Out of the Shadows

He stood upon the parapet leaning heavily upon the battlements.. His black robe whipping against the force of the chill north wind that sucked greedily at the warmth of his form. His mentor and foster father, Lord Prospero, away on one of his dimension walking trips. These trips had become more frequent of late. As had the interim Lord of the House's trips to stare out at the landscape of keeps and towers littering the countryside northeast of the city of Britain. His duties had become hard since he once again began travelling the path of Balance. Prospero had given him the mantle of Lord in his abscence. A heavy weight that threatened to drag him once again into madness.
And the Coven was gathering. He would have to walk a fine line to maintain and succor his alliegances. His brethren still harbored the old animosities of their persecution. Did Ariyana truly have the fortitude and "sight" enough to restrain and redirect old habits? While never truly "evil", many of his brethren were of chaotic, selfish bent. Could a place be made for them in the High Council's "scheme of things"? Or would intolerance and hatred on both sides return the Coven to the Deep Shadows once again?
The Coven was re-establishing itself and had shown direct support for the Council by it's selfless acts in Skara Brae and Moonglow. Lady Ariyana Sune claimed the caer to the southeast of Moonglow, the Covenstead, and her claim had been recognized by the House of Lords. Other than a few jabs between Coveners and members of the Highland Guard, they were acting as model citizens. The Shrine to the Goddess was once again lit by the hearthflame. The Coven had sent emmisaries to the Council, giving one of their own in a show of goodwill.
"Boromir has made the first Sacrifice, who now will follow suite?", Arathorn asked himself..

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MadCeltUSA Sagan Wizard of Lore Posts: 82 (9/22/03 9:59 am) Reply	Out of the Shadows The rider sat astride his ghostly steed, shrouded in black. His face was forgotten in this island town. The young Guardsmen blissfully unaware of his past associations and connections to the defunct Shadow Collective. As the family dispersed to the Four Winds, he had returned to the familiar role of solitary hunter. This was his first foray into the civilized lands in many moons. He had kept his devotions and stayed abreast of the happenings in Brittania while he became a forgotten memory to the townsfolk of the realm. He had learned that subtlety and tact would go a long way to quell any misgivings people might have toward a warlock with his questionable past. And so he kept his presence as inconspicuous as possible. Times were changed, indeed, he thought to himself. Drow and Uruk walked the streets of Crown cities with impunity. Jakob had been elevated to supreme commander of the Brittanian Armed Forces, and the Guard more tolerant of crime than he would have thought possible. The Royal Knights of Redemption had risen to a powerful force for the Council. The Council itself negotiating a seat for the Atalan at Trinsic. A sneer flowed across his usually impassive face as his keen hearing picked the word "Coven" from the crowd around the bank. He sidled his mount a bit closer and cocked his head to hear a bit clearer. A frown quickly replaced the sneer as he ascertained the speaker represented a "new Coven", not of witches and warlocks, but some twisted perversion of nature itself. Daemons inhabitant in human bodies? Daemons were for the most part brutish and stupid, and he found this new breed fit the mold well. The speaker boasted and blustered more than Kane after a bout with the Covenstead wine cellars. But his devotion was clear. He quickly returned his strong box to the attendant guards and muttered the incantation of recall, touching the pink runestone that Ariyana had given him years past. A smile filled with malice broke over his features when his vision cleared and he saw Ariyana Sune and Drakmathus sitting on the front porch of the Covenstead. He thought briefly to himself, "A new Coven, aye? We shall see....." Continued again later....
MadCeltUSA Sagan Wizard of Lore Posts: 83 (9/24/03 9:48 am) Reply	Rebirth of the Goddess...? He stood upon the parapet leaning heavily upon the battlements.. His black robe whipping against the force of the chill north wind that sucked greedily at the warmth of his form. His mentor and foster father, Lord Prospero, away on one of his dimension walking trips. These trips had become more frequent of late. As had the interim Lord of the House's trips to stare out at the landscape of keeps and towers littering the countryside northeast of the city of Britain. His duties had become hard since he once again began travelling the path of Balance. Prospero had given him the mantle of Lord in his abscence. A heavy weight that threatened to drag him once again into madness. And the Coven was gathering. He would have to walk a fine line to maintain and succor his alliegances. His brethren still harbored the old animosities of their persecution. Did Ariyana truly have the fortitude and "sight" enough to restrain and redirect old habits? While never truly "evil", many of his brethren were of chaotic, selfish bent. Could a place be made for them in the High Council's "scheme of things"? Or would intolerance and hatred on both sides return the Coven to the Deep Shadows once again? The Coven was re-establishing itself and had shown direct support for the Council by it's selfless acts in Skara Brae and Moonglow. Lady Ariyana Sune claimed the caer to the southeast of Moonglow, the Covenstead, and her claim had been recognized by the House of Lords. Other than a few jabs between Coveners and members of the Highland Guard, they were acting as model citizens. The Shrine to the Goddess was once again lit by the hearthflame. The Coven had sent emmisaries to the Council, giving one of their own in a show of goodwill. "Boromir has made the first Sacrifice, who now will follow suite?", Arathorn asked himself..
MadCeltUSA Sagan Wizard of Lore Posts: 84 (9/26/03 12:45 am) Reply	Conversations at Skara Arathorn Peredhil, Regent of the House of Prosper, Half Elven Mystic Archer, Morgalen Sereg of the Coven of the Secret Shadows, was troubled.. He sat hunched over a desk, pouring through maps and parchment he had gathered and scripted himself. A word now haunted his thoughts unmercifully, brought to light by his conversation with Ari earlier in the day. The day had begun as a fine, warm fall day in Skara Brae. The town recreation center the scene to a revealing conversation with his high priestess, Lady Ariyana Sune. They talked about the beginnings, trials and tribulations, and the future of the Coven. Arathorn had not always followed the path of Balance as he did now. And his initiation into the Coven was recent in relation to many of his brethren. Who chuckled at his stringent adherence to the path. Balance had been forced upon him in an odd way by Ariyana herself. Arathorn was afflicted by a madness of the spirit, uncurable, but treatable. The treatment was a combination of potions and meditative exercises that balanced the combative spirit inside him. His exercises and resumed training with his mentor, Lord Prospero and Lady Sune had brought him to believe that Balance was the proper state of existance. The conversation ran long into the afternoon, as Ariyana was feeling quite talkative of late, motherhood providing her her own sense of Balance. The dire, caustic-tongued witch of old replaced by a girlish charm that still amazed him in it's sincerity. Wisdom the woman had in plenty, but that heartfelt laugh would take her farther through the House of Commons, or the High Council as it likes to call itself, than a thousand enchantments and charms. And to the Council the Coven meant to go. After all, Moonglow and Verity Isle were home to the Coven. If the Atalan could bargain for Trinsic, why should not the Coven petition for Moonglow. The wars have left vast holes in the realms infrastructure. And the Coven had the background to represent the city of Moonglow and it's magical heritage. But the word again reverberated through his mind he turned back to his studies. A nymph had been his guide to his heritage, a gift from the Goddess for his devotion. She had shown him the place of his mother's birth and the method of the death of his kin. Lizardmen who followed a mysterious figure known only as the "prophet", and hints at a tome of knowledge that lay hidden in Ilshenar. He had found the Sereg ar'Isil, an artifact of his people, that he wore upon his wrist at all times. He had yet to make the journey to the deep jungle in Ilshenar where was, he thought, the last known stronghold of this "prophet", but the tales of Ari's youth had returned the thought to the forefront of his memory. Perhaps he should gather an expedition to Ilshenar soon, and perhaps bring a gift of Balance to the kind priestess who took him in and showed him enlightenment. Or perhaps a bit of scouting on his own to make sure it would not be a nightmare returned to haunt her. He would keep his thoughts hidden until he knew more. He quickly gathered the pile in front of him and locked it safely in a small wooden chest. He then turned to the affairs of the manor, which had grown considerably in his neglegence...

The Coven of the Secret Shadow > Voices of the Watchtowers > Out of the Shadows
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