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The Twilight Paths Campaign (Updated 7/30 - Questions from Above)
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<blockquote data-quote="Cinerarium" data-source="post: 863188" data-attributes="member: 9349"><p><strong>Hammer 4, the Temple of Deneir</strong> </p><p></p><p>Clever journal, I take it you already noticed that tonight I scribe the day’s events from a different location. Tonight we rest at the Temple of Deneir. After the last night’s misadventures at Happy Harlan’s, Kazir and I felt our welcome had worn out at the house of Hara.</p><p></p><p>As promised, we ventured at first light to the Temple of Deneir. I nervously anticipated what would occur when we reached the temple. It had been nearly a tenday since I received the vision from my Lord, and still I had not visited one of his shrines to make an offering and pray for guidance. We made our way through the Sevencity as it awoke, the air alive with the sounds of carts being drawn to market and roosters crowing in backyard coops, while all around us a soft snow fell.</p><p></p><p>Unlike the Library of Oghma, the Temple of Deneir is not open to the public. Those who need a scribe enter a side entrance, or have one sent to their homes if they are wealthy enough. The main entrance is closed except on holy days to all but the Glyph Priests themselves. An acolyte greeted us at the door, and after assuring him that I was indeed a priest of the Lord of Glyphs in spirit, if not yet fully anointed, he let Kazir and me enter. </p><p></p><p>We were led through the great antechamber of the church, where priests constantly chiseled at a great work representing the Metatext. Written in several tongues, the priests constantly added new pieces of wisdom, while others plastered over bits that had, over the course of time, proven to be so much… moomgibble.</p><p></p><p>Past the nave, where I briefly knelt and said a prayer asking forgiveness for one so wayward as myself, we were led finally to the chambers of one of the Readers of the Temple. As our host stood behind his desk and invited us to take seats, I was surprised to note that he was an Aradeeti, not unlike Kazir himself. With a large, dark mustache and olive skin, the Aradeeti seemed genuinely pleased to meet us.</p><p></p><p>“Come in!” he said. “I am Omad Five-Crossings, named for the number of attempts it took my vessel before we finally traversed the Conomora. Please, take seats and be at peace.”</p><p></p><p>“Thank you most kindly, Reader Omad. I am Goetryn Pater, and this is my friend, Kazir al’Goram.”</p><p></p><p>“Ah, a fellow Aradeeti! Tell me, how go things in our homeland? It is many alameshi since I left the fair steppes behind for the Isles. Have the Doth’raki been seen in greater numbers?”</p><p></p><p>Kazir looked pleased to meet another of his people in such an unlikely place. “It has been long for me as well, since last I saw the open steppe, or walked the streets of Durbin. But last I heard, the Doth’raki had not been seen in numbers in some time.”</p><p></p><p>Omad stroked his mustache, and looked over Kazir appraisingly. At last he turned his dark eyes to me, and I felt my heart jump. Surely by not seeking out Deneir sooner, I had angered my Lord. “Tell me then, Goetryn, what is it I may do for you? I see that you too read from the Great Book.”</p><p></p><p>I hesitated but for a moment. “Indeed, our Lord of Glyphs has chosen me to be one of his scribes. I had hoped and prayed for this moment, but I am sad to say that it came nearly a tenday ago, and I have just now made it to His great house.”</p><p></p><p>Omad looked me over, then nodded. “There are one thousand, four hundred some odd worshippers of Deneir in all of Valusia. Of those, some two hundred and eight have taken up the life of a priest within His house. And out of those, only thirty one – now, thirty two, have been blessed with His power. If Deneir has chosen you, He understands why you have not yet come to His house. Do you have any offerings for the Glyphlord?”</p><p></p><p>I must have been beaming with pride. Omad cut through my fears and left me feeling vindicated. Perhaps it was only my own questioning of my faith that had let me down when I attempted to repel the undead yesterday. Oh Deneir, thank You again for blessing this mortal with what pieces of knowledge You have seen fit to grant!</p><p></p><p>“Indeed I do, Reader. I have here a love note, recovered from the tomb of Luvios the arch mage, and several centuries old. And here I have a transcribed set of runes from a pillar in the swamps north of Purseton. These runes are in ancient Epalian and contain part of a prophecy. Further, I give you a scroll, found only yesterday in the sewers, detailing a nefarious plot to kidnap natives of this city and give them up to a mysterious end. I also have a list of five names, written in Halfling. Finally, I have my journal, detailing my journeys since leaving Cymeria on Nightal 15th of the year last. I would ask, however, that the journal be copied if you think it best for the temple to keep it, as I would like to retain it for my own study.”</p><p></p><p>Omad looked over each of these with a great deal of interest, particularly my journal. The list of names in Halfling he returned. “All of these are very interesting. They tell stories, where bits of wisdom might be found. Particularly the love note, as it tells of a poignant moment from a period of history where we have few records. And your journal seems a copious account of an eventful few tendays. I look forward to reading it, and shall have it copied and returned to you by the end of the day. But this list tells no story, so while I thank you, I would return it. Goetryn, you have indeed been following the path that the Great Scrivener sets out for each of us. In return for these documents, I would offer you something in return.” Omad produced a durable journal and a scroll. “Pick one, as a gift to a new cleric of Lord Deneir.”</p><p></p><p>I felt honored. Bowing, I humbly accepted the journal. It was relatively thin, but long and wide, fashioned more for durability than aesthetics. An elegant, scripted “K” graced the green-gray cover. I looked forward to reading it at leisure.</p><p></p><p>Pleased with the gratitude I showed, Omad spoke. “Now, is there any way I may help you?”</p><p></p><p>Kazir and I proceeded to tell him our story, to as complete a reckoning as we could. Although all of it is within this journal, we wanted to immediately have his counsel. He heard our tale in full, and seemed greatly saddened upon hearing of the death of Brother Linden Bjorn of Oghma. The disappearance of the tome on the Age of Darkness also greatly bothered him. Omad asked pointed questions, drawing more of the tale out of us whenever we skipped a part unintentionally, and asked for more detail when needed.</p><p></p><p>“I shall do what I can,” said Omad when we finished. “We have little knowledge stored here, though – that is the duty of the Oghmites. What works of art come through here are studied for components of the Metatext, and then usually sent on. But I will see what can be found of this enemy – the Gul-Drimm. Also, I would open our Temple to you, if you should like to stay here. There… there are not as many of our brethren in Harren as there once were. So many pursuing a more… militaristic career.” At this, Omad was silent and looked into the distance a moment, reminding me again of Kazir. “One other thing… at the Hills Estate… was there, by chance, a man there by the name of Gorful? A rather large, bald man?”</p><p></p><p>“Indeed! He was very helpful in getting us out of there before Lordling Lenardo could cause any more trouble.” Kazir and I sat forward.</p><p></p><p>Omad nodded. “Strangely enough, Sir Gorful was here, last night. I did not speak with him though. If you would like, I could let you speak with the priest who saw him.”</p><p></p><p></p><p><em>To be continued...</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Cinerarium, post: 863188, member: 9349"] [B]Hammer 4, the Temple of Deneir[/B] Clever journal, I take it you already noticed that tonight I scribe the day’s events from a different location. Tonight we rest at the Temple of Deneir. After the last night’s misadventures at Happy Harlan’s, Kazir and I felt our welcome had worn out at the house of Hara. As promised, we ventured at first light to the Temple of Deneir. I nervously anticipated what would occur when we reached the temple. It had been nearly a tenday since I received the vision from my Lord, and still I had not visited one of his shrines to make an offering and pray for guidance. We made our way through the Sevencity as it awoke, the air alive with the sounds of carts being drawn to market and roosters crowing in backyard coops, while all around us a soft snow fell. Unlike the Library of Oghma, the Temple of Deneir is not open to the public. Those who need a scribe enter a side entrance, or have one sent to their homes if they are wealthy enough. The main entrance is closed except on holy days to all but the Glyph Priests themselves. An acolyte greeted us at the door, and after assuring him that I was indeed a priest of the Lord of Glyphs in spirit, if not yet fully anointed, he let Kazir and me enter. We were led through the great antechamber of the church, where priests constantly chiseled at a great work representing the Metatext. Written in several tongues, the priests constantly added new pieces of wisdom, while others plastered over bits that had, over the course of time, proven to be so much… moomgibble. Past the nave, where I briefly knelt and said a prayer asking forgiveness for one so wayward as myself, we were led finally to the chambers of one of the Readers of the Temple. As our host stood behind his desk and invited us to take seats, I was surprised to note that he was an Aradeeti, not unlike Kazir himself. With a large, dark mustache and olive skin, the Aradeeti seemed genuinely pleased to meet us. “Come in!” he said. “I am Omad Five-Crossings, named for the number of attempts it took my vessel before we finally traversed the Conomora. Please, take seats and be at peace.” “Thank you most kindly, Reader Omad. I am Goetryn Pater, and this is my friend, Kazir al’Goram.” “Ah, a fellow Aradeeti! Tell me, how go things in our homeland? It is many alameshi since I left the fair steppes behind for the Isles. Have the Doth’raki been seen in greater numbers?” Kazir looked pleased to meet another of his people in such an unlikely place. “It has been long for me as well, since last I saw the open steppe, or walked the streets of Durbin. But last I heard, the Doth’raki had not been seen in numbers in some time.” Omad stroked his mustache, and looked over Kazir appraisingly. At last he turned his dark eyes to me, and I felt my heart jump. Surely by not seeking out Deneir sooner, I had angered my Lord. “Tell me then, Goetryn, what is it I may do for you? I see that you too read from the Great Book.” I hesitated but for a moment. “Indeed, our Lord of Glyphs has chosen me to be one of his scribes. I had hoped and prayed for this moment, but I am sad to say that it came nearly a tenday ago, and I have just now made it to His great house.” Omad looked me over, then nodded. “There are one thousand, four hundred some odd worshippers of Deneir in all of Valusia. Of those, some two hundred and eight have taken up the life of a priest within His house. And out of those, only thirty one – now, thirty two, have been blessed with His power. If Deneir has chosen you, He understands why you have not yet come to His house. Do you have any offerings for the Glyphlord?” I must have been beaming with pride. Omad cut through my fears and left me feeling vindicated. Perhaps it was only my own questioning of my faith that had let me down when I attempted to repel the undead yesterday. Oh Deneir, thank You again for blessing this mortal with what pieces of knowledge You have seen fit to grant! “Indeed I do, Reader. I have here a love note, recovered from the tomb of Luvios the arch mage, and several centuries old. And here I have a transcribed set of runes from a pillar in the swamps north of Purseton. These runes are in ancient Epalian and contain part of a prophecy. Further, I give you a scroll, found only yesterday in the sewers, detailing a nefarious plot to kidnap natives of this city and give them up to a mysterious end. I also have a list of five names, written in Halfling. Finally, I have my journal, detailing my journeys since leaving Cymeria on Nightal 15th of the year last. I would ask, however, that the journal be copied if you think it best for the temple to keep it, as I would like to retain it for my own study.” Omad looked over each of these with a great deal of interest, particularly my journal. The list of names in Halfling he returned. “All of these are very interesting. They tell stories, where bits of wisdom might be found. Particularly the love note, as it tells of a poignant moment from a period of history where we have few records. And your journal seems a copious account of an eventful few tendays. I look forward to reading it, and shall have it copied and returned to you by the end of the day. But this list tells no story, so while I thank you, I would return it. Goetryn, you have indeed been following the path that the Great Scrivener sets out for each of us. In return for these documents, I would offer you something in return.” Omad produced a durable journal and a scroll. “Pick one, as a gift to a new cleric of Lord Deneir.” I felt honored. Bowing, I humbly accepted the journal. It was relatively thin, but long and wide, fashioned more for durability than aesthetics. An elegant, scripted “K” graced the green-gray cover. I looked forward to reading it at leisure. Pleased with the gratitude I showed, Omad spoke. “Now, is there any way I may help you?” Kazir and I proceeded to tell him our story, to as complete a reckoning as we could. Although all of it is within this journal, we wanted to immediately have his counsel. He heard our tale in full, and seemed greatly saddened upon hearing of the death of Brother Linden Bjorn of Oghma. The disappearance of the tome on the Age of Darkness also greatly bothered him. Omad asked pointed questions, drawing more of the tale out of us whenever we skipped a part unintentionally, and asked for more detail when needed. “I shall do what I can,” said Omad when we finished. “We have little knowledge stored here, though – that is the duty of the Oghmites. What works of art come through here are studied for components of the Metatext, and then usually sent on. But I will see what can be found of this enemy – the Gul-Drimm. Also, I would open our Temple to you, if you should like to stay here. There… there are not as many of our brethren in Harren as there once were. So many pursuing a more… militaristic career.” At this, Omad was silent and looked into the distance a moment, reminding me again of Kazir. “One other thing… at the Hills Estate… was there, by chance, a man there by the name of Gorful? A rather large, bald man?” “Indeed! He was very helpful in getting us out of there before Lordling Lenardo could cause any more trouble.” Kazir and I sat forward. Omad nodded. “Strangely enough, Sir Gorful was here, last night. I did not speak with him though. If you would like, I could let you speak with the priest who saw him.” [I]To be continued...[/I] [/QUOTE]
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