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Message: <blockquote data-quote="PhoenixAsh" data-source="post: 4102201" data-attributes="member: 18230">Update #40: Steel RoseMost of this update should be credited to Micah, as it was taken largely from between-session emails sent from her to myself and Sasha's player (LadyMoon).***Ruel shields his eyes from the glare of the sun off the white marble and gold gilding of the temple rising above him. Dol Arrah; part of the Sovereign Host, Goddess of the Sun, giver of life - he mentally calls up the factual data he knows about the religion. The list of facts is quite extensive. But then Ruel is a wizard, a master of the arcane, his mind is brimming with facts. Facts that don’t dispel his sudden case of nerves in the slightest. His companion does not suffer from nervousness. The sun glints off of her golden hair and shining plate armor, catching in the details of the engraved roses that course up the gauntlets, greaves, and chestplate. It’s an odd combination of beauty and strength that represents the character of the woman who wears it well.  The glaring sun is mercifully blocked as they enter under the great marble entrance. Ruel’s eyes take a few minutes to adjust to the darker interior. A mosaic shifts in the shadows, scales and luminous eyes focusing into a portrait of the host. Soft, melodious chanting drifts from the front of the church. A figure in white and gold robes waits at the altar. Ruel swallows as an uncomfortably heavy feeling of commitment and promise descends on him. The effect of the feeling is complete with the jelly-like state of his knees. Sasha Larkana, now steps ahead of him, turns and smiles. It’s a dazzling sight and he realizes that along with commitment there is also a deep sense of peace and joy in his surroundings. “Come on let’s go, I want you to meet Iefan,” her hand reaches out and grabs his. Leg muscles trained in dance move of their own accord. “What was I thinking?” Ruel murmurs quietly, shaking his head. His eyes water slightly and the temple shifts into a more solid reality. The host stares out of the mosaic and the figure by the altar is leading a group of students in a catechism. What is Faith? To hear with my heartTo see with my soulTo be guided by a hand I cannot holdThis is the substance of faith. What is Radiance? Light that blindsLight that burnsLight giving sight to those who can’t seeThat is the substance of radiance. What is Sanctification? The heart seared The soul blindedTo have faith tried by radianceThat is the substance of sanctification. Sasha nods at the robed figure, “Arch-bishop Vallant. He always leads the novitiates in their first catechisms. I’ve always thought that was interesting for such a busy, powerful man to take time out to do that.”   Ruel follows his companion as she heads through a maze of meeting rooms, hallways, and offices. She knocks at a non-descript door and when it opens she immediately hugs the elderly man beyond it in an enthusiastic embrace of greeting. “Iefan! It’s good to see you!” The priest laughs, the rich sound of a man who understands joy. “It is good to see you too, child.” His eyes scan over the entertainer standing beyond his protégé. “What brings you here?” There is the slightest lift of a silvered eyebrow, though his voice remains warm and happy. The cleric steps back from the priest, “I am going to take your advice.” For a moment her voice is heavy, tinged with regret, “New paths have opened for me, I will leave Blackstone in the care of whomever you choose.” The priest studies the eyes of the young woman before him. He nods eventually. “There will always be a place here for you, but for now I believe in my heart that a sabbatical is wise. Blackstone is an oppressive place. It’s not my choice that any clerics should have to begin there. Tell me about this new path.” Iefan glances appraisingly at Ruel. The golden haired cleric laughs. “This is Ruel, he is the wizard aboard the airship that I told you about.” The morning passes swiftly for Sasha and Iefan, slowly for Ruel. He senses the unspoken bonds between the two others in the study. He also is aware that he is being weighed silently in all of his responses and gestures. Iefan has an aura of assessment that is almost tangible. Disconcertingly, Ruel cannot tell where he is falling with the man that Sasha looks to as a father. “We need to do some research on the name Sythriel – I think it may be Celestial, have you any suggestions as to where we should start?” Sasha asks finally. “The Athenaeum would have the most likelihood of containing that type of information. Talk to Bishop Caedlyn – she knows that place like few others.” Iefan looks at Ruel. “It is closed to all but those in service to the Host. Sahsa can go there and I can show you around the library here. The tomes aren’t as extensive in some areas, but it is a decent library for the laity, perhaps the Sovereign will guide our efforts. One never knows where the search for an answer will be met. And I have a feeling that this young man is no stranger to books, so perhaps we’ll have the edge yet?” Iefan grins, teasing the plate clad cleric, who rises to leave.  Sasha rises, laughing casually at the joke, “We can compare notes later, Ruel.” The wizard is highly aware of the click of the door, leaving him alone with Iefan. The older priest looks at the young man before him. He’s seen beyond the gaudy entertainer’s garb. Throughout the morning he’s let his senses surround the man, much as he did Sion a few days before. Oddly enough he feels a sense of comfort about the half-elf in spite of the shadows that swirl about him. There is a core of power that has not yet been discovered deep within the wizard. Iefan muses, comparing Ruel once more against the paladin who will now be taking Sasha’s place at Blackstone. Sion is also very powerful - power though has its dangers. Iefan tries to push aside the discomfort he feels at placing another priest at Blackstone. He looks up at Ruel and concentrates on the young man. “If you hurt her I will be sorely tested in my oath against vengeance,” it would be a threat except that the priest is laughing silently, his eyes sparkling with mirth. He senses Ruel’s sudden tension at the words. “Don’t worry son – it’s no more than any father would tell you about their daughter. It is good to see her this way. Young, loving life again. No one should have had to carry the weight she has had to. I am glad that she will be with the airship, away from here for a while. Take care of her, please.” Iefan looks at Ruel and shifts the conversation before the wizard has a chance to answer. “And now it’s off to the books. . .  ”  *** It has been a long day, Iefan Conwys settles at his desk. Goodbyes have been said to one of his students. Sasha has been very dear to him and he will miss her more than he really wants to admit. He has many weighty decisions ahead of him. But this one at least has been much easier than he had thought it would be. His fingers run over the fine parchment and heavy wax seal. A request for a cleric of some abilities, that was not unusual – he was in charge of clerical assignments. This request had come in with the morning courier. He had finished reading it right before Sasha had knocked on his door. Grateful that the Sovereign had directed with clarity in a decision that would have been hard for him, Iefan lays the document down. The seal is that of House Lyrandar. The request is signed by one Lord Ravien, owner of the Liralen. *** Ruel and Sasha’s research extends throughout the rest of the Irregular’s layover in Sharn – for the information they seek proves to be quite elusive. Though they collaborate on their plans and trade notes in the evenings over meals, they act independently – each in the places of knowledge in Sharn they are most comfortable with. Ruel doesn’t spend a long time in the church archives, but instead visits Morgrave University.  Inside the Great Hall of Aureon he soon attracts a small crowd of academics with polite inquiry and a rather impressive Silent Image of the statue. “If your depiction is accurate, that is one impressive piece of sculpture,” one announces. “Have you considered that it might be a living creature turned to stone?” “Yes, I-“ Ruel answers, but is interrupted by a mousey gnome in spectacles. “It is a celestial being, certainly it is an angel!” “It could be half-celestial,” an older professor interrupts. “Note the lack of wings.” “They may simply be missing from the statue,” she argues. “Was there any sign of a trumpet or a lantern being held by the statue?” “Ahh… no,” Ruel answers. “I don’t think they were broken off, I think it was constructed this way. You can tell by the way the stone was shaped on the back. It looks scarred, like the wings were ripped off in life,” a dwarf announces, from the back of Ruel’s projected image. “Why would its wings be ripped off?” the mousey woman counters. “I’m sure I don’t know! Ask a priest!” the dwarf glowers, stomping a foot and leaving. “Good advice,” the older professor smiles and walks on about his business. The gnome stares hard at the illusion before leaving without further comment. Ruel dismisses the illusion with a sigh and turns to leave, but is confronted by a middle-aged human in leather armor and dark, unobtrusive clothing. “It’s a living creature, you know that don’t you?” Ruel recognizes the voice as the first who suggested the idea among the academics. “That is a possibility,” Ruel responds, moving towards the exit. The man follows alongside him. “Where is the statue now? It’d be helpful to take a direct look,” he suggests. Ruel doesn’t trust the man, but keeps his expression ambiguous, “A private collection.” “Where did you say you found it?” the man presses. “Fallen,” Ruel replies curtly. The man stops following Ruel as he exits the hall, but the wizard feels the man’s eyes on his back until he turns a corner. *** Sasha sits down in a cramped office in the Athenaeum – the church archives for the Soverign Host. Bishop Caedlyn has finished research started at Sasha’s request, and they are meeting to discuss the results. “The etymology of the word is Celestial in origin, as you suspected,” the archivist responds after a moment to frame her thoughts. “It can mean bearer of light or in some cases bearer of the covenant. Historically, when a bearer of the covenant appears it is to herald a new covenant. Thought that is a matter of debate - a ‘new covenant’,” she smiles, bemused. “You will find traditionalists who entirely discount the idea along with others who would call each covenant a new chapter in the way we relate with the divine.” Sasha looks surprised, “The Host has sent such angels?” The archivist sighs, “Very rarely. The records I am referencing are quite ancient. In all cases they focus far more on the message then the messenger. There is a great deal of ambiguity on the nature of the messenger.” “I see,” Sasha considers. “Of course, ‘bearer of light’ may reference a specific order of angels. This would quite different than ‘bearer of the covenant’. This order of angels is looked to for divine assistance in times of trouble or distress,” the archivist continues. “Is there a way to tell the difference, which it may actually be?” Sasha asks. “No. Not without some context to frame the distinction,” the archivist answers. “That is all I can really tell you.” “I see,” Sasha sighs. “Thank you, you’ve given me a lot to think about.” *** “What you are describing is cult worship.” Ruel looks to the curator of the Dezina Museum of Antiquities. The pair walk through the darkened hall of the museum, as the museum is near closing. Only a few straggling patrons continue to linger, attempting to cram as much sight-seeing into the day as possible. “It does have similarities to cult worship,” Ruel agrees.. “What sort of creature were they worshiping?” the curator asks. “It was a statue, actually. By appearance, a wingless celestial being,” the wizard answers. The curator stops and looks at the wizard. “Huh. Haven’t heard of a non-living object being the worship focus. Still, it’s a cult.” He continues walking, “Go back sixty years in this very city, there was a cult led by a figure known as ‘The Radiant One’. Got pretty large, started worrying the religious authorities and city council after a hundred or so poor souls ended up dead in a warehouse in the cogs, converted to a temple. Over a thousand were never seen again. No trace of the missing, no obvious cause of death among the dead. There was another cult center in Thrane, and the Silver Flame missionaries had a hard time with that one. There was a protracted siege, something of a holy war, and it took a lot of the Flame’s better soldiers, arcanists and clerics to destroy it. There are similar examples throughout history, going back 200, 500, 1600 years, or more.” “That is concerning,” Ruel says. “Damn right. Sounds like you nipped this thing in the bud. Good job,” the curator nods. “What did this ‘Radiant One’ look like?” Ruel asks. “So far as I know, no one’s ever seen him. Except maybe the dead people, or the missing. Can’t exactly ask them though,” the curator replies. He opens a side door for the wizard “I’ve got to close up here.” “Thank you for your help,” Ruel nods, leaving through the held door. *** Sasha walks the art gallery of the Citadel of the Sun. Though the works here have been a pleasure to observe, nothing has proved to be illuminating in her search. It is nearing dusk and she should leave if she is to meet Ruel for dinner. As her thoughts wander, however, her eye is caught by a painting she had missed before. She gasps involuntarily as she takes it in. It is a painting of an angelic being. The background is dark and oppressive and the perspective seems to be looking down on the central figure that is kneeling. An angelic creature slumps over two beautiful white wings torn from their sockets, blood covering their bases. Blood also drenches the figure’s back and it seems obvious that the wings are its own. The posture suggests great grief, and what might be tears glisten on the back of an exquisitely formed hand. The title of the painting is ‘The Price of Your Own Way’. A young priest observes Sasha’s reaction and approaches her, “Are you shocked by the painting or drawn to it? It seems a harsh punishment, to me. The artist worked from ancient prints where it suggested that Angels who fell from grace were punished by a curse to never fly again. I never thought of it so graphically until this came in – I suppose I figured they would be bound to walk the land, not that their wings would physically be ripped off.” Both priests look at the painted canvas for a moment before the man continues, “Most of the older priests say that it is here to generate a reaction and that it isn’t an accurate depiction of doctrine. I think they want to convey the importance of following Sovereign command. Honestly, I mostly feel sorrow for the angel in the picture. It’s a bloody piece of work.” “Please,” Sasha asks, tearing her eyes from the picture and looking at the man. “Do you know the name of the artist? Is he living or deceased?” “Alive. Here, I’ll write it down for you,” the man scribbles the name on a piece of paper and hands it to Sasha. Sasha snatches it and nods, “Thank you. Forgive me, but I need to go.” She walks quickly from the gallery. *** Ermineth d’Phiarlan is surprised to see Ruel Dunnanne and Sasha Larkana at her home not more than a week after they recovered the Sythriel statue for her, “Good morning, do either of you care for refreshment? Some tea? Have you two found the left eye for me?” She smiles pleasantly, gesturing to a comfortable loveseat as she seats herself in a cushioned rocking chair. “Forgive us Erma, but no we are in a bit of a hurry. We haven’t found the eye, but we have learned some facts about the statue we thought we should share,” Ruel takes the offered seat. Sasha sits, but keeps her back straight, not allowing herself to lean back into the comfortable couch. She wears her full-plate and her expression is serous, giving her a hard look in the pale morning light, “Miss d’Phiarlan, I would appreciate it if you allow ecclesial scholars to examine the statue.” Ermineth smiles mildly, “I prefer Erma, dear. No need to be so formal. Now why do you say that?” Sasha remains serious, “I believe the statue may have considerable importance. It may have serious implications to the way in which we relate to the Host. It may also be extremely dangerous.” Ruel chimes in, “I spoke to some experts on the matter myself, Erma. It could be tied to some very deadly cult activity from sixty years ago.” Ermineth evinces a measure of surprise, “The Radiant One incident?” Ruel nods, “The very same. It may be wise to consult the church and civil authorities in regards to this statue.” Ermineth sighs, “Ahh… but then surely they will want to take the statue away from me, won’t they? I do believe I paid you very handsomely for the statue. You are the adventurous sort - I am not under the illusion that the money hasn’t been spent. I am not so rich that I can throw money away like that.” Sasha frowns, “Miss d’Phiarlan, this is very serious.” “I will take your warning very seriously, Miss Larkana,” Ermineth replies, her tone even, though tinged with iron. “However, I will also deal with Sythriel here how I see fit. I am afraid that must be the end of that discussion.” A moment of tense silence reigns. Finally Ruel clears his throat and rises, “That is the only reason we stopped by. Again, forgive me, but we are in a great hurry.” “Of course Ruel, I am not offended in the least.” Ermineth closes here eyes and leans back in her chair, rocking slightly. “Give my best to Ravien, you’ll make a good addition to the crew Miss Larkana.” Neither Ruel nor the standing Sasha can hide their surprise that Ermineth knows who they are meeting with and why. Ermineth does not appear to notice their reaction. The pair depart in silence. *** Sasha stews silently while Ruel hails down a skycoach to catch them up with the rest of the Irregulars. Finally she announces, “I don’t trust that woman Ruel.” “Her dealings with us have been fair, so far,” Ruel replies. “Maybe. But she has her eyes on us. You particularly,” Sasha says. Ruel doesn’t answer, focusing on hailing down one of the sky coaches whizzing by. “Mark my words. One day she is going to ask you to compromise yourself, and possibly the rest of us as well. You had better be prepared to recognize that day when it comes.”</blockquote>

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