Passions of a Lady

Stepping lightly in your exploration through the hallway, you check one door after another in hopes of finding something worthy of your curiosities; and finally you arrive in front of a dark-hued, hardwood entry closed to your visions. A celtic love knot is etched deeply into the wood, a thick line of endless twists and turns that shape into a set of hearts, a symbol to the union shared by those who occupy this abode. Putting a hand to the doorknob and turning clockwise, a click is heard, likely the click of the lock being released; and with a gentle push of the hand, the door opens smoothly to a simple though unique bedroom -- a bed complete with pillows and covers, nightstands to either side of that bed. In the far corner stands a bereau, most likely containing the clothing of both lord and lady of this home. And outlooking a horizontally oblong window is another desk, very similar in appearance to the one found in the library as far as craftsmanship is concerned, though this one is a bit more crowded with an assortment of stationary, inks and quills, and several letters -- all neatly compiled on the desktop.

Stepping into the room, you take a more thorough look around the sleeping chamber, this time committing to memory the detail of the bedcovers and upholstered chairs, the fabrics obviously made by a master semstress and made to mimick the pattern of black marble. Curtains of white and nephrite lace decorate the two windows which stare into a garden of lush greens and purples, reds, blues, and yellows. Even the walls within the room are painted in remarkable detail to represent the wild world beyond the walls of the home.

However, the most apparent off-set in the chamber is not the mattress or the tables, the windows protecting the garden from the inside or the desk waiting to be written upon...and certainly not the color and saturation of the walls. Along the partition opposite the bed and adjacent to the windows, a large, wooden and crystalized-glass display case stands with a bright gleam of sunlight off of something metal, causing your eyes to squint with the intensity. Moving to the side a bit, you allow a moment for your vision to return, finally focusing on an array of exotic and traditional weaponry, both large and small. Swords, daggers, knives, bows, spears...obviously a collection that took time in the making.

Nodding absently in approval of the collage of implements of war, you decide to explore the desktop, much like you had in the library where you started rummaging through the journal of Sir Loire.... Finding a leather encased notebook of colored parchment, the words of a name embrosed in the cover -- Lady Sahyber Morgan-Loire -- you take into your grasp the journal, and with a turn of a page you begin to read...


Setting the notebook on the desktop as it had been before you began to rummage through its pages, you scan over the stack of papers, the top of which stands out from the other written words you are used to, mainly because of the combination of two different styles of manuscript, also because it is written in the runes native to the sylvans rather than in the words of Common. Studying the manuscript a bit, you begin to wish you had payed better attention to the lessons in runic languages taught to you long ago....
Replacing the pages where they belonged, albeit a bit frustrated that the words could not be placed, you push yourself to stand under your own power, your eyes momentarily gazing out the window before you. A small doe, white-tailed and spotted, is barely seen in its swift passage across the clearing, though why it runs, you know not. Curling slightly, your lips form the glimmer of a smile, and you continue through the home, pressing onward with your exploration of the Loires' oasis of security and protection....