Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

The Feast of the Moon:

[[ All over Faerun, people peacefully gather late in the evening to say their farewells to
autumn and honour their dead. Blessings are given to the graves and some stay to share
stories of those long gone, of treasures buried deep within and dangers lurking in the
ancient tombs. Despite the somber topic, the tone remains light-hearted, since all have
come to realize death as natural part of existance. ]]


A Story of The Feast of the Moon


The days light began to wane, the evening twilight first tinged blue then a dark sapphire.

Slowly a procession of Seldarine clergy leave the chapel. Several Rangers of Evereska bare a litter on their shoulders. Atop the litter lays Caranthir, the recently recieved dead scout.

Passing through the village more and more elves join them at each intersection and home. Additional Rangers of Evereska and Mathora warriors step into place honoring the march of their fallen kin.

They follow the paths to the clifftop. There a new grave has been dug.
As the day becomes night, the procession halts.

The Seldarine clergy bless the ground and lay Caranthir into his grave.

A Ranger steps forth from the van of the litter bearers,
"Brother Caranthir of Evereska your own bow was lost to us as your life was lost to us. Your faithful and dedicated service of duty honored us. To honor your service to us I lay this bow at your side. This bow is half finished, a project you had just recently begun. It is a worthy hunters weapon, yet the last inlays are not completed. Your artfully carved and prepared the designs for inlay. Few bowyers have your skill in ornate metal inlays.

"You will now hunt in Arvandor alongside your kin, with those of the past, and with those who shall ascend to Arvandor.

Other rangers and Mathora step forward to honor their comrade, speaking of hunts, jests, glory, and friendship. Priests and priestesses bless the scout and those gathered together. They sprinkle holy water over the grave completing the funeral rites. The Feast of the Moon begins.

The Feast of the Moon:

[[ All over Faerun, people peacefully gather late in the evening to say their farewells to
autumn and honour their dead. Blessings are given to the graves and some stay to share
stories of those long gone, of treasures buried deep within and dangers lurking in the
ancient tombs. Despite the somber topic, the tone remains light-hearted, since all have
come to realize death as natural part of existance. ]]


The Feast of the Moon
a Mystic Rite of the Luminous Cloud


In glade, meadow, forest or dale Elves gathered to feast. Sundry tables were laden with the meagre fruits of the fall. Breads and others delicacies were present, though in fewer than years past. The drought's effect were evident in higher costs and lesser quantity.

It had been a busy day, sheparding her children from the safety of the refuge to this new campsite in the north. Now, as the afternoon sun's rays lengthened she watched her family and friends in the company of the people.

The orange red glow of sunset transitioned, the sky dimmined to topaz, sapphire, and then violet. The first stars appeared, then more, projecting from a blackening sky.
"Shansibal, the Cornucopia", not yet empty of its yielding of the fall harvest, hugged the horizon between the Swordsman and the newly ascendant "Labraen" the Archer bow aimed across the full width of the sky at the Dagger. An especially good tiding, as the Orcs call the Cornucopia the Dagger, regarding it as a manifestation of their God of War, Ilneval.

A constellation familiar to all cultures rose into the winter sky, "The Wolf." Animal shaped it was sometimes called "Asglyn the Wolf" in the North, "Narnos the Dog", "Nobanion the Great Lion" in Gulthmere, "the Leopard" in the Shaar, and "Ghastis the Jackal" of the South. For elven people a part of "the Wolf" is joined with other stars in the constellation "Elael, The Songsmith" recalling an ancient elven fable about a bard who crafts a song so pure and sweet that even the Seldarine are humbled.

As she looked upon the stars and thought of them, she thought she understood life's cycles. For at this time of year was the time to honor the dead and fallen, reason for the bards to sing with extra poignancy. She felt humbled too remembering Caranthir, the fallen scout of Evereska and his recent funeral. On other full moons she had noticed him, firing an arrow into the night sky, honoring Solonor Thelandira, and setting out excitedly for a moonlight hunt.

As she stood watching the stars display, she thought of the Elven peoples, cousins, brothers and sisters and felt their close kinship ina shared communion.

Her kin quieted, entranced in the moon's light.

Her vision rippled, the starlight and moonlight coalescing together. A mantle of shimmering light rose into the sky. An enveloping silvery light darted across the heavens. A crystalline thought pierced her trance revealing a key to mystery that had eluded her. She felt a new spirituality illuminate an inner vision of new journeys.

The moment passed and the nimbus of light returned to the earth and the forms of Sehanine's worshipers coalesced.

Around her the Elves stirred. They feasted, danced, prayed, and hunted.

"In thanks for the Grace of the Seldarine and the illuminations of Sehanine we pray." She lifts her eyes to the full moon repeating a prayer offered by many elven generations "We remember ancient elven cities now in ruin and forests murdered, yet still tonight we sing to the stars and hope for renewal."