At last it was the night that Laoura had been anticipating for years now. The night was right and now the stars were streaking across the sky in a beautiful shower of silver. The moon hung heavily directly above in the great dome of the sky. Never had there been a meteor shower such as this in years...

Laoura stood on what had once been the dais of a long forgotten open temple. The temple had three large arches reaching across the circular dais, almost like closing talons. Black forest surrounded this isolated area of the ruins. The rock beneath Laoura's sandaled feet was uneven and almost covered in moss and lichen. Sahandrian was stuch in the ground before her.

She was dressed in a light gray sarong and matching blouse and slowly the fabric swayed as she too moved lightly from side to side, dancing at first slowly, then giving in to the chaos raging within her. So long she danced with no partner, or at least it seemed that way. Not since Shafath... How she missed the Celestial General who had become her lover and the father of her daughter who now seemed to be lost to Laoura's vision.

These thoughts weighed down on her, but she continued her dancing until it had become a practical whirlwind of motion, her raven hair trailing behind her.

Beneath her feet, creases between the stones became more pronounced, filled with light, creating a strange, circular smbol on the ground. It grew brighter, and the moon seemed to be growing brighter as well.

Then one of the shooting stars started hurling down towards her! But Laoura was utterly calm as it came towards her and she stopped her frantic dancing as soon as it had started. She looked up, bracing herself and digging her heels into the stone.

The shooting star seemed to be made of a silver fire. Moonfire. It hit her hard, and for a moment, her form disappeared in an inferno of silver hot light. It filled the entire ceremonial circle for several moments.

When it finally began to fade, Laoura was on one knee in the center. Though she had braced herself, it hadn't been enough to keep the pressure and pain of the moonfire to keep her standing.

Traces of the fire still clung to her and she was gasping as she stood, her hair disheveled and while nearly exhausted, also charged by the moonfire, for this was a ritual taught to her by her father. Summoning moonfire was a way of cleansing and a time of change. While almost the same, Laoura did look different.

Her eyes were now silver instead of blue, and her hair was white, rather than raven as it had been only moments before. Not the dry colorlessness of old age, but the white of a star's core. Even her clothes had changed. She still wore a sarong and blouse, but it was tinted with orange flames along the hems.

Sahandrian had also been cleansed in the fire. Any nicks that had marred the silver blade were gone and it's power restored.

She reached out and yanked the blade from the ground and swung it in a few arcs to get a feel for the weapon once again. It sang as it sliced the air.

Ahren rested peacefully against a section of the ruins that had managed to hold together despite it's obvious age, sitting down with his back up against the cold stone. With his eyes closed, he appeared asleep, but he was just thinking. The air around him moved lazily, going over him continuously, keeping him cool as he sat there. While he was aware of his surroundings, he wasn't really paying attention, letting his mind wander as thoughts raced throughout his head. He spread his wings slowly, stopping them from getting sore from being in the same position.

Laying on the ground next to him were his weapons, his sword and bow, along with a quiverful of arrows. He wasn't worried that he should need them, as he had magic enough to defend himself with, but they were still close at hand just to be safe. He was connected to both of his weapons by his alignment with the air, meaning that it would be difficult to take them from him.

Lifting a hand to his face, he traced the scar that he had received while up north, it was healed completely, but the scar would remain. It was the only evidence of his fight with the wolves that roamed the woods up there, and it was one that he would remember. Luckily, other than the scar he had been unharmed, and his steed had made it to safety. Upon thinking about his pegasus, he opened his eyes and looked over at where he was sleeping. He was glad that he had the pegasus to accompany him on his trips, it aided in relieving at least a small portion of the boredom that he sometimes felt.

Turning his head to look forward, he listened to the wind, hearing the sounds of far off lands that he had never been to, a promise of more adventure to come. Listening closely, he realized that one of these sounds was coming from within the ruins, and it wasn't the sound of an animal. Sending out the wind, he looked in the direction it had headed, wondering what it was that was in the ruins tonight. He didn't have to wait long before the wind returned, bringing with it all the information he required. There was a woman, dancing, though why she was dancing was beyond Ahren.

Standing up swiftly, he collected his things and began walking the way the wind directed him, wanting to find out who this stranger was. With a start, he realized that it was getting brighter, though he knew it wasn't from the sun coming up. Looking up, he saw the star as it fell, heading for an area up ahead. Breaking into a run, he began following the wind quicker, searching for the stranger in hopes that he might be able to help her. This star would cause damage, and it looked like the star was going to the same place he was.

He came upon the woman just as the star struck, engulfing her in flames and light. Letting out a cry, he threw up his arm to protect his eyes from the light, temporarily blinded by the sudden illumination of the night. Finally, after the light had faided, Ahren lowered his arm, fearing what he might see. He was, to say the least, shocked when he saw that the woman had survived, and was unharmed by the blaze. Still watching, he saw her take the blade from the ground and swing it around, showing not the slightest bit of pain or discomfort. Standing still, he continued to watch her, eyes wide with amazement.

((OOC: If this is a private topic please just completely erase this reply but I see no signs of it being one soooo...))

Astalder was flying high in the night's soul. Above him rocks of space flung themselves across the ocean of black that surrounded him. His wings sparkled and his hair shone of the moons soft light. To those down on the earth mounds of an Ancient City, he probably only looked like another one of the speckles that flew across the sky. It was a nice night to go flying and just about the perfect place to do so to. He was hovering high above what looked like a temple... a forgotten one, but a temple nonetheless. Bats flapped their leathery wings below him and the area was engulfed in the chirping of every insect imaginable.

Astalder turned his gaze upwards to the meteor shower once again to admire it's beauty. Something caught his eye, something of much interest to him. One of the meteors seemed to be closing in on him. Getting closer and closer and an incredible rate. So fast that Astalder had no time to react. The burning exterior of the awkward looking stone burned the tip of his right wing. If his wings were natural he supposed he'd be in much more pain, but these wings had been melded with this body and had little nerves.

The tip of his wing shone and crackled with a silver fire that disturbed his concentration and he began to fall to the ground. Astalder adjusted himself so that he was DIVING for the ground, head first. He turned his head to the see that the flame was still burning at the same rate it was before. Since wind wasn't working he should probably try ubbing something on it, possibly dirt. Once again, the Elf adjisted himself so now he was falling feet first and his wings were spread wide, being used as a parachute. He caught a glimpse of the star still falling for the temple and what seemed to be the sillhouette of a... woman?

Astalder landed and turned his head quickly, nearly snapping it. He saw the star hit the temple and produce a blinding light before dieing. Before the impact though, Astalder saw the woman was still there. He grabbed some dirt and smeared on his wing. It was distinguished easily but Astalder felt a little burning sensation on his palm. He wondered why the flame had not spread... but that didn't matter right now, he had to find that woman.

Astalder disappeared and reappeared in a heartbeat by large, talon looking stone wall. He peered through the side afraid to see what carnage may lie before him. To his complete astonishment, the woman stood their unharmed. Their seemed to be flames licking at her sarong and arms but she didn't seem to mind. Her hair was a bright white, almost silver color. That's the only real feature Astalder picked up right away. He watched as she walked over to the blade without even the slightest limp and retreive it from the earth. Still in awe, Astalder listened to the musical shwing's the sabre made as it cut the air in half. This was quite a wonder to see... Although maybe the star had missed her... Maybe it hit some one else and she came right after... These questions floated about Astalder's head as he stepped out of the darkness a good twenty sword lengths behind the woman.

"Miss! Excuse me, but are you al.... Are you ok?" Astalder said stumbling over his words like a fool. He stood their, thumb gently stoking the tip of the handle of his blade. He had never seen this woman in his life, nor had he heard of her from anyone. A distance away, he thought he caught a glance of an angelic figure standing in amazement. That was only out the cornor of his eye though, and Astalder refused to break the concentration he had with this unique woman...

((I'm also joining!))

Here at the ruins of an ancient village, Clemente thinks that peace of mind could be found. He believes that it is in this place where he can have a good rest, both physical and mental. This night, at least, he can escape from the noisy city of Taras. Unlike there, there is no people here, no lanterns hanged, no music played, no noise echoed, just a simple night.

Resting his back on an old tree, he looked up in the night sky. Being a half moon elf, he really appreciates the natural beauty of the dark atmosphere, decorated with thousands of silver glitters that is very pleasant to everyone's eyes. Clemente also took notice of the moon, standing up above, having a perfect circular shape. Never before he had seen the moon to be in such a beautiful appearance

"This is a perfect night", he thought.

His pair of blue orbs scanned the whole area. A few number of fireflies playfully dancing in the night air. He sighed for a moment, thinking that it is quite nice to celebrate just a simple life, a life wherein he is happy and contented. He flapped his wings lightly, producing a gentle cold breeze that makes his long silver hair move by.

From his bag, he pulled out his harp and placed it on the ground near him. Trying to test if it was in the right tune, he started plucking the strings of the musical instrument one by one. And when he finally realized that it was on a correct tune, eyes closed, he then began playing a light and melodious music that matches the relaxing atmosphere of the place.

It was like a paradise, indeed, and he wished it will be just like that forever.

Slowly, he opened his blue eyes and scanned the area once more, just to see if noone is around. Surprisingly, he sees a figure not too far away, a woman, dancing gracefully in the middle of a circular stone with three pillars on the sides meeting at the center. She was beautiful in his taste. Clemente doesn't know why she was there. He begins to be intrigued. He never seen any woman like her before.

In the middle of her dance, a star seems getting nearer and nearer, shining brighter in a silver light every second. It made him nervous for the moonfire is falling directly towards the direction of the woman! He stood quickly, planning to help her but there were two figures already there. Both figures were winged, just like himself. He thinks that they are enough. They look strong enough.

But what is more surprising is that instead of running away, the girl just braced herself as if she will face the shooting star! And just a second after, it hit her, producing a blinding light, enveloping the whole area. Raising his arms, he covered his eyes. Moments later, the light faded, the girl is till there, gasping. But she looked different now.

He said to himself, "This is not ordinary. This in't." True, he never expected that he will be witnessing such wonderful spectacle.

Stars far in the distance looked down as audience to those that chose to fell to the realm of Imythess, renouncing their celestial thrones to spark across the sky of the mortal realm. They raced as blizzard snow through the reaches of the atmosphere before melting away and vanishing into the black-velvet night. Across the wide reaches of the continent, countless souls dared peek upward to watch the ultimate sacrifice of the heavens. Girls cried from open window as they watched their wishing star plummet to the ground, no longer seeing their beacon in the light-up sky. Women sighed in the arms of their lovers as they laid in awe of the wonders above. Men died in a moonlight brawl for a cause they would never know, their souls sent upward to rekindle the universal light that hung in the heavens. Laoura danced within an ancient temple, magics inspired within the stone confines that could not be invoked by any other that resided within the plane. Sargoth watched beside a shadow, standing between rays of starlight atop one of the three arches of the temple.

Good evening, Goddess.

Sargoth spoke within the light, his voice travelling nowhere by being dispersed everywhere. He would not interrupt the ceremony, especially one that drew on such unfamiliar magic. There was little time for him to interact with the Goddess of Night, and hence he was intrigued by the graceful movements of his equal. His Istari eyes watched as plumes of immortal magic poured outward from her body and siphoned in the magics of the mortal realm in amazing amounts. Reaching outward from his ray of light, he allowed the eddies and currents flowing downward to the Goddess glide over his arm. It was cool, soothing, different from the warming magic that he tended to call upon. It trickled like water over his palm and dripped off of his knuckles before he shook his hand and allowed the magic to continue its course to Laoura.

With curious eye, he watched the legendary Sahandrian that rested vertically out of the ground. A craftsman's gaze took in the masterful craftsmanship and power held within the blade, its own plumes of magic mimicking Laoura's during the ritual. He idly brought Solos and Rai to his hands, feeling their smooth surfaces under his fingers and watching their own glow of power. They vanished from their existance in the realm of half-existance that Sargoth stood within while he watched the ritual progress further and further. Soon, there was a shift. The graceful magics floating out of Laoura and Sahandrian grew taught and seemed to turn solid as it hung in the air. Following its direction, Sargoth knew of the ball of light hurtling downward toward the Goddess. Toward him. The ray of light began to shiver from the awesome power of the shooting star and he returned to the visible mortal realm before the light he resided within was entirely consumed by the magics of the night.

The shooting star crashed down to the ground with immortal fury as Laoura's magic drew it down upon her. Away from the impact, Sargoth held up Solos and Rai within the instant of its landing and shielded himself from the searing flames that roared up from the explosive outburst. His muscles shook from the force of the collision of Laoura's magic against his own, his power weaker without the sun shining upon the Temple of Day. The flames licked through his shield, taunting him, and tendrils wrapped around his hands as the shield almost failed to hold. Luckily, the fire ended its wrath.

Stepping through the light, he vanished from the top of the arch and emerged in the corner of the Laoura's vision, whether she chose to see him or not. He stood in his typical attire, his half-robe rustling in a light breeze, his eyes shimmering with inner lightning. His arms were pulled up to be across his chest as he listened to the singing calls of Laoura's double-sword.

"I can only suppose you are feeling well this evening, Laoura?"

((OOC: Sorry but this topic is too crowded for my liking. It'll end up in a big mess so here is my second and final post in this topic. Hope you guys enjoy the rest of it!))

The Goddess seemed not to hear him. His entire body tingled as if some great magic force was near, he could sense it. Was it perhaps this woman whom survived the impact of a blazing boulder that only the Gods could li -

Astalder was taken aback. That's it! She must be a God and for all you know you could be disrupting a ritual of hers. You fool! Don't move too suddenly and don't speak to her!... He scolded himself. The magic he sensed upon her was he immortal abilities and her complete power over lessers such as he. Slowly he began backing away when he felt some one else approaching, some with... Equal power?

Astalder turned his head to see who it was. A very, very tall man emerged from the blackness of the night. He towered over both he, and the... Goddess? He wore a half robe and as Astalder peered closer, he could she occasional flashes of lightning in his unique colored eyes. Indeed this man looked fit to be a God as well, but looks were indeed deceiving.

Despite the fact that he could possibly be in danger, Astalder smiled. Immortals mustn't like to conversate with typical races such as Elves and Dwarfs outside of their Temple... Astalder joked slightly. This was not a place for him at the moment but to his freinds, he would have some story to tell.

Obviously unoticed, Astalder bowed to the two visible people and turned his back to them. He skip jumped in between two pillars until he was at the top looking down on the scene before him. He saw two other people now, despite the overwhelming darkness. The embers of the star provided enough light to see their were two Elves watching from affar. One he recognized as Ahren and the other he had never seen before. He smiled at Ahren, and raised two fingers to his forehead, then pointed them at himself in a lazy salute fashion.

Astalder turned around and looked out to his new destination which was everywhere in front of him. He looked over his shoulder and spoke to the "Laoura" mostly.

"I hope you do not summon another one of your celestial freinds while I depart, m'lady. I don't think I'll be able to survive another crash and burn from them." With that said Astalder lept of the pillar and down he fell, trying to catch enough air to lift him high into the sky. At the moment just before impact, Astalder pulled up and flapped once, twice, thrice to get himhigh enough to let the wind do the dirty work. It had been an interesting night indeed. He hoped perhaps one day he would meet that woman again and he would be able conversate about it.

She took her free hand to wipe away the droplets of sweat that had formed on her brow and nodded to the first witness who had spoken. "I am fine," she assured Astalder. She knew there were others watching, she could feel their presence nearby. Sargoth had watched almost all the while. "And do not worry, sir. That was the only celestial body to visit the face of Imythess this night."

Even as Astalder left, Laoura turned to look at Sargoth. "Indeed, I feel very well on this night," she smiled. "I've been waiting a long while for this night to come." As she spoke the stars above continued to fly over the atmosphere, possibly to celebrate the newfound strength of their mistress.

Laoura looked away to glance at the other two who were in the vicinity. One she knew of, the other was a complete stranger to her. She smiled in their direction, wondering if they would approach or flee as Astalder had done.

((Sorry for the noticably shorter post... Lost my steam towards the end of it...))

Ahren listened to the words that were spoken, they easily reached his ears as he watched this new figure that had appeared. He realized that they were more than human, to be able to survive a blast like that without a scratch was something no human could ever hope to achieve. He had managed to pull himself together, but he was still a little shocked by the episode that had taken place right before his eyes. Taking a few steps forward, he continued to stare at the two beings in front of him, he could practically feel the power that radiated from these beings. If they wanted to, they could undoubtedly squash him as though he were nothing, and there would be nothing that he could do to stop them.

His steps were slow as he came forward, a thousand questions racing through his mind. He wasn't an expert on magic, but he knew enough to recognize an extremely powerful ritual had taken place, one that he could never hope to replicate. A thought suddenly came to mind, with as much power as they had, one of them might be the being that Airie was searching for. They had lost track of what had happened to the evil, so whoever he was could easily have traveled out of the north to this area. If one of them was this evil, then it was his duty to find out, and report it to Airie anyway he could.

He stopped walking about ten feet away from both of them, and after a few tries, he found his voice. "How did you...where did you...what did you..." He stopped himself, finally settling on one question that wouldn't make him sound stupid. "Who are you?" Ahren's left hand seemed to move of it's own violition and it was resting on the hilt of his sword, though he had no idea what it was he expected to do if he were to be attacked. The best he could do would be to send Airie a message on the wind and let her know what had befallen him. Thinking of this, his hand tightened it's grip on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it should he need to. He might be able to use his magic to create enough of an inteference that he could escape if he was lucky.

Still in a state of shock, Clemente stared directly to the direction of the now white-haired woman. The power of the woman he has just witnessed is indeed beyond the elves' skill. How he wished he could do it some time in his life. He thought for a moment. Then he finally realized that the woman may be a goddess. And observing it closely, it was night, and the moon shone so bright as the ritual took place. She may be the Goddess of the moon herself, Laora, whom he had read from the Taras library.

The second man he saw earlier, winged just like him, already flew away. Judging by that action, he made the conclusion that that winged man was afraid of what he have seen. Clemente also wanted to fly away to avoid any future trouble but it seems that his feet were nailed into the gound. Its as if there is something forcing him to stay and talk to the woman.

And a moment later, a new figure appeared, something that seemed to be enveloped with a strange light that never fades. His energy is overflowing. And he does not appear to be a human. The fact that it had also managed to survive the silver moonfire only proved that he is somewhat a God, same as Laora, though he still isn't sure. Clemente saw him approached the woman, actually talked to her. The woman answered, but he can't hear their conversation. He got curious; he is always curious. He wondered what was that they were talking about.

Lastly, he saw the first winged figure, not the one who had flown away, also approached to the goddess. But the most astonishing of all is the unexpected smiling of the goddess to him! She knew he was there. She knew he was watching her. Clemente became tensed. His heart pumped out loud. And he can't help himself but to walk towards them.

With a nod of understanding, Sargoth looked over the Goddess as she bathed within refreshed and renewed magics. He had never seen her quite in this fashion, the changes of her appearance gradual as her hair grew darker and her eyes changed over the years. As if the slate had been cleaned, he now watched the breathing of the Goddess of Night in her full glory. The guardian had never appreciated the gods before his ascention, and he only held typical respect for them now that he was a part of the governing of the elements. He gave Laoura a slight smile while watching her, ignoring the escape of a lone mortal into the night.

His instincts tugged at him and spun his head toward the first approaching man. Sargoth recognized the magic that hung over him like a nameplate. The Goddess of Air had an envoy during the event. With a slightly squinted gaze, the God of Day glared at the man's hand on top of his weapon. He was inwardly angered by even such a minor action, memories of his last challenger floating around his mind. The Abyss was a gift instead of death; it was a gift that he would no longer grant. He would have to keep his eye on this mortal.

In a deep voice, he spoke a response to the question that was finally decided on after a flurry of half-attempts: "Your mistress will hold the answers you seek."

A second figure approached from the darkness. Sargoth could see no particularly strong magic surrounding this man and had ignored his presence. He stepped forward, but he had not readied a weapon. Turning back to face Laoura, he smiled again. Lifting his hand, fist clenched with palm facing the ground, it seemed to drip with light. Each teardrop of glowing energy fell slowly and pattered atop the temple's floor before evaporating back into nothingness. Rotating his hand so that his palm faced the ceiling, he opened his fingers and the light vanished. Vanished entirely except for a glowing flower. The magical plant had long petals and a short stem, perfect to place behind an ear. Within the petals, a familiar fire burned. A few flames remained across temple floor, now less that Sargoth borrowed the moonfire and placed it within his gift. Unseen tendrils of light magic allowed the flame to burn and never expire so long as the flower remained. Offering it to Laoura, he nodded in reassurance.

"In hopes that your renewed wait will not feel quite as long."

Laoura too, sensed Airie's touch on the man and noted he gripped the hilt of his weapon. Unlike Sargoth, though, she did not glare. She was not threatened by him, nor felt any need to take any action except watch him.

"I am Laoura, Goddess of Night," she answered simply to his first full sentence. He seemed threatened by both Laoura's and Sargoth's presence, though why, she could only guess. She could always enter his mind and find out, but this man was protected by Airie and Laoura never felt that reading a mortal's mind to be very interesting as it took the surprise out of life.

She watched in awe as Sargoth crafted his gift and accepted it gladly, for even though she had seen many beautiful things in her time, she was still easily impressed and enthralled by the craftings of others.

"I thank you, my friend," Laoura bowed her head slightly, and slid the flower behind her slightly pointed left ear.

It took Ahren a few seconds to fully comprehend what had been said. He was talking to the Goddess of Night, and he had his hand on the hilt of his sword. It was surprising he was still alive and breathing. He quickly let go of his sword as though it had burned, and gave a hasty bow. "Forgive me, I did not know who you were, and I wasn't sure if you would attack or not, so I wanted to be prepared to defend myself. Not that I would have lasted long anyway." Stepping forward, he guessed that this other being must be a diety also, and it appeared that he someone knew that Ahren was a follower of Airie, but he wasn't sure how easy it was to recognize that fact. With a rueful smile, he spoke with a chuckle in his voice. "Is it that easy to recognize I am aligned with Airie?" He hoped that it wasn't some outward appearence, because then anyone would be able to tell if they knew what to look for.

He relaxed considerably then, knowing that he wasn't in danger from the foe that wasn't here. Standing a respectful distance away, he continued to examine the two of them, pairing them up. They obviously knew each other, and they were both dieties, but he wasn't sure which diety this other person was. He ignored it for the moment, realizing that he hadn't even introduced himself. "My name is Ahren Elessedil, Sentinal of Air." He gave another bow, giving the respect where it was due. Turning his head slightly, he saw another figure behind these two. So he wasn't the only person to have witnessed this night's events. Astalder had already left, but Ahren had only seen him as he had turned to leave, having been paying too much attention to the scene before him. "Might I know your name sir?" While he was waiting, he kept the air around him moving swiftly, traveling to and fro across the ruins. He wanted to know of anyone else that might have entered.

(sorry it's shorter than normal)

"A Pleasant evening to you, sir. I suppose you have also witnessed the amazing skills of these two figures, yes?"

With a smile, he answered the winged man who seemed to be aligned with the element of air. He gestured to point out the two powerful beings not too far away from them. Observing the people in the ruins, it appeared to him that he was the only one who doesn't have any magical capabilities whatsoever, which made him thought that he was the least among them.

The man and woman from a distance can withstand the power of the blazing moonfire without any wounds, or any sort of damage for that matter. On the other hand, this Ahren Elessedil here has the ability to control the very wind itself. While Clemente can't do anything overwhelming. All he could do was simply play a musical instrument which has no enchanting effect. He just realized how small he was with these kind of beings.

"Might I know your name sir?", Ahren asked.

Of course, the thought quickly disappeared in his mind as the other questioned him. He fixed himself, stood straight, then answered, "Clemente is what I am called, a being of mixed blood." He has to look formal in front of them all so that he may not appear... different. He spoke loud enough so that the other two may hear. He then continued, "Part moon elf, part avariel elf. I am a bard, performing at different places."

After that, he bowed low to the two beings. He straightened up again, turning to Ahren.

"If I heard it correctly, you said that you are Mr. Ahren Elessedil, a Sentinel of Air. So you must be the one I've heard who was the training master of Windbow, am I correct?"