props are only but a brief distraction from the rise of the string symphony which begins in a subtle movement of creeping cellos and violas that meld across a surge of foreboding melodies and variations.

[Cue scene change to the Annex of Wyrden Scriptures]

- -
Annex of Wyrden Scriptures.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. A short, narrow archway, barely an opening in the wall, leads into this cool, secluded alcove from the main library. The walls, ceiling and floor are constructed from black marble, complementing the ravenwood shelves that are set at regular intervals throughout the room. A vast collection of fresh and ancient scrolls and volumes of Wyrden origin fill the shelves, all meticulously preserved. The stone of the northern wall has been laid with a latticework of dark wood, creating an intricate mural depicting a grove of stylised Wyrden flora. Dried, trailing rose vines curl around a series of high and narrow glassless windows set into the opposite wall, through which a minimal amount of light illuminates the area. A fresh breeze drifts through the openings, carrying the scents of the dark forest-s flora into the tower.

ACT I: SCENE II: THE ANNEX
- -

[visible enter HAG, stage left]

HAG: backstage enter rests her webbed fingers about her belt, standing aloof as she blindly tilts her head to one side as a spotlight sheds light on her stooped form.

HAG: say (With a blinking of her eyelids over her eye-sockets) Many winters have passed, the time of the Wyrd thrived and withered many times as was foretold by the apprentices of the one called Rowena Nightshade. Adaptation knows no equal in the Wyrd, and as the seasons grew so did their tenacity to see their prophecy become rumor and myth.

HAG: backstage emote smiles crookedly, revealing rotted teeth.

HAG: say Eventually, their own desire for fame in this prophecy grew to legend all too soon.

HAG: backstage emote gestures widely as the mesh curtain is lifted into the dark abyss above, revealing a scene within a dimly elegant annex already within motion.

[silent enter ROD.]

HAG: say Roderick of Glomdoring, Messiah of the Nekotai stands for the first time - In terror, alone upon the brink of both war and the birth of what he hopes to be a male heir. His political marriage to the Lady Eliana, faithful to the Thorned One was known as a well-executed maneuver to increase his pull and candidacy for Wyrden Ascendant.

A stalwart melody, both grand and lingering blossoms within the acoustic centre of the stage from the stringed symphony below in effortless weavings of notes as the stiffness in the theme loosens to the enigmatic lilt of violas and cellos taking the brunt of the rich song that supports the blind, wretched hag’s dialogue.

HAG: say (Smirking) Shee-Slaugh, Nightshade or Stormcrow you ask? It does not matter, in the grand scheme of things.

ROD: backstage emote slowly paces about the shelves, his hands resting upon the twin nekai upon his hips.

HAG: say Little did the commune of Glomdoring know that Roderick and Eliana had fallen desperately in love in their youth. As their ritualistic dance of violent courtship began, they refined one another as a blacksmith would sharpen blade against a whetstone. Their marriage came, as did their success - Built upon strands of service, dedication and loyalty to one another in the Wyrd. So generous did the Wyrd gift them with all they desired, until this fateful day.

ROD: backstage emote lifts his hooded head warily toward the entrance of the annex, as if awaiting someone.

HAG: say (The cowl across her face casting shadow as she tips her head) The Lady Eliana was heavy with child, and hope sprung within the breast of the Wyrden people, for of such blood and prowess could emerge leaders, warriors, artists - The dream of a victorious age. With expectations so high, one could assume that the mother-to-be was overwhelmed… So much so was the pressure upon her that complications had arisen in the birthing process.

L: The spotlight dims about a blind, wretched hag, wreathing her in darkness.

[silent enter, a wyrden courier (WC)]

WC: backstage emote enters the annex with measured steps, and bows quickly to Roderick with a sweep of one hand - The other kept upon his lyre. He begins speaking, but there is no sound to be heard as the interaction between the warriors unfolds.

backstage effect create M 31 With a melancholy swell, the string symphony screeches to a tense silence as the mourning call of the wyrden lyrebird echoes within the distance. Crow-like shadows scour past the tall window which looms over the proud figure of Roderick, the light behind him growing colorless and grey.

ROD: backstage emote inclines his head, and listens in doleful silence until the words of the courier strike him as if he had been slapped in the face. His resolve hardens his jaw, and a hand upon the hilt of one nekai loosens in a defeated expression.

WC: backstage emote backs away with a silent bow, and yet his saddened expression holds a sliver of hope. His next words coming upon the possibility of his dismissal.

ROD: backstage emote pauses, his face expressionless as he absorbs to the courier’s final words.

All at once, Roderick’s words ring out with hesitant finality as the vibrance of the scene is met with his first words.

ROD: say (His dark eyes narrowing) And the child?

WC: say (With a shaky breath) There are two. A girl, and a boy. The boy is the meekest of them.

ROD: say Let the mystics clean them up and feed them. When all is done, bring them to me.

WC: say But the ritualists! They will not allow them to be taken until they have completed their own blessings.

ROD: backstage emote casts a glance over his shoulder, the tension of rage in his eyes.

WC: whisper (Bowing and turning on his heel) Yes, my lord.

[visible exit WC]

ROD: backstage emote glides over to the window, the palm of his left hand supporting him as he wanes with grief. A loud, stifled sob emits from him as his back slides against the paned glass. He jams his left hand within his mouth to restrain the heartbreaking sound from catching the attention of those waiting in the outer library.

ROD1: Tears streaming down his craggy face, Roderick’s sobs turn to hysterical laughter and then aggression as he stabs his nekai within the stone to assist him in rising. Flinching several times, his visage is calmed and flat once more as he wipes his eyes, striding from the Annex to deliver the news to Glomdoring.

The velveteen curtains of the stage draw briefly closed as the bleak light fades in a feathery vision of darkness, the pitter-patter of a storm brewing in the distance.

[silent exit ROD]

END OF ACT I: SCENE II

- -

The edge of the world.
The rock and snow and ice drop away as the path ends, forming a sheer cliff face in the shadow of a single towering mountain. The range, tooth-like and serrated, continues to the horizon in the north, its reaches remote and inaccessible. Stretching endlessly below, the tundra is a blur of white and brown, with pockmarks of colour where plants grow. Far in the distance looms the Iriki Heights, ominously foreboding; there, the sky turns the hue of spilled blood as black clouds gather. Though lacking its chaos, the mountains here are still cold and cruel, with the wind whipping erratically as it drags trembling spirits to their deaths.

- -

ACT I: SCENE III: PRECIPICE OF SHIKARI

[silent enter, LEO]

Roiling thunder roars from the ceiling as illusionary hail pelts across the stage’s surface, showering the audience with a chilling mist that billows throughout. Several forks of lightning soon follow after in a shuddering dance that unveils the movement of a pride of black leopards ascending the jagged precipice of the edge of the world.

[Cue scene change to the Annex of Wyrden Scriptures]

[silent enter, ROD, S.F.R]

ROD: backstage emote ascends the stormy precipice, carrying two swaddled bundles nestled in each arm.

ROD: say (His eyes gazing down into the blankets) My children. Your first trial of many to come in the Wyrd.

ROD: backstage emote (The shuffling of the swaddled darkness against) ’s chest reveals the lifting of one small, infant’s hand that seeks out at the nothingness of the bitter hail and snow falling horizontally about the new father and his children.

A solo cello plays a somber theme that is reminiscent of winter and a dirge of death as the pride of black leopards circle closer to the ascent of where Roderick and his newborn’s stand helpless upon the edge of the cliff.

The stringed orchestra melds well below the vibrato of the melody, taking up an old folk tune of the Glomdoring’s like, with primal drum and plucking notes like rainfall.

S.F.R: backstage emote (In a showering miasma of black feathers,) stride in synch to the forks of snow-dusted churning the grey-black clouds above. Finally at the side of Roderick, they cross their arms.

S.F.R: backstage say (Baring carrion-stained teeth) Messiah, messiah, messiah!” They caw, with a great flutter of wings. “We have found you. The time of the approval of Crow we must see upon these death-born q’w’laii.

ROD: backstage say They are still too young, they are innocents who begin their journey’s in the Wyrd through death. Can they not be-

S.F.R: backstage say (Chorusing) No. Through death of the Eliana has come their births, therefore. Father Crow must see if they are blessed, or condemned.” Cocking their heads to one side, beady red eyes affixed upon Roderick. “We will not remind you a third time, Messiah.

ROD: backstage say (Relenting, his eyes gazing off into the distance) N’h Wyrd. It must be done.

ROD: backstage emote takes one last gaze at the children in his arms, before lifting his forearms in a gesture for the trio of shadow faeling ritualists to take them from him.

S.F.R: backstage emote snatches the two bundles from Roderick with a jumble of three pairs of hands, their tongues clacking in loud chittering rumbles of the crow speech amongst themselves as they stride towards the very edge of the cliff.

S.F.R: backstage say (The left, with thirst in his eyes) I sense greatness from this one. See the lines of the wrinkly, fat face. Look, the eyes!” The right intervenes with a shove to view the babe being spoken of with a raucous caw. “Yessss, brother, this one - I like. Full of beating blood, born of sorrow they are.

S.F.R: backstage emote dangles each bundle with emotionless expressions along the edge of the cliff, but a small burden in their rotted talon hands.

ROD: backstage emote appears to be breathless, his grip bone-white upon the nekai partially slid from their sheathes.

S.F.R: backstage say (The centre, darkly smiling) This feeble one, see its legs? If it cannot walk then it surely cannot fly to hunt. But see the spirit, the blood does not beat the same. We must get rid of it. It is weak.

The arguing voices of a trio of shadow faeling ritualists begin to echo about the precipice, as the babes begin to squall within the conflict of creaking voices and howling wind.

LEO: backstage emote shifts and sways near the underside of the cliff, the bones about their feet shuffling to one side as they gaze up the mountainside hungrily at the flesh dangling many lengths below.

S.F.R: backstage say (The left, snatching the babe from the centre brother) No. This one has the Dark Spirit the other does not have!” The right jabs at the centre with a peck. “Stop, my brothers, we must be one with Crow! We must -

[silent enter S.F.M]

A fork of bloodied thunder booms down to the spot just before Roderick in a great flash to reveal the wispy, all-consuming shadows of a trio of shadow faeling mystics gliding viciously forward. The two sets of trios leer at one another momentarily, as if caught in a silent discourse for power.

S.F.R: backstage say (Their wings fluttering anxiously) Chosen of Night. We did not expect you.

ROD: backstage emote shifts uncertainly, his shoulders loosening as he witnesses the scene.

S.F.M: backstage say (Lowering their heads) We saw them born from death. Night accepts them in Her great equinox.

S.F.R: backstage say Chosen of Night, these children…They are of unusual circumstances. An imbalance within the aspects we see.

S.F.M: backstage say Cannot Crow change and adapt as the Wyrd does?

S.F.R: backstage say Yes. But -

S.F.M: backstage say (Their eyes narrowing eerily) The Painted of Crow are indeed wise. They have passed their inspection.

S.F.R: backstage say (The centre brother appearing displeased yet resigned) Crow chooses those of potential. May the q’w’laii have hunger always, until it is time for their education.

S.F.R: backstage emote slip by the trio of shadow faeling mystics with a tip of their headdresses, shoving the bundles of the two infants into their outstretched arms. Entwining together, they disappear in a flurry of black crow-feathers and carrion prints.

[S.F.R silent exit]

ROD: backstage say (Dipping his head) I thank you, Chosen of Night.

S.F.M: backstage emote collectively smirks at Roderick, their seductive beauty shimmering bright in the passing snowflakes.

S.F.M: backstage say (Coldly) Do not thank us yet.

END OF ACT I: SCENE III

[S.F.M, ROD silent exit]

- -

ACT II: SCENE I: MEADOW OF THE FALLEN

a war-torn wyrden meadow

A leaning tree line is desecrated by the marks of battle left by these horrid scene on grassy knolls where bodies of the dead lie strewn still clutching to their weapons and ragged standards. Greying sky blocks out the light of Father Sun above, granting the stage an unusual natural glow that sheathes the scene in a lucid filter of high noon breaking through the blood-stained leaves. In the occasional lift of the charcoal clouds, rippling sunlight is cast upon the scene below to dapple the actors in an uncomfortable gleam of light.

— -

The brash sound of a harpsichord note’s echoing against stone slowly trickle through the centre of the stage and outwards, reverberating an eerie reflection of a music box. Each clattering of arpeggio draws the note’s closer together as a string symphony strikes up a haunting overture as a choir of ghostly voices rise from the pit before the stage, elevating the acoustical nature of the surrounding walls with their exotic, sweeping melody.

Moments pass as the atmosphere of the stage grows dim, and fades momentarily to reveal the extravagant scene of a bloodstained meadow in disjointed, living vignettes shrouded in a fog that bill.

[silent enter TCF]

[cue scene - a war-torn wyrden meadow]

Each vision of the battle progresses faster than the last, those who appear to be under the banner of the Wyrd mercilessly slaughtering those of the Tainted Engine in fell swooping motions. The crow-formed striking from the trees, some plummeting to hoist their enemies in acrobatic death-rolls.

The rumble of earth though crackling through the stage floor is dampened by the ethereal voices of the choir sing within the crow tongue, which supremely dominates the whirling rolls of the symphony.

[silent enter HAG]

HAG: backstage say (Her creaking voice booming from some untold direction) Twenty-one years have passed since the Glomdoring has known the stillness of the winter, and the peace of a bloodless autumn. It was as the Messiah - Roderick, had feared. The Wyrd under the duress of war would thrive and prosper, and yet, with the spoils of war also come the struggles. Narrow and rash has the collective servititude of the Wyrd been shaped, for by the last battle many elders had fallen with no sons to carry on their names, their arms or their wisdom.

[silent exit TCF]

[silent enter ROL, SES, AMC]

The more time passes, the more bodies appear to be strewn across the stage. And when all finally settles, a pair of haggard ebonguard stand amongst the dead.

A murder of crows fly overhead in the depths of the stage chaotic dervishes above some bodies, the opportunity for carrion ripe for the picking as some pull silken crimson bound cloth that seem to represent intestines from some of the unmoving.

HAG: backstage say (An echoing cackle heard about the stage) The Wyrd was hungry for potential, and suddenly two children rose from the seclusions of their homes in the forest to answer its call. But who can say that they shall hear of it entirely?

[silent exit HAG]

ROL: Backstage emote lifts his dented helm underneath his arm, gazing across the marred landscape with an inward sigh.

SES: backstage say (Gruffly) We’ve gained more than we have lost. Crow feasts this sacred Night.

ROL: backstage emote utters nothing in return, only a lift of his hand gives the other Ebonguard pause.

SES: backstage emote turns his ursine eyes to the edge of the stage, his ears twitching at something inaudible.

ROL: backstage say (Resonating low in his throat) The others are at the celebration, why will you not go with them Sestimus?

SES: backstage emote shifts in his charcoal, clawed fullplate, his nose twitching.

SES: backstage say Other could be lurking, twilight is rising - And not even the newly appointed Master of the Bloodhunt should be without company.

ROL: backstage say (His lips curling up with feral chagrin) You mean, that my sister told you to keep a watchful eye.

SES: backstage emote shifts once again, appearing both uncomfortable and exasperated.

SES: backstage say (Smoothly) She is most convincing.

ROL: backstage emote brushes back the smudges upon his cheeks, before resting a hand upon the hilt of his katana.

ROL: backstage say That is the least that can be said about her, my friend. There is little reason for you to remain here on patrol. I can care for those who manage to grow into their lich-forms, if they still have a chance.

SES: backstage say (Stubbornly) I have nothing better to do. A soldier’s duty comes before the satisfaction of rest.

ROL: backstage say (With a slight snort) As you please, Sestimus. My sister need not worry of would-be assassins or those wishing to remove me from my position so soon. Am I not at least garnered a time where I can prove of my worth as Master?

SES: backstage emote scratches his muzzle with a claw.

SES: backstage say (Grumbling as he stalks about, kicking some bodies to make a clear path) She knows more than she keeps on, that one,” He turns and jabs his bardic toward Roland. “Mark me, Roland. There is something strange about her, something that is not exactly aligned. Roderick always said she looked of her mother, and perhaps it has changed her path - For the worse.

ROL: backstage emote shoots a grim look to Sestimus, who responds with a shrug.

ROL: backstage say Mother died, Mother lives on within our blood. Father is a grieving fool. They both obsess too much over the past, their Black Sorrow has altered them.

SES: backstage emote opens his muzzle to reply, but then shakes his head silently.

ROL: backstage say The Wyrd will cull them, or they will adapt. For nothing matters but Glomdoring.

SES backstage say (In a stage murmur) Glory be to Glomdoring.

ROL: backstage say (With a grunt) Ah, here she calls now.

ROSL: backstage yell Brother! Brother? Where are you?

ROL: backstage emote shuffles his boots, impatiently taps his hands against his belt as he sees the white-adorned figure of little Rosaline dashing between corpses to reach him.

[silent enter ROS]

ROSL: backstage emote throws her arms around Roland, before seeing the presence of Sesitmus behind him. With that, she withdraws with polite formality.

ROSL: backstage say (Her voice saccharine) Dear Brother, where have you been? Cassandra told me that she had seen you at the Black Tower. I was searching all over for you, and…Well, you’re where I expected, the Harbingers are waiting to sing the new epic of our victory this blessed Night.

ROL: backstage say (Raising a brow) A victory that was without your vision, I expect. The shadow faeling mystics still educate you, and therefore much has been shielded in shadow, yes?

ROSL: backstage emote quirks her lips sassily, ignoring her brother’s comment.

ROSL: backstage say (With a hint of indignation) I did not have to write it for once. One would suspect favoritism.

SES: backstage emote emits a rumbling chuckle, his muzzle drawing back in a fond smile.

ROL: backstage emote frowns, his visage the epitome of solemn.

ROL: backstage say I would not speak of such, lest the eyes of the Murder hear and think you serious. Many are already doubting how I came out this election successfully.

ROSL: backstage emote sniffs disapprovingly, her features taking upon the selfishness of a child.

ROSL: backstage say Yes, well. I would be above their doubt, and you as well. You’ve heard what they say about us. We demand more respect than they give.

SES: backstage say (Curiously) What do they say, Maestra?

ROSL: backstage say (Her voice chiming) That I’m the chosen one, and so is Roland. We’re the saviors of the Wyrd!

ROL: backstage say (Snapping) Rosaline.

ROSL: backstage emote flinches, her eyes lowering as she shifts with the surprise of being silenced.

SES: backstage say You are, are you? Well, that is quite a lot to assume…Those ha- Chosen of Night have selected well.

SES: backstage emote narrows his eyes.

ROL: backstage say (Annunciating softly) Such nonsense my sister speaks, nothing but air filling her pretty little head. Isn’t that right, my dear?

ROSL: backstage say (Meekly) Yes, I was merely jesting after all. How foolish of me.

SES: backstage say Of course you were, I knew it. As did the Master of the Bloodhunt.

ROL: backstage say She requires more refinement, this one. Leave us, and we shall come to the Terrace.

ROSL: backstage emote curtsies stiffly, and presses a light kiss to her brother’s cheek before departing in a flurry of white muslin.

[ROS silent exit]

SES: backstage say You’re too hard on the little one.

ROL: backstage say If no one is, she will not survive.

SES: backstage emote pauses for a moment, then grunts in acknowledgement.

ROL: backstage (Sighing) You are right, my friend. I shall entreat to her during the feast - The Wyrd must have connections for growth after all.

ROL: backstage say I shall meet you there, Sestimus.

SES: backstage nods curtly.

ROL: backstage departs on foot, his graceful figure easily stepping over the chaotic piles of bodies.

[ROL silent exit]

SES: backstage emote barks with gruff, grating laughter as he digs his claws along his full plate. He steps forward as the scene dims about him, dusky and colourless.

SES: backstage say The fools, did you hear what they said? The saviours of the Wyrd - HA. They think themselves above us servants, they think themselves -more- worthy than the rest of us? I spit upon them, with all of my venom!

SES: backstage emote spits upon the ground viciously, snarling.

SES: backstage say I am greater than both of them combined. The ritualists have told me so, the Crow visits my dreams with visions of glory for the Wyrd. But I must find a way to be rid of them.

SES: backstage emote ponders for a moment, one claw scratching his nose.

SES: backstage say Cassandra, she’ll know what to do. With the election we fixed in the Ebonguard, and the nature of Rosaline’s vanity we shall have them wrapped ever so tight in themselves that they cannot see their undoing. Until then, I must play the friend to dearest Master and Maestra. I’ve placed the seeds of doubt within them both.

SES: backstage say And yet…If I continue to press the plot, there shall be none left to carry on in the spirit of our elders. Those who glorified the Wyrd long before it had grown into winter.

SES: backstage say Guilt should fill me, but only thoughts of irreverence against their benign characters remain. The Master has been my friend for many years, I have watched him grow…

SES: backstage say (Shaking his head) No. Do not go down that path, for all that lies there is mercy. F’ai Glomdoring! F’ai Glomdoring!

SES: backstage say That which is concealed now should remain concealed within the shadows until it is time to strike. Have patience, at the feast of the Idols to-night, and let the stars of my knowing fade into the bosom of the Dark One while my desires are still hidden within Her.

The last pinpricks of light dim upon the ursine-like face of Sestimus and his grim, cunning smile, sheathing all in total darkness.

[SES, AMC silent exit]

[HAG silent enter]

backstage effect create Z 147 With a boom of pillowy green-blue smoke, a wretched, blind hag emerges from their cloying tendrils as sparks of light scatter about the stage floor. In that brief moment, the mesh screen looms behind her concealing the shifting of the scene behind her. She points an imperious finger at you, the audience, the fingernail yellowed and dirty.

HAG: backstage say (Cackling darkly) One midnight gone!

HAG: backstage say You all see already the traitorous plot that surrounds the twins known to arouse suspicion of the shadow faeling mystics prophesy. Locked in hatred and twisted love, Sestimus, the Hidden Blade wishes to overthrow Roland, so that he and only he and his lover Cassandra shall continue to control the Glomdoring through several choice positions and well-placed ears.

HAG: backstage say With all haste, he must dampen the suspicions of the Wyrden people before they start to believe that Roland and Rosaline are indeed a chosen pair, or to even begin with, that Glomdoring has decayed in winter, with no spring to come with fatted prey and tender green grass.

HAG: backstage say (Dipping her head) Oh, he shall try so plaintively to stop them. Perhaps even succeed, but to what cost, and when will this cost be taken from him?

HAG: backstage say The feast of the Idols comes and goes, with all the pomp and expectancy of those of the Wyrden elite. The songs are sung, the wine is poured and the blood is spilt in sacrifices for the Gods of the Dark Forest. The Wyrd is sated, for now.

HAG: backstage say The Night Coven weaves their mystical dark around the heady, blurry-induced celebration as it draws to a sleepy, silent close as many take their rest in the ravenwood trees, or the deep in the cavernous belly of the Wyrdling and the gentle death-toned lullaby of the Drums of the Dead.

HAG: backstage say (Sweeping her cloak about her) But many still linger in the witching hour before the dawn…Whispering of their secret plans in cloistered in the clandestine bowls of the Black Tower.

END ACT II:SCENE I

- -

The spotlight upon the wretched, blind hag blinks out in a shudder of clear light. Leaving the rustle of a fabric wrapped tight about a figure and the fall of the mesh screen at first, the only sounds heard.

With a sharp gesture from their conductor, a furious, yet plodding melody erupts from the pit of the symphony before the stage. Jarring notes that chill the air with its variations and themes reminiscent of the first act beginning to join in the war-like overtones of the second.

backstage effect create BB 229 The darker, brash sound of french horns blare in low machinations of descending notes, while the dervishes of flutes caw and whistle as crows and the creak of trees in chattering patterns that seem to evoke the sounds of the Wyrden forest muted by stone.

backstage effect create CC 118 Wisps of shadow slip through from the back of the stage, scurrying in their dark shapes through the feet of the audience and to the fore edge of the stage, coalescing in a small space lit by candlelight. At first, the flash of surgical instruments and experimental tubes are highlighted in a glint of silver and steel.

[cue scene the labratory]

backstage effect create DD 3 A carved pillar separates two still figures both partially concealed by the fizzing mists of the containers placed about the room.

[silent enter CAS, SES]

- -

ACT II: SCENE II: PLOTTING IN SHADOW

The laboratory

This room is bordered by a stone wall to the northeast and two columns to the west and south. The walls are covered in strange glass apparatus, some resting in metal holders screwed into the wall and columns, others scattered across a long workbench. Within the glass tubes is an extremely dark fluid, which seems to boil under its own power in the larger chambers to form a dark mist. Small pieces of white meat or plant rest in
round containers, fizzing as they come into contact with the shadowy substance.

HAG: Backstage say (Her voice of the hag echoing somewhere within the cavernous space) Cassandra, a lady famed for leading the Coven of Night in all of their shrouded glory stands speaking through the chink of the pillar that separates her lover from herself.

HAG: Backstage say This matriarch, known to topple nations from within and out was blessed by the whispering voice of Nocht for her service to the Father of the Coven.

HAG: Backstage say Neither Queen nor Princess - Her elegant webs stretched out beyond the reach of many, who considered themselves otherwise…Stubborn individuals.

HAG: Backstage say It is said that she sacrificed much for this great power, giving up her own unborn child as a sign of her devotion to the darkness and the powerful abyss of Mother Night’s will.

backstage effect create EE 147 As the voice of a wretched hag wanes into the shifting sound of Sesitmus moving forward to the pillar, the candle grasped within his left paw burns brighter than before - Casting the horrifying reflection of his mask’s eyes into the dim.

[silent exit HAG]

SES: backstage emote forms two claws of his right paw into a ‘chink’ of the pillar, when in fact the actors stand only separated by the flattened edge of the pillar - Speaking between the hole of his two claw-like fingers.

CAS: Backstage say (In a stage whisper, her form bending to the chink) My love, is that you?

[enter ROSALINE]

ROSL: backstage enter slips through the small opening along the left, dipping back into one of the closets with her deft hands miming silently to close the utility door behind her. And yet, through the use of stagecraft her face is seen in the darkness, leaning close to listen in upon the conversation.

SES: backstage say It is I. The feast went on as successful as we had hoped?

CAS: Backstage say (Her fingers caressing her torc) Rosaline had no idea. Another battle will loom soon, and the changes I have given in her song will alter the tide of our victory for the worse. I convinced young Esa’ that some of the melody was off some time ago, and she taught it to her pupil.

SES: backstage emote growls low in his throat with a shift of satisfaction as his fullplate catches the candlelight.

CAS: Backstage say And it shall all be most…Pleasing indeed.

SES: Backstage say Esandru - How foolish that swamp-dweller is. So easy to trust. It is the nature of their family after all, the Silence knows how their blood can be cursed.

CAS: Backstage say Nevermind that, Sestimus. We have little time for rumination. You have the poison for your blade procured?

At that moment, a loud ‘crack’ is heard ringing like metal against stone, the sound of resonating from the left of the stage.

backstage effect create FF 220 ‘CLLLINK!’

ROSL: backstage emote has accidentally knocked one of her feet against a bucket, sending it skittering against one of the closet walls. She jumps forward and snatches it up, before whispering something underneath her breath. At her command, the shadows cloak her in a sightless miasma as she claps a hand over her mouth.

CAS: backstage emote jumps and turns about with a flinch, her athame fluidly moving into her hand.

CAS: backstage say What was that?

SES: backstage say It was nothing, another Ebonguard at the forge above.

CAS: backstage emote gazes into the bleak darkness, shaking her head. For some time she listens to the consistent pounding away, before leaning into the chink.

‘CLLLINK!’

CAS: backstage say The poison.

SES: backstage say I have not retrieved it yet, the Painted of Crow know of the trickery devised to make it.

CAS: backstage say Move quickly then, before they begin to suspect of our plans. It shall be too late, once they do, my beloved.

SES: backstage say I go upon the dawn.

CAS: backstage say (Distractedly) F’ai Glomdoring.

‘CLLLINK!’

SES: backstage exit blows out the candle in his other paw, retreating into the black as another light follows him in his ascent through the Black Tower. His gaze is drawn hesitantly towards the glowing scarlet light of the forge as he passes his way through the final archway and disappears from sight.

backstage effect GG 208 A velvety orange-red glow blossoms light like broad streaks of paint upon the level of the Black Tower above Cassandra, revealing another part of the stage cleverly constructed to appear compartmentalized like a dollhouse.

backstage effect create HH 220 The lights dim upon the lower levels as several spotlights fade in to reveal the strong figure of Roland at a blazing forge. With a furrowed brow, his strikes become sharper and more precise along the beaten metal attempting to take shape in the searing coals as the symphony somehow incorporates the clanging into its overall rhythm as the mischievous call of a flute curls through each stiff, militaristic theme.

[backstage silent enter ROS]

‘CLLLINK!’

backstage effect create II 14 Once more, a cold beam of light reveals Cassandra in the levels below. The music underneath her dialogue both beautiful and disjointed as ugly quarter-tones from the woodwinds and strings send chilling ostonato into the centre of the seats below the stage.

CAS: backstage emote turns to the audience, pausing with an expression of disdain.

CAS: backstage say How idle must a Nightmare’s plaything be, to whisper sweet nothings of dreams of triumph within the ears of lovers. Success shall be ours, and with it, delicious revenge.

CAS: backstage say (Her lips growing pouty) Roland, oh…Roland how fair you are, how secret my love was. Until it was crushed underfoot. You have nothing but eyes for your little sister…” She glances idly at her nails, flicking her athame underneath each nail-bed as she bares her teeth. “And some say it is with more than your eyes that you look.

‘CA-CLANG!’

CAS: backstage say You selected -her- over me? and with all of my prospects and position you should have rightfully been mine. You petulant ignoramus. You have cost me everything, after all that I had done for you. Your education, your very life! When we kissed -

CAS: backstage emote sighs softly, her expression growing blank as she tilts to one side - hip jutted provocatively.

ROSL: backstage emote appears shocked, her short gasp muffled by the work of the smith above. Her eyebrows lift, as her eyes strain to catch a glimpse of Cassandra through the miasma and the small opening in the closet door.
 
CAS: backstage say But Sestimus is greater, how much faith I have put within him to perform. I have nurtured his seeds of discontent within such a large and loyal heart, that in the end we shall all live…Happily…ever…after.

CAS: backstage emote smirks, appearing to be content with her own words.

CAS: backstage say I have invested my life’s work within this scheme, and should it fail…I shall be dragged down with it.

CAS: backstage say …But such is the sacrifice of being a servant of the Wyrd. How it will honour me for what we are about to do.

CAS: backstage exit emits a shrill, cruel laugh tossing her hair back with a lift of her neck before striding from the stage as her gown trails dramatically behind her. She stops briefly at the  partially open door of the closet, before using the hilt of her athame to close it with a ‘thump’ as she passes by.

The lower half of the Black Tower fades to nothingness, while the forge above alights with the lyrebird’s call of a new day born.

END ACT II: SCENE III: THE REVEAL AT THE FORGE

[cue scene forge]

The Forge of the Darkhammer.
Surrounding the Raven's Head Forge are walls reinforced by rough marble, blackened with soot and sash. A black cast iron chimney runs up into the ceiling to carry away the smoke and fumes. The wide shutters on several large, rectangular windows are open to allow even more ventilation in the chamber. A barrel of water is next to the forge itself, and the walls are covered with hammers, tongs and other implements of the smith. The Raven's Head Forge stands here, cold and dark. [PROP]

[PROP: Made of very thick iron, the forge has a large flat top as well as a hinged, iron door. It stands on a slightly raised pedestal of stone.]

ROSL: backstage enter runs through the archway of rough, sooty marble her eyes wide as the miasma surrounding her retracts from the dawn light of the rectangular windows.

ROL: backstage emote drops several newly master-made blades within the water barrel aside him as glowing sharply with the heat of the forge.

ROSL: backstage say Roland. We have a problem.

ROL: backstage say Ah, is it the usual?

ROSL: backstage say Yes…But this time, they intend to make the damages permanent.

ROL: backstage emote turns his eyes grimly to Rosaline and nods.

ROSL: backstage say A poison from those of the Crow, and my song - They have deceived us, Esandru and I.

ROL: backstage say (Flatly) We don’t have much time then. Let us get to work.

ROL: backstage emote turns from his sister, and lifts the water-coated blades from the barrel tossing them into another to dry and be sharpened at another interval.

ROSL: backstage say (Her eyes closing with a sigh) So many webs. They shall be broken.

backstage effect create KK 147 With a boom of pillowy green-blue smoke, a wretched, blind hag emerges from their cloying tendrils as sparks of light scatter about the stage floor. In that brief moment, the mesh screen looms behind her concealing the shifting of the scene behind her. She points an imperious finger at Rosaline and Roland, scampering around and clucking at like an old great aunt.

[enter HAG]

HAG: backstage say (Shrieking) Get on with it!

Both Roland and Rosaline appear unable to hear a wretched, bling hag as she chides them, their voices continuing softly as a hurried melody from an oboe and flute begin to dance and resonate pleasantly against the acoustical shell of the stage.

ROL: backstage say We have little choice.

ROSL: backstage emote nods solemnly, her eyes growing distant with rapid thought.

[silent exit ROL and ROS]

The dawn rises and falls, soon turning into the dead of the witching hour where all manners of things from the depths of shadow reveal themselves to the vault of Mother Night as Roland and Rosaline never leave the shelter of the forge.

HAG: backstage emote sighs deeply as she shakes her head.

HAG: backstage say Two midnights gone!

A swirl of spotlights with inverted feather-shaped lights move across the stage, coruscating in a confounding show of light as brief flashes of other scenes dance before the eyes through the mesh. At first puzzling, as one sees Roland slash his wrist offering it to a set of three feathered figures. The next, one of Rosaline, whose voice appears to leave her throat upon the beckoning of three gnarled figures.

The final image is that of Rosaline, using a lyre string to silence Cassandra during her slumber within southern hills of Glomdoring.

HAG: backstage emote shifts impatiently, tossing some of her cloak over her shoulder.

HAG: backstage say (Her voice no more than a murmur) All along, our young heroes knew of the opposition they faced. Time and time again, they had attempted to save their friends from going to far to damage their position in the Wyrd. But now, they could no longer idly sweep away this one plot underneath the leaves of the Ravenwood.

HAG: backstage say To their distaste, they knew that their plan must succeed in stopping them. Once and for all.

HAG: backstage exit fades from sight, slipping to exit stage left.
- -

[cue scene battlefield]

ACT II: SCENE VI: THE BATTLEFIELD

Overrun with conflict, this field of extra actors upon the stage fight viciously against one another to overcome and decide the victor. Yet upon the fore of the stage, recognizable characters stand visibly amongst the fray. A cliff dangles just beyond the sight of where the audience can see it, a jagged length of a platform heightened into the backdrop.

backstage effect create PP 8 With fuzzy golden-cerulean light, the mesh curtain lifts to reveal the chaotic battle between Magnagora and Glomdoring already within progress. And yet, most of the fighting appears to be over save for two figures upon the field and two others, who stand nervously at the brink of the cliff.

ROL: backstage say (Adjusting his sword with a twist of a wrist) My old friend…Do not do this. I beg of you.

SES: backstage emote laughs throatily, drawing his katana from the sheathe upon his hip.

SES: backstage say You ‘beg of me?’ How foolish. After all you have said to me, after all that we have been through. You. Beg.

SES: backstage emote turns his katana forward, presenting it as the tip of the blade knocks against Roland’s own extended weapon.

SES: backstage say You are far too late.

ROL: backstage say I ask you once more, reconsider what you are doing!

SES: backstage emote flicks his katana to beat heavily upon Roland’s own, the crash of metal and his strength overwhelming the elfen until he crumples to his knees.

SES: backstage say (Rumbling as he flourishes his katana) Never!

ROL: backstage emote emits a short grunt as he makes his attempt to defend, his entire body and defense wearing down by the sheer brute strength of Sestimus’ blows.

SES: backstage emote laughs and growls as he makes his final strike, swiftly impaling Roland upon his katana through the gap of his full plate in his side.

ROL: backstage emote stumbles backwards from the strike in horror, his side bloodied as he collapses upon the ground.

SES: backstage emote wipes his bloodied blade along his full plate in evil satisfaction as he approaches Roland’s body.

ROSL: backstage emote moves to stand before her injured brother, her lyre lifted and pointed at Sestimus.

ROSL: backstage say Stay back, Sestimus.

SES: backstage say (Spitting his growling words) I shall draw and quarter his insignificant hide, now that victory has been won. Let me through, wench!

ROSL: backstage say Have you not caused enough destruction? Cease now, before it is too late.

SES: backstage emote moves forward, and with one vicious paw grasps Rosaline by the neck and squeezes tossing her aside into a pile of bodies.

SES: backstage say (Snarling) No. Mercy.

ROSL: backstage emote stumbles upon her feet, wheezing as something cold and dark lights her gentle eyes.

ROSL: backstage shout Don’t you -dare- touch him!

ROSL: backstage emote springs forward, her lyre within hand as she stretches out the other and opens her mouth in grim, violent, but beautiful song that coats her very lips with the sounds of the Wyrd rising to life through the Shadowbeat.

backstage effect create QQ 13 As if upon Rosaline’s command, the body of Roland is shielded by a dark bubble of inky shadow that sinks into his skin. He lifts from the ground in disjointed cracklings of bone healing, of wounds knitting and as if his very life-force is not quite returned to his body underneath the clandestine song of his sister. The more his life is renewed, the more appears to drain from Rosaline as her knees begin to buckle even as she remains steadfast.

SES: backstage say (Venomously) You. STOP THIS! STOP IT, I SAY!

ROSL: backstage emote remains singing, her eyes growing half-closed as the figure of Roland just beyond her sight is reinvigorated with all of her power. Her very body appears to be vibrating with the sound and strain of her lyre and voice, which booms relentlessly across the battlefield - drowning out all but the precise direction of its nightmarish sound.

SES: backstage emote wraps his paws about her neck, bending her form back with just one small twitch of his strength. After a moment, she struggles and falls limp within the grip and is once more tossed against the ground with a thud of flesh.

As the song fades, silence falls and the battlefield is still.

ROL: backstage emote groans as he takes up his sword once more, his gaze immediately falling upon his fallen sister. A glacial fury takes his features as he brandishes his blade in an elegant sweep of technique, focused and prime for one last bout.

SES: backstage say (Cowering as he moves his sword before his figure) What they have said about the curse of your House is true! Stay away from me, foul inferiority!

ROL: backstage say (With a dark laugh, his bloodied body rising from the ground where he had perished) How blind you are, my friend, my sword shall show you the true meaning of justice in the Wyrd!

SES: backstage emote swings his katana with one thrust, attempting to quarter Roland in half.

ROL: backstage emote dodges slowly aside, barely missing the edge of the katana as he counters with a feint.

SES: backstage fumbles with an advance, his footwork allowing an opening within his defenses. His face immediately reveals his defeat.

ROL: backstage emote jabs forward with an advance-lunge, narrowly missing Sestimus as he continues to edge him closer to the cliff. With one last strike, he turns his body and shoves him across the cliff.

SES: backstage emote barely manages to stay abreast of the cliff, grabbing at Roland’s armor which reveals that he is unwounded and merely stained with another blood.

ROL: backstage say (Gazing at Sestimus calmly) For the Wyrd. And my -sister-.

ROL: backstage emote gives one final push with the hilt of his katana, releasing the tae’dae from his armor.

SES: backstage say No! Please! Have mercy! Nooooooooooo!

ROL: backstage say (His face expressionless) No mercy.

ROSL: backstage emote gasps as she comes out of the induced stupor inflicted by Sestimus’ nearly fatal blow, coughing and hacking as she rises from unconsciousness.

ESA: backstage emote rushes to Rosaline’s side, her small webbed hands pushing strands of delicate hair and opening the collar of her student’s gown to allow her to breathe.

SES: backstage exit lets out an inhuman shriek, his form tumbling from the cliff. His claws drag at the dusty ground, leaving trails of his desperation in the wake as he makes one last attempt to use his sword to save him from his ultimate demise. With only the strength to hold on for a few moments, he gazes up and sees the ruse of Roland and Rosaland being revealed. Fumbling on his grip in surprise, he screams one last cry of vengeance and despair as he plummets to his doom.

ROL: backstage emote staggers to the reclined form of Rosaline, his katana skittering across the earth by the cliff.

ROL: backstage say (Exhaling weakly as he gathers her in his arms) Rosaline, are you alright?

ROSL: backstage say (Clutching at her bruised vocal chords) Well enough, you certainly took your time.

ROL: backstage emote chuckles darkly, tugging upon his armor to reveal the bruising and the packet of depleted goat’s blood along his middle.

ESA: backstage say But…how? You must have -

ROL: backstage say (Distantly) It was no easy feat. But it is done.

ROSL: backstage say (In shock, her nose wrinkling) You placed it too low! Roland, how could you! You imbecilic-

ESA: backstage say (As if aside to herself) You both knew all along…

ROL: backstage say (His tone gentle) Rosaline.

ROSL: backstage say I told them to find more suitable carrion blood, but no…They just had to -

ROL: backstage say Rosaline!

ROSL: backstage say What?!

ROL: backstage say (A verdant summer glint in his eyes) Death would have been the least of our worries.

ESA: backstage say He is right you know, there are far more worse things that could happen.

ROSL: backstage say I suppose he is…My lyre is destroyed, and with such I know the Shadowbeat will never accept me. The Chosen of Night have gained their Daughter at last.

ROL: backstage say As have the Painted of Crow, for their faulty poison.

ROSL: backstage say I must thank those creatures. Crow and Night truly act as one within us.

ROSL: backstage exit attempts to frown, but her smile breaks through as she reaches for a bloodied handkerchief in her sleeve.

ROL: backstage exit tilts his head to one side, grimly gazing at the precipice not far from his feet.

As the slowly curtains draw to a close with a sweep of velvet, the last glimpse of is one of weary triumph as Rosaline embraces Roland with a tight squeeze of her arms as she reaches her handkerchief to dab the blood from his chapped lips.

The Father Tree in the distance sends raucous murders of crows from its slick shelter to praise them both for their deeds.

ESA: Backstage exit remains in the background, her eyes widening as midnight roses begin to blossom all around the sister and brother, their roots rising from the spilt blood upon the battlefield. The embrace of the thorns seems to hold a semblance of permanence as each petal of the blossoms themselves glitter and emit a decaying, savage scent.

A ray of Night’s darkness breaks across the sunset in the distance, laureling all in evanescent smoke. And as the last bit of Father Sun breaks across Rosaline and Roland their figures turn to stone, a mere statue within the memory of Esandru who withers away into the form of a wretched, blind hag.

[HAG enter]

EPILOGUE:

Stars struggle through the illuminated ceiling of the hall above, attempting to reveal the sign of the Spider through the eventide shades that paint Mother Night in her cruel beauty.

HAG: backstage say Under the sign of the spider, born of still-death two shall come. They shall be known by the glint of their eye’s in Summer’s sun, through many seasons they will pass, until their time of sacrifice - Where all things shall begin again, when the roses rise at last.

HAG: backstage say And indeed, how they grew. As did the Wyrd. The sacrifice of friends through their betrayal led to the advancement of the Southern Forest. Their blood, their suffering - Their Black Sorrow and Blood Thirst consumed them, and so within these two twin servants of the Wyrd, the soil was fed.

HAG: backstage say Embrace your fears and use them, your dreams are not yours - Despite how much we live them, as Rosaline and Roland lived them. Leave the memories of your failure behind, and sacrifice all that you have to see that which you are loyal to thrive.

HAG: backstage say (With a faint, toothy smirk) For n’h Wyrd - In Wyrd, there is absolute truth.

FIN

CURTAINCALL