The town of Conyberry was a shell of its former self, but it had been abandoned well before Caress was... she paused for a moment and considered. It had never occurred to her whether she had been born or hatched. She was a pureblood and her ears were rounded so at least one of her parents was human or something of that kin. And purebloods had live-birth as often as they laid eggs. She did have a belly-button, but that could have been an artifice. Belly buttons were scars after all and such could be crafted. Purebloods were the infiltrators of the Serpent Kingdom. She glanced vaguely south and east toward the culture that had decided her value was chattel years ago.
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| Meeting Agatha |
She brushed the thoughts aside and focused instead on the task ahead of them: seeking out a banshee to ask of it a question. Hopefully, the banshee did not react poorly to their presence as she wasn't sure they were equipped to deal with such a foe. The world darkened as they walked down the path, growing colder as the trees around them somehow seemed to grow more dead and barren somehow without losing a single leaf.
As Agatha stepped forward to challenge them, there was a chill that they resisted, fearful of giving offense to the undead being. Caress stepped forward with the comb given to her by the Lucksister Garaele had provided her to handover as a gift in exchange for the aid in seeking the resting place of Bowgentle's Spellbook.
"I had been planning on helping the Lucksister, but she ran..."
Agatha's words were interrupted by a far-away look as the sound of whispers came down into the haunted grove where the undead elf had made her lair. Caress took attention immediately, recognizing the tones of her own lady and the feel of gods making themselves known. And when it was done, Agatha's demeanor had shifted from minorly disinterested into active disdain.
"I will provide you information provided you leave and never darken my home with gods ever again."
They agreed to the terms and she informed them of where to seek Bowgentle's spellbook and also a curious set of directions that led to a mysterious cave not far away. What they found was a curious tableau of death and battle. An old holy site of Dark Moon monks beholden to Shar where battle was held between the monks Dark Justicars, servants of Shar who achieved the title by killing a follower of Selune. And then came the clue coated skeletons, remnants of the Order of the Blue Moon, a Selunite order vehemently opposed to the worship of Shar. And they had been found battling the Dark Moon as well. And then they came to the fused skeleton of a massive warcat summoned by the servants of Zandilar the Dancer, one of the many gods that composed her lady Sharess.
The cavern represented many times from ancient days to the Time of Troubles, but clearly none had survived the last battle. Else there would have been funerals or at least bodies cleared away. Mythram spoke of the ancient tales of when Shar and Selune worked together to craft life and then how Selune paid a great cost of life to bring the sun into existence.
Caress considered her knowledge of Amaunator and internally apologized to her lady that she could sympathize with the anger Shar must have felt when her sister hurt herself to bring that entity into being. Granted, she only had experience with the Yellow God's followers, and it was important to realize that one's associates did not always perfectly represent them. But it certainly didn't help. The Morninglord's followers were... less authoritative, but weren't any less judgmental. They just tended to frame as tolerance and pity.
As they drove deeper it turned out that there was, indeed, one survivor to the death.
At the deepest point of the cavern, Lyra found a source of massive abjuration magic and Caress sensed the influence of the divine. They found three statues out of which a great energy was projected surrounding a Dark Moon monk sitting in the center. Each of the statues represented Shar, Sharess, and Selune facing each other with a neutral expression as energy flooded out and pushed into each other. It was hard to tell whether the energies were cooperating or conflicting, especially given the strange presence of these statues in this Sharran temple.
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| The Warring Triad |
The monk was hostile and resistant to speaking to them, but it was eventually evident that he only sought to end his eternal imprisonment and move on to death. Mythram swore upon her sight to release the monk and every agreed that this was a needlessly horrible fate. After Lyra cleaned the rails the statues were on. In the shifting of the statues, the energy field was dissipated and three spheres rolled out to the feet of Lyra, Mythram, and Caress and upon picking them up, they could feel their gods empowering them.
From there, Caress proceeded to speak funerary rites over the site, seeking to set the unburied souls to ancient rest.
All dancing comes to an end in time.
All revelers must set their feet on the path home.
Rest lies in the wake of the setting sun.
Take with you all the echoes of the joy you built.
Leave behind the sorrows that you gathered.
Hold on to the wisdom of this life.
To carry back when next you join the dance.
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