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[5E] The Kalarian Precipice - Chapter One
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<blockquote data-quote="Carthum One-Tusk" data-source="post: 7343234" data-attributes="member: 6938933"><p><strong>Carthum One-Tusk: Suru's Light</strong></p><p></p><p>Kalair was alive.</p><p></p><p>He felt the breath of old men as they roused for the day, and the sigh of young men who had stayed up far too late. The warm scent of bread was already drifting from some of the stone and wood shops that lined his path on wards, and the smell of meat darkening on coals was even more alluring. Against this familiar backdrop, the happy chaos of the naming ceremony felt like the bustle of a big family home for dinner. </p><p></p><p>Carthum walked down the streets alone, a massive ax resting over one shoulder, a large, head-shaped sack at his waist. His shirt was draped over the notched old blade, and the cool air of pre-dawn did much to relax his tired muscles. Folks gave the large ax- and the larger half-orc carrying it- a wide berth on the street, but Carthum did not much notice. He practically had a skip in his step, a whistle on his lips, as he headed back to the monastery barracks.</p><p></p><p>He had been up all night, chopping and hauling wood for those in the city that could not chop it themselves. For his labors, he had gotten a ball of bee's wax and some wick- the contents of the bundle at his side. After the naming ceremony today, he would spend an amazing day making candles for the church. Praise Suru's light! Of course- the first candle of the batch, he always reserved for his sister.</p><p></p><p>As Carthum neared the church, the motley collection of shops and houses showed the pedigree of age. Mossy stones and rambunctious ivy grew where they would. The edges of the streets had a furrow in them that, nowadays at least, mostly just served to whisk away rain water. The road up to Suru's church, well- it was always uphill. It had been built generations ago, on the tallest hill in the area- though not taller than the Tower, of course. And, from a distance, it was a sight to see indeed.</p><p></p><p>The great glass window at the peak of the chapel was aglow, brilliantly burning like the sun itself. A lighthouse to those on land. </p><p></p><p>Every time he saw it, he knew he was home.</p><p></p><p>Carthum dropped off the ax to the shed around back, and crossed the grounds, wove between the tomato plants, to his room. As a child, he had lived in the Longhouse- really, just a large, communal sleeping area. As a newly ordained cleric, he had been offered his own room- a place to sleep, a place to pray, and a single window, high above him. But Carthum was not complaining! The window gave him a view of the chapel's peak, and the bed was comfortable. </p><p></p><p>He'd carefully set the wax on the small table by his bed, take a moment to kneel and silently say a prayer to the light rising on the horizon.</p><p></p><p>Dawn.</p><p></p><p>He had best get to the fields about the tower! He and his sister had found the perfect spot to watch the ceremony when they had been younger- and they had tried to grab that spot ever since. He might as well claim it for them before the crowds grew too out of hand. </p><p></p><p>Once more Carthum was off, his prayers for the day leaving him as invigorated as if he had slept the night away.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Carthum One-Tusk, post: 7343234, member: 6938933"] [b]Carthum One-Tusk: Suru's Light[/b] Kalair was alive. He felt the breath of old men as they roused for the day, and the sigh of young men who had stayed up far too late. The warm scent of bread was already drifting from some of the stone and wood shops that lined his path on wards, and the smell of meat darkening on coals was even more alluring. Against this familiar backdrop, the happy chaos of the naming ceremony felt like the bustle of a big family home for dinner. Carthum walked down the streets alone, a massive ax resting over one shoulder, a large, head-shaped sack at his waist. His shirt was draped over the notched old blade, and the cool air of pre-dawn did much to relax his tired muscles. Folks gave the large ax- and the larger half-orc carrying it- a wide berth on the street, but Carthum did not much notice. He practically had a skip in his step, a whistle on his lips, as he headed back to the monastery barracks. He had been up all night, chopping and hauling wood for those in the city that could not chop it themselves. For his labors, he had gotten a ball of bee's wax and some wick- the contents of the bundle at his side. After the naming ceremony today, he would spend an amazing day making candles for the church. Praise Suru's light! Of course- the first candle of the batch, he always reserved for his sister. As Carthum neared the church, the motley collection of shops and houses showed the pedigree of age. Mossy stones and rambunctious ivy grew where they would. The edges of the streets had a furrow in them that, nowadays at least, mostly just served to whisk away rain water. The road up to Suru's church, well- it was always uphill. It had been built generations ago, on the tallest hill in the area- though not taller than the Tower, of course. And, from a distance, it was a sight to see indeed. The great glass window at the peak of the chapel was aglow, brilliantly burning like the sun itself. A lighthouse to those on land. Every time he saw it, he knew he was home. Carthum dropped off the ax to the shed around back, and crossed the grounds, wove between the tomato plants, to his room. As a child, he had lived in the Longhouse- really, just a large, communal sleeping area. As a newly ordained cleric, he had been offered his own room- a place to sleep, a place to pray, and a single window, high above him. But Carthum was not complaining! The window gave him a view of the chapel's peak, and the bed was comfortable. He'd carefully set the wax on the small table by his bed, take a moment to kneel and silently say a prayer to the light rising on the horizon. Dawn. He had best get to the fields about the tower! He and his sister had found the perfect spot to watch the ceremony when they had been younger- and they had tried to grab that spot ever since. He might as well claim it for them before the crowds grew too out of hand. Once more Carthum was off, his prayers for the day leaving him as invigorated as if he had slept the night away. [/QUOTE]
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