Wreathed in Stars

EVENTS NEWS #448
Date: 10/19/2013 at 00:32
From: Anonymous
To : Everyone
Subj: Wreathed in Stars

Standing within the swirling nebula that the Goddess called Her home, She watched out fondly through the misty view of Sapience before Her, remembering what had occurred.

It was upon the eve of the year turning to six-hundred and thirty eight that a small group gathered around the Arbor Crystallina, deep within the Crown. Hushed banter flitted back and forth between the citizens and guests alike as they came together to celebrate the changing of the year. The Prophet Mannimar de Valois had completed a ritual to the Moon and the remaining dust scattered throughout the air, but he was not done. He drew forth a carefully folded bundle of cloth and held it with reverent hands.

"In gratitude, my Lady, the Tribe has prepared for You this gift. With the aide of the Lord Bard, who retrieved and fashioned a clasp from the Morning Star, the Lord Smith's ever watchful eye and Mithril needle, and ritual of protection by the Tribe and the Spirits. Together we have crafted the cloak befitting of only You; a cloak of stars imbued with the protective powers of the Spirits."

Mannimar paused, unfolding the fiercely shimmering fabric, "The clasp crafted from Ethian, that which birthed both the Lord Suffering and Lady Aurora, has found itself as the focal point of the Tribe's ritual. We, with the help of the Spirits, have turned its history into protection. Protection that is most potent against both Those of Evil and of Light."

With one last shake, he opened the cloak fully and allowed it to unfurl, revealing the fabric that sent light to coruscate across its surface. "This, o' Nightcleaver, we offer to You in deepest thanks."

Back within the stars She lifted Her hand and the image changed to Her touch, focussing in upon the grand Fortress of the Spirit Walkers before it expanded once more and shifted towards Mhaldor and She narrowed Her eyes. Casting the vision aside, Her hand returned to stroking the unusual fabric of the cloak and Her lips quirked at the corners, the faint shimmer of protection rippling around Her divine form.

She had been gifted with a treasure, protection against that which sought to cause Her harm, and although it would do little against the might of a truly enraged Divine, it was the creation of the piece that protected Her the most.


Penned by My hand on the 24th of Daedalan, in the year 638 AF.