Intro Log: October

[faileas]

Intro Log: October

I. ARRIVAL Out of nowhere, a glint of light catches your eye; your heart thunders in your ears as your body moves on its own, your mind consumed with inspecting the source. Your reflection stares back at you, just as curious from the surface - a mirror, a pool of water, your most trusted sword, something fleeting that your mind can barely remember - then ripples at your touch. A moment later, you feel a tug, and you find yourself stumbling into a dark, musty room. Behind you, a mirror stands ornately decorated with reminders of home wrought in brass and wood: the faces of people you know, and symbols important to you; all things that send a pang through your chest with the desire to return to them. Touching the mirror's surface does nothing but leave the stain of your fingerprints. When you turn to survey the room, you find there are hundreds of other mirrors. None of them are as decorated as yours - they're plain and dusty, speckled with age. Then you realize a second thing: You're not alone. Distantly, the ringing bell of a clocktower can be heard. But no matter its distance, the time is clear to make out: it chimes three times, stark, resonating like a pulse of something in this mirrored hall that you and many others have found yourselves in. For those familiar with magic, they might feel the power of the witching hour upon them, though it will feel different from what they're used to - in fact, everything does. You're certainly not the only ones here, however. On the first floor, with the doors wide open behind them in the foyer, is a small group headed by two individuals. As people begin to arrive, to come from the higher floor, they're waiting - and they're waiting for you, and your questions. Explore the rest of the mirrored halls you've now found yourselves in, or proceed to the foyer? Leaving the Looking-Glass House makes it obvious that the clock striking three was for 3 AM - the night sky is faintly cloudy, but the stars are dim in the face of two moons, even so close to the new moon as it is. The Looking-Glass House is rather nondescript two-story cottage made of grey brick, sitting at the edge of The Coven's courtyard; stones which glow as you step on them mark the path to and from the two buildings. While fairly small and plain on the outside, the inside has been enchanted to be the size of a large library, with hundreds upon hundreds of mirrors hanging, standing, and resting inside its walls. Some are broken, some are cracked, and some seem completely uninjured - but all of them are just as plain as the cottage itself, showing age in the silver beneath their glass and in the greening of their metals... Well, all except a character's personal mirror; to characters, one mirror - the one they came through - will be decorated lavishly with metal-and-wood-wrought reminders of home, and the surface will be as clear as a brand-new mirror.

II. THE WELCOME PARTY Whether you've decided to find a way out of the building you've arrived in, or decided to explore the rest of the Looking-Glass House - and perhaps finding a few familiar faces among the crowd - you feel a pull towards the foyer of the first floor. It's like a firm suggestion, as if to take you by the hand and draw you to where it begins, and the source of it becomes quite apparent upon finding one's way to the front room: a tall, comfortably-dressed older woman and her even taller wolfish companion, along with those which feel to resemble yourselves in a world-traversing sense: Mirrorbound, they're called. "There's always a right lot of you coming in, aren't there." The woman sets her hands on her hips, with her Bonded casting a glance at those looking confused - newly arrived - and those who may have followed them in to talk to the newest addition of their mirrorbound bunch. "About time for introductions though- this here's Mhairi Ainsley, ambassador to the Parliament and my Bonded, and I'm Nerissa Bell, Head Witch of the Coven - but you can just call me Miss Nessie, you can," she adds, winking. "The lot of you must be as tired and confused as the last batch - hullo to those who've joined us, too! - so just a moment, dearests, I'll set all you right up—" With nothing more than a wave of her hand, rows of seats are summoned; despite their wooden nature, they're all sturdy and comfortable, filling the foyer and spreading out a ways into the lawn behind them, making room for all of the new arrivals as well as the previous batch. After all, they'll find this just as interesting. The Witches and Monsters that accompanied Nessie and Mhairi move to make room, and some disperse into the building itself to see if there's anyone who needs tending to. Mhairi steps forward as the chairs materialize. "Please, those who are able, join us for a moment. There are many questions that I'm sure you have - we will do our utmost best to answer them, and you may take any that we can't as a promise to find some sort of solution or answer." NOTE: If you wish to interact with Nessie and Mhairi, please comment here. You have the option of handwaving the IC interaction to OOCly ask what questions your character might have for them, for us to summarize an answer for, or you can request an IC thread. Simply specify in your comment's subject and we'll respond accordingly. For those that'd like a more player-based interaction, Aefenglom has its own Welcome Wagon under the same header! These are players who've volunteered for the role, and those that didn't sign up may assist as well if they'd feel their character would -- have fun, and make friends. Additionally, those with notable injuries or sickness will be attended to ASAP by Coven-based witches, and should anyone be curious about what they are - if they have magic potential, or if they swing a different way - then this can be done during this and the general hour or so the new arrivals are within the Coven's grounds. There are ongoing classes on magic, monsters, and Bonding as well, though they take place more during the day than at night - feel free to have your characters attend them at any time!

III. THE HAVEN After an hour or two of general chaos, questions that the natives attempt to help with, and injuries tended to for those who arrive in poor condition, it's time to make a trek to where you'll be staying while Nessie and Mhairi continue to search for a solution to the situation. As you're leaving with a few Bonded for guides, peculiar-looking devices - watches, the native Witches explain, compliments of Parliament - are passed around to all the new arrivals; they're given a quick rundown on their functions and bid to test them out when they can. They can even do it as they make their way out of the Coven's courtyard and to the Haven. Formerly part of the Aristocratic District, The Haven is just as well-kept and brightly-lit as the district it hails from. The houses err on the tall and ornamental-side, large enough to fit several families (or, according to the upper class, their one family, several dozen servants, and guests), especially closest to the Aristocratic District. They become a little more modest and smaller as one gets away from the realm of high society and nearer to the Residential District proper. Newcomers are shuffled here and invited to find somewhere to live - the Coven is currently handling expenses for the houses themselves in a program implemented by the Parliament, though if your character wishes to have anything extra - like maids, chefs, and so on - they'll have to pay for them themselves with their own earned money. Much of the landscape and fixtures are the same as in the Aristocratic Districts, though it lacks formal emergency services due to its roots as part of a district that already did. Much of the housing already has furnishing due to the speed at which homeowners were relocated; they were given enough time to collect their valuables, but standard furniture such as kitchenware, couches, beds, etc. were left behind for those moving in. Other houses appear the same, but the dust on the floors suggest these houses were left before the new arrivals even showed up - a reminder that the Cwyld can strike just about anyone, regardless of standing. Another portion of this district has been opened up to the new arrivals: the barracks, the row of buildings pressed against the very edge of the Bright Wall. As the city's military force no longer has the same presence it previously did, the barracks have gone into disuse, and a cleanup effort has been in place since before the new arrivals came through the Looking-Glass House. For those who desire something a little less opulent, the barracks might just be the answer. The barracks can also be used for business, for a welcome center, a communal space, for anything that the residents of the Haven see fit to use it for - so long as the legality isn't questionable, on the surface. To help with filling up the larger houses - and even some of the smaller ones, and the shared rooms in the barracks - the Witches put together a little roommate finding service, on a smaller scale from the grand opening of the Haven. For those who aren't entirely sure who they want to shack up with, they have a small survey for them to fill out and post on the board they've magicked up in the center of The Haven. The board also very helpfully reads aloud each form for everyone to hear in a cheerful, monotone voice. It isn't able to be shut up, nor is it easy to ignore, being imbued with a kind of amplification magic. It reads simply the information you've offered up yourself, or that someone might have written up for you, should that be their idea of fun.

IV. Samuin There's an odd sense of relief in the air, newly arrived may notice, and it's common talk to hear about the return of those from another city; Dorchacht, they gossip, must've been terrible for their dear Speaker, who'd felt to them more weathered than she'd been previously, not to mention to all the Mirrorbound that went with her. Right shame, it was, how they acted over on the west coast, those Dorchachtians. It'll be common talk for a while yet, with increasingly worse rumors spread about that city to the far northwest, but not all of them can be true... right? While the black market moves back beneath the city, weaker than they were coming up, the goblin market remains in their places in broad daylight, happy to parse their wares to newcomers and oldbies alike -- with Samuin coming up, there's all sorts of things necessary to have on one's person, they say, absolutely key to keep bad spirits at bay! They say the boundaries are weaker this time of year, after all, wouldn't want your new year to be cursed right off the bat! Though Samuin's still the month away (it's at the end of the month, anyone'd tell you), the people are eager to gather their parchment, write away their worries, and start Geardagas's year off right. a. Aristocratic District With Samuin bringing in the new year on Geardagas, the Coven is eager to be rid of old, outdated things and bringing in the new -- this means they're offering spots for magitech demonstrations, extracurricular class presentations to be added to the potential roster, and even recipes to be used. Not just in the cooking sense either; they're excited to see alchemical results as well, and won't shy from innovative, even unconventional uses of different schools of magic, runes, and botany. Witches have brought their own game to the front, putting on spectacular shows with how conjured blankets can offer the placebo of warmth for a time, new techs that enhance readability in the dark (and they shine like the stars! floating crystals in a lamp!), so on and so forth. Won't you join them? While the Coven is in higher spirits with their Speaker returned lately, Parliament seems to be taken a breather as well, and while their eyes have set on the city once more they seem a little more lenient with what constitutes as a performance -- at least during Samuin proper, though the building itself, for those who visit, is certainly less tense than it was previous. There's tight-lips as far as Dorchacht's concerned, for those who ask, so there won't be any information to be found about that here, but there's plenty of talk of "scum" found in their own city that have had judgement passed on them and found them guilty of immeasurable crimes, and also of finding the root of their operations so they won't end up having something akin to Dorchacht beneath their streets. The rich people who live still in the district, with their overly extra houses and colorful personalities, throw exuberant parties all across the month -- there's to be a grand fireworks display at the end of Samuin, but they're taking liberties as they do every year to put on their own, seeking Witches to entertain however they can and, surprisingly, offering the same to Monsters; they still look down on the lower born, there's nothing that can stop that or their stuffy attitudes in general, but it seems the city's in a bright mood thanks to one of the most important holidays of their year. b. Residential District Preparations for Samuin are well underway for both sides of the Residential District, separated by the River Temese. Octeuril is a month for celebrating the end of the year, and for remembering and honoring those who are no longer living. On both sides, humans and Monsters both are hard at work cleaning their homes and businesses, and getting rid of things they no longer need - porch sales pop up all through the month outside of homes, selling off whatever folks have decided to part with: a lot of antiques, hand-made items, old clothes, things that are worn but could possibly be useful to someone else after a good spit-shine or fixing up. On the Eastern side, some artisans or hobbyists are even selling brand new pieces - this is a time for weavers and textile artists especially to shine, selling elaborate and cozy woolen blankets, to cuddle under as you watch the fireworks shows at the end of the month, or fancy clothes and costumes they've made. A few have even laid simple enchantments on their wares, resulting in tapestries that tell a story as the little thread figures move about, or dresses that shimmer like the night sky. On the Western side, the porch sales are simpler and full of more practical items, and don't seem as celebratory of the wares, but they make up for it by holding small bonfires outside at night, taking turns telling ghost stories and old legends, or tales of ancestors long past. If you have a story to share, true or made up, most circles will welcome you, offering you a hot drink and a piece of heavy, fruit-laden spice cake in return. (Get the piece with the coin in it, and you're guaranteed good luck, they say!) One tradition they both share is the airing of grievances and making amends with one another, to start the coming new year off on a good foot. The bridge over the River Temese that separates the Eastern and Western sides of the District is decorated with hanging lanterns and paper flowers, and here is where humans and Monsters, rich and poor, come together to get it all out and forgive. Mostly these are heated discussions that end in hand-shakes and smiles, but occasionally a scuffle breaks out; it's fine, they're getting it out of their systems. c. Shopping District The Goblin Market is bustling with activity, lately, just a little more out in the open than they were before. The selection of vendors seem... maybe just a little less shady. Some are eager to whisper gossip about the change, telling curious Mirrorbound that oh, it's too dangerous lately to sell items that aren't above the board, so to speak. Why, some of those sellers, the ones with living wares, they've taken a huge hit to their coinpurses from merchandise disappearing! Seems fair and just, doesn't it? Would you like to look at some of their own fine products? All ethically sourced, of course, this shed Faun antler was purchased fair and square from a willing Monster! 'Ethically sourced' is a big trend this month for Goblin Market sellers, with similar phrases scrawled across stall signs and banners to indicate that their ingredients were sourced fairly, given freely. They carry a wide variety of Monster parts for re-sale, though most of it are parts that could have been obtained without harming the Monster, and Witch's blood, donated, they'll say. Potions and charms to temporarily mimic a Bond, talismans that supposedly keep a Monster from going feral, they offer all kinds of specialty items, though still none of it is sanctioned by the Coven. With Samuin coming up at the end of the month, the wares laid across tables become more colorful, and more... interesting. Talismans made of dyed Harpy feathers and papery shed Naga skin promise to ward off ill-intent going into the new year, and several vendors are hawking samples of a potion that, they claim, will allow you to speak to dead loved ones. To Mirrorbound, they may claim these magical concoctions will let them speak to loved ones beyond the glass - but these claims are patently false, and the potions have a wide array of side-effects, including hallucinations, paranoia, skin or hair changing colors, or a burning fever that only abates when the afflicted cuddles up to someone close. Luckily, these symptoms will wear off in just a few hours. You're liable to start a fight if you ask for your money back, though. d. Harbor District The Harbor District is lively this time of year. Besides the Samuin traditions the entirety of Aefenglom enjoy, the sailors have their own. During the day, many of them set up tables wherever they can find the space to help each other make bright, painted lanterns to hang on the sides of their ships, to ward off evil spirits and welcome the good spirits. If you have some time to spare, they'll say, you're welcome to paint a lantern to hang outside your door! Then, every evening, the parties start at dusk and last clear until dawn, often spilling out of the bars and taverns into the streets. Drunk revelers play shabby instruments and sing folk songs and sea shanties, and they lead each other in exuberant dances under hanging lanterns. If asked, any seaman will tell you that you have to get it all out of your system before the new year begins! One last hurrah of drunken fun! (Several of them will swear they're going to cut back their drinking and be more serious - they've been saying the same thing every Octeuril for years.) Even the children in the orphanges around the factories get in on the fun, in their own way, making paper masks of fanciful creatures, and going door to door, or even just from street to street, to ask for trinkets, money and food so that they can have a good Samuin at the end of the year. But if you don't give them anything, well. They consider a kick in the shins to be proper retribution. Children can be so mischievous. Despite having less than most, the people of the Harbor District and the sailors are quick to welcome new faces into their parties, happy to include any Mirrorbound, and the Monster refugees from Dorchacht, sharing drinks and conversation. "It's nuts, what's happening up there," the sailors say, eager to share the latest gossip from their trade routes. "It's not much in or out of Dorchacht right now, is it? After chaos broke out and all. Their Resistance seems to be holding strong, and good for them, aye! Maybe we'll see things improve up there yet!" They'll toast to good luck for the Resistance, and good luck for the refugees, and good luck for the Mirrorbound alike.

Welcome to the intro log! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs; take the prompts offered and go wild, go crazy, go stupid, have fun. The network system is free to use once characters have their watches as well; information on that can be found at the bottom of the Setting page, while any extra questions about it can be found in the FAQ index. Quests can be picked up now as well! While new characters will have to get settled in, you can go ahead and put your name on some by replying to the October's Quest Pickup thread on the Quest Board. Finally, if your character is getting into any Shenanigans, let the mods know and if you have any questions about the log, ask them here!

Comments

[omnicrafter]

Not too bad, you say?

[Still, she can't help but smile, figuring it's intended to be a compliment in some roundabout way.]

Thanks. This whole festival, beyond having arcane influences, strikes me as very similar to All Saints' Wake... and in the end, it is a season of remembrance at its heart.

[Irhya quickly fastens the mask to her face, and despite having a few extra bits and patches of color, it definitely still resembles that kind of mask. She grins and solicits another opinion.]

How about this?

[unsundered]

[And it was a compliment, though he's not about to emphasize it by clarifying. Even a crude depiction of Amaurot would have given him pause, and this one was quite lovely.

The mask, however, gets a shade more disapproval.]

Too gaudy. You were better off leaving it plain.

[The gossip it would've started in Amaurot, really. Standing out like that.]

I'd be surprised if there weren't similar festivals in many worlds. Wherever there's loss, remembrance follows.

['What do you even have to remember?']

[omnicrafter]

[She's unfazed by the criticism; if anything, she sort of expected it.]

Hah. I'm afraid I'd be earning all sorts of odd questions if I left it plain.

[But she gets the feeling she knows why he would say that. The shades did react with mild, veiled disgust when noticing she was not in a full-body robe. Most were just too nice to insist she do much about it other than "make her own".]

Most likely, yes. Our Rising festivals, for example, though perhaps that is because the memory is fresh in our minds. It just seems a little sad to think there was something so important that simply fell from the face of history... I think about it a lot lately; but then again, the memory is fairly fresh in my mind.

[Reaching over the table, she grabs a fresh mask and then offers it to him.]

Just wear it if you don't want to do anything to it. It's still something.

[unsundered]

[...It was probably less effort to just give in, wasn't it? The mask was, at least, inoffensive, and the tiniest reminder of home. Even if his should have been red.]

Satisfied? [And perhaps, he didn't mind the familiarity after all.

At the reminder of events falling from history, Emet-Selch is silent; with her art projects, it couldn't have been a coincidence. There was only one place she could be referring to.] I hadn't realized you were listening so closely. It was hard to tell whether you ever absorbed what I was saying or not.

[Maybe it hadn't been a waste of time, following along on a hero's tiresome adventures? Likely not, yet...]

[omnicrafter]

Quite.

[Irhya turns back around and applies a few more stripes of paint to the mask, which is also starting to take shape into something, abstract though it is.]

Mayhap I don't look it, but I have a memory like a steel trap for certain things. Life has just taught me such, even if it isn't my tale to remember. Sometimes, you just meet people who have their own stories worth absorbing for safekeeping.

Granted, I can only speak for myself, but I would like to think someone like the Warrior of Light would do the same for something so important universally.

[unsundered]

Hm, you may be right about that.

[Their apparent personalities may have changed, but some aspects remained in common. Only natural, considering they presumably shared the same soul. Even if this version was a bit more troublesome than the one he was used to, who communicated mostly in stoic nods and punching their fist into their palm, often accompanied by further stoic nods.]

...What's your name, Hydaelyn's Champion?

[omnicrafter]

Irhya.

[And there is an ever-so-slight miqo'te hiss to it somewhere in the middle there, which prompts her to make an addendum a moment later.]

...Don't worry about the finer points of the pronunciation of it. It's rather ironic in meaning, besides; who names their child something that means "the dark of night" in some archaic Keeper tongue? Would most not normally gravitate to the opposite?

[Both an irony and an appropriate name at once, perhaps. She spends a moment staring hard at her mask before grimacing and plucking the feathers off, leaving half-cured patches of glue where they once were on the back side.]

Maybe I should start over... I think you were right about it being a bit much.

[unsundered]

...Just leave it plain, this time. You're not going to improve on it.

[Slightly exasperated disapproval. At least Irhya had realized her error with the feathers, though he had little hope any next attempt would go any better.]

And 'tis a fine enough name to my ears. But then, I am somewhat biased when it comes to the dark.

[A stray thought has him tilt his head, considering.]

If it is genuinely ancient, it could be a surviving echo from a time when the darkness was met with something other than apprehension. Fragments of language endure longer than civilizations, particularly names. --Though it's yet likely to be more recent than that, of course.

[omnicrafter]

Says you. Perhaps you're content with plain, but I like painting, and I would like to think I'm a decent hand at it.

[That much, she's determined to prove. She overhears some of the kids giggling about empty masks in the background and snorts a little indelicately.]

I don't know... it's common knowledge that some Keeper names have survived since the First Astral Era, actually. I'm not all that deeply acquainted with the historical value of mine, but perhaps...

[It is with that thought in mind that she starts covering her mask with black paint from top to bottom, suddenly seized by an idea.]

My sisters and I were named for colors, and I'd always felt I drawn the short straw compared to theirs. But perhaps now I can see the wisdom in it, however belatedly.

[unsundered]

[Pointedly ignoring any commentary from literal children.]

Oh, you're decent, I grant you. But part of art is knowing when to leave well enough alone.

[Though he's not really bothered enough to do more than grumble on general principle. Irhya's choice of solid color is more of an acceptable option, though.]

Finally come around to accepting the value of the dark, hm? Would have saved us all a lot of time and effort if you had realized that from the beginning.

[omnicrafter]

Now you're pushing it.

[Solid it does not stay, however; she starts making a gradient with broad brush strokes, slowly but surely, of a deep blue at the bottom, much like the night sky. It's a big tip-off of what she's actually going for.]

Raw nature can seem artful on its own, true, but you have to actually do something to it to claim it as a work in itself. Unless you're going to claim that mask as a form of performance art?

[unsundered]

I'm not claiming anything of the sort.

[He keeps a cautious eye on her painting, though the gradient, as yet, is only a small curiosity.]

They were never intended to be art in the first place. There were times and places to demonstrate one's individuality, and our masks are not one of them.

[omnicrafter]

[That only causes her to look up, study him for a few moments, and then look back down at her own, undeterred. She starts stippling the mask with little white flecks.]

And perhaps in your society, that worked just fine, but I'd much sooner let the kids here have fun with it for now. And theirs is not a society in which uniformity is held with such great value, so I'd say to let this one go.

...But I think you are right about one thing: I am well at home in the dark, despite being a disciple of Hydaelyn.

[unsundered]

It's not as though I'm doing anything to stop them, you realize.

[Different cultures had different expectations, it wasn't something he was unfamiliar with. Amaurotine society was, of course, the best, it was just an unfortunate part of reality that so little in the current day reflected it.

Her last words get an amused sound from him.]

It's a good thing She can't hear you, your goddess is the jealous sort. [As he continues to watch her painting.] --It's better than your last attempt- [The lack of feathers helped.] but what are you going for?

[omnicrafter]

[A heavy scoff, almost-but-not-quite a laugh.]

Like yours is any less jealous.

[She's grinning wildly as she says it, though; apparently no offense was taken, or perhaps she just didn't take it seriously enough. She doesn't even look at him as she speaks, sarcasm-laden.]

Ah, but what fun is a love affair if it's not a forbidden one, anyway?

[Dipping a flat-bristled brush lightly into the white, she angles herself to minimize the splash as she flicks the bristles at the mask, apparently not caring if she makes a mess of the table. It's clear by the little flecks now that it's an attempt at the night sky, though.]

[unsundered]

[There is the impulse to protest that no, Zodiark was much better than that- or at the very least, Zodiark was still asleep and not capable of being jealous of much of anything.

His tone matches hers for lightness, though.]

Perhaps I flatter myself to have had such an influence. Or was that corruption there all along...?

[Ah, the night sky. He'd wondered if it were something like that, and he hums quietly. The Ascian is also careful to stand well away from her spattering; the last thing he needed was paint all over him. --Well, maybe not the last thing, but it was well down the list.]

[omnicrafter]

Heh. I never claimed to be a perfect angel; people just assume that because they haven't seen the other side of the coin, most of them. I don't have the heart to ruin the illusion for them.

[It's rather a surprise to her that he didn't take the bait, but she shrugs it off; perhaps it's for the better they don't get into a petulant playground argument over it here. Finally, Irhya's brush spins in the water and comes to rest as she lets the object dry for a while before she thinks about adding anything else to it. When she stands up, there are small droplets of paint on her sleeves and collar, and even one or two smudges on her face.]

...Ah. Should've put a smock on. Oh well.

[Well, her hands are covered in it too, but what else is new. She sits down again and stretches, cracking her back over the back of the chair.]

You can keep that mask, by the way. Maybe it'll come in handy at some point, assuming you won't be having the misfortune of turning into anything bizarre.

[unsundered]

You do others no good by letting them keep their delusions. But I suppose no one enjoys a balanced hero. Even if a love of the dark, by all rights, should have nothing to do with evil.

[Not that he and his kind had done much to help that impression, but that didn't make it any more correct.

With the painting evidently concluded, he does take a moment to inspect the finished product- Irhya included, considering the amount left on her.]

Outside of holidays, there doesn't seem to be much a place for masks, these days. [But he'll keep it nonetheless.] And it seems I shall be spared the indignity of transformation, as the powers that be were so kind as to permit me magic instead.

[omnicrafter]

A hero is just a liar with credentials.

[She's fond of saying weighty things like that casually, it seems, because she doesn't even spare him a glance while she's collecting the supplies. Most of the kids have filtered out by now, taking their creations with them, so all that's left is to clean up.]

Ah. Lucky you. Then, may I ask, since I know you've been through it at least once -- does dying hurt?

[Now she looks at him, though, expectant.]

...It's relevant, I swear.

[unsundered]

[The question does draw her an odd look, but an eventual shrug. As much as Emet-Selch attempted to hold onto each of his hosts for as long as possible, they all did, eventually, die. And he'd been around long enough to have been through quite a few of them.]

That all depends on the manner of one's death. An old age, free from illness- not too bad, you mostly just fall asleep. A spear through the gut- much less restful.

[His expression shifts into one of clear disapproval.]

Drowning is the worst. Or burning. ...Quite a few poisons as well, come to think of it.

[omnicrafter]

[The frown on her face deepens. He's been through all of those? Or is he just speaking from assumption on the worse ones...?]

I am told that I'll have to die to complete my transformation. In several moons, it sounds like, but an inevitable part of the process. I'm not necessarily afraid of it, but I cannot help but wonder...

[If only she remembered dying before. What the Sundering must have felt like... though perhaps she's just digging too deeply now.]

So I thought perhaps to ask someone who has been through such a thing before. Then again, I imagine you had more control over it...

[unsundered]

[Hearing that this Warrior was required to die just increases that disapproval. What a cruel world this was.]

Will you need to die in a specific way? If not, there's some less-painful methods I can recommend....

[As conversations went, he had to admit, this was one he wouldn't have expected, wasn't knowledge he'd anticipated the hero being interested in.]

And not as much control as you would think, these bodies we take are as fragile as yours. Of course, I'd try to leave once dying was certain, but before things got too unpleasant, but. Well. My timing wasn't always perfect.

[omnicrafter]

Trust me, I already asked them that. I would sooner have control over it than simply sit on my hands and let it happen. I was told, however, I'll earn nothing but a rap on the knuckles for it.

[She crosses her arms and shakes her head, slouching in her chair. Unsurprising, but disappointing nonetheless.]

So I assume I'll simply die of "natural causes" at some point. If I'm lucky, perhaps I won't even notice...

[unsundered]

Not noticing is the best one can hope for. Really, they can't give you any idea of what to expect?

[He knew a lot about dying, but without knowing what sort of death it would be, the Ascian wasn't sure what sort of advice to give. Although-]

...One thing that tends to happen is a sense of- detachment. A sort of fading out that's not unlike falling asleep, but much heavier. Inexorable. Of course, the more violent ends preclude the ability to dwell on it overmuch, but it's not, strictly speaking, unpleasant.

[omnicrafter]

Likely because they haven't been through it themselves. That is far from the only issue, however... if anything, it's a small trifle compared to what comes after.

[Death will only presumably happen the one time and be done with. The ongoing feeding problems thereafter, however, will last until and unless something changes, and none of her options are particularly pleasing.]

I'll have to feed off people. But I'll either have to suck up my pride and take it off friends who offer it willingly, or allow myself the lapse in moral judgment to hunt someone down against their will.