Post by Merla, the Daughter of Summer on Oct 27, 2020 0:48:06 GMT
The stories we love, they love us back. How we tell them, how we sing them with our voices, those stories become part of us, leaving their mark. The Daughter of Summer is no stranger to stories. She has words and songs in her soul.
Her ensemble for the Necromance Ball was a tapestry of stories. Each flower chosen had a secret meaning, a legend tied to it.
All of the flowers Sheryl had adorning her were dried and preserved – including the ones in her circlet. The effect is a muted palette, enhancing the twisting thorns and branches that line a river of forget-me-nots* that cascades across her body from her right shoulder to her left hip. On the upper side of this river is a sunflower** surrounded by tiny, white daisies*** – the asteraceae. They dance in a constellation that is not familiar to anyone from the Material Plane. On the lower side is a beautiful field of buttercups****, with grains of wheat***** dusting the space above it to symbolise resurrection, bounty and life, an implied silhouette of some regal and fierce Queen in its pattern. To look too long at it a person would start to see the grains and daisies shift and move. Possibly some kind of enchantment or glamour, one would think.
The twisting thorns and branches that line the forget-me-not river rise up from Sheryl’s shoulders, creating a high collar silhouette on either side of bare tree branches with a few autumn coloured leaves still clinging to them. Her arms are covered in a sheer fabric dusted with grains of what looks like wheat to continue the bare tree effect down her arms, whilst the fabric on her legs goes from the warm wood colour of her armour to a cooler, darker brown, nearly black that has a darkening forest motif to it. A draped, half skirt with the outlines of tall, knotted trees on it gives an effect of a shifting and changing forest trying to mesmerise the looker, enchantingly.
The only warmth to her ensemble is the imperial topaz gem in her circlet, though even its orange, magenta and pink light has become more subdued these days. Some might think it’s because of her banishment from the Summer Court. Others, because of her time spent in the Shadowfell. Whether it be either reason, or something else, the time of Reaping approaches and Summer’s Warmth must give way to Winter’s Chill. It was how the Wheel of the Year worked. At least here in the Mortal Realms.
(come-commala-come)
Even as they approached the upper floors of the art gallery, Sheryl noticed how Astra’s wing’s were pinioning up and down to the beat of the music coming from inside. Her worry only increased when they entered the ballroom and the fae-bard’s heartbeat was no longer keeping time to her own Song, but was matching the rhythm of the one the Necrodancer was singing.
Why are there so many songs about heroes?
What about the villain’s side?
Sheryl caught Faye’s eye and knew they felt it too. The large, trellised covered room is completely saturated with high bardic magic. The swirling forms of the kobles, some masked, others not, follow the song the half orc standing centre stage is singing. Sheryl watches him play, how his fingers move faster than her eyes can follow along across his acoustic guitar. She hasn’t ever seen anyone play quite like it – not even Kruxeral. It is, quite frankly, a little frightening.
Their group’s arrival was quickly noticed by the bard on the stage, though he made no move to end his song early. But when he did, there was no mistaking what was about to go down.
“If you are mortal and you wish to see the sunrise, you had best leave. Now,” the Necrodancer said, his voice carrying in that way those used to being heard only did.
The kobles wearing masks unveiled their faces, baring sharp, vampiric fangs.
“As if some necromancer wanting to enslave BB’s soul for all eternity wasn’t enough,” Sheryl says to Astra as she pulls out a potion.
“I am more worried about what will happen if the music stops before we defeat the Necrodancer,” Astra confides, front hoof stomping in anticipation as the frightened kobles run past their party of determined fighters, still pillars of stone against a rushing tide of panic.
“Our Song is stronger, Astra.”
Sheryl uncorks the bottle and in one swift, elegant motion downs the clear potion with its continuously expanding and collapsing tiny red bead. As her form grows to double her height, so does her rapier, which she draws from the sheath at her side.
“It will be the last one this Necrodancer will ever hear.”
Stay close, move fast
The darkness cannot last
The koble vampires move to converge on Baine, Frankie and Ghesh whilst Faye, on the back of their summoned giant elk mount, Elchior, mercilessly attack the Necrodancer on the stage as he tries to switch places with the combined skeletal form of his band members, Huey and Jet.
No hope, no path
But we’ve got a dream to catch
And we cannot wait
From her aloft vantage point, Sheryl sees the polymorphed shark form BB had been trapped in drop, and she gasps for air gratefully.
Trust the way we’re made
The sparrow’s born to fly
The mountains tower
Turning back, the fae-bard sees the half-orc form of the Necrodancer lift a hand, reaching up to something in the rafters before Elchior’s cloven hoof comes stomping down, ending his unlife.
But the fight is not over. There are still the koble vampires swarming around her friends.
The river knows to reach the sea
Rain will help the flowers be
We’re the same, you and me
With a flourish of her Harmonious Rapier, Sheryl starts to sing a song, she and Astra vanishing to strike like the wind. Between the words she sings they appear next to the five vampires, her seven and a half foot tall form changing with each strike until the last one, when she is cloaked in a majestic presence that has an uncanny resemblance to the Queen of Summer and Seelie Fae. The vampires surrounding Baine and Ghesh stagger with the force of her strikes, barely holding onto their undead life.
From the balcony BB unleashes a chain lighting, catching three of the vampires in a blue fire that immolates them to ash. Then Frankie swings around and Baine’s cindermaul lights with divine fire as he finishes off the final ones.
The lightning doesn’t take advice from anyone
The willow doesn’t need to learn to stand
As sun seeks day
We’ll find our way
And we’ll catch that dream together someday soon
We’re rising like the moon
As the echoes of Sheryl’s voice ring through the room, the high bardic magic that had been permeating the space starts to fade away, her heart beat once more her own. A shudder of inexplicable pleasure coursing through her as she looks around at her friends.
“See Astra? Our Song shattered the night, filling it with our virtue and glory that not even Death could bind or end.”
The winged unicorn looks back to her as they gracefully touch down on the ballroom floor.
“Our might is our splendor and it will shine forever… Infinite and unbound.”
Excerpts from Legends and Lore of the Faen Realms, 'Lus agus Fhlùraichean of the Summer Court'
*Forget-me-nots
Meaning – True and undying love, remembrance after parting/death, a connection that lasts through time.
Legend: Two lovers saw the beautiful blue flower growing on an islet in the middle of a river. The first lover leapt into the water to get the flowers but on the return journey they slipped, the strong current embracing them for the flowers they sought to take from it. Before the lover could be swept away, they threw the bouquet of blue flowers to the second lover and shouted, “Forget-me-not!” The second lover wore the flowers in their hair until the day they died, holding onto the promise made.
**Sunflowers
Meaning – Adoration, loyalty, longevity
Legend: [Redacted]
***Daisies
Meaning – Persistence, perseverance of unobtrusive power, harmony, new beginnings, innocence, true love, purity
Legend: [Redacted]
****Buttercups
Meaning – Harbinger of summer joy, beautiful and deadly
Legend: According to this legend, a young halfling by the name of Lightfoot was known for his beautiful singing voice and the oud he played, always dressed in stunning attire of yellow and green silks. His voice had the power to entrance any who heard it. One day when singing to a group of dryads, he sang to such heights of ecstasy that he collapsed - but his soul still sang despite having left his body. To honour the fallen youth, Queen Titania transformed his body into a field of buttercups and to this day, any who visit the meadow can hear Lightfoot’s song coming from the flowers themselves.
*****Wheat
Meaning – The staff of life, fertility, bounty and resurrection; “You reap what you sow”
Legend: [Redacted]