Whiteburn/Logs/2014 Chosen

[Eyes of the Thirteen, Eluned's Shrine]
Glistening like cool water, a blue crystal platform leads toward a coral statue resting deeper within the Shrine of the Ocean Mother.  Fashioned from the same material as the passage underfoot, a great oval dome curves down to cradle the shrine in the deep blue light found within the heart of the sea.  An indigo glaze marks the center of the colored half-sphere above the far statue, as though this were the eye of Eluned herself, gazing down upon the High Altar below.
You also see a crude altar cobbled together from salt-stained oak planks, a narrow archway and a sun-bleached driftwood altar decorated with strands of albatross feathers.
Obvious exits: none.

A single bolt of marine-hued lightning suddenly strikes at the ground near your feet, yet somehow you are not left with a feeling of threat whatsoever, and instead feel as though it was, perhaps, an acknowledgment of you.  

You blink.

You put your coffer in the duffel bag which is inside your rucksack.

You kneel.

You say, "Lord Drogor! I am yours to command, Mighty One."

You bow to a crude altar cobbled together from salt-stained oak planks.

You sling a stormy azure sacrificial Drogorian trident off from over your shoulder.

You gaze at your trident.

You gaze at a crude altar cobbled together from salt-stained oak planks.

You trill fondly at the altar.

A crackle of marine-hued lightning plays across the surface of your trident before disappearing.

You exclaim, "Soon, my Lord, I will have plenty of blood for you. From the worthy and the sinners each... They will know your might!"
 
You throw your head back and howl, "The enemies of Lord Drogor shall drown as the sharks tear them apart limb from limb, and their blood shall feed the lightless depths!"
 
You sense that you are as pure of spirit as you can be, and you are ready for whatever rituals might face you.
 
You feel that the dark gods have cracked a bleak smile of good favor at your attempts to please them.
 
You get a Drogor's Wrath sapphire from inside your mastiff skull.

You say, "If it would please thee, Lord, I return this to you..."

You reverently place a Drogor's Wrath sapphire on the crude altar.

The sapphire explodes in a burst of marine-hued light!

You bow to a crude altar cobbled together from salt-stained oak planks.

You exclaim, "You are as gracious as you are powerful, King of the Deep!"

You grow extremely still from head to tail, delving into the inmost reaches of your soul.
 
A harsh voice enters your mind as fiercely as a tornado!  The howling subsides somewhat, joined by two other, more feminine, voices that seem much more quiet, yet their presence commands power all the same.  Speaking in unison, the voices say, "You, Cleric, Chosen of the Dark, volunteering yourself as a conduit.  You who stayed true throughout it all.  You who sought not to bribe the ignorant, but to show them Truth on its own merit.  Do not forget.  You are not forgotten."
 
You say, "No, I will never forget."

The triple voices continue, "The path is bloody, the path is pain, the path is sacrifice, the path is love, the path is beauty, the path, above all, is knowing."

You nod to a crude altar cobbled together from salt-stained oak planks.

You say, "Yes.. yes, I accept all of that. I fear, I love, I live, I fight, I die... all for You."

You stare intently at a crude altar cobbled together from salt-stained oak planks, your tail abruptly growing still.

The triple voices continue, "I am We, We are I.  Mother, Son, Daughter.  Knowledge, Learning, Ignorance. Nurturing, Birthing, Destroying.  Locked in battle, locked in dance, forever all parts of One to bring all that must pass.  My Wrath is the Wrath of all."

You say, "The people continue to mock, to ignore, to turn aside. They return once more to their private studies and go on in ignorance, thriving off of their own arrogance. It will happen again."

You say, "But..."

The triple voices continue, "You, of the Dark, my Arm, my Voice.  Continue.  They must be reminded, for now, for the future, for all of time.  When they show ignorance, you shall be the Storm that sets them to trial for it."

You exclaim, "Aye. My Lord!"

You raise a stormy azure sacrificial Drogorian trident to your side and bow your head.

You say, "Even if it means that I am to be the world's enemy, I will be your knight. Forever."

You climb up onto a crude altar cobbled together from salt-stained oak planks and stretch out upon it.

You exclaim, "Let all those who wallow in ignorance tremble!"

You throw your head back and howl!

The triple voices fade, the harsh one lingering the longest.  You hear an echo as they recede, saying, "The path is bloody, the path is pain, the path is sacrifice, the path is love, the path is beauty, the path, above all, is knowing."

You feel a sudden coldness spread throughout your body as you realize you have been bitten by some unseen force!

You shudder.

You glance around nervously as your pupils dilate, trying to take in your surroundings quickly.

You say, "No matter what... I will stay true. In the face of hurricanes, beasts, or armies one thousand strong! None can turn me from this path."

The coldness transitions to a dull, throbbing pain in your abdomen, suffusing the wound, and causing you to glance at it.  Within the damage, you see crackles of marine-hued lightning dancing within your very body!

A shiver runs up your spine.

You force yourself to laugh through your pain.

You exclaim, "My own lifeblood to strengthen you, My Lord...!"

(Whiteburn raises the trident, the razor-tip of the middle tine resting just above her heart. )

You grin weakly.
 
The weight of a crashing wave slams into your form, driving the trident deep into you!  You feel a sense of acceptance of your sacrifice as the pain blooms in your chest.
 * Whiteburn was just struck down! 
Your Drogorian trident falls to the ground.
 
You laugh, the sepulchral sound echoing through the room.
 
A bolt of marine-hued lightning slams into you, shaking your corpse!
A mist forms above your body, glittering with speckles of light.  As it settles and surrounds your body, everything becomes a mass of white, and there is a sudden sense of comfort.
 
As the mist softens and dissipates you realize that you are alive and healed.
You are healed.
 
You gasp!

You shudder.

You give a sudden, alarmed hiss, your tail lifting to stand against your back.

You say, "My Lord... th... thank you..."

You cough.

You kneel down upon the ground.

You pick up a stormy azure sacrificial Drogorian trident.

You say, "O Gracious, All-Powerful Lord! I will send more to you, Mighty One. Their souls will fly across the night like shoals of so many helpless hatchlings..."

You hold a stormy azure sacrificial Drogorian trident high into the air for all to see.

You stare intently at a crude altar cobbled together from salt-stained oak planks, your tail abruptly growing still.

You say, "There was one other thing..."

You say, "Something I have been saving for thee, Lord. I ... did not know the right time to offer it or how."

You sling a stormy azure sacrificial Drogorian trident over your shoulder.

You say, "Long have I carried these, just for you..."

You say, "Perhaps now is the time."

You get some holy water from inside your rucksack.

You slowly and deliberately empty your filled lungs.

You get a slime-covered albatross egg from inside your rucksack.
 
You clean your albatross egg with some holy water, restoring the whiteness.
That was the last of your holy water.
 
You reverently place an immaculate albatross egg on the crude altar.

A flash of light and a gentle rain falls upon the egg.  It lifts up into the air then disappears!

You get a slime-covered albatross egg from inside your rucksack.

You get some holy oil from inside an ebony silk devotional pouch which is in your rucksack.

You sprinkle a slime-covered albatross egg with some holy oil.

You begin chanting a psalm to invoke the Bless spell.
 
You gesture at a slime-covered albatross egg.
A deep indigo glow surrounds a slime-covered albatross egg for a few moments, but nothing else seems to happen.
 
You reverently place a slime-covered albatross egg on the crude altar.

You say, "As it was taken from Thee and Thy children, Lord..."

A flash of light and a gentle rain falls upon the egg.  It lifts up into the air then morphs into a glorious albatross!  The bird spreads its wings wide, displaying crackling marine-hued lightning upon them before disappearing in yet more light!

You gaze at a crude altar cobbled together from salt-stained oak planks.

You say, "In perfect harmony..."

You say, "What of the Beast, Lord? I no longer feel it's looming presence, but surely it is still out there... waiting..."

You give your tail a quick lash, then grow very still, deep in thought.

You get a shark's tooth tipped arrow from inside your arm quiver.

You rub a shark's tooth tipped arrow.

You sit down near a crude altar cobbled together from salt-stained oak planks.
 
A dark vision overtakes you, blotting out the world as you know it!  Hunger -- rage simmering beneath it all -- lurks barely restrained beneath the waves.  You feel yourself holding it back, aided by even the smallest efforts of those who seek to understand, to know, to fight against their own ignorance and pride.  Though the temptation eats at you to remove your protection and allow the carnage to spill forth, you feel as though it is right to yet stay your hand, to give them all one, final chance to prove their worth in full.  The vision fades, leaving behind a briny scent in its wake.
 
You ball up your fists stiffly at your side.

You nod.

You lick your lips.

You put your arrow in your arm quiver.

You say, "Aye, Lord... it shall be so."

You bow to a crude altar cobbled together from salt-stained oak planks.