conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Mornings: ÆtherFall: The Night       - The First Cycle   
  
  He remembered... faintly, in passing. The old church which he once sat. He remembered faintly, a man... a dhampir. He had been... once. There was no pain. No suffering. The priestly figure... he had freed him from his suffering, his grief. Now there was only darkness... He fell through The Night. He felt nothing, just a quite peace. Swept away into the void. His body was only streams of silver light, he struck a strange cloud of shade. He could feel the weight lifted from him. Memories fading in steams of light.
  
   
  
  Through the cloud of shadows, light could be seen faintly. It was as if he fell upwards, towards a tunnel, or the sky. Streams of light split off from his luminescent form. The memories of pain. A name. They all begun to fade away, as if peeled away from him. He fell into the distant clouds of shade and into an ocean of light...
  
   
  
  There came the light of a brilliant sky. An ocean wonderful night sky of stars. Stars, like him. Swirling spectrum's of light. A dance of stars. He could feel nothing. He could hear nothing. He could remember nothing. There was only a quiet peace as he fell into the night.
  
   
  
  Hours. Days. Years. The lights of a million-million souls fluttered past him as the darkness deepened, and the lumens only glowed all the brighter. A millennium, a second. An aeon fluttered, and passed. He fell on and on, until finally there was no light. No stars. Only a perfect blackness. The sense of time. The sense of thought, washed away. His light flickered. Flashes, brief glimpses of a man that was came to mind, within the whirling darkness, as the maelstrom of shade washed upon him. Then he was bereft.... his light extinguished. The luminance of his existence crushed beneath the tide. He could feel nothing. He was nothing.
  
  He sunk into the ocean of blackness. Something, some form began to manifest. Bare-feet. Hands. Neither physical nor incorporeal. It was as if he looked upon some strange figure within a faded reflection upon water's surface in an aged and withered photograph. He has formless, and formed. He was like the half manifested figure of leaves in a harsh fall-breeze. He knew. This thing. This figure.. was himself. Though he looked upon himself, from outside himself. He knew this was him, and he was home...
  
  He stood upon the surface of the endless darkness. He could feel nothing, Yet the Harrow, V'Dri, stood before his mother. She looked over to him curiously. Her wonderful golden eyes the only light within this state of non-existence. She smiled. Her black horns stretching whimsically from her brow. Her mouth moved, but no words were spoken. An soundless echo, that carried no sound entered his mind. Voiceless, as if reading a subtitled script of dialogue within his distant consciousness.   '  Welcome home, V'Dri. We've waited for you.'   
   
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Hattish Thing: The Spirit: 
  
  So much time had passed since he last felt truly whole, centuries had come and gone and still, he did not truly considered himself complete. Or maybe the centuries were minutes. Or seconds. Or entire ages. How was he to know? The spirit rested here and looked up into the sky, gazing at the stars all around him. He'd counted so many, or maybe none at all. Little made sense in this place, but that was not unusual to the spirit by now.
  
  He found a sort of comfort in it all, organized chaos. Maybe there was a pattern in the stars, some hidden message. It was no pressing matter, he had all the time in the world to figure it all out. He felt safe here though,  safe but small. He was nigh inconsequential. A speck of dust floating through the vastness of space. Sure, there was no one around to harm him, but then there was no one around to talk with either.
  
  He was lonely, always lonely. Memories passed of a woman, she was pretty. Elven. What was elven. What was dhampir? What were the stars? It did not matter. Not really. Nothing mattered to the spirit anymore, if anything ever had in the first place. Was he a star? An elf? A dhampir? Or was he... nothing. Was this what being no one felt like?
  
  Suddenly light, so much light, everywhere, all around. It hurt at first, and he felt like he was burning. Then nothing again. A sea of nothing, of darkness. Of blank space. And here he stayed, floating through the ocean of pitch black nothingness, like a discarded bit of flotsam. This ocean was so dry, it made his self itch. He did not have skin. Did anything have skin? What did skin feel like. Taste like. What was the texture...
  
  What was blood? Peaceful thoughts conjuring images of flayed bodies. Blood, sinew, flesh. He had lived for that. The warmth, the feel, the exotic flavor. Blood was important, but he did not have it. Did he want it? No. No he did not. There was no craving. He simply wanted to see it. To experience it. To experience tracing his tongue across every bit of exposed flesh, meat. To touch. He was jealous. He wanted to be like it, like the body. He wanted one. He missed feeling...
  
  Then he stood. Wait, no. No he did not. The other thing did. The other him. Why did he stand? He did not know. Did he? No, no, no. Simple, simple, what was simple. Then a woman. A beautiful woman, blue, silky, soft. He felt lonely again. He had missed people. Then a name, his name. A nice name. He liked it. It was his. His name. His name. Name... name... n. N. Na... Name, yes.
  
  He spoke.  "Waited? Truly? Why? Why is... the stars, I looked towards the stars. They dud not smile, no, no. There were cold. And made me feel lonely. Very lonely..."
  
  "Mother. Why am I, mother? Why.... Is this?"
  
  "Please..." 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Mornings: ÆtherFall - The Night     
  The women spread her arms before herself, silver streams of vaporous-light emerging from the void. They begun to wrap about his dim-figure, the light beginning to define his form. Again her soundless voice echoed within and through him as unspoken words.   " Young one... you've yet lived at all. Now... gather yourself. Gather yourself and remember what you are..."   His form began to solidify, shapeless-expressionless light in the figure of a man.   "There, isn't that so much better?"   He could 'perceive' himself again, hands, and fingers, though he possessed no flesh or bone. He was light. He felt a whirling hum within himself, a certain cyclonic balance, like a breeze. She smiled, her mouth had already stopped moving as the words begun to echo to him.   " Yes... feel The Gale within you. The wind of your spirit, for you are Harrow... "   an awareness of his own state begun to fill him. He was a spirit. A spirit of the natural world, born of this darkness and the skies of the worlds far away from here. He was the wind... and no body, no form could change that. The Gale, the wind of his spirit was his existence, his heart. He was renewed. The women before him, he knew as his mother smiled softly as her lips finished moving, she waved her hand, an orb of light struck him.  "My gift to you dear child. Your soul is one of The Chosen. The destined to shape the many worlds above. So take these memories..."  He felt himself empowered, a strange knowledge... thoughts filled his mind.  " Your soul V'Dri, belongs to The Children, but you are my son still, and when your mortal days are done, you shall return to here, to The Night. To be made new... I give you the gift, the gift of freedom of choice. Go, live once more... Join The Children once more, or live however you would choose. But know... You will be pulled by those forces greater then yourself, your destiny of great victory... or perhaps, suffering.. or sacrifice, awaits. I wish you all the best. "  She lifted a hand, a gate of whirling light manifesting behind her, like a whirling pool.  "When you are ready... step through, and be made new..." 
   
   Spoiler: The Harrow Spirit (Air) - OOC 
   ~ Gained Prime Form  (May access Wakes)
   ~ Gained Knowledge (Reflections) : A mirror of himself that may be created. A native of the world to which he descends. This unique figure of himself is created within the terms of the world which he enters from The Wake willingly. Defined further when the option is available.
  
     Harrow Soul (Soulbound Abilities)  
   ~ Affinity to Air I:  Sonic Damage is reduced by half.
  
       [Spirit Wind I:]      
     [Form I: Soul Form]   - When the Harrow jumps, while unencumbered, or restricted. He may choose to become a gust of air moving the distance jumped as if he had flown. While in this state he is immune to most non-magical physical attacks. The Harrow may use this ability an an  Immediate Action  a number of times per day equal to 3 + Soul Level, of the Harrow.  ( Upon Reaching  SL10  The Harrow may use this ability as a Swift and/or Immediate Action. Using it as an Immediate Action, does not expend the Harrow's next Swift Action.) 
     [Form I: Gale Dodge]    - The Harrow may may a Reflex Save against standard non-magical projectile attacks as a Free Action. This ability may be used from multiple attacks from a single target or more. If successful, the Harrow becomes a transparent breeze and the projectile passes through him harmlessly.  (The Harrow gains a +2 Misc Bonus to Reflex Saves. This Bonus Increases by +1/4 Soul Levels. Upon Reaching  SL15  The Harrow may use this ability against enchanted projectile and Conventional-Magic cast at range against himself using either his Reflex or WIll, Player's choice.) 
   
  
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