Blackwater Islands our love is like water

one by one, the druids answered the call. wolves with dark and wild fur, wolves with jagged scars and cold eyes, wolves who brought with them the scents of sea and night and fresh-spilled blood. they filled the cave, inky waters thrashing at their legs as they looked upon the scene.

the prophet stood before them all, silent and regal. her stormborn sank bellydown at her dark feet, trembling, but the listener had eyes only for her followers.

speaker. when the time comes, you will return to the fey chamber, her gaze turned to ingram. keeper. you will lead the druids to the shore.

it was time.

druids, her voice rose as she addressed them, the echoing chamber lifting her tones to match the thundering of the sky above. a harsh cacophony reared up behind her echoed words, the sharp telltale chorus of rain battering stone. icy winds shrieked past the chamber's dual mouth. we are here to bind our new acolytes to us, to forge an oath in blood and magick. we are here to seek the future of the druids. we are here to witness the glory of the unnamed god.

step forward and take an eldritch berry from the altar, the prophet intoned. consume it, and hear my words.

and when they had each obeyed her, and the listener herself had partaken of the fruit, she went on.

in the realm of mortals, the otherworld is only a distant thought, she looked upon each of the hardened and skeptical wolves who had gathered before her. a myth, or merely inconsequential. we have grown too accustomed to false gods and false promises. but the unnamed god will not be ignored.

our god demands tribute. blood and secrets. passion and lies. chaos, her gaze swept over the crowd once more, a pregnant pause separating her words. our lives. our deaths. everything.

and in return, the druids will have power above all others.

the prophet stepped forward amid the echoed shriek and thunder of the world outside. she caught the eye of morgana and ingram with a gesture to follow her lead, and lifted her muzzle to the sky.

spiritsong poured from her mouth like choking ink. the haunting melody of wolfkind cast in rich, dark shades of devotion. a hymn to the unnamed god. the voices of the keeper and the speaker rose with hers, the gift of wolves guiding their song. time turned warm and liquid within the cave, languid beneath the frantic thrum of the storm outside.

after a time, she allowed her own song to fade, her inner circle left to carry on without her.

the stormborn shook fiercely beneath the druids' dark echoing hymn. her eyes were wide and unseeing, her breath fast and uneven. the song had taken hold of her. even as the listener's dark muzzle sought the flesh beneath her forelimb, probing, she did not stir.

the listener moved as if in a dream. wolfsong droned around them. rain clashed against stone. blood filled her mouth, sticky and warm on her muzzle. the wolf beneath her convulsed once, gasping, and she felt it against her teeth. the keeper's voice seemed to block out the speaker. a bone cracked between her teeth. it was the speaker's voice she heard, now. the rain, the thunder the waves the wind all of it

everything, everything...

the prophet rose clutching something glistening, something red.

rasha lay gasping. dying so slowly. so softly.

the black-robed figure of the listener descended upon her acolytes with blood dripping from her maw, pouring, steaming. each one she blessed. each one she anointed. sticky red upon their muzzles, upon their foreheads. the prophet turned then, and her eyes found the woman draped in gold and stretched upon the altar.

with reverent fervency she tended the woman, pressing the sacred scarlet gift to her lips. rasha has given a gift to you, the listener whispered coarsely. take it, and become a druid.

but tonight was not for bridget. the skyrock glimmered from its place at the altar's head. the listener took it, and turned to her dying stormborn once again.

a new fel energy saw rasha risen. she stood swaying, dripping blood.

her eyes were wild and unseeing.

stormborn. it is time. give yourself to the unnamed god, the listener thundered over the rising din of the storm. rasha would not last long. the listener swept close to press the skyrock into the yawning wound at her flank, and drew away to call the song to a halt.

the singing stopped.

rasha nodded once. under the pelting rain, under the shaking booms of thunder, the stormborn ran; a silver streak, a falling star racing to her cold fate. the listener shimmered with pride as she called to her followers. she loomed far beyond her own body.

druids! with me!

through dark stone arches, into thrashing black waters, under icy rain from a booming sky.

across wet sands and thin grass and over craggy cliffside terrain, the wolves ran. the steady drumbeat of their paws against the earth became a song.

they followed the pale figure of the stormborn. beyond her, the earth fell away to a sheer drop and churning black waves. she came to it quickly, came to the edge of it and flew over in a great flurry of blood and pale fur and

suddenly, starkly

she was gone.

the listener stopped at cliff's edge, tossed her wild dark head back, and howled. she turned to the druids, looked upon each of them. then to the sea, to her god, she gave her body.

and she was gone, too.

powerplay with permission for most of this. the parts i left vague to allow player autonomy include bridget's reaction to her part, which participants followed the listener, and which ones joined in the ending howl. pm me to request any changes <3

new round(s) will now be led by ingram. @torvi, if you don't mind posting a follow-up thread and tagging those who follow ingram, i would greatly appreciate it <333

the berries are hallucinogenic with side effects of lethargy, dehydration, and headaches.

and one last note, the listener did not remove rasha's heart or anything like that (: