The Temple of Ilmater, a beacon of hope in a dangerous world!
Hundreds come here every day, seeking healing and relief from the troubles of the world. And you are among those pilgrims, bearing powerful magic items that you hope to cleanse of a dark taint.
But as the day slowly comes to a close, and you have each seen dozens of priests, each one more experienced than the last, it is slowly becoming clear that, even in this place that serves as a beacon of hope, none possess the skill needed to free you of the burdens that you bear. Finally, when the rest of the pilgrims have departed for the night free of their afflictions, you six remain.
Standing in the massive hall, you wait with baited breathe for the High Priest to see you, your final hope of achieving respite from the darkness that you bear...
(OOC: Please introduce your characters, and feel free to describe what you do while you wait for the High Priest's arrival)
The Tiefling's amber eyes scan the room with not an attempt to conceal her wonder and awe. She might be considered tall, if she were a dwarf, and she's a good 20 pounds from a healthy weight. Her spare body is lost in the coarse fabric, worn soft in some places and threadbare in others, of clothing clearly made for someone else.
The loose fabric of her sleeves is bound tightly around her forearms with the hemp twine, dyed red, that is favored by some orders of Ilmater. A wooden medallion painted with the white hands that symbolize her god remove any lingering doubts about her allegiance.
Her cobalt tail coils nervously around her left leg, the flicking tip reminiscent of a stalking cat.
"Do you think we'll have to wait long?" she asks to no one in particular as she runs a hand, the one with the iron signet ring, through her indigo hair.
Leaning casually against a pillar is a young red-haired half-elf, the fasion of her golden-trimmed red cloak and red thin dress that covers her lithe and slender body suggests she is from one of the caliphates far to the south. Her golden eyes curiously studies the others assembled to have an audience with the High Priest of temple while she nervously touches a sapphire ring adorning her left hand: She seems quite unimpressed by the splendour of the temple and seems impatient to have her business here done after a long day of waiting for someone she was not entirely convinced could help her anyway. By her feet is a simple light backpack also in caliphate style but no weapons of any kind are visible.
"The more important person, the longer the wait."The half-elf responds with a wry smile, her tone soft but not indicating she is a particularly revering visitor.
The talkative gnome who, during the waiting times between one useless conversation and another, chatted practically all day with all the relief-seekers not fast enough to escape her, evidently does not yet have a dry throat; in fact she focuses her lively brown eyes on the tiefling and the half-elf, since, by saying a word, they have attracted her attention and she begins to move decisively towards them.
This female, which measures not much more than 3', has long straight honey-colored hair that should be styled in a bun on her head ... but, perhaps because the gnome is almost always on the move, several long locks have actually escaped the rigor of the hairstyle and wander freely, some falling on the face, some on the shoulder straps of a metal scale armor.
"Come on, girlies, come on, patience!" she smiles friendly "Do you want to know something?" she assumes an exaggeratedly mysterious expression, as if she were about to reveal who knows what secret "The ordeals... the trials we face... are not to be taken too seriously! They are like a sort of joke! And, as in all jokes, it's normal not to laugh during... you laugh at the end!"
"Plus, if you only knew how many people you make friends with in here!" she is now within handshake distance, so she holds her hand out for that. "By the way, Duwamilly 'Planerunner' of clan Gerinell - to serve you! And to educate you, also, if you like! I'm a preceptor, you know? Are you, by any chance, daughters of noble families? Do you want mum and dad to hire me for you? Oh, no, sorry, the habit... I've been a preceptor almost all my life, but now, after... Not that I've had a long life... But not a short one either! I mean, I hope it will not be short, since I would still like to live it for a long time! Also considering what awaits me afterwards... But it's not like that fate really awaits me, after all... I mean, I'm here so that such a fate doesn't await me anymore... In short... But Come on, come on! Say something you too, don't be shy! The more important person, the longer the wait... the longer the conversation! I don't have to take roll call like at school, right? Come on, girlies, tell me something about yourselves too!"
(OOC: @DM: While she speaks - and, in the end, listens - Duwamilly doesn't stop looking around in admiration and trying to remember details about the history of this temple)
With a bewildered expression, Delvindra takes the gnome's offered hand as she tries to process what could very well be more words than she's heard in a given week at the monastery.
And Exaulted Sufferer Bertrand calls me "needlessly locutus" she thinks to herself as she suddenly realizes that the talking has stopped and the pregnant pause of an unanswered question hangs in the air.
Many centuries ago, the temple was actually a massive cave system that served as the lair of an Ancient Red Dragon. Though Ilmater is usually slow to anger, the evil Dragon Lord provoked his wrath by demanding the sacrifice of children to sate its hunger. Through the courage of a group of legendary adventurers and the divine intervention of Ilmater, the beast was defeated and the land freed from the creature's tyrannical rule. Shortly after the dragon's defeat, the beast's enormous horde was used to finance the construction of this glorious temple in thanks to The Crying God for giving the people of the land the strength and endurance needed to bear and eventually escape the oppression of the evil Dragon Lord.
Patience had never been Yasmina's strong suit, and the stream of words coming from the armoured gnome did not really help. The half-elf is about to interject, explaining that if the gnome expected anyone else to talk it would be helpful if she stopped talking herself, if only briefly. With a slight reluctance and a strained smile she accepts the handshake from the gnome. "I am Yasmina, from the shining south, and my parents were definitely no nobles." She says with a scoff, seemingly not ready to share more about herself quite yet. "So why don't you educate us then Duwamilly, about this place, and why we should wait any longer for this High Priest to find the time for us?"
Tom reclines against the window of the Western apse with his arms outstretched, covetously hoarding the setting sun's warmth. Having cast off his long-brimmed wizard's hat and starry cloak, the tabaxi would look half-naked to any feline - though his sleek black fur provides some decency by human standards. One bright amber eye blinks open as Duwamilly begins to gush, and although such a thing is known to get the better of his kind, curiosity wins over. He yawns, slips into his garbs and slinks over to the others, tail swishing lazily behind him in a perpetual 'S'. "A preceptor would make sense. The tone of voice, the enthusiasm... they are notable and recognizable quirks"he purrs teasingly. "Perhaps you can educate me horologically, specifically on the arrival time of our mutual interest?"
"Oh, what a willing student!" the ex-preceptor's brown eyes light up, delighted "Of course, Yasmina, honey! You must know that many centuries ago, the temple was actually a massive cave system that served as the lair of an Ancient Red Dragon. Can you imagine it? Though Ilmater is usually slow to anger..."
"Oh by the way," the gnome rambles for a moment, chuckling "do you know why no one ever asks Ilmater for a quill? Because he is 'The Broken God'... and writing with a broken quill is pointless!"
“But let's get back to our lesson” Duwamilly tries to look like a serious teacher again; "I was saying? Ah, yes, though Ilmater is usually slow to anger, the evil Dragon Lord provoked his wrath by demanding the sacrifice of children to sate his hunger. What a monster! How can one harm children!? Anyway, through the courage of a group of legendary adventurers and the divine intervention of Ilmater, the beast was defeated and the land freed from the creature's tyrannical rule. Shortly after the dragon's defeat, the beast's enormous horde was used to finance the construction of this glorious temple in thanks to The Broken God for giving the people of the land the strength and endurance needed to bear and eventually escape the oppression of the evil Dragon Lord. Now... if Ilmater managed to defeat even such a threat... and we find ourselves in his most sacred place, the place where he showed his power, got his triumph... How could he have any trouble with some minor problems like ours? After all... I don't know about your case... but in mine, he just needs to remove a stupid inheritance curse! How difficult can it be? Of course his High Priest will make things right!"
"And if not," the gnome winks "I can always threaten him with spreading Ilmater jokes among his supplicants! Or I could threaten to shame him by turning to a High Priest of Garl Glittergold... but the problem with that is that Priests of Garl Glittergold are all gnomes... you would never be able to find a tall one, let alone a high one! Anyway, jokes apart, no, you'll see, he will definitely help us".
"Oh, but there was another question, right? Mr... Mr...?" Duwamilly remembers hearing Tabaxi's request, as she began to answer Yasmina's "What's your name, honey? However, your question is much simpler: the arrival time of our mutual interest has already passed, because we have already a mutual interest!"
The Gnome's attempt at humor clearly rankles the Tiefling. She may not be the most devout but even she finds the joke blasphemous, even ignoring the context and setting.
"Assuming he can get a word in edgewise," she quips softly.
There is a bald man with brown skin and a lean fighter physic. He wears simple leathers but adorns a golden rod that shimmers and refracts the sunsetting light. You would notice that he would help any person with lifting heavy items or caring those who are hard of walking. When Cal sees others speaking he joins the conversation, “It must be based on need, but I am happy to just have the opportunity to be released of these cursed thoughts.”
Tom cocks a bemused eyebrow at the tiefling girl. What a pious killjoy, he thinks, the pun was a good snort-out-of-ten.
"Tom Hoole, madam. That piece of pedantry was impressive..." he replies, referring to Duwamilly's final comment. "But many would take offense at your voracious style, so I really must ask: do you walk about with your blade as whetted as your tongue?"
Duwamilly minimizes this with a wave of his hand: "Oh, come on kids... The gods have a much better sense of humor than many believe! Can you imagine, otherwise, how boring an eternity spent in pious sulkiness? Garl Glittergold jokes all the time!"
"And thanks for the compliment!" the gnome bows deeply, beaming "Modestly, before I was forced to abandon my career as a Preceptor, I trained my pedantry day after day! Practice makes perfect, kids! Practice!"
"In any case," the little creature wags a slender finger in a warning manner "let's not take violence into consideration too easily! Violence is the negation of education and is a defeat for everyone! Then, clearly, it is better to be among those 'defeated' who are left standing and meditate with regret on how best to avoid conflicts next time, rather than among those 'defeated' lying on the ground who are no longer able to do so - nor to do anything anymore - but that is not the point! Violence still remains a defeat for civilization. So," she smiles at Tom, "to answer you, honey, yes, I have a small blade..." she touches the hilt of a dagger coming out of a scabbard on his belt "...but when there's an air of 'defeat for civilization', I prefer other solutions! They didn't nickname me 'Planerunner' for nothing, you know?"
"You know what?" Duwamilly, struck by a sudden idea, looks at her audience, delighted by the conversation with which all these friends are helping her pass the time "I could even give you all a demonstration! You are so nice... Yes, come on, let's do it! Say a number from 1 to 6! Freely, whatever you want! Not 1 though. The number 1 is not interesting here. Yes, I know, I said 'whatever you want'... so you can also choose 1... But if you choose that one, I can't make you see nothing at all, here! Because we're already here... Oh, well, come on, you decide..."
(OOC: @All: But don't look at my character sheet! Otherwise you'll ruin the fun for yourselves...)
Delvindra shys away from the group a bit, the coiling tail gripping her leg tighter, the flicking tip somewhat more agitated in its motion. She feels quite out of place among the aloof Half-Elf, the erudite Tabaxi, and the verbose Gnome ("see Exalted Sufferer, you don't have to be smart to know big words"). The man...Cal was it...seems nice enough. Certainly closer to the common folk she's used to dealing with.
As she glaces his way, she flashes him a small half-smile of companionship.
The red-haired half-elven girl groans at the talkative gnome's pun. She finds herself perking up slightly though at the optimism of the ex-preceptor, having slightly more confidence now that the old priest could actually help her. She also finds herself appreciating the cleric not being overly reverent, giving her a small smile for her efforts before the gnome continues to the next person. As the ex-preceptor continues to speak, Yasmina curiously peeks around at the others waiting for the high priest, wondering what they could want him for. A motley group ineed, not one she would have expected gathering in a place like this, but the again she hadn't expected herself here either, and yet, here she was.
"Alright, three then." She says with an amused smile to the gnome, fairly curious but also quite willing to let herself be entertained while waiting.
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The Temple of Ilmater, a beacon of hope in a dangerous world!
Hundreds come here every day, seeking healing and relief from the troubles of the world. And you are among those pilgrims, bearing powerful magic items that you hope to cleanse of a dark taint.
But as the day slowly comes to a close, and you have each seen dozens of priests, each one more experienced than the last, it is slowly becoming clear that, even in this place that serves as a beacon of hope, none possess the skill needed to free you of the burdens that you bear. Finally, when the rest of the pilgrims have departed for the night free of their afflictions, you six remain.
Standing in the massive hall, you wait with baited breathe for the High Priest to see you, your final hope of achieving respite from the darkness that you bear...
(OOC: Please introduce your characters, and feel free to describe what you do while you wait for the High Priest's arrival)
The Tiefling's amber eyes scan the room with not an attempt to conceal her wonder and awe. She might be considered tall, if she were a dwarf, and she's a good 20 pounds from a healthy weight. Her spare body is lost in the coarse fabric, worn soft in some places and threadbare in others, of clothing clearly made for someone else.
The loose fabric of her sleeves is bound tightly around her forearms with the hemp twine, dyed red, that is favored by some orders of Ilmater. A wooden medallion painted with the white hands that symbolize her god remove any lingering doubts about her allegiance.
Her cobalt tail coils nervously around her left leg, the flicking tip reminiscent of a stalking cat.
"Do you think we'll have to wait long?" she asks to no one in particular as she runs a hand, the one with the iron signet ring, through her indigo hair.
Leaning casually against a pillar is a young red-haired half-elf, the fasion of her golden-trimmed red cloak and red thin dress that covers her lithe and slender body suggests she is from one of the caliphates far to the south. Her golden eyes curiously studies the others assembled to have an audience with the High Priest of temple while she nervously touches a sapphire ring adorning her left hand: She seems quite unimpressed by the splendour of the temple and seems impatient to have her business here done after a long day of waiting for someone she was not entirely convinced could help her anyway. By her feet is a simple light backpack also in caliphate style but no weapons of any kind are visible.
"The more important person, the longer the wait." The half-elf responds with a wry smile, her tone soft but not indicating she is a particularly revering visitor.
The talkative gnome who, during the waiting times between one useless conversation and another, chatted practically all day with all the relief-seekers not fast enough to escape her, evidently does not yet have a dry throat; in fact she focuses her lively brown eyes on the tiefling and the half-elf, since, by saying a word, they have attracted her attention and she begins to move decisively towards them.
This female, which measures not much more than 3', has long straight honey-colored hair that should be styled in a bun on her head ... but, perhaps because the gnome is almost always on the move, several long locks have actually escaped the rigor of the hairstyle and wander freely, some falling on the face, some on the shoulder straps of a metal scale armor.
"Come on, girlies, come on, patience!" she smiles friendly "Do you want to know something?" she assumes an exaggeratedly mysterious expression, as if she were about to reveal who knows what secret "The ordeals... the trials we face... are not to be taken too seriously! They are like a sort of joke! And, as in all jokes, it's normal not to laugh during... you laugh at the end!"
"Plus, if you only knew how many people you make friends with in here!" she is now within handshake distance, so she holds her hand out for that. "By the way, Duwamilly 'Planerunner' of clan Gerinell - to serve you! And to educate you, also, if you like! I'm a preceptor, you know? Are you, by any chance, daughters of noble families? Do you want mum and dad to hire me for you? Oh, no, sorry, the habit... I've been a preceptor almost all my life, but now, after... Not that I've had a long life... But not a short one either! I mean, I hope it will not be short, since I would still like to live it for a long time! Also considering what awaits me afterwards... But it's not like that fate really awaits me, after all... I mean, I'm here so that such a fate doesn't await me anymore... In short... But Come on, come on! Say something you too, don't be shy! The more important person, the longer the wait... the longer the conversation! I don't have to take roll call like at school, right? Come on, girlies, tell me something about yourselves too!"
(OOC: @DM: While she speaks - and, in the end, listens - Duwamilly doesn't stop looking around in admiration and trying to remember details about the history of this temple)
History: 15
With a bewildered expression, Delvindra takes the gnome's offered hand as she tries to process what could very well be more words than she's heard in a given week at the monastery.
And Exaulted Sufferer Bertrand calls me "needlessly locutus" she thinks to herself as she suddenly realizes that the talking has stopped and the pregnant pause of an unanswered question hangs in the air.
"Delvindra," she answers uncertainly.
Duwamilly:
Many centuries ago, the temple was actually a massive cave system that served as the lair of an Ancient Red Dragon. Though Ilmater is usually slow to anger, the evil Dragon Lord provoked his wrath by demanding the sacrifice of children to sate its hunger. Through the courage of a group of legendary adventurers and the divine intervention of Ilmater, the beast was defeated and the land freed from the creature's tyrannical rule. Shortly after the dragon's defeat, the beast's enormous horde was used to finance the construction of this glorious temple in thanks to The Crying God for giving the people of the land the strength and endurance needed to bear and eventually escape the oppression of the evil Dragon Lord.
Patience had never been Yasmina's strong suit, and the stream of words coming from the armoured gnome did not really help. The half-elf is about to interject, explaining that if the gnome expected anyone else to talk it would be helpful if she stopped talking herself, if only briefly. With a slight reluctance and a strained smile she accepts the handshake from the gnome. "I am Yasmina, from the shining south, and my parents were definitely no nobles." She says with a scoff, seemingly not ready to share more about herself quite yet. "So why don't you educate us then Duwamilly, about this place, and why we should wait any longer for this High Priest to find the time for us?"
Tom reclines against the window of the Western apse with his arms outstretched, covetously hoarding the setting sun's warmth. Having cast off his long-brimmed wizard's hat and starry cloak, the tabaxi would look half-naked to any feline - though his sleek black fur provides some decency by human standards. One bright amber eye blinks open as Duwamilly begins to gush, and although such a thing is known to get the better of his kind, curiosity wins over. He yawns, slips into his garbs and slinks over to the others, tail swishing lazily behind him in a perpetual 'S'. "A preceptor would make sense. The tone of voice, the enthusiasm... they are notable and recognizable quirks" he purrs teasingly. "Perhaps you can educate me horologically, specifically on the arrival time of our mutual interest?"
"Oh, what a willing student!" the ex-preceptor's brown eyes light up, delighted "Of course, Yasmina, honey! You must know that many centuries ago, the temple was actually a massive cave system that served as the lair of an Ancient Red Dragon. Can you imagine it? Though Ilmater is usually slow to anger..."
"Oh by the way," the gnome rambles for a moment, chuckling "do you know why no one ever asks Ilmater for a quill? Because he is 'The Broken God'... and writing with a broken quill is pointless!"
“But let's get back to our lesson” Duwamilly tries to look like a serious teacher again; "I was saying? Ah, yes, though Ilmater is usually slow to anger, the evil Dragon Lord provoked his wrath by demanding the sacrifice of children to sate his hunger. What a monster! How can one harm children!? Anyway, through the courage of a group of legendary adventurers and the divine intervention of Ilmater, the beast was defeated and the land freed from the creature's tyrannical rule. Shortly after the dragon's defeat, the beast's enormous horde was used to finance the construction of this glorious temple in thanks to The Broken God for giving the people of the land the strength and endurance needed to bear and eventually escape the oppression of the evil Dragon Lord. Now... if Ilmater managed to defeat even such a threat... and we find ourselves in his most sacred place, the place where he showed his power, got his triumph... How could he have any trouble with some minor problems like ours? After all... I don't know about your case... but in mine, he just needs to remove a stupid inheritance curse! How difficult can it be? Of course his High Priest will make things right!"
"And if not," the gnome winks "I can always threaten him with spreading Ilmater jokes among his supplicants! Or I could threaten to shame him by turning to a High Priest of Garl Glittergold... but the problem with that is that Priests of Garl Glittergold are all gnomes... you would never be able to find a tall one, let alone a high one! Anyway, jokes apart, no, you'll see, he will definitely help us".
"Oh, but there was another question, right? Mr... Mr...?" Duwamilly remembers hearing Tabaxi's request, as she began to answer Yasmina's "What's your name, honey? However, your question is much simpler: the arrival time of our mutual interest has already passed, because we have already a mutual interest!"
The Gnome's attempt at humor clearly rankles the Tiefling. She may not be the most devout but even she finds the joke blasphemous, even ignoring the context and setting.
"Assuming he can get a word in edgewise," she quips softly.
There is a bald man with brown skin and a lean fighter physic. He wears simple leathers but adorns a golden rod that shimmers and refracts the sunsetting light. You would notice that he would help any person with lifting heavy items or caring those who are hard of walking. When Cal sees others speaking he joins the conversation, “It must be based on need, but I am happy to just have the opportunity to be released of these cursed thoughts.”
History: 8
Tom cocks a bemused eyebrow at the tiefling girl. What a pious killjoy, he thinks, the pun was a good snort-out-of-ten.
"Tom Hoole, madam. That piece of pedantry was impressive..." he replies, referring to Duwamilly's final comment. "But many would take offense at your voracious style, so I really must ask: do you walk about with your blade as whetted as your tongue?"
To Cal, the tabaxi nods. "If you have come to the temple for any reason remotely close to mine, I know why you might be."
Cal Johnson:
You don't remember anything noteworthy about the temple.
Cal looks at the tabaxi, “Name is Cal, what’s yours?”
"Tosko, but Tom to most."
Duwamilly minimizes this with a wave of his hand: "Oh, come on kids... The gods have a much better sense of humor than many believe! Can you imagine, otherwise, how boring an eternity spent in pious sulkiness? Garl Glittergold jokes all the time!"
"And thanks for the compliment!" the gnome bows deeply, beaming "Modestly, before I was forced to abandon my career as a Preceptor, I trained my pedantry day after day! Practice makes perfect, kids! Practice!"
"In any case," the little creature wags a slender finger in a warning manner "let's not take violence into consideration too easily! Violence is the negation of education and is a defeat for everyone! Then, clearly, it is better to be among those 'defeated' who are left standing and meditate with regret on how best to avoid conflicts next time, rather than among those 'defeated' lying on the ground who are no longer able to do so - nor to do anything anymore - but that is not the point! Violence still remains a defeat for civilization. So," she smiles at Tom, "to answer you, honey, yes, I have a small blade..." she touches the hilt of a dagger coming out of a scabbard on his belt "...but when there's an air of 'defeat for civilization', I prefer other solutions! They didn't nickname me 'Planerunner' for nothing, you know?"
"You know what?" Duwamilly, struck by a sudden idea, looks at her audience, delighted by the conversation with which all these friends are helping her pass the time "I could even give you all a demonstration! You are so nice... Yes, come on, let's do it! Say a number from 1 to 6! Freely, whatever you want! Not 1 though. The number 1 is not interesting here. Yes, I know, I said 'whatever you want'... so you can also choose 1... But if you choose that one, I can't make you see nothing at all, here! Because we're already here... Oh, well, come on, you decide..."
(OOC: @All: But don't look at my character sheet! Otherwise you'll ruin the fun for yourselves...)
Delvindra shys away from the group a bit, the coiling tail gripping her leg tighter, the flicking tip somewhat more agitated in its motion. She feels quite out of place among the aloof Half-Elf, the erudite Tabaxi, and the verbose Gnome ("see Exalted Sufferer, you don't have to be smart to know big words"). The man...Cal was it...seems nice enough. Certainly closer to the common folk she's used to dealing with.
As she glaces his way, she flashes him a small half-smile of companionship.
The red-haired half-elven girl groans at the talkative gnome's pun. She finds herself perking up slightly though at the optimism of the ex-preceptor, having slightly more confidence now that the old priest could actually help her. She also finds herself appreciating the cleric not being overly reverent, giving her a small smile for her efforts before the gnome continues to the next person. As the ex-preceptor continues to speak, Yasmina curiously peeks around at the others waiting for the high priest, wondering what they could want him for. A motley group ineed, not one she would have expected gathering in a place like this, but the again she hadn't expected herself here either, and yet, here she was.
"Alright, three then." She says with an amused smile to the gnome, fairly curious but also quite willing to let herself be entertained while waiting.