The Stormcaller

[Jetamio]

Jetamio picked her way carefully through the dense undergrowth of the Faydark. She was deep in the heart of the ancient forest, where no one had been in centuries...but herself.
After some time, she finally found what she was looking for; a giant of a tree, so large that the inside had been hollowed out as a dwelling. The tree still lived despite the intrusion, trees drawing nutrients from the earth in the outermost layers of its bark.
She swept aside the curtain of ivy that had grown over the entrance and went in, already uttering a spell to summon fire. She found an old lamp and lit it, then looked around.
The one room was mostly bare. A small bed, a pile of furs, a bucket for water. It had never exactly been a home, more a shelter for her to return to after a days gallavanting. But what she was here for was the large chest beisde the bed. She swept off the dead leaves and dust that had collected, and carefully opened the lid.
Inside lay a beautiful outfit of leather, dyed a deep red with red ochre crushed into rendered fat to work into the leather. It had been made especially for her, and she had reinforced the blessings upon it herself with the blood of dead Vampire lords from Mayong's armies. She pulled each piece out, inspecting it for damage but finding none. The leather was as unscathed as she had left it. The style of cut was Fier'Dal, although perhaps not the style the youngest generaton would wear but it wasn't out of fashion either. She sat staring it it for a moment, then hastily pulled off her clothes and donned the red leather. Even after all this time, it fit perfectly.
Reaching into the chest she pulled out a silken sash which she tied around her waist. She remembered where she had got it, and shuddered at the memory of that twisted Plane, a place that had once been of joy until its Mistress had been tormented by the half god Vampire. She dispelled the images as she pulled more out of the chest. A dried up rotten talon that alerted her to the presence of the undead near, various other trinkets and small pouches tied to her sash. A cloak taken from Warden Hanver in the Citadel of Anguish. It was looking a little worn, she'd replace it someday she thought. Rings of power, one emerald, the other a two toned metal. Mismatched earrings, one sapphire, the other some other ambiguois blue stone, but both holding power. A golden chain with a lustrous amethyst pendant. She put it all on, feeling the rush of power as she added each bit. Not the subtle power of her birth, but mortal magics that amplified her own natural traits.
At the bottom she lifted what appeared to be the lid of a coffin, only much smaller scale. It was polished to a high sheen that showed her reflection in it. She paused a moment to look, surprised at the image. Jetamio did not wear jewellry normally, and to see herself wearing it now was strange. She put the sheild back down and stood up, searching the walls of the hollow. Her fingers traced a fimilar path across the wood until it yeilded its bounty, her most precious possession. She pulled out a long thorny staff, each end holding a glowing green crystal. At her touch it seemed to come to life, sparkles floating around the staff. For the first time in centuries, Jetamio felt whole.

[Xar'Zith]

((bump, updated! :p))

[Jetamio]

Queitly she left her old dwelling, covering the entrance again with the ivy to look as though it had never been touched. She strapped on her sheild, picked up her staff and headed back towards Kelethin. She moved quickly and silently through the forest, slowing slightly as it became less overgrown.
She stopped suddenly, hearing the forests song change. Someone was looking for her. She heard the soft beat of a drum coming closer and she stood still as a deer in the trees as she watched the raven haired bard head her direction. She did not hide, but nor did she draw intentional attention to herself.

[Gilliadson]

The bard put her drum away and slowed to a stop before the red-haired druid. There was no mistaking that this was the one she sought. She looked squarely into Jetamio's golden eyes as she recited the message that she was given to deliver...

Stormcaller Jetamio Wolfheart,

It is with great honor that we invite to attend a meeting of the Circle of the Nine in Surefall Glade.

Sincerely;

Xannuusus of North Karana formerly of the Elddar Forrest

[Jetamio]

She raised an eyebrow. What could the old tree possibly want with her? She had not seen him since receiving her scimitar all those years ago. She regarded the bard a moment, then took out a softly glowing whip and uttered a word over it. A huge wrulon appeared, its shimmering fur a deep shade of sapphire blue, a gold filigree saddle upon its back. Jetamio jumped nimbly onto its back and awaited the bard to lead the way.

[Gilliadson]

"My task is complete, M'Lady... The Circle of the Nine await you in Surefall Glade. I do believe you have an incantation that will transport you tthere. Be Well and may the peace of Quellious be with you." The Bard started beating on her drum and ran back to the portal to New Tanaan to await another task.

[Jetamio]

She shook her head as the bard ran off. The great cat rumbled a soft growl, and Jetamio soothed him before casting her spell and both disappeared from the Faydark, arriving almost instantaneously in Surefall Glade.