[ We join Nebrinel as she walks into a room deep beneath the exterior of Black Peak. It took her a while to get here, despite being helped along by a string of teleports. ] [ The room itself, upon entrance, is quite odd. It is a very large, flat cylinder with a gently sloping depression in the middle. The stone in this room has been meticulously polished and inlaid with gold filagree in all manner of odd patterns. There are, here and there, gemstones embedded in the wall at intervals that suggest they're not just there to look nice. ] [ There are four people in there. Oddly enough, Xiv is the least creepy amongst them. The other three all have an odd palor to their features, and they all wear big shapeless black robes. ] [ Xivilai nods to Nebrinel as she enters and gestures to the depression in the center. Things get even weirder when the first thing she says is "Lie down and take off all your clothes. Oh, and please don't leave your sword near my associates. They wouldn't get along well." ] [ Minisession Start! ] * Nebrinel frowns. "I feared that would be the case. Should I keep the sword with me?" * Xivilai shrugs. "As long as you leave the belt unfastened, yes. You musn't have anything on that will impede your growth." * Nebrinel nods faintly, and starts removing clothing, cloak first. "Does that mean I will be aging rapidly?" * Xivilai smirks. "More or less. Although time really isn't a concept that applies well to what's about to happen." * Nebrinel places her cloak down, and says, removing her wrap, "It is a very good idea that I left my pack elsewhere. There are a number of Morganti blades and some morganti material in it." No, the Morganti weapons would not interfere with the process. Neither would Plaguebringer, excepting that it may attempt to assault my colleagues at some time. Now. Let us know when we are ready. * Nebrinel raises an eyebrow, and chuckles. "Aah. Well, it does have those sort of tendencies, yes." She slips the shorts/dress off, and her boots, leaving herself naked. She detaches Plaguebringer and holds it, scabbarded, in her right hand, not covering herself in the slightest. * Nebrinel sighs, and nods. "Alright." * Xivilai nods, and makes a signal to the others. They all begin chanting. [ The chanting continues for a while - you're not sure how long. Slowly, your vision blackens and you feel something strangely akin to sleep come over you. ] [ You slowly loose grasp of consiousness, and all thought slips away from you. For a time without time, you are unaware of yourself - or of anything else, for that matter. ] [ Then, suddenly - if anything happens suddenly in this - you know yourself again; a thin, two-dimensional, fleeting line of soulstuff stretching throughout eternity and existing without a care, and it occurs to you that you have occurred. The string is plucked, hauled up as though up a well or onto a spool, and bunched into a formless form that begins to shape itself into what you should be. ] [ Once your spirit has congealed sufficiently, it builds a home for itself, and from the home sprouts a stem, which in turn forms the line that will connect the will of the spirit to all that will support it in it's new home. The support unfolds rapidly, organs balooning from nothing, then being encased in bone and layers of muscle, and finally skin. ] [ You're aware, in a far-off, distant sort of way, that this is painful, and also aware that is it wondrously exhilarating, although you can't quite remember why. Your hair grows lon from your scalp, flipping about haphazardly in a weightless void that doesn't care to impose any bothersome restrictions upon it. ] [ And then your senses return to you, and you're suddenly certain that this has worked, and after that you become aware of the pain in a much closer sense. ] * Nebrinel gasps and grits her teeth in pain, if that's possible. "Agggh..." [ You find that you can, indeed, grit your teeth. Your body can move, it just doesn't want to. ] * Xivilai nods in satisfaction. "Very well, it is done. Can you stand?" * Nebrinel tries to grip the sword as a focus for movement... [ Nebrinel succeeds! ] * Nebrinel grabs her sword, and tries to stand, painfully. "We'll see..." [ Nebrinel also succeeds at standing. This is a big day for her! ] * Nebrinel stands, then, and tries to find Xivilai in the mess of people. (roll to breathe, roll to step, roll to breathe...) [ There are only four, and so it is easy to find Xivilai. Nebby idly notes that the gold and gems from the wall are crumbling or have turned to dust, and the wall itself look scorched. ] * Nebrinel , through what must be tremendous effort, arches an eyebrow, saying somewhat softly, "This was all consumed by the ritual?" * Xivilai nods. "Indeed. Spells of great power require greater components." * Xivilai reaches to her side and pulls a formless black cloak out of somewhere. She tosses it to Nebrinel, who, by the way, is starting to feel much better. * Nebrinel shrugs, and catches it in her off-hand, before looking down at herself. "I guess that I underestimated it. Is it any wonder I didn't manage it myself?" * Xivilai smirks. "The ritual would have involved more studying than you would have liked, at any rate." [ Nebrinel is now an elf who appears to be in her prime. She is at least a foot taller, and her figure has filled out considerably, as well. Her hair is awfully long, however, looking as though it had never been cut. ] (She's looking at everything from higher up! That has to be trippy.) * Nebrinel smiles quite a bit, puts on the robe, and finds, indeed, that her hair is annoyingly long. "Amazing. It's been so long coming." * Xivilai smirks. "Perhaps. Now, would you like assistance in attaining a new wardrobe and getting your hair trimmed somewhat?" * Nebrinel says, "I can handle most of that, actually. I built my wrap in anticipation of being modified, and the rest is fairly simple." But cloth would be useful, I suppose. * Nebrinel stretches. "This will take some getting used to, I think." * Xivilai nods. "Yes, it will." [ Session Break! ]