Descensum Altar

She had tried to find direction after the dissolution of Abaven and failed miserably. With little inspiration left, Fable had thrown herself into brewing some strange, thick tonics. They were like meads and alcohol... but also not. Maybe of them had varied herbal ingredients that were intended to evoke some kind of emotion or feeling. Some of them tasted foul, some almost too sweet to tolerate, and others left barely a passing impression on the palate. If nothing else, the way the light caught on some of the thin glass vials was quite pretty. She was ready to leave this practice behind soon and finally begin to think of her future, but that was when the storms had erupted across the land. Talks of the statues had intrigued her and she'd gathered up a collection of her brews and headed south. Maybe a new land to explore, new ingredients to seek out, would awaken something in her. All she felt was hollow. Fable followed the procession of wolves that seemed to lead into the cavern. When it was her turn, she produced a half dozen vials of liquid from a satchel. Some glowed eerily in the dark while others were so unctuous they seemed to stain the containers they were in. She arranged them in what she thought was a pleasing manner around the base of the statue and watched as they were shuffled in among other decorations. "Careful, careful!" she cautioned the ferrets, but they still dropped one of the vials that glowed most brightly. It exploded at the dancing figure's feet, glowing brilliantly at first before settling in to shine faintly. Fable groaned and turned to leave - why would anything work out the way it was supposed to, anyhow?