Open Chronicles The Blue Mountain Gala

[Kerathari]

It had been several days since Matriarch Kerathari had awoken from several hundred years of hibernation within the depths of The Blue Mountain. The state and affairs of the mortal realms in the lands below had changed like usual, as to be expected after such a long period of time. Now was the perfect time to invite dignitaries and visitors from the mortal kingdoms, so the Matrirarch could get a feel for the current political situation and grow acquainted with her new neighbours.

In the throne room of the Palace, a gala would be held, inviting dignitaries, foreign rulers and adventurers from across Arethil. An ample buffet and other refreshments had been prepared, as well as entertainment in the form of skilled bards to provide an entertaining atmosphere during the mingling of so many interesting individuals.

Kerathari reclined comfortably on her throne in her "mortal" guise, an elegant yet seductive silken white dress garbed upon her scaled, feminine form. It wouldn't be long before the guests were guided into the throne room for the festivities by her Blue Dragonsworn guards, and she was quite eager to get to know them.

 

[Aivrid]

Tag: Kerathari

Perhaps she can still be redeemed.

---

​

The blue dragons in this corner of the Spine were storied in the same way as Aivrid himself, and for good reason. The matriarch was known as a creature of immense power -- a magician, shapeshifter, dragon. She controlled a great flight of younger dragons, along with armies of half-dragons and other dragonkin. Still, the tone in which the little ones told her tales was far different from when they spoke of the Harbinger of Annihilation. Aivrid was the dragon that mothers told their children to fear, for they did not know better; Kerathari was the dragon that little girls and boys wished to meet. A champion for good, a watcher of the world, a ward against evil.

Aivrid only hoped her long slumber had given her time to realize morality was a flexible thing.

The black dragon was preoccupied elsewhere, but his informants in the Empire's courts were quick to tell him of the mysterious invitation. Unlike most, who cast the invitation aside, Aivrid knew better. Most might be discouraged by the fact the gala was held on the other side of the world, but those who served the black dragon did not falter. It took a portal stone and two weeks worth of ceaseless travel for the small band of orcs to finally arrive at the palace of the Matriarch of the Blue Mountain.

They were comforted to once more be in mountainous terrain and to catch their breath. The fifty men breathed heavily, eyes fixed on the enormous palace. After a minute, five of their number stepped forward, one dressed in a traditional garb marking him as a shaman. The shaman presented the invitation to the guards, and soon enough they were in the throne room.

They ignored the looks their way -- they were hardly dressed for such a fancy party -- and muscled their way through to the foot of the dais on which the throne rested. Two of the warriors moved forward and placed a large wooden chest on the floor, popping it open to reveal its contents. Inside was an assortment of treasures; most notably an enormous pearl, larger than the orcs' heads.

The orcs remained silent, and the shaman brought forward a small, flat stone with a rune engraved on its surface. He spoke a few words in his language, and the rune began to glow a fiery red. Soon enough it had grown into a true fire -- a small inferno shot into the air, feeding and forming the image of a dragon's head, crowned in a circle of horns.

"Kerathari." Aivrid nodded. "Please accept these meager gifts to your hoard. An apology for not being able to arrive in the flesh."

 

[Kerathari]

Kerathari leaned forward on her throne upon witnessing the lavish gift presented to her, eyes widened. She then politely nodded to the image of the fellow dragon before her. "It is a most thoughtful gift! I thank you for it. Your warriors are more than welcome to avail themselves of what we have to offer while they are here. They must have travelled a long way", she said with a warm, welcoming smile, nodding towards them.

"And your absence is forgiven. However, I do not believe we have yet met one another. You are of the black flight, correct? Might I know your name?"

Aivrid

 

[Aivrid]

Tag: Kerathari

Perhaps she's poorer than I thought.

---

​

The frankly minuscule gift the orcs had brought would've earned them a one-way ticket to ashes from Aivrid. Bring nothing, or bring something only a dragon could carry. In this case he'd been testing the waters, and obviously the rumours he'd heard were true. The blue flight was... soft. Aivrid had put considerable effort into building his hoard, and few were allowed to enter his realm without bringing something of great value as a gift.

Still, considering the massive distance between them, it was no fault of hers that the culture was far different as well. Obviously this culture change extended to the treatment of one's underlings. Perhaps due to the dragonkin being of the same blood as her, she was more amiable towards them? Of course, the orcs who worshiped Aivrid were more than willing to do anything he asked. All it took was his presence and a few words of wisdom from the God of the Mountain.

"They respectfully decline your offer," he replied. "These orcs are more comfortable living in the mountains than in such lavish conditions." Aivrid spoke without even casting a glance to the green-skins who still knelt to the two dragons.

The flaming head moved just barely -- to the other dragon, Aivrid's smile was clear as day, but most would fail to notice his amusement. "Ah yes... my flight. I am a black dragon of the Seret. The little ones call me many things, but few know me as Aivrid. I understand that you have been slumbering for a long time, so I am sure I may still be unfamiliar to you."

His flight was less a flight, and more a pair of dragons dueling. Aivrid's mother had raised him in the old way, the right way.

 

[Kerathari]

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Aivrid. And indeed. A few hundred years of hibernation do wonders for one's energy", she said with a chuckle. "I am Kerathari, matriarch of my flight. We Blue Dragons have resided in this mountain for many millennia. We have long watched over and aided the younger races throughout our history in times of crisis. The mortals call me "Mistress of the Blue Mountain" as a sign of respect. A fitting title, don't you think?"

While she spoke, a small Kobold servant girl strolled over carrying a platter with a bottle of wine and a glass upon it. The kobold then poured some wine into said glass, before gently handing it to the Matriarch, who gently swished it around in the glass before taking a sip. "I havn't had much contact with your brood throughout the millennia of my existance, ironically. You've usually kept to yourselves. What has brought you to contact me, bar good tidings?", she said with a smile.

Aivrid

 

[Aivrid]

Tag: Kerathari

Ha. Good tidings.

---

​

"I understand the feeling. I slept for nearly a thousand years, only occasionally interrupted by a foolish adventurer seeking to slay me." He didn't miss those times. It was often more fun to hunt down such foolish adventurers oneself.

Aivrid found 'mistress' to be a rather odd title for a dragon. To be fair, he did not know too many dragons who had done things worthy of great titles, but he assumed one as storied as this one would be called something more imposing. Now that he thought about it, her interference in the affairs of the little ones likely meant word of her exploits traveled farther than the calamities caused by Aivrid. He did not mind... if they did not know who he was, they were likely easier to deceive. Not yet, though.

"I've heard many fantastical tales of you and your flight, and I have seen this great mountain once before. A great dragon deserves the greatest of titles," he said. Nevertheless Aivrid preferred his own titles.

"Your invitation, of course," he replied. "I had hoped to greet you in person, for it is so rare to meet other great dragons. Our numbers have dwindled, no thanks to the actions of a great many small folk." He left the statement hanging for a moment before continuing. "But even from so far away I can see that someday soon I should arrive myself..."

The dragon's head turned, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling back on the blue dragon. "Tell me, Kerathari, why have you chosen this form for this event? Should your guests not see your true majesty?"

 

[Kerathari]

"This form still shows much of my fully fledged one. And I enjoy mingling more closely with my visitors and guests. Plus, it has it's advantages. I can fit through regular doors, for a start. And it's helpful for fitting into such very comfortable outfits like this dress, for example.", she said, briefly stroking the sheer silken material it was made from.

"They see plenty of my full size when I go out for one of my daily flights, anyway. I'm a most impressive sight, so they tell me. And you've my condolences. I'm aware not all members of the younger races are....pleasant to deal with. I've had my guards execute a fair share of dragon hunters trying to claim my head. They arn't all like that, though. Most of the people I've met have been very polite and courteous to me. I suppose my good looks and charm help.", she said with a soft chuckle, relaxing back into her comfortable throne.

Aivrid

 

[Sathirena]

Curses anger and pain, most importantly also a new visage. One that felt corporeal and very much there.
Elven in features like her master the blasted banshee queen.
Covered in baubelled veils that ever drifted as if in light wind.
It seemed as a circumstance that when she was to return to her ancestral home it was so different. Yet the everchanging scape to a dragon felt like the growth and aging of a child.

It was so, and it was a party no less. Like mother like daughter they said, yet Sathirena could not be more different from Kerathari. While the 'consort of the wight of the west' lived in idyllic loneliness for the past thousand years, no animals nor people to disturb her peace, it seems her mother held a gala on this very special day.

Her magical energy clearly marked her as one of their own.
She came through the entryway looking for Kerathari, her form half real half not. And as a dragon who adamantly refused to ever take another form or was ever able to, this was the least likely and weirdest appearance she could ever hold.

And perhaps...the least offensive.

 

[Aivrid]

Tag: Kerathari

Good looks and charm.

---

​

"Clothes? Really?" The dragon gave a rumbling chuckle, but he was quietly disgusted. To blend in, to disappear, to infiltrate, to... one other thing... those were the reasons Aivrid might transform. The clothes the little ones wore were really only because they were weak, lacking any scales or natural armor, and because their culture was so odd that they did not approve of those who did not wear them. Was this dragon trying to be like the vermin? He could forgive helping them or intervening in their affairs, but a superior being was not meant to bring itself down to such a level. This was... troubling. He could not sense amusement or contempt from Kerathari towards the little ones. It almost scared him.

"A higher being should not have to fit through the doors of others. Do you lack the power to make your own path?" He jested. Hopefully she'd give a small display of her power.

Aivrid shook his head. "They chose to come after me... if I'm being completely honest, without them I might've starved, so I must thank them. Sometimes the orcs send me those they've captured..." His flaming eyes seemed to flare ever so slightly. Such delicious snacks.

"An impressive sight indeed," the black dragon said with a nod. "Someday we might soar together over these mountains... and you can show me such charms." To be fair, he wasn't in the least interested in such things. He respected knowledge and power; silver tongues and singing bards burned the same under his flames. But another dragon of his age? Such creatures were rare indeed.

 

[Ánië Táralóm]

...Now was the perfect time to invite dignitaries and visitors from the mortal kingdoms...

When the Blue Dragonsworn had first made it to Sharyrdaes, the elves there were no less than surprised. It had many, many years since any outsiders had braved the cursed lands which surrounded the city let alone even made it to the city because of them. And yet these warriors seemed invigorated by the dangers they had experienced, and were more or less unscathed by the beasts that would have struck out at them in the perpetual night which hung over the forests' here.

They'd come with an invitation from the Mistress of the Blue Mountain. Ánië had been told of the lady Kerathari who slumbered high in the mountains of the Spine. In ages long ago her warriors and Swords of the Order had taken up arms against forces of great malevolence.

But that was long, long ago.

She was humbled that she was chosen to go as a representative of the Sharyrdian Order, and so with haste she departed with a full contingent of Swords on through the forests. They traveled long and far, arrived in good time none the less.

She entered in some time after a ghostly looking figure, followed by a dozen or more of her finest warriors. They wore gleaming armor, and wore cloth of royal blue. She was robed in white fur, with a wide brimmed hood upon her head.

When her time would come, she approached Kerathari and knelt, "Mistress, we are honored to have received your invitation. I am Ánië Táralóm, High Councillor of the Sharyrdian Order."

 

[Kerathari]

"Oh, I could easily squish their houses and smash their walls, but I happen to be polite to my neighbours. Plus, being so large all the time, you tend to miss the smaller things you don't tend to appreciate. And indeed, clothes. I have quite the wardrobe. They're pretty to wear and surprisingly comfortable on my scales. You should give mingling with mortals a try. They can surprise you a great deal.", she said with a smile. She caught a familiar hint of power nearby. Very familiar. Though she couldn't yet put a finger on whom it was.

However, her attention was quickly captured by the elven dignitary kneeling before her. A warm smiled formed on her lips. "Oh, stand up, dear. I'm not a Queen and it amuses me when people feel like they need to kneel before me. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Taralom. I am Kerathari, matriarch of the Blue Dragonflight. It is always a pleasure to have one of the elves within my home. You are quite the radiant sight to look upon, my lady, if you don't mind the compliment."

Ánië Táralóm
Aivrid
Sathirena

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

It was at that point the doors opened, introducing a cold air that pushed through the throne room. Standing at the door was a regal figure, his form draped over with robes and gilded jewelry, a mask of gold obscuring half his face. Upon closer expectation, he bore no skin or flesh; his body made up of merely reanimated bones, vague cracks replaced with crystalline ice. Amankh Kaltar, the Archmage of the Eternum. Behind him were two of his Disciples, undead mages

Wisps of snow followed him as he stepped forward, his staff tapping the stone floor, his gaze glancing over the gathered crowd. The Gala was most impressive, set up by a dragon, no less. The Matriarch of the Blue Dragons, who had just recently woken from a several hundred-year hibernation. He could relate, in a way, to waking up in a new time that was strange and unknown, although his awakening was far more involuntary and drawn out. Speaking with the Mistress would be a good step forward for the Eternum in establishing diplomatic relations beyond the Eretejva Tundra.

However, the mummy had come with another task in mind beyond simple diplomacy. He had come in search of Sathirena. The undead dragon had departed some time ago, which was a common occurrence when she was not under direct orders. Normally, the Disciples would have been able to track her easily through the magic that bound her to Eilasandree. However, that bond had recently diminished and nearly vanished without explanation.

Now, something has drastically changed beneath that magic. Instead of the power and strength that normally occupied it, it was... weak, small. Neither were traits that fit the behemoth they had risen. So, Amankh had taken it upon himself to travel to the mainland with a few of his Disciples and search for her.

The bond had led them here, to the court of the Dragon Matriarch. As his gaze landed upon the banshee that stood among the crowd, a veil drifting in an invisible wind, he knew her name. "Sathirena," he said aloud, calling out to the elvish woman. "What..." His eyes drifted over the distinctly not-draconic form, "What happened?"

 

[Sathirena]

She would have raced if the sight before her was not quite as sickening. The She-Dragoness pained and stopped approaching mid-way through.
This form was the oddest of them all, the previous was lifeless and still. It felt no pain nor weariness. This form was spectral and astral, it was mind and feeling and a sudden gush of euphoria

»Amankh! « She tried to hiss »I'm stuck without a body, have 'you' the Eternum truly tethered me this thoroughly to this pained existance.« Her voice was strained and pained, clearly upset by the looks of it.
Yet dragons don't cry, but her eyes were wet.

 

[Ánië Táralóm]

"Oh, stand up, dear. I'm not a Queen...
...You are quite the radiant sight to look upon, my lady, if you don't mind the compliment."

To her feet she rose at the Mistress' request, and despite her preference for a more informal approach Ánië insisted a curtsey as she rose.

"Yes, my forebears have spoken of your benevolence, Mistress. Oh-!"

She was quite shocked by Kerathari's remark. She betrayed only a brief diversion, and a subtle blush before hiding it under yet another curtsey with a softened, "thank you, my lady."

It was simply not a part of Aeraesarian nature for one to be praised in such a way. It caught her... off guard.

Her attention was drawn elsewhere, and her eyes slid evenly to behold them converse. Some sort of sorcerer, and the ghostly figure. As she observed thrm she felt an unnerving cool - seperate from that which had followed the gaunt mage. It lingered about each of them like a haze, unseen to the eye but felt by those who were aware.

The ghostly figure too had an aura about her, one that made Ánië somewhat uncertain. And from the sounds of things, she too was experiencing her own turmoil.

She turned her attention from them - as it was not her place to stare - and beheld the image of Aivrid, wreathed in brilliant flame. She offered him too the same courtesy she had first offered Kerakarthi with a humble kneel.

"Great dragon," she said.

All her speech was like a pleasant melody, rolling and soft, "it is an honor."

She knew not who Aivrid was, but she and all others of Sharyrdaes respected all dragons greatly.

 

[Aivrid]

Tag: Kerathari

Surprises.

---

​

"Spend too long in an unfamiliar world, and you may forget who you are," Aivrid mused. He was deeply disappointed by this first encounter with the matriarch. Then again, perhaps she was so deeply deceitful that even Aivrid could not see past her facade? He doubted it, but the thought persisted.

Still, he recognized the inherent strength of her bloodline... and if he were to take that power for himself... his research needed to be continued. He hoped to achieve a power beyond what any other dragon had ever achieved. With a little help, it'd be in his grasp. This was just an introduction; they'd make further progress when Aivrid eventually arrived himself.

He cast an indifferent gaze at the elf who knelt before him. She was not to be praised for such actions, as that was what to be expected -- the others in the room should be punished for their insolence. Alas, this was the domain of another. He would not tell Kerathari how to rule, despite knowing better.

"Without a doubt you have a long night of... revels, ahead of you, Matriarch. My men will take their leave for the night, but should you wish to speak more, they will be able to contact me. I have business of a more sensitive kind that you may be interested in, as well as other news of the world." The dragon nodded. "Goodbye, Kerathari, Mistress of the Blue Mountain."

The flaming head's eyes swept over the room once more, noticing the newcomers. Rivals and enemies, welcomed into a new court... his mouth moved, but no words came out as he communicated silently with his men. Finally the flames were drawn back into the runestone. The shaman took the stone and put it away, then the orcs rose to their feet, only to give a respectful bow to their most gracious host. With their business completed for now, they took their leave from the gala.

 

[Kerathari]

"Farewell, Aivrid. You are most welcome to visit my halls whenever you find the time to do so.", she said with a polite nod before sending his orcs on there way. Her attention turned back towards Anie. "Please, just call me Kerathari, or Matriarch. Either is fine.", she said with a soft chuckle, arising from her throne and strolling over.

With little hesitation, the dragoness leaned forward to examine Anie more closely with an almost scholarly interest. "Indeed, most radiant. You must dine with me later, when the festivities have quietened down.", she said with a smile, before a particular name caught her interest. "Do excuse me, dear. I...need to attend to a matter."

Sathirena. Could it really be her? She had heard her daughter had been slain and raised into undeath. Such saddened her greatly. "S-Sathirena? My child, is that you?", she said to the spectral elf before her.

Amankh Kaltar
Sathirena
Ánië Táralóm

 

[Amankh Kaltar]

"I can assure you that the Eternum wasn't behind the loss of your form. If you were killed by normal means, your soul would be dismissed normally," the undead archmage explained. The vague sorrow that stained her trembling voice cut deep, the once rumbling voice now reduced to the voice of a mourning banshee. "Your body had to have been magically separated from you for this," he gestured vaguely at her ethereal visage, "and that would have to have been done by another necromancer."

Amankh pondered the situation, trying to think about what could resolve this. However, he was pulled from his musings as the Matriarch came forth, murmuring the undead dragon's name. His ponderings came to an immediate halt as the word 'child' was uttered. "Matriarch, it is a pleasure to see you. You haven't changed much in 4,000 years." Amankh gave a regal bow, before gesturing to Sathirena. "Your daughter seemingly lost her physical body, hence the visage you see before you."

This was going to be awkward. Very, very awkward.

 

[Acteon Cass]

There was a big gala being held in the Blue Mountains. It was a gathering open for all the big players in the world, so when Acteon heard of it he was sure to make his way there. The Cass family might still be in a less than desirable position but getting to know who was who was always valuable. He could learn what people wanted, what they needed, and maybe even a friend or two.

The Allirian arrived a tad late to the party, but he was just a man. A man who happened to be suffering from the lycanthropy curse but still a man. Dressed up in dark clothing trimmed in gold, Acteon looked likely less well off than those who ruled nations but still like a well off merchant. He walked in and got a great number of scents. Dragons, humans, elves, undead.... Undead? Well that was unexpected. Oh well, he could avoid them. For now he needed to get a feeling of the room and who was who before he dove into any conversation.

Acteon's first move was to grab a drink and wander around the room. He used his enhance senses to eavesdrop on conversations but did not stay in a stop for long when he stopped. Mostly he just made a habit of blending in and looking to be appreciating the music.

Kerathari Aivrid Sathirena Amankh Kaltar Ánië Táralóm

 

[Ánië Táralóm]

Ánië arose following the departure of the dragon's fiery image, and watched as the orcs made their way out of the throne room. She pondered the distant dragon and his troop, curious of their allegiances.

"Indeed, most radiant. You must dine with me later, when the festivities have quietened down."

"I would be delighted, Matriarch. You are most gracious."

When Kerathari warned of more pressing matters, the elf inclined her head and placed a delicate, fair hand upon her chest at her leave. Then she turned and conversed with the soldiers she'd brought with her. A pair departed, likely to converse with the entirety of the force she'd travelled with. The others, save for two remained gathered near the entryway - well out of the flow of traffic in and out.

With the long, white fur about her she almost seemed to hover across the floor as she approached the buffet and refreshments. There, she took of some wine and drank, and listened to the singing and playing of the musicians.

"They are quite good," she mused aloud to Acteon Cass who stood nearby, having no idea who he was.

Kerathari Amankh Kaltar Sathirena

 

[Sathirena]

»I dabble my interest not in that of necromancy, litch.« she tried to hiss, not feeling the true grasp of anything necromantic, but dragon souls were powerful and well sought after to fuel an artefact of magic or some other tool-
The attention of the wraith has quickly departed Amankh the moment she attained the Mistress' of the blue mountain's attention. She rushed forwards towards her mother. »Mother oh mother, I am stuck in this weak and wretched form.« There was rare a sight to see a dragon now so broken and a dragon so proud to fawn before another.
It was true, the blue dragons were different, whether they came from the spine or eretejva. They were very maternal.

 

[Acteon Cass]

With so much going on, Acteon wasn't paying much attention to individual people. Well he was paying attention to the dragons, especially that very human like one, and the undead, especially that undead dragon, but not so much to everyone else. He had just continued to take sips of his drinks and keep his little social mask up.

So when Ánië Táralóm approached him, Acteon was a little slow to respond. This was a fact she might not pick up on however as he kept his eyes on whatever person was performing and kept this entranced look on his. "Ah yes. Skill born from natural talent and willing dedication."

Acteon took a drink from his glass and hoped the performance would stop soon. What was going on was a woman strumming a lute, a man blowing a flute, and some costumed individual dancing oddly in some kind of vague way to give the impression of a story. It was asinine to him and a waste of coin, but others in the crowd truly were enjoying it. Music was best served as a background piece so talks could happen and performances should be planned as breaks from the talks. Oh well. This was not his party to plan.

As soon as it was over, Acteon slowly looked over at who had approached him for the first time. A bit of a surprise to see an elf. He smiled to her in a friendly fashion. "Sorry for my rudeness there. I am Acteon Cass. Who might you be?" He held out his hand in such a way that she could shake it or place it in his. No matter the tradition it should cover him for either. Assuming she wasn't from a culture that saw such actions as immodest at least.

Kerathari Amankh Kaltar Sathirena Aivrid

 

[Ánië Táralóm]

Ánië was unaccustomed to events such as these. In years past, the Order had had its fair share of luxury - much like this, though in very different taste of course. To be in the company of such illustrious people and talented musicians was a treat. There wasn't much music is Sharyrdaes anymore. She gave an amused smile at the man's obviously distracted self, likely looking for some way to secure himself in the Matriarch's good graces. Well at least, if he was smart he was.

But she did enjoy the performance for a time, and offered a gentle clap when it came to an end.

"Sorry for my rudeness there. I am Acteon Cass. Who might you be?" He held out his hand in such a way that she could shake it or place it in his.

Oh yes... a human custom, to... do something with their hands? Oh she couldn't remember now, and she had not the time to recall. She hesitated for a moment, but by the way he had placed his she believed she was to do... this.

Slender, fair fingers reached out from within large bell sleeves and rested atop his hand gingerly, "I felt no discourtesy. A pleasure, lord Acteon. I am Ánië Táralóm, of Sharyrdaes."

 

[Acteon Cass]

It was not difficult to notice the confusion that the elf woman had when Acteon had presented his hand to her. Seemed she was from the camp of the action being foreign. Who would have thought. When she finally put her fingers over his hand though he pulled it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles softly. It was the option she chose after all and he had to keep up appearances right now.

A light chuckle was directed to Ánië Táralóm when she called Acteon a lord. As much as he internally ate up the idea of being on a rank closer to his true worth, he kept a more humble look on his face. "It was kind of you to call me one, but I am no lord mistress. I hail from Alliria and we do not have traditional nobles or lords. My family is very old and known there, but we would be not but commoners in the eyes of nations with more traditional nobility."

Acteon let Anie have her hand back when she wished for it, as he did not hold her fingers any firmer than needed to not fall. He kept up the friendliness in how he stood and smiled to the elven woman. After a bit he went on. "So what brings you here? The food or the music? Personally it was the wine for me."

 

[Albedo]

Albedo arrived in a short time after Amankh, casting her gaze around the room as two guards flanked her. Dragons, and a mix of others were in attendance, though her gaze did not linger on anyone until it met the icy skeleton that she had followed behind to this place. Her curiosity at his departure had not stopped their, even learning the reason. A holdover of persona from the living memories that she shared from her former master.

She was still lucky enough to be holding onto her flesh. The switch of environments from warm southern lands to frigid colds of the tundra having done wonders for her preservation. Though not entirely saved. The process had already begun before she had arrived in the north, and now it was a battle to keep what still remained while culling what could not. Her eyes however still held the inhuman colors that were bound into them.

She approached Amankh without hesitation, even seeing him near what appeared to be the organizer of the event that they currently attended. Diplomatic relations were certainly a welcome thing, but sending oneself off alone was fool hearty without knowing the status one approached with, even if an old knowing was present.

"You could have requested for my participation, Amankh. I find solitude a touch troubling nowadays. How do you find the setting?" She asked quietly, her guards mingling with his disciples. The skeletal men kept their helms on, but still retained their souls and manners. Eyes drifted over to the half spirit that held the attention of their host, head tilting slightly in alarm. "Is that-?"

Surely that magical essence around the being could not be the dragon they had taken in. Right? That was unsettling by itself, seeing her rent from her body and now, semi corporeal in an elfish form.

 

[Ánië Táralóm]

"Oh, well," she let a soft chuckle, and withdrew her hand over her lip, "you easily had me fooled. Yes, I'm aware Alliria is quite different from most other places. While we in Sharyrdaes may have what you would call nobles" - the Highborn - "all of our people are treated with the same esteem."

Her eyes fell and rose over him, noting that despite having a garb that was perhaps lessened compared to the others present, he still held himself with regality. She could respect that in a person, to hold their backs straight among the likes of perceived "betters." The Disciples were the closest thing Aeraesarian's had to "commoners," but they were far more than simple peasants.

»Mother oh mother, I am stuck in this weak and wretched form.«

The words found her elven ears with ease, but she betrayed no distraction. But it seemed that this gala had become something of a family reunion - one that may hold dire consequences. In any case, it was likely her dinner plans would have to be rescheduled.

"So what brings you here? The food or the music? Personally it was the wine for me."

"Many ages ago, the Matriarch and my ancestors fought together as friends and allies. My people..." it was a painful subject, one she was unsure she wished to share so candidly, "...are quite enthralled that she would awaken at this time."

Perhaps the old allegiances could be made anew. Gods' knew the Order could use all the help it could get in these most recent years.