random event
The Fae gather; you gather; waiting is as much of a privilege as what is to come. And finally - finally - the will-o-wisps gather about the shoreline, illuminating the Sea of Branches in all of its glory. Something is coming down from that settlement on stilts - a gilded litter, borne by four Fae, male and female alike. Within the little, the Naiad sits. Beautiful, ethereal, her dark hair long and loose, her almond eyes beatific.
She sits as she has done since she was but a babe - but now a woman grown, her time has come to pass her sacred right down to the next generation. It is time for her feet to touch to the ground, for the first time in her fifty years of life.
As she approaches, the litter lowering to the warm sands, the Fae are jubilant.
The Naiad approaches! It is time to pay her your respects. Or don't. Who's going to stop you, really?
You have 24 hours to respond. (Yeah I changed the time limit. Badmin over here).
She sits as she has done since she was but a babe - but now a woman grown, her time has come to pass her sacred right down to the next generation. It is time for her feet to touch to the ground, for the first time in her fifty years of life.
As she approaches, the litter lowering to the warm sands, the Fae are jubilant.
The Naiad approaches! It is time to pay her your respects. Or don't. Who's going to stop you, really?
You have 24 hours to respond. (Yeah I changed the time limit. Badmin over here).
