Fira-Nar
If Argonians could blush, Fira would have been glowing like a Vvardenfell sunset with all the spicy gossip floating around the church. For priests, they certainly had vivid, and descriptive, imaginations. Finding a partner hadn't been something she'd given serious thought to yet, nevermind any sort of...entertainment. She'd had half a mind to leave, but waited it out. Surely a few moments of discomfort on her part were worth having information that could save a child's life.
It was with no small amount of relief that she allowed herself to be guided to the office of Father Lucius. Relief that proved to be short lived. The other monks left, certainly, but somehow the father's smile failed to erase the words he'd uttered moments before. How one of his own flock meant so little that he would quickly become the butt of every joke, a vessel of disdain. What Angus had endured, she didn't know, but she knew that he didn't deserve to be made a mockery.
Again, she had to lay her opinions aside if she was going to accomplish her mission. Fira managed to maintain a carefully curious tone, though her tail flicked once or twice - the only outward evidence of her discomfort.
"Thank-you for seeing me, Father. I had heard of the story in passing but I knew if I wanted to know the whole story, I would have to talk to the source. How did this destroyer knife come into existence? How did you defeat it?"
Islands on Another World (GW2)
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Father Lucius
"Ah, yes," Father Lucius said, steepling his fingers and settling more comfortably in his chair. With this new subject, it appeared Angus was completely forgotten. "I'm not surprised you came to hear that. It's rather an interesting story."
Perhaps not optimal modesty for a man of the cloth. But Lucius was already on a roll, and if Fira simply didn't interrupt, he was apparently prepared to disclose a large amount of information for the asking.
"It was many years ago. I was but a young priest. A destroyer knife had been detected in a ruin out in the wilds near Ojel-Bak. I was called with some my comrades to address it. The standard solution, of course, is simply to wipe out the vessel before the knife gains enough power to do harm. This is the easiest and safest way. If you are a student of the destroyer knife phenomenon, perhaps you know this already, though - there is a second way, a ceremony that can bind the destroyer knife, and render it harmless in the vessel. This ritual takes four. A priest, a healer, a scholar, and a paladin - which means a holy knight, consecrated by a Divine. In our youth and innocence, we believed we could bind the knife and spare the vessel. The four of us and our retinue set out on our brave quest."
His tone had become distant, wistful, yet proud.
"We were all young and strong, and utterly devout. Resolute in our convictions. We arrived, prepared to bind this knife and save Tamriel. A woman knelt alone in the ruins, weeping. Silently, with her eyes and hands, she begged for our help. She was so... beautiful. So alluring. It was clear that she was a temptation to my men."
The Father's tone abruptly lost its reverie, and he stared directly at Fira.
"That was when I realized the truth about the vessel. It is not a person. It may take the shape of a person, but that is only so it can lead the holy astray. It cannot speak. It cannot feel. It appears to fear, but this is only because it seeks to protect the destroyer knife within itself. This... woman... was not a woman. She was merely a temptation placed in our way as a stumbling block, to dissuade us from our course."
His voice was almost didactic now, as if delivering a sermon rather than having a casual conversation with a visitor.
"It thus became clear to me what Stendarr willed us to to. Merely binding the destroyer knife would be a weakness, a failure to commit to the cause. We had to slay the vessel, to prevent the destruction of the world."
Realizing how he sounded, his tone softened slightly.
"As I said, we are not speaking of a person. This thing was a mere soulless construct. Not born of woman, but created by magic for the sole purpose of incubating and protecting the destroyer knife. The form of the vessel was intended to prevent us from harming it. A beautiful woman - a cynical ruse to keep chivalrous young men from our duty, and rouse us to lust instead of faith. But of course, we showed her Stendarr's mercy. I waited until her back was turned before we descended upon her with our swords and severed her head. And Tamriel - praise to Stendarr - was saved!"
He smiled at Fira, confident in her admiration.
"Was there anything else you wished to know?"
"Ah, yes," Father Lucius said, steepling his fingers and settling more comfortably in his chair. With this new subject, it appeared Angus was completely forgotten. "I'm not surprised you came to hear that. It's rather an interesting story."
Perhaps not optimal modesty for a man of the cloth. But Lucius was already on a roll, and if Fira simply didn't interrupt, he was apparently prepared to disclose a large amount of information for the asking.
"It was many years ago. I was but a young priest. A destroyer knife had been detected in a ruin out in the wilds near Ojel-Bak. I was called with some my comrades to address it. The standard solution, of course, is simply to wipe out the vessel before the knife gains enough power to do harm. This is the easiest and safest way. If you are a student of the destroyer knife phenomenon, perhaps you know this already, though - there is a second way, a ceremony that can bind the destroyer knife, and render it harmless in the vessel. This ritual takes four. A priest, a healer, a scholar, and a paladin - which means a holy knight, consecrated by a Divine. In our youth and innocence, we believed we could bind the knife and spare the vessel. The four of us and our retinue set out on our brave quest."
His tone had become distant, wistful, yet proud.
"We were all young and strong, and utterly devout. Resolute in our convictions. We arrived, prepared to bind this knife and save Tamriel. A woman knelt alone in the ruins, weeping. Silently, with her eyes and hands, she begged for our help. She was so... beautiful. So alluring. It was clear that she was a temptation to my men."
The Father's tone abruptly lost its reverie, and he stared directly at Fira.
"That was when I realized the truth about the vessel. It is not a person. It may take the shape of a person, but that is only so it can lead the holy astray. It cannot speak. It cannot feel. It appears to fear, but this is only because it seeks to protect the destroyer knife within itself. This... woman... was not a woman. She was merely a temptation placed in our way as a stumbling block, to dissuade us from our course."
His voice was almost didactic now, as if delivering a sermon rather than having a casual conversation with a visitor.
"It thus became clear to me what Stendarr willed us to to. Merely binding the destroyer knife would be a weakness, a failure to commit to the cause. We had to slay the vessel, to prevent the destruction of the world."
Realizing how he sounded, his tone softened slightly.
"As I said, we are not speaking of a person. This thing was a mere soulless construct. Not born of woman, but created by magic for the sole purpose of incubating and protecting the destroyer knife. The form of the vessel was intended to prevent us from harming it. A beautiful woman - a cynical ruse to keep chivalrous young men from our duty, and rouse us to lust instead of faith. But of course, we showed her Stendarr's mercy. I waited until her back was turned before we descended upon her with our swords and severed her head. And Tamriel - praise to Stendarr - was saved!"
He smiled at Fira, confident in her admiration.
"Was there anything else you wished to know?"
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
"Arrrrgh! Get this miscreant out of the library!"
Despite this curt order, no one seemed quite sure how to accomplish this feat. No one seemed to want to get close to those hands - or those teeth.
Eventually, the decision seemed to arise spontaneously to herd her out. Various distance weapons appeared - spears, polearms, even poles that held banners and a rail from a reading desk.
"The scroll! Give it back!"
When the stranger showed no intention of doing so, they began taking it in turns to try to knock it out of her hands with their weapons as they pressed her inexorably to the exit. Once they had obtained it, the door was opened so that she could be pushed through.
"Out! Heathen! And if we so much as catch sight of you again, you'll have the City Guards to deal with - and such crimes may forfeit your life! Out! Out! Now!"
Despite this curt order, no one seemed quite sure how to accomplish this feat. No one seemed to want to get close to those hands - or those teeth.
Eventually, the decision seemed to arise spontaneously to herd her out. Various distance weapons appeared - spears, polearms, even poles that held banners and a rail from a reading desk.
"The scroll! Give it back!"
When the stranger showed no intention of doing so, they began taking it in turns to try to knock it out of her hands with their weapons as they pressed her inexorably to the exit. Once they had obtained it, the door was opened so that she could be pushed through.
"Out! Heathen! And if we so much as catch sight of you again, you'll have the City Guards to deal with - and such crimes may forfeit your life! Out! Out! Now!"
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Fira-Nar
The story was thoroughly captivating, at first. She almost forgot that this was a fact-finding mission instead of what Father Lucius had interpreted as a story-telling opportunity. But then the story took a turn - for her at least.
They decided the knife wasn't worth binding because...she was pretty? Fira struggled to make the mental connections required for this sequence of events to make sense. She also couldn't help drawing similarities between this woman and the child who currently housed the knife. Unable to speak. Fearful. But unfeeling? No. She wondered if there was another reason these four men 'resolute in their convictions' suddenly decided on a completely different course of action.
When the tale came to its rather sudden conclusion, Fira was left staring dumbly at the priest for a few seconds before realizing that he really had ended the story like that. She shook herself as though she had been spellbound by the epic and gestured with her hands at head and heart.
"What a story, Father, and to hear it from you - knowing that you were there - I cannot describe my emotion! I do have another question, actually. You said that the destroyer knife had been 'detected'? Are the priests of Stendarr always on the look out for the knife?"
The story was thoroughly captivating, at first. She almost forgot that this was a fact-finding mission instead of what Father Lucius had interpreted as a story-telling opportunity. But then the story took a turn - for her at least.
They decided the knife wasn't worth binding because...she was pretty? Fira struggled to make the mental connections required for this sequence of events to make sense. She also couldn't help drawing similarities between this woman and the child who currently housed the knife. Unable to speak. Fearful. But unfeeling? No. She wondered if there was another reason these four men 'resolute in their convictions' suddenly decided on a completely different course of action.
When the tale came to its rather sudden conclusion, Fira was left staring dumbly at the priest for a few seconds before realizing that he really had ended the story like that. She shook herself as though she had been spellbound by the epic and gestured with her hands at head and heart.
"What a story, Father, and to hear it from you - knowing that you were there - I cannot describe my emotion! I do have another question, actually. You said that the destroyer knife had been 'detected'? Are the priests of Stendarr always on the look out for the knife?"
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Nairn Tuckamore
It was shameful, how she'd behaved. Once she lost hold of herself, she watched as her body contracted, placing her on all fours. Her face, snarling. Her howls of fearful indignation still rang in her ears even though she'd left the chapel far behind. The scroll...Nairn's face briefly contorted into an expression of sorrow before slackening again. She could probably recall the contents of the scroll once she was fully Norn again. Right now, she needed to understand what had gone wrong. How her carefully groomed self had crumbled so quickly into the base creature of her youth.
She had automatically returned to the inn, which she recognized as an unusual choice - she wanted to be alone - yet she also recognized it as the safer choice and pushed open the front door. Fortunately, the inn was not in the same festive state as it had been the night before. She couldn't have managed to continue through the crowd to the stairwell. Of course, the inn wasn't empty either. Their own party was large enough to take up two tables and there were other patrons. Nairn ignored them all and made for the stairs. She needed to get away - have a space to herself - get her head on straight.
Someone stood in her path on the landing and proceeded to do the dance where one can't commit to one side of the stairwell or another. Nairn helped him choose by lowering her head and snarling at him. The man yelped and jumped away, allowing the Norn to pass by easily. She took three steps at a time up to the third floor and stopped. The restrictive openness of a house still baffled her. Each room was too large for her to simply take for herself. The beds all too small to be considered a crevice.
As she paced the hallway, her eye caught the outline of a wardrobe. That would do. She approached, opened the doors, scooped out the boots lining the bottom and folded herself inside, closing the door behind her. In her solitude, she pressed her face into her knees, holding herself tightly. As if that could bring her pieces back together. As if that pressure alone could make her whole again.
It was shameful, how she'd behaved. Once she lost hold of herself, she watched as her body contracted, placing her on all fours. Her face, snarling. Her howls of fearful indignation still rang in her ears even though she'd left the chapel far behind. The scroll...Nairn's face briefly contorted into an expression of sorrow before slackening again. She could probably recall the contents of the scroll once she was fully Norn again. Right now, she needed to understand what had gone wrong. How her carefully groomed self had crumbled so quickly into the base creature of her youth.
She had automatically returned to the inn, which she recognized as an unusual choice - she wanted to be alone - yet she also recognized it as the safer choice and pushed open the front door. Fortunately, the inn was not in the same festive state as it had been the night before. She couldn't have managed to continue through the crowd to the stairwell. Of course, the inn wasn't empty either. Their own party was large enough to take up two tables and there were other patrons. Nairn ignored them all and made for the stairs. She needed to get away - have a space to herself - get her head on straight.
Someone stood in her path on the landing and proceeded to do the dance where one can't commit to one side of the stairwell or another. Nairn helped him choose by lowering her head and snarling at him. The man yelped and jumped away, allowing the Norn to pass by easily. She took three steps at a time up to the third floor and stopped. The restrictive openness of a house still baffled her. Each room was too large for her to simply take for herself. The beds all too small to be considered a crevice.
As she paced the hallway, her eye caught the outline of a wardrobe. That would do. She approached, opened the doors, scooped out the boots lining the bottom and folded herself inside, closing the door behind her. In her solitude, she pressed her face into her knees, holding herself tightly. As if that could bring her pieces back together. As if that pressure alone could make her whole again.
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Father Lucius
"Ah, yes, our scholars are ever vigilant," Father Lucius said... but it was in a slightly less interested tone. What the monks got up to with their books and rituals was of far less interest to him than his own past heroism. "But you must understand, the destroyer knife is far from a common occurrence. To call it forth requires great effort, sacrifice, arcane knowledge, and magical power. There are few who could even attempt it. To embody it in a vessel with the appearance of life rather than an inanimate object requires even more. Such a thing is almost unprecedented. It appears every few centuries at most. It is not the sort of thing that one must watch for carefully day and night. Our monks monitor the situation to the degree needed, and we will intervene as we must, in the unlikely event it arises again any time soon."
His eyes narrowed slightly with the first very faint note of suspicion he had shown.
"Tell me - why do you ask all this, my child? Do you believe you have found a destroyer knife? I assure you, you would likely be mistaken. Or are you so misguided that you wish to attempt to create one yourself?"
"Ah, yes, our scholars are ever vigilant," Father Lucius said... but it was in a slightly less interested tone. What the monks got up to with their books and rituals was of far less interest to him than his own past heroism. "But you must understand, the destroyer knife is far from a common occurrence. To call it forth requires great effort, sacrifice, arcane knowledge, and magical power. There are few who could even attempt it. To embody it in a vessel with the appearance of life rather than an inanimate object requires even more. Such a thing is almost unprecedented. It appears every few centuries at most. It is not the sort of thing that one must watch for carefully day and night. Our monks monitor the situation to the degree needed, and we will intervene as we must, in the unlikely event it arises again any time soon."
His eyes narrowed slightly with the first very faint note of suspicion he had shown.
"Tell me - why do you ask all this, my child? Do you believe you have found a destroyer knife? I assure you, you would likely be mistaken. Or are you so misguided that you wish to attempt to create one yourself?"
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Tempest Rutherford
Tempest's eyes worriedly tracked Nairn as she hastily made her way up the stairs. It was clear the Norn woman was upset about something.
"Excuse me a moment," she said to her daughters and Drina. "I want to make sure she's alright."
She followed Nairn, careful to make her footsteps heard on the stairs so Nairn wouldn't be startled by her arrival. Tempest glanced up and down the hallway, and saw the wardrobe. She recognized a good hiding spot, if ever she had seen one.
The healer rapped gently on the door, but didn't open it.
"Nairn?" she asked in a soft, kind, gentle voice. "I wanted to make sure nothing is wrong. I'm outside the door if you wish to talk, but you don't have to."
Tempest stepped away from the door and sat cross-legged on the floor, her remaining hand resting on her knee, and waited to see what Nairn would do.
Tempest's eyes worriedly tracked Nairn as she hastily made her way up the stairs. It was clear the Norn woman was upset about something.
"Excuse me a moment," she said to her daughters and Drina. "I want to make sure she's alright."
She followed Nairn, careful to make her footsteps heard on the stairs so Nairn wouldn't be startled by her arrival. Tempest glanced up and down the hallway, and saw the wardrobe. She recognized a good hiding spot, if ever she had seen one.
The healer rapped gently on the door, but didn't open it.
"Nairn?" she asked in a soft, kind, gentle voice. "I wanted to make sure nothing is wrong. I'm outside the door if you wish to talk, but you don't have to."
Tempest stepped away from the door and sat cross-legged on the floor, her remaining hand resting on her knee, and waited to see what Nairn would do.
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Drina
Drina nodded acknowledgment of what Tempest said - but was herself suddenly distracted by an untimely, shocking, and worrisome personal revelation.
When Angus had smiled at her, things had clicked into place.
She had feelings for him.
This was utterly shameful and embarrassing. How had she been reduced to this? She might not be the most powerful of dremora, but she was a daedra, after all! And here she was, pining for a mortal who would never return her feelings.
How could he? Angus had the mortal world and mortal friends. A safe, comforting world where people like her were just a bad dream. Not only a mortal, but a priest. A man of the cloth. A holy man. Most like him would slay her on sight given the opportunity. He might be the one in a million to accept her friendship - for now, at least - but he would never accept her love.
Even if he did. If by some miracle he did. It could never be.
People on this plane would always hunt her. A dremora would never be accepted here. He would always be in danger because of her. And she couldn't bear the thought of seeing him hurt.
She would need to put this silliness out of her head. And she was definitely going to need to leave. Soon.
Drina reminded herself that Fira would be back any moment. Perhaps it was for the best that the choice would soon be taken out of her hands. When her choice was between fleeing or a blade, it would surely be easier to forget that smile.
Drina nodded acknowledgment of what Tempest said - but was herself suddenly distracted by an untimely, shocking, and worrisome personal revelation.
When Angus had smiled at her, things had clicked into place.
She had feelings for him.
This was utterly shameful and embarrassing. How had she been reduced to this? She might not be the most powerful of dremora, but she was a daedra, after all! And here she was, pining for a mortal who would never return her feelings.
How could he? Angus had the mortal world and mortal friends. A safe, comforting world where people like her were just a bad dream. Not only a mortal, but a priest. A man of the cloth. A holy man. Most like him would slay her on sight given the opportunity. He might be the one in a million to accept her friendship - for now, at least - but he would never accept her love.
Even if he did. If by some miracle he did. It could never be.
People on this plane would always hunt her. A dremora would never be accepted here. He would always be in danger because of her. And she couldn't bear the thought of seeing him hurt.
She would need to put this silliness out of her head. And she was definitely going to need to leave. Soon.
Drina reminded herself that Fira would be back any moment. Perhaps it was for the best that the choice would soon be taken out of her hands. When her choice was between fleeing or a blade, it would surely be easier to forget that smile.
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Fira-Nar
She almost breathed a sigh of relief. At least the priests weren't actively searching for the knife - at least they only had to worry about the cultists and not hordes of well-intended clergy. Fortunately, she had withheld that sigh or she might have instinctively gulped. The argonian blinked in surprise.
"Of course not, Father! It was merely a tale I'd heard while working amongst other templars and it seemed too fantastic to be true, so I sought the source. I am certain I wouldn't know one to see one, at any rate. My life's pledge is to the protection of Tamriel."
Fira hadn't exactly expected to be accused of considering a heinous crime, though in hindsight, she probably should have been prepared. As Angus had said - it was an old tale. Old tales little more than rumours were rarely sought out for good reasons. Hopefully Father Lucius would believe that she herself was good-intentioned.
She almost breathed a sigh of relief. At least the priests weren't actively searching for the knife - at least they only had to worry about the cultists and not hordes of well-intended clergy. Fortunately, she had withheld that sigh or she might have instinctively gulped. The argonian blinked in surprise.
"Of course not, Father! It was merely a tale I'd heard while working amongst other templars and it seemed too fantastic to be true, so I sought the source. I am certain I wouldn't know one to see one, at any rate. My life's pledge is to the protection of Tamriel."
Fira hadn't exactly expected to be accused of considering a heinous crime, though in hindsight, she probably should have been prepared. As Angus had said - it was an old tale. Old tales little more than rumours were rarely sought out for good reasons. Hopefully Father Lucius would believe that she herself was good-intentioned.
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Monkey Kitty
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Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Father Lucius
"Very good, my child," Father Lucius told Fira. He no longer seemed suspicious of her - but he seemed to be losing interest in the conversation. If Fira had more to ask, she would need to do it fast... and carefully, because getting his attention back could trigger more questions about her motives.
"Be strong and resolute. Be dedicated in your prayers, and maintain your purity of heart. Stendarr bless you."
Another thought seemed to occur to him belatedly.
"My child, if you seek particular favor from Stendarr, a dremora has been spotted hiding in the city and spreading her corrupting influence. As you know, Stendarr has no tolerance or mercy for such abominations. If you have the opportunity to slay her, I can assure you that you will meet with Stendarr's approval and be especially blessed by him."
He spoke this latter rather casually. Having the problem solved by an eager devotee would be helpful, but wasn't necessary. The church would do what needed to be done, one way or the other.
"Very good, my child," Father Lucius told Fira. He no longer seemed suspicious of her - but he seemed to be losing interest in the conversation. If Fira had more to ask, she would need to do it fast... and carefully, because getting his attention back could trigger more questions about her motives.
"Be strong and resolute. Be dedicated in your prayers, and maintain your purity of heart. Stendarr bless you."
Another thought seemed to occur to him belatedly.
"My child, if you seek particular favor from Stendarr, a dremora has been spotted hiding in the city and spreading her corrupting influence. As you know, Stendarr has no tolerance or mercy for such abominations. If you have the opportunity to slay her, I can assure you that you will meet with Stendarr's approval and be especially blessed by him."
He spoke this latter rather casually. Having the problem solved by an eager devotee would be helpful, but wasn't necessary. The church would do what needed to be done, one way or the other.