Crystal City Players/Logs/A Divine Variety

"A Divine Variety" was the fifth production performed by The Crystal City Players. It was a variety show designed to pay homage to the various religions of Elanthia and included history lectures, poems, songs, artistic visual demonstrations, and stories. The show was performed on the 37th day in the 6th month of Arhat the Fire Lion, Year of the Iron Toad, 445.

Introduction

Lady of Elamiri Ayrell came through a thick dark curtain.

Ayrell curtsies gracefully.

Ayrell smiles.

Ayrell says, "Good evening, everyone, and welcome back to the Shoan a Sidelkuloa."

Ayrell says, "Tonight, we have a very special performance planned. One we hope everyone will enjoy as we delve into a variety of amusements, all in honor of the divine. A bit of history, a bit of story, poetry, songs, monologues... a little bit of everything to show our devotion to the deities of this world. Well, and to entertain, of course."

Ayrell smiles.

Ayrell says, "So, without further ado, The Crystal City Players will now present - A Divine Variety."

Ayrell curtsies gracefully.

Ayrell smiles again at the audience, offering a gracious nod before making her way off stage as the lights begin to lower.

Act One

Ayrell

You hear a voice recite from the shadows:

   "The theater is cast into momentary darkness, the only sound that of the curtains slowly drawing open.  When the lights rise to resume their illumination, a lone spotlight directed upon center stage reveals Ayrell there once again, her smile somewhat shy as she looks out at the crowd."
   

With a graceful flutter of her hands, Ayrell sinks down in a formal curtsy.

Ayrell says, "As it happens, I have been cast in the role of both hostess and opening act this evening, so I hope you will all forgive being stuck with me for a short while longer."

Ayrell smiles warmly.

Ayrell says, "As many of you may know, my talents lie more in the way of relaying history and information than they do in the formation of flowery prose or song. For that reason, I thought I might start the show this evening by providing a brief narrative on the evening's subject - concluding with a popular poem so as to not leave you all bored to tears from listening to me talk."

Ayrell says, "The history of religion, as a whole, is quite diverse. There are popular religions... not so popular religions... some that are categorized more as cults than anything more... and some aspects that are more of a belief than anything particularly organized. Within these, variations of smaller scale also exist, but no less meaningful to those who choose to follow the path."

Ayrell says, "With regard to an example of beliefs, there is the subject of Fostramor. For reference, this is a subject touched on in a book written by Pentaith Illistim known as Religions of Elanthia. It is also discussed briefly in a writing known as The Diary of Ninrak Suwl."

Ayrell says, "For those who may be unfamiliar with Fostramor, it is considered a place no mortal can ever enter. Also known as The Great Peace. What the Great Peace is, however, is different for each of us and what we would consider the ideal. The only connection between the different views is that all agree that any mortal who finds themselves in Fostramor will become immortal."

Ayrell says, "For Elves, Fostramor was the place where the ancient of our people once traveled at the end of their lives, called Fostra's Haven. Humans, on the other hand, know it as Fostra's Gate and consider it the last stop on the starry road after death. Gor'Togs revere it as Fostra's Stronghold, a place of ultimate protection."

Ayrell says, "The Elotheans share in the calling of Fostramor as Fostra's Haven, a place where their souls travel over the waters in death to a land of ultimate wisdom. Fostra's Inn is where the Halflings view the Great Peace as a place where they can be free and merry for all eternity. The S'kra Mur see it as Fostra's Nest, to which they return to their childhood and the egg to be reborn into the perfect life."

Ayrell says, "Last, but not least, we have the Dwarves. To them, Fostramor is known as Fostra's Mountain. A place where only the purest minerals can be mined. The difference in their belief, though, is that the legends do not refer to Fostra's Mountain as requiring death to reach."

Ayrell says, "That being said, we are here this evening to speak of religion, therefore, of religion we shall speak."

Ayrell smiles.

Ayrell says, "The Thirteen Immortals. This is a religion of which I am sure you are all at least familiar. It is said to be the oldest recorded religion as well as the most widely practiced. According to Pentaith Illistim, worship of this religion dates back more than seven thousand years with believers throughout all of the realms. For this reason, I shall begin here to provide a brief history."

Ayrell says, "It is said that the ancient knowledge of the Thirteen, including their names, aspects, and origins, comes from the Annals of the Timeless Ones. In this, it is said that all things began with the Void. Utter nothingness, yet an existence, out of which came a being known as the One. The One joined with the Void, created children, the Planes, all separated by boundaries unable to be crossed."

Ayrell says, "These boundaries - this separation - is said to have caused the Void to shed tears. Tears that created new life forms from each. Forms into which the One imbued its very essence."

Ayrell says, "It was these forms that became the Immortals. In the end, however, the One gave up too much of himself, thereby ending his existence, no longer able to survive, leaving the Void filled with Planes and gods, but not himself. Of these gods, Urrem'tier contained more of the Void than he did of the One, making him vastly different from the other twelve Immortals."

Ayrell says, "The Immortals were tasked with guarding the Planes. And it is here, in the Plane of Abiding, were we mortals - and the Immortals - exist. Within the Plane of Abiding, each of the Immortals created a world. Thirteen planets in total, of which Elanthia is said to have been the last. Elanthia, the creation of Truffenyi. The place where the Immortals created mortal life. The First Beings, created by the various elements of Elanthia. And from the First Beings each race was said to have been born."

Ayrell says, "Beyond the Thirteen Immortals, there are, and have been, many other religions. For the Rakash, there is Mrod, Enelne, and Coshivi, though I shall leave the details of that for our dear Siendra to elaborate upon. Much the same as I suspect our wonderful Senthic can better tell of the Prydaen Triquetra - Eu, Demrris, and Tenemlor."

Ayrell says, "All this being said, I believe I have droned on for long enough. I promised a poem - a sort of story, really. So let us move forward to that as the first of our true performances this evening."

Ayrell says, "Tonight, I shall perform a rendition of The Skirt of Kerenhappuch, as written by Gulliver VonDeverone. The poem of Kerenhappuch's Skirt is inspired by the story of a time when Kerenhappuch is said to have disguised herself as Hodierna so as to trick Kertigen into fashioning her a vivid, rainbow-hued skirt."

Ayrell says, "Much to Kertigen's dismay, he was fooled by Kerenhappuch's disguise and created the skirt. A dangerous garment capable of altering the wills of others. Any man who saw Kerenhappuch wearing it would fall in love in an instant - though, once Kertigen realized Kerenhappuch's ruse, he also bestowed another magic upon the skirt. A curse, to make any woman who saw Kerenhappuch's skirt overcome with envy."

Ayrell says, "This poem, this story, however, is a sort of tale of love and devastation. A story of how fondly Kertigen worked on the rainbow-hued skirt for Hodierna only to then be forced to see his beautiful creation worn by Kerenhappuch instead."

(Ayrell pauses for a moment, drawing her shoulders back in preparation to begin.)

Ayrell recites:

   "O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
    She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
    For though you toil for Hodierna, the shrew will wear the skirt.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt."

Ayrell recites:

   "A deeply wounded crimson, a wicked scarlet flash,    
    Kertigen's face flushed carmine, All blood is on his hands.
    "Blood of war and blood of sickness, blood of womb and blood of sword,     
    Of your enemies and your lovers, All their blood is yours."

Ayrell recites:

   ""A cardinal, an apple-fruit, berries, lips, and garnet stones,
    Hate and love and pain and pleasure, heat and danger, all your own.
    With that he dipped a strip of sunrise, in a dye mixed cherry-tart,
    "Red," he said, "for Hodierna.
    Red is for the heart.""
   

Ayrell recites:

   "O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord
    She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
    For though you toil for Hodierna, the shrew will wear the skirt.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt."

Ayrell recites:

   "A confident vermillion, a luscious tangerine,
    His fingers scalded copper, Kertigen seeds the ocher sheen.
    "Fire from land and fire from spirit, volcano blast and blaze of dawn,
    Fire of will and resolution, fire from pyres burnt and gone."

Ayrell recites:

   ""Pumpkin flesh and tourmaline, rust and cheddar, poppy beds,
    Fallen auburn autumn leaves, Now are in your stead."
    With that he dipped a stretch of sunset in a wildfire dye untamed,
    "Orange," he said, "for Hodierna.
    Orange is for the flame.""

Ayrell recites:

   "O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
    She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
    For though you toil for Hodierna, the shrew will wear the skirt.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt."

Ayrell recites:

   "An ancient fossil ivory, a haughty saffron strand,
    Kertigen is sallow with fever, as he digs in graves of sand.
    "Tombs of thieves and tombs of kings, tombs of those whom no-one-knew.
    Tombs forgotten, tombs remembered, I gather these bones for you."

Ayrell recites:

   ""Cowardice and buttermilk, straw and sulfur, jaundiced pall,
    Topaz, crocus, gilt champagne, you shall wear them all.
    With that he dipped a length of sunlight into a dye of old-gold tone.
    "Yellow," he said, "for Hodierna.
    Yellow is for bone."

Ayrell recites:

   "O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
    She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
    For though you toil for Hodierna, the shrew will wear the skirt.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt."

Ayrell recites:

   "An ostentatious emerald, chartreuse's seething ire,
    Kertigen, vert with envy, does duel with jade desire.
    "Where there's beauty, wealth and power, where there's want and rarely need,
    Where lives youth and love and honor, you will find the home of greed."

Ayrell recites:

   ""Poison, beryl, grass, and vigor, verdigris and vertigo,
    Clover's luck and leek and lime, will only for you grow."
    With that he dipped an afternoon into a blooming vernal dye.
    "Green," he said, "for Hodierna.
    Green is for the eyes.""

Ayrell recites:

   "O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
    She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
    For though you toil for Hodierna, the shrew will wear the skirt.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt."

Ayrell recites:

   "A raw and livid navy, a sudden cyan freeze,
    Kertigen's lips turn frosty with every cobalt wheeze.
    "Cold in land and cold in ocean, frozen heartbeat, icicle hands,
    Cold in motive, chill indifference, now intensify your dance."

Ayrell recites:

   "Sapphire, sky, and hyacinth, peacock's breast and bawdy verse,
    Bruises, aristocracy, will to your whims rehearse.
    With that he dipped a lace of morning into a dye mixed azure-bright.
    "Blue," he said, "for Hodierna.
    Blue is for the ice.""

Ayrell recites:

   "O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
    She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
    For though you toil for Hodierna, the shrew will wear the skirt.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt."

Ayrell recites:

   "A sweet and supple lilac, a splotch of damson wine,
    Kertigen, stained with mulberry, now harvests at the vine.
    "Pride of face and pride of stature, pride of deed and kindred line,
    Pride of talent, craft, and diligence, the pride you wear is mine."

Ayrell recites:

   ""Orchid, grackle, indigo, mourning, swollen plums, loosestrife,
    An amethyst, a heliotrope, imperiality, overripe.
    With that he dipped a band of twilight into a violet dye renowned.
    "Purple," he said, "for Hodierna.
    Purple is for the crown.""

Ayrell recites:

   "Alabaster's chastity, a milky ashen glow,
    Kertigen, bleached argental, reveres the quiet snow.
    "Good intentions, evil actions, good's lament and evil's curse.
    What you should and what you could do, good gets better, evil - worse."

Ayrell recites:

   ""Lies and lightning, cream-capped waves, dove of peace and seafoam salt,
    Pale maiden's skin and fair blonde hair, for your virtues will exalt."
    With that he dipped a wire of winter into a spotless pearl-dye bowl.
    "White," he said, "for Hodierna.
    White is for the soul.""

Ayrell recites:

   "O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
    She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
    For though you toil for Hodierna, the shrew will wear the skirt.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt."

Ayrell recites:

   "A sooty smoldered charcoal, a shadowed sable ghost,
    Kertigen follows his raven to meet the final Host.
    "End of lives and end of suffering!  End of strain and pain and grief!
    Here you rule the end of the rainbow, and the final shade I seek!"
    And, starry eyes locked with the smith-god's, the Host began to speak:"

Ayrell recites:

   ""You who've bled and burned and fevered, battled, frozen, drank and blessed,
    You may have my boon, O brave one, though I sorrow for your quest.
    "Plague and pepper, somber smoke, crow and coal and silhouette,
    Depression, tar, and flies and beetles will be yours, as will regret.""

Ayrell recites:

   "With that he ripped a skein of midnight from the path on which he strode.
    "Black," he said, "for Hodierna.
    Black is for the Road.""

Ayrell recites:

   "O Kertigen, don't be fooled, lord,
    She'll turn love's labor into hurt.
    For though you toil for Hodierna, the shrew will wear the skirt.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt."

Ayrell recites:

   "Weary but triumphant, Kertigen returned,
    And retired to his workroom with the colors he had earned.
    Not heeding the Host's prediction, in a final burst of power,
    Kertigen toiled a hundred days, then entered the lady's bower."

Ayrell recites:

   ""My lady," said he, presenting the skirt, "I humbly hope this will do.
    The collecting near-consumed me, but it was worth it all for you.
    It was worth it all for you.""

Ayrell recites:

   "She grabbed the brilliant garment and slung it from her hips,
    Then with a wicked, scornful laugh revealing her smirking ruby lips.
    "So surprised, my raven-god? You're easily deceived.
    You truly expected Hodierna? Sweet Kertigen, so naive!""

Ayrell recites:

   "Kerenhappuch winked at the craftsman, who was fuming, shamed, defeated.
    "I'll wear the skirt with pride, smith-lord."
    She blew him a kiss and retreated."

Ayrell recites:

   "Kertigen shook with fury as his wasted days he rued.
    He had longed for Hodierna but been bitten by the shrew."

Ayrell recites:

   "Kerenhappuch's skirt, Kerenhappuch's skirt!
    Heart and flame and bone and eyes.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt!
    Road and soul and crown and ice.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt!
    Beating, burning, decaying, glaring.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt!
    Silent, holy, proud and barren.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt!"

Ayrell recites:

   "All the world for Hodierna, but the shrew will wear the skirt.
    Kerenhappuch's skirt."

With a graceful flutter of her hands, Ayrell sinks down in a formal curtsy.

Ayrell graciously says, "Thank you."

Ayrell smiles.

(Ayrell gracefully makes her way off stage.)

Act Two

Siendra

You hear a voice recite from the shadows:

   "The lights dim as Ayrell exits the stage.  When the applause begins to wane they brighten once more, heralding the beginning of the next performance."

(Siendra backs onto the stage, struggling to drag a large tub of water behind her. She pauses, puffing out a breath, before resuming her task, finally making it to the center of the stage.)

Siendra triumphantly exclaims, "There we are!"

(Siendra glances out at the audience, grinning.)

Siendra slyly says, "That will be much easier to get off stage, just wait."

(Siendra clears her throat, smoothing out her odaj. She positions herself just behind the tub and motions for the stagehands to lower the lighting. Darkness falls but for a single focused beam on Siendra.)

Siendra warmly says, "Tonight is about two things - theatre, and the divine. We of the Crystal City Players strive to showcase ourselves in these variety performances in ways that will both entertain and inform."

Siendra wryly asks, "Sure, I could *tell* you that I am Siendra, a Rakash Warrior Mage who follows the Great Pack. But what does that *mean*?"

(Siendra looks out with bright eyes, her nose crinkling with humor.)

Siendra playfully exclaims, "Well, I'm glad you asked!"

(Siendra bends over the tub, scooping water into her cupped hands and tossing it suddenly into the air! Rather than it raining back down on her, however, the droplets hang, suspended, like a thousand stars in a midnight sky. Siendra's brow has furrowed with concentration, but she smiles out at the audience.)

Siendra recites:

   "I am blessed to be Rakash, one of a Great Pack.  We are past, present, and future, one and many.  This is not a riddle, but the truth of Rakash existence in that we exist together."

(Siendra gazes up, bringing her hands slowly up over her head. The droplets of water shudder in the air and begin to coalesce above her, forming a perfect sphere. It rolls in place, the light reflecting over the stage to make it appear as though Siendra were in an endless ocean.)

Siendra recites:

   "When we are born, we come new into our mortal packs, led by all those that came before us and guided by Mrod, Coshivi, and Enelne.  Of course, there are Rakash that have chosen to follow the Eastern deities since the Migration, but at our very core we are still connected."

(Siendra twists one hand elegantly through the air above the tub and a plume of water surges upward. It twists wildly and unfurls its liquid wings, revealing itself to have taken the shape of a crow. It flaps upward before leveling out and swooping around the sphere overhead gracefully.)

Siendra recites:

   "Mrod is the leader of the Great Pack.  He is the lord of the skies, of the stars, of the moon.  He is represented by the varna, or "crow" in the common tongue, and He soars above, seeing all.  It was He we prayed to when Katamba was burned and we lost our true selves, and He who granted us our true forms back with each full phase of the black moon."

(Siendra gives another deft twist of her hand, a new wave of water seeming to scurry over the side and topple onto the stage. It rights itself, shaking off the last of its indistinct imagery to reveal the aqueous likeness of a surly badger. It stomps its feet and charges forward before settling down to pace the front of the stage. Blank eyes stare out at the audience.)

Siendra recites:

   "Coshivi is our afis, our "badger".  He is a warrior, a hunter, seen only ever in our true form.  He is a patron to young Rakash coming of age, and a uniter of all packs.  In times of our greatest need, the Rakash will rally beneath his name.  It is believed that the numbers that survived the Great Migration is largely in thanks to Coshivi's vigilance."

Siendra smiles fondly at the watery badger pacing back and forth in front of her.

Siendra fondly says, "Legends have it that in the heat of combat, an unknown Rakash has appeared and ensured victory, but was nowhere to be found when the battle ended. Coshivi will always protect his pack."

(Siendra watches the restless effigy a moment longer before turning her attention back to the tub once more. This time it is just a gentle wiggle of her fingers that coaxes the next figure to rise from the water - a butterfly. It is small and delicate, and Siendra lets it land lightly on her open palm. Its wings flex, the water forming them glistening as they catch the light.)

Siendra recites:

   "And then there is Enelne.  She is represented by the turinstil, or "butterfly", and she is the deity of the living world around us.  Every natural thing beneath the skies are hers, from the smallest insect to the largest tree.  She blesses our crops and our cubs, our marriages and our scholars, anything in the name of growth.  It is her we thank for all that we have here and all we can do with it."

(Siendra lifts her hand gently and releases the hydrous butterfly to flutter about in the air above her.)

Siendra quietly says, "Uz zinat cik zu jurs kas jusu dzuaws recitawt vut Enelne vislavaka davana. "To know how to use what you learned is Enelne's best gift."

(Siendra nods and steps back slightly from the tub. The lights come up around her, muting the refraction from the spinning globe above her. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself.)

Siendra recites:

   "And so I am Siendra, a Rakash Warrior Mage who follows the Great Pack.  And that means that I am connected to all my brothers and sisters of this mortal pack, and I will use everything I learn to honor them past, present, and future.  I will serve Mrod, Coshivi, Enelne, and my pack."

(Siendra uses both hands to draw her magic through the water, pulling it from the tub and arranging the likenesses of several Moonskinned Rakash behind her. Her brow glistens with sweat as she concentrates. While some of the figures are certainly an imperfect replica, it only takes a few moments before she has a watery pack of her people behind her.)

Siendra recites:

   "And when we are called back to the skies, we will honor tradition.  When the final death takes one of us, the body is doused with water and watched over while it dries.  As the water evaporates, it carries the spirit with it, lifting it up to be met by Mrod.  And this is how we become another ancestor in the Great Pack, guiding our people from above."

(Siendra closes her eyes and lifts her hands, and each figure on the stage with her seems to waver. Steam slowly begins to rise from them as their forms blur and shrink. One by one they evaporate away. Siendra exhales slowly and drops to her knees, placing her hands flat on the stage before standing once more and bowing. Then she silently takes up the tub - a much easier feat now, as promised - and exits the stage.)

Act Three

Senthic

You hear a voice recite from the shadows:

   "The lights dim once more as silence overtakes the stage. The moments stretch into a quiet interlude, the atmosphere companionable and relaxing. A dull *thud* resonates throughout the theater, originating somewhere backstage. The lights sputter back to life, as though rudely and prematurely awakened, and the tranquil spell that had settled over the stage abruptly breaks."

(Senthic stumbles onstage following a cacophony of noise somewhere in the wings, cringing as the last crash echoes throughout the theater.)

Senthic grins sheepishly.

Senthic dusts himself off.

Senthic clears his throat.

Senthic says, "Right. Uhm. Sorry about... that." He glances back from whence he came, tensely nibbling on his bottom lip. After a strained, silent moment, he seems to remember himself, visibly jolting as his eyes return to the audience. His expression brightens as he announces, "Anyway! Hi! I'm Senthic, and I'm - kinda obviously - a Prydaen."

Senthic sweeps a jaunty tricorn hat displaying a skull and crossbones off his head and in front of him in a large arc, fluidly stepping backward and bowing at the same time.

Senthic says, "I was raised in an orphanage, and being the only one of my race there, I didn't grow up with any knowledge of my culture. All I knew of religion and of life, I learned from humans, elves, halflings, dwarves, gnomes, etc."

Senthic shrugs.

Senthic says, "For example, I learned non-Prydaens eat just about anything, as long as it's dead and you hold it over a fire first and heat all the flavor out. I also learned that if I want to eat something that doesn't hold to those rules, I have to do it in secret, because despite all the strange things non-Prydaens eat, many of them can be very squeamish."

Senthic looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs.

Senthic says, "Anyway, it wasn't until I was adopted later, and met my extended family, that I learned what it means to be Prydaen. It was specifically my cousin, with his adorable otter Korgu, that taught me the most about my heritage, including our gods."

Senthic says, "Oh! Hang on, I brought visual aids!" He scrambles offstage for a moment, then reappears dragging a considerably-sized easel stacked with several large pieces of parchment secured with thick clips. The top sheet of paper appears to be a very basic, if not childlike, painting of a group of Prydaen-shaped figures. Senthic points to the artwork proudly and faces the audience, saying, "Our people didn't record their history like most cultures. Instead, everything was passed down verbally, in songs, stories, and performances. A lot was lost in our migration, years ago, to our new homes here, but some things have stayed with us, linking our present to our past."

(Senthic pulls the parchment off the easel, letting it float to the ground as he taps the next artwork - an outline of a curving rope knotted in a rough triangular shape, with lines radiating outward as though to emphasize the rope being the artwork's focal point.)

Senthic says, "Our gods can be confusing at first glance, so I'll do my best to explain." He taps the knot image at the top of the paper. "Prydaen worship the Triquetra, which symbolizes the trinity of Eu-Demrris-Tenemlor."

Senthic says, "Eu," as he tears away the page and reveals a new painting underneath featuring a Prydaen-shaped figure prominently placed in the center of an otherwise blank paper, the outline of which seems to be intentionally wavy and indistinct, "actually has no tangible form. Eu has no gender, but Eu has given life to all that is around us. Eu is Nature, Eu is Life, Eu is the wind, Eu is the sea, Eu is the land. And from Eu, two other aspects of the Triquetra were born."

(Senthic spiritedly rips the paper off the easel and tosses it dismissively onto the other discarded artwork at the feet of the easel. The newly exposed parchment depicts a crudely-drawn quadrupedal animal with a long tail, colored pitch-black. It is only barely better executed than a stick figure.)

Senthic says, "Demrris, often seen in the form of a blank panther, is the aspect of the Triquetra that exemplifies action, passion, vigor, and justice. He is protective of our kits, and walks beside us on our many paths through waking life. He awakens and guides the hunter that lies in all of us, though what we hunt takes many varied forms. His love of us, his people, is only ever matched by that of his twin sister, Tenemlor."

Senthic smiles.

(Senthic slowly, almost reverently, removes the Demrris painting and allows it to fall from his hands to elegantly drape atop the pile on the stage floor. The next parchment on display is a painting that was made with far greater care to detail, though overall it is still childlike and lacks proper perspective. Depicted on the paper is a Prydaen, fully white except for a single paw which has been filled in with the same black that the rest of the figure is outlined in. The expression on the face of the Prydaen is one of subdued sorrow, and a tiny tear is just visible outside the eye, colored in a light blue.)

Senthic says, "Tenemlor, though sometimes seen as a white tiger, is most often remembered as she is seen here." He gestures to the painting of the white Prydaen. "She is known as the Ruler of the Afterlife, and is renowned for her kindness and gentle nature. Her dominion also includes moonlit hours and dreams, and she presides over all Prydaen births and deaths. She guards our final resting place, once our souls tire of the process of death and rebirth along the Wheel. She embodies peace, serenity, and order. She walks with us as we pass from one life to the next, offering us support and guidance. Like her brother, her love of us, her people, is infinite and all encompassing."

Senthic smiles solemnly as he removes the parchment from the easel, revealing the last artwork. It is simple, as all the paintings were before it, and slightly sloppy, but clear and easily interpreted. A wheel, depicted in stark black outline on the white of the paper, takes up the center. It curiously has only three spokes, but is otherwise unremarkable.

Senthic says, "Lastly, though not really part of the Triquetra, there is the Wheel of Life. It is an ever present symbol in Prydaen culture - something that never ends, nor ever begins, but just is. The Wheel is where our souls return after we leave this life and where they are prepared to begin life again, in a new body. It is said that it is our choice if we wish to return - and if we tire of the cycle, Tenemlor will guide us to our final resting place."

Senthic smiles a somber smile that incrementally grows wider as the moments pass, as though his innate exuberance could not be suppressed for more than a few seconds at a time.

Senthic says, "I'll leave you with one last offering - it is a song that has been passed down for generations, one that has been performed at every funeral before the Migration. My cousin, Ishimmer, taught it to me, and though I could not possibly sing it as beautifully as he does, I'll do my best."

Senthic clears his throat.

Senthic breathes very slowly and looks much calmer.

Senthic inhales a great swallow of air.

Senthic sings in a tenor voice:

   "Demrris told us before he left
     A promise of a life beyond our deaths
     The Great Old One must have known
     That the world is too wide for one life alone."

Senthic sings in a tenor voice:

   "So though this soul goes to Tenemlor
     Soon it shall return to us once more
     Passing from her blessed home
     Back to the plains with us it will roam"

Senthic sings in a tenor voice:

   "And wander the forests and drink down the wind
     And sing this song with us again.
     And when the wheel has turned once more,
     It will hear this song, as it did before."

Senthic heartily sings in a tenor voice:

   "Hear us, hear us, hurry along,
     Take your rest, but don't stay long.
     For leaves fall to ground and nourish the tree
     The leaves come back, and so shall we!"

(Senthic pauses to allow the last word to finish ringing out across the theater, then takes a quick, if slightly awkward bow. He then grabs the pile of parchment from the stage floor in one arm, crumpling the papers as he presses them to his chest, and drags the large easel behind him as he flees the stage.)

Act Four

Ezerak

(Ezerak takes the stage, equipped with a bodhran and tipper, and bows deeply to the audience.)

Ezerak says, "We would be remiss to celebrate the immortals and ignore their darker aspects. With our attempts to appease them, we try to avoid their wrath for another year."

Ezerak says, "I haven't much of a lesson to go with my performance, though there is a bit of one contained in the song."

Ezerak says, "This is a song about one of the dark aspects that is often misunderstood, or at least, we often focus on only one characteristic of him, and largely ignore the other parts."

Ezerak sings in a baritone voice:

   ""By Idon," they say, "Because half of us are!"
    This old adage has spread near and far.
    The reaver he may be, but remember, you must
    The Heron is more than his legendary lust."

(Ezerak begins beating a cacophonous rhythm on his bodhran for a moment, before settling into a steady rhythm.)

Ezerak sings in a baritone voice:

   "From the clash of cymbals, to the thunderous sound,
    Of the beating of drums, earth-shaking, profound.
    Without Idon's creations, what would a symphony be?
    Without the rhythm of drums, and the boom of the timpani?"

(Ezerak deftly twirls his tipper before striking the bodhran near the top in a slow, booming style, before returning to the previous rhythm.)

Ezerak sings in a baritone voice:

   "Songs of lovers entwined in the night,
    Of stolen kisses and forbidden delight,
    No topic too taboo, no innuendo too sly,
    Idon's bawdy rhymes, a feast for the wry."

Ezerak witheringly sings in a baritone voice:

   "Stealth and precision, he sets the stage,
    Ambushes planned, a symphony of outrage.
    Should you make him angry, you'd best hide and run,
    At waylaying his enemies, he is second to one."

(Ezerak stops striking the bodhran, letting the silence ring for a moment.)

Ezerak sings in a baritone voice:

   "So take care to appease him, pay him his due.
    His ire or jealousy could be trouble for you.
    Those who displease him, or his beauty outshine,
    He turns into pigs, he turns them to swine."

Ezerak bows.

Curtain Call

(Ayrell gracefully makes her way back out onto the stage.)

Ayrell smiles.

Ayrell says, "I do hope you all enjoyed the performance this evening. We wanted to make this variety show a bit different."

Ayrell says, "As we have reached the conclusion, I wanted to bring our performers back out on stage."

Ayrell exclaims, "Our wonderful Siendra!"

Senthic looks at Siendra and applauds!

Siendra smiles and bows deeply, blushing.

Ayrell exclaims, "Our amazing Senthic!"

Senthic sweeps a jaunty tricorn hat displaying a skull and crossbones off his head and in front of him in a large arc, fluidly stepping backward and bowing at the same time.

Senthic shifts uncomfortably for a moment.

Siendra lets out a hearty cheer for Senthic!

Senthic grins sheepishly.

Ayrell looks at Siendra and applauds!

Ayrell looks at Senthic and applauds!

Ayrell exclaims, "Our talented Ezerak!"

Ezerak bows.

Senthic looks at Ezerak and applauds!

Siendra lets out a hearty cheer for Ezerak!

Ezerak looks at Senthic and applauds!

Ezerak looks at Siendra and applauds!

Ayrell looks at Ezerak and applauds!

Senthic grins at Ezerak.

Siendra exclaims, "And of course our incredible host and performer, Ayrell!"

Senthic lets out a hearty cheer for Ayrell!

Senthic looks at Ayrell and applauds!

Ayrell curtsies gracefully.

Siendra lets out a hearty cheer for Ayrell!

Ayrell smiles graciously at the crowd.

Senthic leans on Siendra.

Ayrell exclaims, "Thank you all so very much for coming this evening!"

Ezerak looks at Ayrell and applauds!

Siendra grins at Senthic.

Senthic grins crookedly.

Ayrell says, "We shall be in the lobby momentarily for any who wish to linger."

Ayrell smiles.

Ayrell curtsies gracefully.

Siendra waves.

Senthic waves.

Ayrell waves.

Lady of Elamiri Ayrell's group went through a thick dark curtain.