The coconut plantation outside port Petra:
It is yet another beautiful day in Sanctuary. The birds are singing, the sea is roaring against the beach, the palm trees are heavy with coconuts, and the sun is shining down. Everything is calm and peaceful and.

"AAAARHG!" The cry of a man shatters the silence as he is pounced upon by a vicious monster of tooth and scales and claws. One moment he is filling a basket with coconuts. The second an utterly unknown vicious beast is savagely mauling him. The claws rip into his flesh, tear his clothes to shreds. And that ravenous maw comes bearing down on his exposed throat, chomping down with a loud *twang*.

At the very last moment the man manages to draw mana into his form to transfom his skin into metal. The beast still has his neck in it's jaws, but at least his throat isn't torn out. The vicious ravenous beast keeps up it's onslaught, but the protective spell blunts the trauma for long enough that the man can gather his wits about himself. He grabs a nearby coconut and channels mana into it, before he smashes it into the side of the beast's skull with enough force to knock the beast sideways. The creature screeches as it is flung sideways and onto the ground. The blow has left it dazed, and so it can't flee before the man pounces onto him. He brings the coconut down on the beast again and again and again until *crack*.

Panting, wincing in pain, and hands quivering at what he's done, the man drops the bloodsoaked, still whole coconut down on the ground. He wants to throw up, but the adrenaline surging through his body helps him focus. Backing away from the corpse, he turns to hobble back towards the nearest garrison. "A... Alarm. Alarm!"

---

Within Sanctuary's Chamber (now castle) of Masters:
"While we still haven't identified how they arrived at the island, my men and women are confident that we have eradicated most if not all of these mysterious invaders." Tao, the Transmuter General, speaks with a deep, booming voice befitting his station.

"They may be vicious animals, but there appear to be nothing overtly supernatural about them. Their wounds are healed as easily as anything else at least." P'ua, the Master of Aquamancy inclines his head politely as he enters the chamber. "Have you had any luck Master Nani?"

"None." The Master Diviner shakes her head sadly. "The stars did tell that ancient beasts would arise from their bones to roam the world again, but nothing suggests that they would be conjured to appear here on the island. I can only conclude that this is an act of the gods."

"But who of the Great Ones would do something so cruel?" Dew'eyera, Master Necromancer looks up from his cup of rum which he has spent the past ten minutes staring into. "The Sun? Feeling slighted to not be invited to our recent celebration? Timor'in? He might find the conflict amusing. Perhaps the Fox. As we see with our pyromancers, she does love to torment mortals."

"Silence your insolence." Kalepo, the Great Craftsman, glares daggers at his slightly drunk companion. "They are the Gods, and they deserve our respect. Not unfounded accusations."

"Oh?" Dew leans forward in his chair, glaring back at Kalepo. "How about this. I'll show them respect when they descend from their high and mighty perch and tell a young mother why her sole child had to die by the hands of the divine."

"Gentlemen. Please." Okeyani, the Radiant One, gently lowers her hand while gazing imperiously on the two younger Masters. "I understand that emotions are running high, but we are better than this petty squabling. The people of the island look to us for guidance. We must show excellence towards one another, and towards them. This means patience and respect. Understood?!"

"Yes ma'am." The two Masters lower their head in shame. Though they are all old, Okeyani has the commanding presence to make most anyone feel like a child being chastised by the teacher.

The room goes silent for a moment, only broken by the soft *cracks* from the bottom floor where a Ceratopsian has been put under guard by the Archdruid and the Master of whispers. He has been given a bunch of coconuts to feast on, which certainly hasn't helped Dew's mood any. After a particularly loud crack, the necromancer deigns to glance down at the content, slightly dopey dino. "So anyway. All in favour of putting that thing *anywhere* else?"

---

Somewhere only the gods know:
"Looks like they don't consider you the culprit." Petra floats over to Grawissen, her face twisted in an angry scowl. "I have half a mind to go down there and inform them of your culpability. What were you thinking? Sanctuary is meant to be a place where the mortals can focus only on growing and learning in peace and harmony. The curse may have been from Alatadriel, but I hold you responsible for your haphazard scattering of them around the globe." She exhales deeply, conjuring up a small flower to hand to Grawissen. A small bloom of a brilliant bluebell, nestled safely in a clod of wet earth."Mortals are such... sweet fragile things. We can't be haphazard when we deal with them. Else, they might break. Just like how this flower will wilt and wither without a hand to tend to it. I won't tell the mortals what you did. At least if you can show me you have learned a lesson. I shall see you around. I have a lot of work to attend to."

---

Within the passing:
The sensation of someone being imbued with divine power is unmistakeable. Peter is busy directing a simple rainshower to refresh parts of the southern continent when he feels the surge of energy coming from Ymon-Thal. He briefly sends his presence to the underworld, catching sight of the blessed mortal soul. She has been given an important task, and such an important office requires a proper regalia. He begins his work in earnest. From the beaches he gathers up seafoam, from which he weaves a cape light as a feather, yet strong as ice. From the depths of the ocean he gathers branches of colourful coral, which he fashions into a tiara with sixteen pointed spires, each spire a different colour, from pastel pink to radiant gold. From the Moonpool he gathers up nacre from the many oysters and mollusks that thrive within it's healing waters, and from this he fashions a brilliant scepter. At the very tip is a pearl. Half black, half white. And from seaweed he weaves a book whose pages are written upon with the merest thought.

These four gifts he carries with him to the Passing, presenting them with a flourishing bow. "Hiya Ymon. Greetings Thal. Your endeavours please me, and so I shall gift these signs of the new office. May your chosen soul prove worthy of the office bestowed upon her."

Spoiler: Ymon-Thal Help!
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+2 Water. The cloak of the sea, which is beautiful and lightweight and made to fit Thal-Verys perfectly. It is as flexible as mist, but can be as hard as ice.
+2 Healing. The book of souls. A reference document to be used to keep track of all the paper work Thal-Verys no doubt has to suffer through.
+0 Moonpool. The moonpool can't exactly help Thal-Verys in her task, but at least it provided pearls for a beautiful staff with which Thal-Verys can command the healing waters of the passing.
+1 Rainbow. The crown of coral. A brilliant symbol of authority. And also generally very pretty.