Shrine of Acharon Dedication

Join in the service to consecrate the new Shrine of Acharon at Anu's Summit. Praise, song and celebration will accompany this joyous event, and blessings from priests will be available to all worshippers.


Nov. 7, 2019, 4 p.m.

Hosted By



Acharon Alethia Limandria Inweth Qahir Aganor Sylindra Nyrena


Aeran Duindar Faenor Thalerith Lorandi


Grey Wastes - Anu's Summit - Shrine of Acharon

Largesse Level



High Priest Belstrom Devrien welcomes congregants into the shrine, smiling and gesturing for them to stand in a circle around the altar once they've had a look around. His russet hair is gleaming and he's wearing priest robes for once, although they look a bit tattered, old and patched in places. Where has he been keeping them? The walls, the robes and the altar are all gleaming white in the darkness.

Alethia walks into the new shrine, looking around silently. Her gaze lands on Belstrom, and his old robes, and her eyebrows slowly go up.

Alethia says, "What an elegant place you'd had built here, High Priest."

Tarag the weathered snow wolf arrives, following Inweth.

Limandria nods in agreement.

Belstrom says, "A holy place, Elder Reid," He smiles. "Acharon led me to this place. And so we built a shrine to him here. Welcome and be blessed with the potential of all your lives."

Alethia stares at him a little but finds a place to stand and watch the event as people start to arrive. "Thank you."

Inweth's head bows gently toward a passing acolyte as she makes her way into the shrine, white wolf at her heel as she steps aside to stand herself near the entrance. Her gaze lifts to give thoughtful search of her surroundings as her snow wolf settles back on his haunches beside her, gaze catching briefly toward Alethia as she offers the woman a subtle nod in greeting.

Roy - a rainbow starling arrives, following Aganor.

Malice, a lithe and deadly Krilkar, Jiro, ever vigilant condor, Aganor arrive, following Sylindra.

Qahir's arrival is heralded by a growing tiger cub and an eelhound of almost equal height. The tall elf dressed as if he's just arrived from a patrol within Thelos, and like did. He bows his head in greeding to the high priest when he enters. "Thank you for having us, high priest," he says to Belstrom before finding a place to go.

Alethia raises a pale hand, a subtle Faenor-wave, as she also notices Inweth and her snow wolf enter. She peers around for a moment and moves closer to the other woman, murmuring to her, "There is quite a mixed group here, it's a little exciting."

High Priest Belstrom Devrien welcomes congregants into the shrine, smiling and gesturing for them to stand in a circle around the altar once they've had a look around. His russet hair is gleaming and he's wearing priest robes for once, although they look a bit tattered, old and patched in places. Where has he been keeping them? The walls, the robes and the altar are all gleaming white in the darkness.

Belstrom says, "Welcome and be blessed in the name of Acharon the Ancient."

The corners of Inweth's eyes show a subtle crease of approval for the Elder's words, a scarce trace of a smile edging to her lips. "As it should be," she observes lightly. She leans toward Alethia to drop her voice to a whisper, lips moving with hushed speech.

Aganor smiles and arrives on his wifes arm, seeing people are already setting up for the ritual he kisses her cheek and heads to a spot in the circle.

Alethia whispers back to Inweth, the two Faenor women very discreet as they people-watch off to one side.

Aganor mutters, "I love you"

Belstrom says, "Everyone, please, circle around the altar with Brother Aganor and I, and join hands."

The Warlord of the Thalerith arrives with her husband Aganor to the dedication of the Shrine of Acharon, one of the Thalerith's most favoured deities, and whose High Priest is one of their number. She looks around at the design, "I was expecting something more... chaotic," she notes out loud to no-one in particular.

Limandria moves to the outer edge of the circle and clasps hands with the elves nearest to her.

Inweth withdraws obediently from her whispering at the sound of Belstrom's request, stepping forward to find her place in the circle around the altar. Her wolf remains near to the door, laying itself down to watch toward its master intently.

Sylindra lets go of Aganor's arm so he can go perform the ceremony with Belstrom, and moves to the circle around the altar, ending up between Limandria and Inweth as they join hands.

Alethia steps forward obediently, but she looks like she already isn't sure about this whole hand-holding business. She links one hand with Belstrom though, and holds the other out to Inweth.

Inweth offers Sylindra a brief glance as the woman links her hand with her own, granting the Warlord a faint nod for her presence. Her gaze shifts as she takes Alethia's hand into her own, lips pulled to a subtle smile for the offer. Her calm gray eyes drops as both her hands find themselves linked, and she closes her eyes in focus.

Belstrom takes Alethia's hand and Aganor's if they don't object. Once everyone is linked in the circle, he bows his head and the torches flare once and go out, drums sounding outside the shrine walls, echoing in the sudden darkness.

Alethia sneaks a glance around the now-dark shrine, trying to be perfectly composed.

Aganor smiles as he takes his place next to Belstrom his eyes on his wife before closing them to center himself for the ritual.

Sylindra keeps her eyes open in the gloom. As a Thalerith she has little problems seeing in the dark, but she forces herself not to activate her dark or heat vision, instead letting the shadows fill her sight.

The chant begins with the high priest, in his deep voice, but begins to pulse around the circle, encouraging everyone to repeat "Glory to you."

Glory to you, Acharon, for the gift of chaos wrought from change.
Glory to you, Acharon, for the gift of progress wrought from passion.
Glory to you, Acharon, for the gift of freedom wrought from energy.
Glory to you, Acharon, for the gift of perspective, wrought from your divinity.

Limandria says, "Glory to you."

Inweth's soft voice sounds among the chant. "Glory to you."

Alethia repeats the phrase also, yellowish eyes on Belstrom.

Sylindra says, "Glory to you, Acharon."

Aganor says, "Glory to Archaron""

Qahir leans down to calm the beasts at his side, and soon nears the others. As instructed he joins the circle surrounding the altar, and briefly lowers his head. He lifts his gaze to chant along with the high pirest until it ends. As he does so the tiger cub moves over to swat at his leg. When the beast gets nothing more than a brief glare the cat moves on to bother another.

"Acharon, show us the way

God of Potential,
Grant us our potential
That we may live fully
In the keeping of chaos.
In your name, we move
Ever forward, we resist
The ties of banality,
We reject the notion
That tradition is the way
Forward. Show us the way,
That we may create ourselves
Anew, day after day,
Year after year. May we all
Call out your name as we march
Into a braver, brighter
Tomorrow, and tomorrow,
And let us say Amen."

Belstrom says, "Glory to you, Acharon."

Sylindra says, "Glory to you, Acharon."

The crimson haze of Inweth's lashes part to set a heavy-lidded gaze toward the floor, head still bowed in prayer. "Glory to you, Acharon," she speaks lightly, the soft timbre of her voice nearly lost to the rest of the circle.

Limandria smiles as the prayer is recited, lending energy to her voice as she recites with the others, "Glory to you, Acharon. Amen."

Limandria steps to the side slightly, unclasping her hand from Sylindra's with an apologetic nod of her head. She then gestures wordlessly to Nyrena to join the circle.

Belstrom waits for the chants to die down a bit, in the darkness, his voice sounds like a hum or an echo. "Lord Acharon the Ancient, God of Passion, of Divine Energy, of Change and Innovation. We come before you here tonight to dedicate this shrine, on the mountain where you led us, by your spirit. I would ask all those who are here to concentrate on something in your life that is changing, or needs to change. Something you would ask to be unbound from. Imagine it here on the altar as we pray. Lord Acharon, we ask for you to accept our work, our worship. We ask for your approval, God of the White Shrine."

Alethia purses her lips and concentrates, her eyes closing for a moment.

The drums die away, and expectant silence swallows the shrine for a moment.

Inweth's eyes draw to close at Belstrom's words, lips settled in a mild line as she renews her focus.

Late as usual there's a bit of a hurried step and a flash of gold that appears upon the horizon. Nyrena moves at a fast clip though her breath is huffed and shallow. Her hands rake into her tresses, twisting them up as she approaches to pin them in place with a gilded comb. She nearly wheezes as she comes to a stop somewhat outside the circle of those gathered before looking oddly at the symmetric assembly. Whatever might spring to her lips is stilled as High Priest Belstrom gives prayer.

There's a flash of a grin from Nyrena towards her sister, Limandria, before she holds up a hand and nearly doubles over to catch her breath.

With a roar, a pillar of almost blinding white fire comes down from the sky and burns in the center of the circle, falling like a waterfall over the gold-trimmed altar. The torches on the walls are relit, flames dancing merrily as the white fire disperses, leaving no sign it was ever there.

Limandria gasps none tol quietly at the sudden appearance of the pillar of fire

The sudden burst of heat and light from the flames to pour over the altar do nothing to disturb Inweth from her focus. Head bowed and eyes still resting shut, she lets the warmth of the flame wash over her in silence, as unmoving and still as a statue in her place.

Alethia checked composure at difficulty 20, rolling 2 lower.

Belstrom's eyes widen and he tightens his grip on Alethia's hand, staring up at the fire with wonder.

Alethia frowns and backs away from the sudden fire, but since Belstrom still has her hand she can't get too far. "What.."

And suddenly it proves quite fortunate that Sylindra chose not to turn on her dark vision, as the sudden flame would have utterly blinded her if she had. As it is, it still proves difficult not to flinch away from the glaring white light, but the Warlord is made of stern stuff, and she gazes on the awesome display of divine power. "White fire..." she mutters in a tone that conveys both awe and dread, while the elves to either side of Sylindra feel her grip tighten painfully on their hands.

Inweth checked composure + fortitude at difficulty 20, rolling 13 higher.

Inweth's eyes draw open a fraction at Alethia's withdrawl. She holds her hand toward the woman as she casts a sidelong glance toward her, head kept bowed toward the floor. The Aenorr powers through Sylindra's grasp without so much as a wince to show for it, curious gaze lingering only a moment toward the Reid Elder before she drops her gaze to close her eyes once more.

Belstrom says, "Amen," Belstrom says quietly, letting go of Alethia's hand finally, and glancing at Aganor. "Well. That should about do it."

The reactions are varied amongst the gathering of elves though Nyrena's own proves to be quite different as the flash of light erupts from the center of the alter. The color fades from her visage and the hand she'd had slightly lifted wilts. Fingers clasp suddenly as her hand draws back while her form straightens. It might be some saving grace that another quickly runs up beside her as she begins to turn.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Nyrena before departing.

Aganor smiles, opening his eyes at last, he of course did not flinch at the rain of fire, "Amen in deed" He nods to Belstrom.

Inweth lifts her eyes as Belstrom completes his prayer, gaze settled toward the altar as she gingerly retrieves a subtly pinked hand from the Warlord's vicelike grip. The hand offered toward Alethia falls, moving to rest softly at her side as her gaze shifts to examine the flames flickering from the candles nearby. The wolf awaiting her at the door watches on in alert from the burst of flame, otherwise unmoving from his place.

Sylindra lets go of the hands to either side of her just as suddenly as her grip had tightend on them. "That was... bracing," she says out loud, as if invigorated by rush of feeling provoked by the pillar of flame.

Belstrom recovers himself and smiles, putting his hands on the unmarked, white and gold altar. "Thank you, everyone for being here, for travelling here to help us dedicate this shrine. Please enjoy the settlement and the tavern--spend the night if you'd like. Blessings of Acharon go with you as you travel, and if you'd like a specific blessing, Brother Aganor and I are available for just that. Glory to Acharon."

Alethia clears her throat carefully, dusting her hands off on her dress. "Well that was beautiful. Startling though. Thank you for the service, Belstrom."

Dahsk, a black wolf have been dismissed.

Saura - a black and white fox have been dismissed.

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