[Alneyan]

Man - Turn 16:

An endless plain appeared in her mind, a land where even colours were long gone. Whirling shapes could be seen, the shades of the dead and the forgotten. The howling wind added its plaintive note to the desolation. The twisted bodies of skeletons surrounded her, sometimes throwing a bony arm around her. And everywhere were the maniac grins of the ghosts, as if they rejoiced of her presence in their midst.

The Otherworld faded away, bringing sights of the abominations, these things coming from beyond, so far away from her land. Swirling tentacles seized her, and all the eyes of these things, far too many of them, were sneering at her. She could almost hear their whispers: “Come wish us, come...”. They were invading her mind, their ram echoing loudly, as her mental defences collapsed.

A Daughter was insistently knocking at the order, shouting something about an urgent message from the North. Velimaine shook the remnants of her nightmare, her head still reeling from that apercu of these unearthly creatures. She could almost understand the desperate course Ilneoa had initiated; almost. Man would need to grow in power to save this land they loved, but could not keep its traditions while being involved in the deification madness. Mortals should not imperil the world thus by their petty conflicts on godhood, not in this moment of great need.

That missive from the Northern reaches was a wonder of curtness: “Fishes threatening the land, and their ilk complaining about their death. Not like the Atlantian Courts.” So they would be the ones considering an attack against the Vale; how fool these foul creatures were. The fabled longbowmen of Man would simply repel their advance, should they dare to walk on the soil. Their power would be no more so far from their lands of emptiness from where they stem.

But all the might of the Summer Land might not be enough against this age of sundering. The Roaming Dead still thrive – or they would had they kept their lives and their souls – far in the South, and darker rumours could be heard in the taverns. Everything from Dragons to Demons and sapient serpents were loosed on the land, or so the commoners thought, and they might have had the truth of it for once. Nonetheless, an alliance of the peoples of the earth would not be unwelcome, if only the bickering of the Pretenders did not interfere.

Velimaine thought she would do well to bring Ilneoa back from her ashes as well. A figurehead would not hurt her efforts, and the Virtue had probably lost her hubris along with her life, and most of her grace. Her mastery of the winds would be of a great assistance; until she taught her knowledge to another Daughter. And if Ilneoa were to remain impossible to restrain, her life would simply be forfeit once more. After all, what has been done can happen once more at will. Velimaine was smirking when she sent her first prayer in months to the Virtue, Last of all her pantheon of deities.