The Staff of Dark Risings

Ashanni - Retired

[Arcaenum]

IC:
Ashanni, Mistress of the Mists, sat beneath the familiar shade of a cherry tree, deep within the obsidian library she had once known to be her prison. She spoke aloud as an ethereal quill hovered over an open tome, mimicking emotion in her voice. ‘The burden of immortality, of a soul unconnected to a mortal essence,’ she began, absentmindedly brushing a wisp of white hair from her face, ‘is that as such we are not open to emotion, an essential part, along with vulnerability, that makes beings mortal.’

At this, Mistress Ashanni paused, memories of her mentor sharpening into focus. Her thoughts focused one particular vision. Astyron, Lady Dove of Arcaenum, was speaking to a very beautiful, equally naïve, young woman. The pair seemed lost in an argument, unaware of their surroundings. Astyron’s cold voice clashed with the seemingly warm voice of Ashanni’s, who seemed to be painstakingly focusing on every word. Nonetheless, the pair seemed to be smiling, enjoying the scholarly quarrel. The sun shone brightly upon them, the memory fond in Ashanni’s mind.

Almost at once, the vision faded, the light falling to the darkness of the library, lit only by a number of small glowing orbs floating above the mist covered floor. After staring blankly at the book before her, she began to speak once again, the quill scratching joyfully, returning to its task as scribe. ‘But yet, as immortals, we strive to understand mortality, as I have. We mimic human emotion, for the soul strives to experience life in its many forms. Some, like myself, choose to learn of emotion and integrate it into our own activities, while others,’ Ashanni paused once more, smiling fondly of her memory of the Dove, ‘seek alternative paths to understanding mortality. This poses the question to us all. If we value immortality, why do we dabble in that which does not belong to us? Why to we search for the poisoned apple, daring to taste? It is a question as old as time. We seek that which we do not know, even when it is forbidden to us.’

Ashanni paused, a faint pounding from the north calling her attention. A pair of messenger doves flew down to their Mistress’s arm, signaling a visitor. Ashanni stood and waved a hand towards the quill, which at once dissipated into the mist around it. Uttering a single arcane word, the north wall split open. Without a sound, the Mistress of the Mist strode into the Hall of Arcaenum.

OOC:
I have been with Dark Risings since 2000. It has been and will be the only mud I ever play. I hate players who have been here a long time, so called ‘old schoolers’ that think they are better than everyone else just because they have been here longer. If you do that in front of me, expect me to get angry. On the plus side, I also love roleplay. If you would like to bring up an rp storyline and want an immortal’s assistance, Ashanni would be a great person to see about it.