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(IR) IR Interlude Turn 6 - Turn 7 (thread 2)
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<blockquote data-quote="Creamsteak" data-source="post: 151965" data-attributes="member: 552"><p>A Paladin in shimmering silvery armor on a ivory winged steed flies above wilted forest. The glimmer of the Paladin's armor reflects light in a distracting way. It seems difficult to look directly at him, but those that choose to will find it is harmless reflection.</p><p></p><p>The sun is not out, but the light reflecting off the Paladin's armor is still bright. Moonlight reflected as daylight. The air is humid and damp with the smell of fungus and rot. The winds are warm and soft with some manner of randomness to them.</p><p></p><p>The moon, is not that of one covered by substare. The moon here has a glimmering crescent of light. The crescent is perfect and shapely, and there is no moon left to be shadowed. </p><p></p><p>The crescent moon matches that of the steed of the Knight of Delrune. The steeds wings unfold and loosen as the beast comes to stop in a mossy clearing. Grass does not grow here, but lichens more than a foot high run across the ground.</p><p></p><p>The Paladin steps off his mount, looking around cautiously to ensure solitude. No animals are near, no beasts, no people. Only a mount and a knight wait. They are waiting for no man, beast, or animal. They are waiting on something greater.</p><p></p><p>The wind blows and a tempest errupts. The bristling pines unleash a horrid wail of thorns. Spinning, turning, and shredding the ground. The Paladin stands still, cut, bleading from surprisingly deep and straight wounds. The forest itself rips his skin in all places, under and through his glimmering, weightless, silver armor.</p><p></p><p>No interference is accepted, none can seem to enter this clearing. It is hidden from existence by a portal somewhere in Delrune. The portal passes into a plane of anticipation and energy. The air emits good and light of its own, no sun is visible in the Elven Court of Arvandor.</p><p></p><p>Arvandor is home of Corellon Larethian, the mythical Seldarine. The creator of elves, and the taker of Gruumsh's eye. The court of the Good and freedom loving Elves. The birthplace of the lineage of the elven people, whether wild, gray, high, and mayhaps the drow.</p><p></p><p>The Paladin is bleeding from wounds caused by what would be called harmless thorns had they been found on the material plane. Here these simple plants have thoughts of there own. The occupants of this holy site are Plants of testing. They provoke, and tease. They taunt like Kender, only the plants taunt with pain instead of arrogance and insult. They draw blood, sweat, muscle, and spirit out of anyone who would interfere with their calm life. These are the last plants of their species in existence, relics of some unknown druids experiments during the arcane age.</p><p></p><p>OOC: Sanctus Punitor is attempting to call the Deity Corellon Larethian to speak with him.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Creamsteak, post: 151965, member: 552"] A Paladin in shimmering silvery armor on a ivory winged steed flies above wilted forest. The glimmer of the Paladin's armor reflects light in a distracting way. It seems difficult to look directly at him, but those that choose to will find it is harmless reflection. The sun is not out, but the light reflecting off the Paladin's armor is still bright. Moonlight reflected as daylight. The air is humid and damp with the smell of fungus and rot. The winds are warm and soft with some manner of randomness to them. The moon, is not that of one covered by substare. The moon here has a glimmering crescent of light. The crescent is perfect and shapely, and there is no moon left to be shadowed. The crescent moon matches that of the steed of the Knight of Delrune. The steeds wings unfold and loosen as the beast comes to stop in a mossy clearing. Grass does not grow here, but lichens more than a foot high run across the ground. The Paladin steps off his mount, looking around cautiously to ensure solitude. No animals are near, no beasts, no people. Only a mount and a knight wait. They are waiting for no man, beast, or animal. They are waiting on something greater. The wind blows and a tempest errupts. The bristling pines unleash a horrid wail of thorns. Spinning, turning, and shredding the ground. The Paladin stands still, cut, bleading from surprisingly deep and straight wounds. The forest itself rips his skin in all places, under and through his glimmering, weightless, silver armor. No interference is accepted, none can seem to enter this clearing. It is hidden from existence by a portal somewhere in Delrune. The portal passes into a plane of anticipation and energy. The air emits good and light of its own, no sun is visible in the Elven Court of Arvandor. Arvandor is home of Corellon Larethian, the mythical Seldarine. The creator of elves, and the taker of Gruumsh's eye. The court of the Good and freedom loving Elves. The birthplace of the lineage of the elven people, whether wild, gray, high, and mayhaps the drow. The Paladin is bleeding from wounds caused by what would be called harmless thorns had they been found on the material plane. Here these simple plants have thoughts of there own. The occupants of this holy site are Plants of testing. They provoke, and tease. They taunt like Kender, only the plants taunt with pain instead of arrogance and insult. They draw blood, sweat, muscle, and spirit out of anyone who would interfere with their calm life. These are the last plants of their species in existence, relics of some unknown druids experiments during the arcane age. OOC: Sanctus Punitor is attempting to call the Deity Corellon Larethian to speak with him. [/QUOTE]
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