Singing To The Moon

The Journal of a Moon-Loving Priestess

[purplebuddhaproject]

“I will gaze at the moon and cleanse my heart.”

—

Zeami

(via purplebuddhaquotes)

[rally-renduveill]

Opera - The Winter Sun

On this night I had a dream that could not be ignored.

Morale is low and the hope of these people has taken quite the shock. Elune has blessed me on this night with an epic song that may just reinvigorate this honorable nation.

Blessed Elune, thank you for acting as my muse this night.

((What follows is a synopsis of an opera written by Ralleanne Renduveill for the people of Quel’Thelas. The music is composed to work both with and without orchestration. The language is Thalassian.))

ACT I

The bright sun of Quel'Thelas looks down upon a lightly forested clearing in serene silence before the sound of marching can begins to echo through the trees. The singing belongs to a small contingent of Blood Elven soldiers, their voices joining as one as they sing of the battles they are fighting to defend their homeland. They soon make their way into the clearing as their commander - Sollanis Boldblood (Bass) - calls them to order and commands the gathered militia to make camp. As tents are pitched and lanterns hung, Sollanis approaches two of his young captains and praises them for their abilities. Vynlen Starshade (Baritone) is congratulated for his excellent prowess on the battlefield while Zemar Mageseeker (Tenor) is commended for his clever use of strategy. The pair thank their commander before setting about pitching their own tents beside one-another in the center of the clearing. Zemar jovially speaks of the pair’s unshakable friendship and the respect they share for each other. As the sun begins to set, Zemar comments on how close their camp is to their childhood town of Seabreak. Seeing where this is going, Vynlen acknowledges his desire to visit the harbor town and his fiance - Teriah Heartcrown (Soprano) - while they are in the area. Zemar listens intently to the tale of love that Vynlen and Teriah share for as the sun finally sets and lanterns are lit. Once all has calmed, however, a soldier covered in blood stumbles into the camp and announces to all of the soldiers that the town of Seabreak has come under attack before collapsing.

ACT II

Sollanis, Zemar, and Vynlen are gathered about a lantern-lit table within the commander’s tent. Vynlen tries to sway Sollanis to send their army to Seabreak to support the failing defenses but his pleas are denied. Vynlen attempts once more to convince the commander but Sollanis points out how those forces attacking the harbor are too many and too well supported to face at this time. With a short apology, Sollanis announces to the pair that they will continue to march south as was originally intended and leaves. In the distance, a crier announces an oncoming snowstorm before silence fills the tent once more. Zemar eventually moves to Vynlen’s side to try and reassure his companion that Teriah will be alright. Vynlen turns away from his friend before wheeling on him and announcing that they could go and defend the town themselves. Shocked, Zemar attempts to point out the folly of this plan and refuses. Vynlen attempts to convince his friend two more times but Zemar refuses each time, attempting to bring his friend back to his senses. Vynlen will hear none of it, however, and turns his back on his friend before leaving and announcing how he and his troops will save Seabreak. As Zemar is left alone in the commander’s tent, the first flakes of snow begin to fall.

INTERMISSION

ACT III

Snow covers the camp as the soldiers lament the events of the previous night and the sun is blocked by a heavy layer of clouds. Not only has the town of Seabreak fallen but one of their greatest captains has abandoned them and is now a prisoner of the enemy. Zemar sits dejectedly within his tent, head in his hands as the surrounding troops question him on why Vynlen would choose to abandon them. While Zemar cannot bring himself to answer the questions, Sollanis enters the camp to denounce Vynlen’s actions and announces that the rogue captain should be left to his fate. Zemar is eventually left on his own and laments his inability to stop or save his friend. His cries of despair are soon answered when a woman’s voice calls out to him from afar but he is so lost in his thoughts that he believes them hallucinations. As the voice grows closer and closer, however, Zemar soon realizes that the voice is true and belongs to Teriah. As the woman enters the clearing, Zemar runs to her and throws himself at her feet to apologize for not being able to save her fiance. She sings her own lamentations before explaining how Vynlen’s defense allowed her and fellow refugees to escape. More and more refugees enter the camp to add their voices to hers as they announce their shared desire to fight for their loved ones and their homeland as Vynlen did. Their song attracts Sollanis the soldiers back to the camp and, moved by the resolve of Teriah and the refugees she leads, both Zemar and the commander agree to retake Seabreak and turn the tide of this war.

ACT IV

Placed on a makeshift platform within the center square of Seabreak, Vynlen kneels with his hands tied behind his back and his legs clamped down. Completely alone and surrounded by the debris of the past battle, Vynlen gives voice to his doubts on whether or not her truly did the right thing. A crowd of enemy soldiers and trapped citizens begins to gather as he admits to his regret of ignoring the words of his friend and abandoning his command. As the headsman makes his way up the stairs to stand upon the platform, however, Vynlen’s resolve hardens with the knowledge that Teriah was safe and that he did what he felt was right. When the headsman tells him to lower his head, Vynlen instead looks up into the sky and sings out about his love for his homeland. As he sings, the sun breaks through the clouds and a chorus of voices join with his own. Caught completely by surprise, the headsman and the other soldiers in the square are easily outnumbered and dispatched by a contingent of citizens and Blood Elven soldiers led by Zemar and Teriah. Upon taking out the enemy, both Teriah and Zemar release Vynlen from his bindings and the three embrace. They state once more the strength of their bond, comparing it to the strength of Quel’Thelas and its people.

[rally-renduveill]

The events of this post take place on the final night of the Winter Truce and the songs are all reference material on what the compositions of this opera would sound like.

Should you wish your character to be in attendance of The Winter Sun, feel free to write their responses to the performance but please do not interrupt the performers.

\(^w^)/ Thank you and enjoy...

Cast of Characters:

Razail Dusksinger (Baritone) - Captain Vynlen Starshade

Vaelan Cindercloak (Tenor) - Captain Zemar Mageseeker

Catriah Pheonixheart (Soprano) - Teriah Heartcrown

Rai’Thas Starshield (Bass) - Commander Sollanis Boldblood

Jinnra Emberglass (Alto) - Head of Chorus

On the outskirts of The Sunguard’s camp stands a makeshift stage.

While nothing like the grand stages of Silvermoon City or Suramar, this small creation still manages to pull in a decent audience. Refugees and soldiers alike crowd the grounds with curiosity, none of them truly knowing what they are about to witness.

After a time, when the sun has fallen and the moon is on the rise, a tall and spindly Nightborne makes her way through the crowd to stand on a slightly raised platform before the stage. Ralleanne Renduveill looks over the audience, hands wringing together nervously as she provides those gathered with a deep bow. Her tattered robes flutter around bare feet in the cool breeze of the night as she moves back to attention and turns to face the stage. Then, with a flourish of her arms and a quickly sung prayer to Elune, she strikes up the nonexistent orchestra.

From seemingly out of nowhere, a medium-sized orchestra of spirits appears on the grounds before Ralleanne; the priestess’ eyes now glowing with a spectral blue aura. They look to her for guidance as she conducts them through the overture.

As the orchestra reaches the conclusion of this tune, the curtains on the stage open to reveal a sunny forest clearing. The way in which the illusionists and mages Ralleanne pestered into coming having worked tirelessly to make the grove look like that of Quel’Thelas under normal circumstances.

Then, from the distance, a collection of voices can be heard alongside the sound of marching. A contingent of troops led by Rai’Thas Starshield and including Razail Dusksinger, Vaelan Cindercloak, and Jinnra Emberglass enters the stage. They all sing with pride, their voices carrying over the gathered audience as the opera begins in earnest.

Below are a collection of notable performances in the production...

March of the Guard - Act I (Zemar, Vynlen, Sollanis, and Chorus)

The Friendship in Arms - Act I (Zemar and Vynlen)

Let Fate Take Him - Act III (Sollanis + Chorus)

Teriah’s Tale - Act III (Teriah)

Vynlen’s Resolve - Act IV (Vynlen)

[moonunveiled]

sleeping

The fields were sleeping now. Even in his dreams they slept. In the dark shaded land of nightmares that so differed from the emerald colored world he often walked when he slept- the forests were wrong.  No magic flowed here. No druid care maintained these forests. These fields and streams were empty. 

The only thing that moved here was slowly falling snow. It covered the greenery in a blanket of white. It turned the trees to leafless ghosts. It was cold and he walked this silent landscape alone. Lost, he wandered. 

The forest dissolved into a field. The horizon stretched on for miles ahead but in every direction snow. The sky loomed grey and sun and moon hid from sight. The sounds of battle turned his head. Far away the crack and flash of magic and steel lit up the darkness. He hurried toward the fighting, watching elves fall from a distance to enemy mortars and magic. And he gained no ground. He raised his arms to call on nature and felt hollow cold seep through his bones.

The fields were sleeping.

What could he call on when nature was frozen beneath his feet?

Another sound, this time from behind. Hoofbeats. The ringing of metal and breathing of many mouths. Re-enforcements. He stopped his running and turned, a sigh of relief that froze in his throat.

 The bannermen raised blue flags.

He could hear his fellows raising the call behind him. They were routed. Turn about. Split the defense. 

Survive.

The hollow in his bones filled. His arms found the sky. Hands gripped nothing in shaking fists as he forced the earth to hear him. Reached through frost and snow, gripped the sleeping magic and ripped it from it’s slumber. Mighty trees on either side of the approaching cavalry shook, snow falling from ancient boughs. 

Forgive me.

One fist and then the other were wrenched toward the ground. He hit his knees in the snow as trees older than the elven kingdom itself responded to his call. They shook and groaned, limbs cracking before crashing, uprooted, down on the advancing enemy. Snow and earth were shot upward like waves beneath the force, and several more trees gave root to fall like massive barriers, blocking the alliance’s path and killing their soldiers.  His fists opened and his bones felt cold.

“Would you fight for your land, your people, your comrades? What would you give?” “Everything.”

[afallowmoon]

It wasn’t much. A tiny white box tied up with string rather than any kind of fancy ribbon as would normally be appropriate. Considering the circumstances it would surely be forgiven.

Left at the edge of the Nightborne’s tent doorway, it sat unbothered by the scant amount of snow gathered on the ground before it was found. Inside, a pair of delightfully fuzzy socks along with a set of gloves cut to allow for grip with the fingers exposed past the knuckle. Both were a soft cream color and surprisingly (or not considering elves) warm. It seemed they had been enchanted to stay toasty on their own. Convenient.

A note was tucked into the box.

Lady Renduveil,

Keep warm. Mender’s orders. Regards,

Lyrenn

@rally-renduveill

[rally-renduveill]

Lyrenn gave me a gift~!

Two gifts, actually~! A pair of gloves and a pair of socks, both of which have been enchanted to keep my fingers and toes nice and toasty~!

Does this mean he likes me?

Maybe I should ask him out?

Arrrgh... I do not know! I have never been in this kind of position before. Maybe I should ask Esme or Velianor for some advice. Lyrenn is so nice that I do not want to miss my chance of he really does like me.

[rally-renduveill]

Journal Entry: 12 - 29

I am a Sister of Elune.

Sister Ralleanne Renduveill.

I am a Sister of the Fallen.

My childhood goal may have been accomplished but, as I write this, I look over Sunsail Anchorage and can see the ruins with new eyes. There are countless spirits wandering these snowy streets...

Soldiers. Citizens. Refugees.

Pained. Distraught. Scared.

There are so many that I have little time to celebrate my achievement.

I hope I can help them.

I met up with Lyrenn again today.

He is such a sweet man. Never have I ever had someone like him in my life. He is so positive and caring. Always checking in on how I am doing. It truly is a joy to have such an amazing friend within this camp

Annoyingly, Janne continues to mock me for possibly having a small crush on Lyrenn. She is constantly telling me to “go for him” and then offers up... crude advice on how I could “win this boy over” if only I were to act a certain way. Worst of all, she will do this while I am meeting with him knowing full well that Lyrenn cannot see/hear her.

And she wonders why I have refused to channel her...

[[Lyrenn - @moonunveiled]]

[rally-renduveill]

Ritual of The Fallen Moon - Revenant Prestige Class

I fear the ritual but I must complete it…

Snow fell within this forested clearing of Quel'Thelas, a chill wind sending bare branches clattering all around. With the only source of heat being the pale light of an obscured moon, the Nightborne priestess below should have been shivering. Her muscles should have been tight with cold and her teeth should have been clattering noisily. But none of this was happening. Ralleanne Renduveill could no longer feel the cold.

Blackening toes dug deep into the slush as she knelt in the center of the clearing. Her thin hood feel back as she looked up into the sky, fingers coming together in prayer close to her chest.

It starts with one voice. The song carrying through the wood then starts to echo. A faint voice - a reflection of your own - then joins in to create an impossible duet.

The priestess began to sing, her tone quiet and nervous at first as she awaited the inevitable response from within the trees. When she could not hear the echo she had no choice but to increase her volume. It was then that her muscles began to tense and her breathing increased in pace. She had heard her own voice calling back to her in the distance.

As her eyes began to fill with a ghostly light, she found herself wishing to stop the ritual. She wanted desperately to stop the song. To turn away and return to the safety of camp. But she could not do that any longer. The ritual had begun and it had to continue through until completion.

As the song goes on, the echo grows in strength. It comes closer. Steps through the trees until it reaches the edge of the clearing you are performing the ritual in. Then you see your own spirit before you. Just for a second. Then there is darkness and the becomes you.

The soul of Ralleanne Renduveill looked down upon the crumpled up form that had once been her body. Utter horror was written upon her face as thin tendrils of ghastly smoke connected the spirit to her original home. The body continued to sing in its “sleep” as the spirit walked forwards to kneel beside it. She tried to place her hand upon its face but could not. The fingers instead slipped through and came to rest upon the ground instead.

Ralleanne shivered and wanted to cry as she could sense her heartbeat fading. If she were not to revive herself then the ritual would fail and, instead of stepping closer to the world of spirits, she would join with that world forever.

I do not believe that there is anything colder than being dead. It is a cold that is so great that even the spirits shake. It is a cold that makes you feel as though you will never be warm again. When you are dying and your soul begins to separate, that cold begins to sink in. It wraps your spirit up in its embrace and tries to pull you away. Without your body, the cold will take you.

Ralleanne’s soul shivered. Her body’s breathing already having begun to slow as the tether between it and her began to fray. She knew what this meant and knew how little time she had. This would be the moment in which she followed in her grandmother’s footsteps or died without ever realizing her dreams.

With a deep breath that was more for stabilization than anything, Ralleanne placed her hands over her body. She looked up into the sky and could see - in this alternate space on the edge of the veil - Elune shining down upon her. With this, she began to sing once more.

Prayers of song are what cast your soul traveling into the veil and it is song that will draw you back into the physical planes. Oftentimes there would be Sisters on both sides - those living within the present and those of the past who have passed on - to assist in this task but these songs have long since been lost by the modern Sisterhood. The Night Elves have shunned the Sisters of the Fallen. They have gone so far as to even defame them with the ill-suited title of necromancer. I know the truth though. There are some spirits who are trapped on this side of the veil and they have no means to cross over. They freeze and they suffer with no one to care for and comfort them. That is why my family took upon this duty and why I shall follow.

The souls of the departed shall not suffer.

As Ralleanne sang, her voice grew in confidence. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she looked up into the sky above her. Other spirits, those which had spent so long protecting the priestess as she stumbled through life, came to stand around her. They had proud smiles upon their faces as they placed hands upon Ralleanne’s back comfortingly and joined her song.

The tether between the priestess and her body began to strengthen once more as Ralleanne came to smile with pride as well. She turned her eyes from the heavens and looked upon the spirits around her. Each and every single one of them she recognized now. It was like they were old friends which had been away for so incredibly long.

Lucainn Gillustral - Sister of Elune and adept archer. Died when Elune’s temple fell.

Cirgen Maldran - Moon Guard sorcerer. Killed after failing to renounce his craft.

Janne Farglory - Scout during the War of the Ancients. Died after being caught in a trap.

Ferie Rulen - Sister of Elune and fellow healer. Died when Elune’s temple fell.

Serejel Getal - Warrior with the guard. Died in the War of the Ancients.

Syrsia Renduveill - My grandmother. Sister of the Fallen. Sworn to protect me.

These are those who protected me and I shall serve to guide them as they served to guide me.

Her soul was still cold but it felt comfortable now. It was halfway between the warmth of the world and the chill of the veil. She looked once more to those spirits around her and then closed her eyes. When they opened again, she was back in her own body.

She stood, eyes now permanently aglow with that ghostly aura. She should have been freezing after laying in the snow for so long but the cold around her was nothing and she could not feel it. Instead, she felt the presence of something behind her and turned.

Those spirits that had sung with her were all standing there, plain as day for her to see. She gave them a warm-hearted smile and bowed to them.

“Sister Ralleanne Renduveill,” the spirit of Sister Syrsia spoke with utmost pride for her granddaughter as she stepped forwards. “Welcome to the Sisterhood of Elune. You shall certainly make our Mother proud as Her newest Sister of the Fallen.”

Ralleanne teared up as she was given the title of Sister. It was everything that she had ever wanted out of life. The crying of those distant spirits that had been loosed by the war filled her with a sense of purpose. She would comfort and usher them beyond the veil.

The Sister of the Fallen bowed ever more deeply to those spirits gathered there.

“I shall make you all proud. I promise.”

[rally-renduveill]

Correspondence - Velianor: 12 - 22

Dearest Teacher,

This letter is one that I have dreaded writing. You see… There is a ritual that I must perform. It is one that the women of my family have been bound to. It is a ritual that will place me on the very edge of death so that I may forevermore call upon and commune with the souls of the lingering departed. I know now that this is a ritual my grandmother performed when she joined the Sisterhood of Elune. Her prayer book also notes that this is also the ritual that took my mother from me...

Should I succeed, I shall inherit the tasks given to a Sister of the Fallen. Should I fail, however, my spirit shall join those of the faithful that I would have served. It would also mean that those spirits which reside within me will never be able to move on.

Before you tell me not to follow through with this insane plan, you should know that I have already begun the ritual. Every night I am to continue praying underneath each of Mother Moon's phases. I already can tell that my sight and ability to reach beyond the veil has grown stronger. Not only can I now start to make out the forms of the spirits bound to me, I can channel them more easily than before.

Of course… Not everything is pleasant. I can no longer feel the cold as vividly as I once had, for one. Then there is the fact that the ritual itself is quite terrifying. The visions of the lands beyond death are not suited for the eyes of we living. They bend the mind and manipulate it in ways that pull one closer to that side of the gate. Resisting is hard. My grandmother had her Sisters to rely upon but I have gone it alone so far. If you or Felo'Thore were here, I would ask for your help but… I do not know. Perhaps I shall ask Lyrenn to assist. Keep me from falling pretty like my mother did.

I pray that you are safe and I pray that this step in my grandmother's footsteps makes me of more use to the company.

Your Student,

Ralleanne

[rally-renduveill]

Journal Entry: 12 - 20

The eve of battle is upon us once more.

I have discovered much in the time between this and the last encounter. My grandmother's prayer book has revealed much of her/my role and the rituals contained within have begun to make sense. This is what I was always meant to do. It is as if I was always destined to take my grandmother's place as a Sister of the Fallen. It would appear as if even Elune is pleased with my progress. She has shone oh so very brightly these past few nights when I have sung to Her. Her pride in me has sunken into my chest and filled me with such a warmth that I no longer feel the cold. I know this new development should terrify me but I cannot help but feel a growing tranquility.

The spirits I hold are with me now. I know their will and they shall help to serve Elune in the protection of this incredible land. By my song, spear, and gentle hand, I will help to lead the spirits into harmony.

Elune guide us in our task and protect us in our endeavor to calm this land. May this battle be the herald of peaceful times.

[rally-renduveill]

Dungeon Journal - Uldir

((The events discussed below have occurred before the events of the Phoenix War.))

There are places in this world untouched by the light of Elune. Places where the act of creation is perverse and horrible. Places where the spirits of the dead cry out in terror as they long for any kind of escape.

On this night, I entered such a place.

Uldir. It is strange to think that a name so simple could force such fear down my spine even after I have left those corridors behind. This was the reason Velianor sent me along with the Falcon Company though. She wanted to test me with in true combat. She wished to see how I would react to the field of battle.

I think the results were mixed.

The moment the company stepped into the temple, I could feel how wrong this place was. The spirits within me must have sensed the danger here as well for I could feel them pushing for control. They believed this to be a task I could not handle. Something far above my particular skill level. They were not wrong and yet I still fought to maintain control.

I managed to fight back my worry and remain present through the first few encounters of our expedition. I saw great golems who wielded stagnant blood, fire, and some ancient form of technology. I also saw people so terribly brave that they did not even seem to pay these horrors any mind. They have become desensitized to it but I do not know whether I want to grow accustomed to places such as that. The belief that such horrors are commonplace is not something I wish to maintain.

My fear did grip me so greatly at this point that a spirit was forced to take control. I know not which spirit it was nor what events I missed, but Adrianal pulled me back. He made me face the greatest beast within those halls and I am not certain I am happy about that for I am now forced to recall that visage...

The beast G'Huun was something like and yet completely unlike a slug. It slithered across the pustule-laden ground, its mouth leechlike in appearance. It had no eyes that I could see but navigated the area without difficulty. It should not have been able to speak either but instead projected its thoughts deep into your mind. While I was present for the entire engagement, I could never explain what occurred. I moved through the area to keep my allies alive and well, desperately hoping that their next strike would be the last.

Eventually the beast did fall. Thank Elune for that. With any luck that place will start to recover… But I am not sure this creature was the beginning of something much bigger.

Elune, thank you for following me through a place hidden from Your light. May this expedition help bring the harmony that You and Your followers fight for.

[rally-renduveill]

Journal Entry: 12 - 14

Dear Fleet Commander,

You will never receive this letter.

Nor will this letter ever be sent.

It shall live within the pages of my journal forevermore.

Let me start off by saying how utterly horrible this last week has been. Captured friends. Absentee allies. Simmering betrayals. The arrival of news has become a dreaded moment. Growing chills have further demoralized the rank and file as well. So early into the campaign and hope has become a resource in dwindling supply. I have done my best to keep spirits high by offering succor wherever possible but I am not certain my words and prayers are are having a lasting impact. My efforts have even gone so far as to write and perform operatic arias for the troops during the cold nights. I would put on a complete performance but my vocal range is limited to an alto and I have yet to uncover another to join in song with me.

Do you enjoy opera? For whatever reason I feel like you would consider them agonizingly high class when that could not be anything further than the truth. The first operas were actually written for the enjoyment and entertainment of the masses. It was not until later that opera became an art of the aristocratic. That is why I have always made an effort to write my pieces - as sparse as they are - to play into the sensibilities of the commoner.

Why am I writing all of this? You most likely do not care about the history of such trivial things when the drums of war are still sounding. That… And you still will never see this letter…

I miss my friends....

I miss you and Velianor and Felo’Thore. Adrianal is there but I do not know if I have ever seen him smile when he is not standing beside Felo. Tyleril has been a fantastic companion to talk with. He has even taken to reading over my grandmother’s prayer book with me and studying the word of Elune. One person is not enough though and it feels like there are so few faces around that I recognize. So while I work to keep the spirits of others high, I wonder who is there to keep the fire within my heart burning? I know that I shall never quit this campaign but I fear that I may lose my heart in the chill loneliness of a bustling camp.

I pray for your safety each night. May Elune keep you close to Her and protect you during this trial. We will get you out of there....

Your friend,

Ralleanne

[rally-renduveill]

Opera - The Winter Sun

On this night I had a dream that could not be ignored.

Morale is low and the hope of these people has taken quite the shock. Elune has blessed me on this night with an epic song that may just reinvigorate this honorable nation.

Blessed Elune, thank you for acting as my muse this night.

((What follows is a synopsis of an opera written by Ralleanne Renduveill for the people of Quel’Thelas. The music is composed to work both with and without orchestration. The language is Thalassian.))

ACT I

The bright sun of Quel'Thelas looks down upon a lightly forested clearing in serene silence before the sound of marching can begins to echo through the trees. The singing belongs to a small contingent of Blood Elven soldiers, their voices joining as one as they sing of the battles they are fighting to defend their homeland. They soon make their way into the clearing as their commander - Sollanis Boldblood (Bass) - calls them to order and commands the gathered militia to make camp. As tents are pitched and lanterns hung, Sollanis approaches two of his young captains and praises them for their abilities. Vynlen Starshade (Baritone) is congratulated for his excellent prowess on the battlefield while Zemar Mageseeker (Tenor) is commended for his clever use of strategy. The pair thank their commander before setting about pitching their own tents beside one-another in the center of the clearing. Zemar jovially speaks of the pair’s unshakable friendship and the respect they share for each other. As the sun begins to set, Zemar comments on how close their camp is to their childhood town of Seabreak. Seeing where this is going, Vynlen acknowledges his desire to visit the harbor town and his fiance - Teriah Heartcrown (Soprano) - while they are in the area. Zemar listens intently to the tale of love that Vynlen and Teriah share for as the sun finally sets and lanterns are lit. Once all has calmed, however, a soldier covered in blood stumbles into the camp and announces to all of the soldiers that the town of Seabreak has come under attack before collapsing.

ACT II

Sollanis, Zemar, and Vynlen are gathered about a lantern-lit table within the commander’s tent. Vynlen tries to sway Sollanis to send their army to Seabreak to support the failing defenses but his pleas are denied. Vynlen attempts once more to convince the commander but Sollanis points out how those forces attacking the harbor are too many and too well supported to face at this time. With a short apology, Sollanis announces to the pair that they will continue to march south as was originally intended and leaves. In the distance, a crier announces an oncoming snowstorm before silence fills the tent once more. Zemar eventually moves to Vynlen’s side to try and reassure his companion that Teriah will be alright. Vynlen turns away from his friend before wheeling on him and announcing that they could go and defend the town themselves. Shocked, Zemar attempts to point out the folly of this plan and refuses. Vynlen attempts to convince his friend two more times but Zemar refuses each time, attempting to bring his friend back to his senses. Vynlen will hear none of it, however, and turns his back on his friend before leaving and announcing how he and his troops will save Seabreak. As Zemar is left alone in the commander’s tent, the first flakes of snow begin to fall.

INTERMISSION

ACT III

Snow covers the camp as the soldiers lament the events of the previous night and the sun is blocked by a heavy layer of clouds. Not only has the town of Seabreak fallen but one of their greatest captains has abandoned them and is now a prisoner of the enemy. Zemar sits dejectedly within his tent, head in his hands as the surrounding troops question him on why Vynlen would choose to abandon them. While Zemar cannot bring himself to answer the questions, Sollanis enters the camp to denounce Vynlen’s actions and announces that the rogue captain should be left to his fate. Zemar is eventually left on his own and laments his inability to stop or save his friend. His cries of despair are soon answered when a woman’s voice calls out to him from afar but he is so lost in his thoughts that he believes them hallucinations. As the voice grows closer and closer, however, Zemar soon realizes that the voice is true and belongs to Teriah. As the woman enters the clearing, Zemar runs to her and throws himself at her feet to apologize for not being able to save her fiance. She sings her own lamentations before explaining how Vynlen’s defense allowed her and fellow refugees to escape. More and more refugees enter the camp to add their voices to hers as they announce their shared desire to fight for their loved ones and their homeland as Vynlen did. Their song attracts Sollanis the soldiers back to the camp and, moved by the resolve of Teriah and the refugees she leads, both Zemar and the commander agree to retake Seabreak and turn the tide of this war.

ACT IV

Placed on a makeshift platform within the center square of Seabreak, Vynlen kneels with his hands tied behind his back and his legs clamped down. Completely alone and surrounded by the debris of the past battle, Vynlen gives voice to his doubts on whether or not her truly did the right thing. A crowd of enemy soldiers and trapped citizens begins to gather as he admits to his regret of ignoring the words of his friend and abandoning his command. As the headsman makes his way up the stairs to stand upon the platform, however, Vynlen’s resolve hardens with the knowledge that Teriah was safe and that he did what he felt was right. When the headsman tells him to lower his head, Vynlen instead looks up into the sky and sings out about his love for his homeland. As he sings, the sun breaks through the clouds and a chorus of voices join with his own. Caught completely by surprise, the headsman and the other soldiers in the square are easily outnumbered and dispatched by a contingent of citizens and Blood Elven soldiers led by Zemar and Teriah. Upon taking out the enemy, both Teriah and Zemar release Vynlen from his bindings and the three embrace. They state once more the strength of their bond, comparing it to the strength of Quel’Thelas and its people.

[rally-renduveill]

Journal Entry: 12 - 10

Nearly a week has passed since the Battle of the Beard began.

That means two things: I survived the battle and that I am missing close to seven days from my memory. That means that my spiritual guests had complete control over my body ever since the battle began in earnest. This likely explains why many of the soldiers who are set up around my tent have been giving me such worried looks. I cannot really blame them. I doubt that any of the spirits housed within my body can speak fluent Thalassian or Orcish and I would be quite surprised if any of them shared mannerisms. At best, my fellow soldiers will understand the situation that I am going through. At worst, they will all think this Nightborne priestess is touched in the head.

What disappoints me the most about all of this is how, when the going got tough, I gave in and let the spirits take over rather than deal with the battle myself. Velianor would likely berate me and beat me with a stick for that. She worked so hard to prepare me for the battles that were to come and I still fell back upon my crutch. Hopefully she was not being sincere when she said she would be watching over me from the sidelines as I am certain she would be doing more than shaking her head over all of this. With any luck, I will be able to make here proud in the next confrontation.

As for the analysis of my grandmother’s prayer book, I have made some surprising progress. Whichever spirit was in control over my form whilst I was incapacitated turned to the pages I had been looking for on my own for so very long. These pages were located near the end of the tome and were styled more like a journal; my grandmother using her ink to speak at length on her tasks within the Temple of Elune. While these pages were packed with knowledge, I found the most enlightening section to be on her role. Syrsia Renduveill was a Sister of the Fallen. She was charged with setting her fellow Sisters’ souls to rest and apparently this is a position most commonly passed down from mother to daughter. This makes me think that the spiritual sensitivity necessary for the position is hereditary. That would certainly explain how adept I seem to be at channeling those souls attached to my own. It also provides me with some hope. These pages must contain information on the tasks of a Sister of the Fallen and, as such, I should find plenty of rituals and methods through which to commune, channel, and perhaps even summon my grandmother and her Sisters.

Elune is out and watching over the camp tonight and there is a chill in the air that I have not felt since arriving in Quel’Thelas. Tonight will be a good night to sing to Mother Moon. It feels like it has been far too long since I have been able to speak with her.

[rally-renduveill]

Journal Entry: 12 - 03

Dearest Mother, forgive me my spear as it is carried onto the fields of battle, for it may stain the ground with the blood of those before it.

Dearest Mother, forgive me my shield as it is carried onto the fields of battle, for it may protect the souls of my allies whilst others fall.

Dearest Mother, forgive this simple warrior as I step onto the fields of battle, for on this day I lay down Your voice and take up Your hand.

May Your Light and Grace guide us all.

------------------------------------

On this day I draw my spear for the first time.

May this first battle not be my last.

Elune... Please let me not regret this day.

[ocarina-of-what]

A Sudden Package

A large package is left in Ralleanne’s tent. No one is able to say how it got there and who delivered it, nor when, it just appears from seemingly no where the next time she stepped in. Inside if a lovely set of armor- though lovely does not begin to cover it.

It’s the battle set of a Priestess of Elune, outfitted with plate and silks that change from hue’s of lavender to silver with every twitch and turn. Enchanted runes run down the fabric and they are chiseled deep into the silvery metal. The runes are a mix of Nightborne and of the ancient High Elves. It comes with a crowned hood, a large opal gem at it’s center to drop and keep it just over her eyes as she likes. Layers of fabric dip and flow to just above her ankles, with slashes up the legs so she can run easily. Velvet, thigh-high boots are worn underneath with sturdy leggings, outfitted with their own bits of strong plate to keep her protected. It is meant for the winter battle-field and it fits her, to no surprise, perfectly. 

There is a letter in the envelope, simple and unmarked of any names or special adornments.

R. R.

I have never had a pupil before, you shall be my first, and I could not be prouder of your progress. Though my heart is in my throat at your first escapade onto the battle-field, I wish for you the best. Take this armor and use it well, I have asked Adrianal to outfit you with the best medical bag he could muster in these times. Even though you squirm at the idea, you are a priestess of Elune and take from her your power. You should be outfitted like one and not blanch at the title you have earned.

Andu-falah-dor my own Thero’shan. Go into this war with a vengeance and know that even though I am far away and not at your side in battle, my ears and eyes are everywhere and I will know of your hard work. Fight well and learn your lessons hard for the glory of Quel’thalas and for those lives we wish to save.

Elune be with you and keep you safe while I cannot.

Ande'thoras-ethil.

V.N.

@rally-renduveill

[rally-renduveill]

Correspondence - Esme: 11 - 27

Dear Fleet Commander,

I remember you once telling me that I could come to speak with you if I ever needed something. Since you are now sailing the sea whilst I march on land, however, I thought that maybe a written letter would suffice. I apologize deeply if this type of behavior is out of place or unwelcome, please feel free to toss this parchment out to sea but I really needed to get my thoughts down on paper in some way.

You can probably see it in my handwriting, but my hands have been shaking non-stop since the order to march was called. Many of my fellow soldiers passed the time through conversation but I have been lost in contemplation. This is my first campaign and I feel rather lonely. I’ve been keeping separate from the others for the most part. I do not want them to see how scared I am. Perhaps if you or Velianor or Felo’Thore or even Thanidiel were here I would have someone to distract me from the upcoming battles. Everyone who I have grown close to these past months have separate orders though so here I am.

I set up a tent for the first time today. I accidentally knocked the thing over three or four times before it finally stood up. My construction still does not seem terribly stable though. Even now the wind is whipping against the canvas with an intensity I fear threatens another collapse. Hopefully these winds are bringing you good fortune, at least.

The camp has begun to grow quiet now. Lights are dimming. I should best say my prayers and head to sleep now. Tomorrow brings a new day of travel.

I pray that this letter finds you in good health and may Elune provide you with favorable seas.

Sincerely,

Ralleanne Renduveill

[jessipalooza]

Initiate Renduveil,

A letter to myself of this nature is highly unprecedented, but neither does it break any rules or laws. I am not, nor have ever been, a woman of small talk so I will cut straight to the point.

Keep reading

[rally-renduveill]

Correspondence - Esme: 11 - 27

Dear Fleet Commander,

I remember you once telling me that I could come to speak with you if I ever needed something. Since you are now sailing the sea whilst I march on land, however, I thought that maybe a written letter would suffice. I apologize deeply if this type of behavior is out of place or unwelcome, please feel free to toss this parchment out to sea but I really needed to get my thoughts down on paper in some way.

You can probably see it in my handwriting, but my hands have been shaking non-stop since the order to march was called. Many of my fellow soldiers passed the time through conversation but I have been lost in contemplation. This is my first campaign and I feel rather lonely. I’ve been keeping separate from the others for the most part. I do not want them to see how scared I am. Perhaps if you or Velianor or Felo’Thore or even Thanidiel were here I would have someone to distract me from the upcoming battles. Everyone who I have grown close to these past months have separate orders though so here I am.

I set up a tent for the first time today. I accidentally knocked the thing over three or four times before it finally stood up. My construction still does not seem terribly stable though. Even now the wind is whipping against the canvas with an intensity I fear threatens another collapse. Hopefully these winds are bringing you good fortune, at least.

The camp has begun to grow quiet now. Lights are dimming. I should best say my prayers and head to sleep now. Tomorrow brings a new day of travel.

I pray that this letter finds you in good health and may Elune provide you with favorable seas.

Sincerely,

Ralleanne Renduveill

[rally-renduveill]

Journal Entry: 11 - 25

We are going to war...

While I have been training without end these past few weeks, I am uncertain as to whether I am truly prepared for this. Even my master questions my readiness as was the case during this our last practice session. My victories in combat have come at a disappointingly slow pace and the spear still feels somewhat heavy within my hand. Oftentimes I doubt whether I can even have the capacity to use this weapon for its intended purpose; to kill. I also cannot help but wonder if I will be able to effectively defend my fellow soldiers. I have even gone so far as to question whether I should be stepping onto the fields of battle alongside them when my shield shakes with the fear of their deaths or decimation. The fear for them is even greater than the fear for myself...

If only I knew how to consciously summon grandmother and her fellow spirits. They would then become a powerful weapon within my arsenal. For now, however, they are little more than a frustration. Thousands of years battle experience is sitting within my body with no known means of drawing upon it. Grandmother’s prayer book has only doubled this frustration as well. If it were not such a trial to navigate and translate then maybe I would be able to figure this situation out. I know she must have left me hints or instructions within those pages but she refuses to lend me any aid. All I have managed to hear from her is that I must figure this trial out myself. Meanwhile I have done little except narrow my search down to a 205 page section... And even that is uncertain.

I simply must figure all of this out though. My life and the well-being of those who shall stand beside me may in some way count upon it.

Velianor had some ideas I may try out. With any luck, they will work.

Elune guide my spear and shield.

Elune protect us all.