[Alneyan]

A not-so great yarn, as I made the mistake of confusing "Save changes" with "Discard changes" when saving the first edition of that yarn.

Man - Turn 10:

“And by the shade of Avalon, I bless these woods, the Grove of Ilneoa.” The voice of Flacal, the Prophetess, had the eerie tone of the ones immersed in the trance. Her mind between the earthly world and these lands of Beyond, the Priestess communed with both her Goddess of the Tempest and the older powers of the Kingdom. The blood of the Fae-touched was still running strong in the veins of many of her Sisters, and traces of their heritage could be seen in the land. A ruined castle wall here, fragments of pottery in a cottage, cumbersome blades made of fabled cold iron; such were the presents of the Old Folk. Only in lore did their name remain, fading away as the ways of Man changed.

“Deep within the Grove are a haven from the outside world, where the peacefulness of the land allows you to reflect upon your own actions. Ilneoa cares little for empty boasts and idle claims; only acts do matter, for they reveal the contents of your hearth. A place to meditate in harmony with Earth; such is the gift of Ilneoa.” Slowly Flacal left the divine world behind her, awakening in the grove she had blessed. It was filled with the typical yew trees of Man, dotted by the Last crimson leaves of autumn. Only the occasional flight of birds and the rustle of wind in the trees disturbed the peacefulness of the woods; a place to meditate away from the world.

Such a bucolic land, so different from the turmoil surrounding Ilneoa. A handful of knights in glittering armour stood before her, the Last defenders of the rebel Earl of Valogda. They were accompanied by their squires and overeager lads, a ill-suited army to stop her advance. Shielded in their pride and honour, they charged against her, lances twinkling in the sun. How graceful they were, until they broke away once her fury was unleashed. Ilneoa herself landed in their midst, her hands spreading thunder to all foolish enough to stand close to her. The few knights not having taken leave of their senses attempted to flee; too late for them. Not one warrior left the battlefield alive.

A satisfactory victory, but the Earl himself was nowhere to be found. Surely one of her soldiers had too free a tongue over a mug of ale, or a merchant's purse had grown fatter overnight. The display of her might should act as a reminder of what happens to rebels and traitors alike; who would dare to challenge such a powerful being as herself? And once the Earl had fallen in her custody, another example would be made, for the common good.

Her Tempest was rising in the east, with both her own arm striking down her foes, and her armies securing the borders of the Realm. The days when Avalon would remain a mere observer of the world were gone; only supremacy will be adequate for her purposes.