One“You came to us young and impulsive Syn'x, you were not even clothed and you were not yet ready to see the outside world. You understood little of hatred, nothing of deceit but plenty of pain” he paused, the dark eyes of the old man clouded over with worry and without even trying Syn'x’s heightened senses picked up on the old man sense of worry and of loss, though his curiosity burned inside of him the years at the temple had taught him discipline over his emotions as well as his powers, such as they were. None of his curiosity showed upon his face as the mask of iron discipline stayed in place. “We have nurtured you, allowed you to choose your own path, happily this path was with us but now…”
“Are you displeased with my service milord Abbot?” the voice that spoke was strong and mature that held an obscure mixture of worldly knowledge and the rarest of all qualities, innocence. “…Of course not my friend, but your apprenticeship has ended and it seems that for now at least you are no longer needed here” seeing beyond his pupil’s iron tight control he continued “do not be sad Syn'x, you have simply outgrown us, you are a priest of Loyn, first and foremost and it maybe that we will see each other again, you are certainly most welcome here”
“And yet you cast me out!? Why? What could I have ever done to you or our order that is so bad to deserve this, this punishment?” the iron control slipped and it hurt the Abbot to see the hurt in his friend’s eyes.
“This is NOT a punishment…. ahh…. my friend, have you learned nothing in your time here? Our God does not punish, he merely teaches and loves all, perhaps you being trained as a warrior priest was a mistake, in any order they are rare, especially ours, but we need the Knights of the Rose and they need us, they provide protection to us and we provide healing to them follow me…” he released his spirit and scanned the soft battlements with the eyes of his spirit viewing the training areas for the Knights as well ass those for the priests.
The fortress, for that is what is actually was, was offset by the fact that the customary granite walls were actually made from soft limestone and though the fortress did have a central water supply it was more a sheltered lake rather than wells, the protection for which was a thick mass of trees cultured and befriended in loving harmony by the priests. The love that Syn'x found her was beyond description, these priests and some knights due to their religious belief or mage birth had some powers or similar abilities that Syn'x had. Apart from this, there was only one other structure of note, the council chamber that seated both The Council Of The Rose and the separate Council Of Loyn that controlled every single priest of the God in the known world and of the multitude of Gods and Goddesses Loyn was one of the three largest worshipped Gods in the known world. It was here that the two spirits floated to.
“Do you remember the first time you appeared before this council?” asked the Abbot
“Yes”
“Let me refresh your memory” with a wave of his spirit hand the scene blurred to five years earlier, the Council was in full session, with every member was looking curiously on the strange bewildered man that stood before them. The man was naked, showing an Elven build that bespoke the nobility of that race, the muscles though perfectly proportioned would later turn out to have characteristics of the Dwarven community, the dexterity and reflexes of a Halfling with the pain resistance of what appeared to be a Troll.
These Priests however could sense few of these things, they were able to deduce that whatever he was he had free will, that much was obvious and though he was obviously a magical construct of some sort, his features being without any symmetrical imperfections that mark even the beauty of the elves, he was still in part at least, of the natural order his body being alive not dead. The spirits watched again as the frightened young man was examined by the priests, obviously as curious about them as they him. At one point the High Priest tried to test his reaction to new situations, he launched a lightning bolt to the right of the man’s head. The reaction was spectacular, the hazel in the mans eyes darkened to jade, as did the rest of the man’s eye and his own lightning, as dark as his eyes, was shot from his upraised hands, the High Priest managed to put up some protections and these saved his life. Instead of dying he was thrown across the ornate room higher than the council chairs, past the central table and into the wall on the opposite side of the room, breaking three ribs and fracturing his skull. The priests were speechless not just because a mere man-child could harm the greatest mystic in generations or the fact that he was able to cut through centuries of protection spells and cause ANY damage at all but, because the man was on the floor weeping openly and could only whisper in anguish, between sobs of absolute hopelessness,
“Help me, help me please”
“Most of us are granted abilities by our God, we can heal, defend and protect the innocent.” he paused and even with sprit eyes managed to see everything that is or ever would be of his friends soul. “Few in the council, let alone the rest of the order can release the spirit as we do, I gain this ability through years of study and the devotion to and the love that exists between myself and my God”
“I do not?”
“No, you are much too young, both physically and to our way…” his eyes softened “what does it feel like? To use your powers I mean?”
“Like I'm reaching into the darkest parts of my soul, I become filled with this black hate, that stays in my mind like the blackest oil and with a mere thought I shape and release it” the look that Syn'x’s spirit face had when describing these things was enough to make the Abbot, a man of the world as well as some years, shudder right down to the very core of his being.
“You always said it was bad but…” a sudden thought came to him “what is it like, exactly, when you release your spirit?”
“It used to be the same as when drawing on the rest of my powers but recently I keep in mind the face of our God and it is like the darkness is lifted, the chains gone even as the worries of the flesh fade away…”
“It is the same for me…come brother….let me help you pack”
The first chapter is here!!!!!!!! :D
One
1
“You came to us young and impulsive Syn'x, you were not even clothed and you were not yet ready to see the outside world. You understood little of hatred, nothing of deceit but plenty of pain” he paused, the dark eyes of the old man clouded over with worry and without even trying Syn'x’s heightened senses picked up on the old man aura of worry and of loss, though his curiosity burned inside of him the years at the temple had taught him discipline over his emotions as well as his powers, such as they were. None of his curiosity showed upon his face as the mask of iron discipline stayed in place. “We have nurtured you, allowed you to choose your own path, happily this path was with us but now…”
“Are you displeased with my service milord Abbot?” the voice that spoke was strong and mature that held an obscure mixture of worldly knowledge and the rarest of all qualities, innocence. “…Of course not my friend, but your apprenticeship has ended and it seems that for now at least you are no longer needed here” seeing beyond his pupil’s iron tight control he continued “do not be sad Syn'x, you have simply outgrown us, you are a priest of Loyn, first and foremost and it maybe that we will see each other again, you are certainly most welcome here”
“And yet you cast me out!? Why? What could I have ever done to you or our order that is so bad to deserve this, this punishment?” the iron control slipped and it hurt the Abbot to see the hurt in his friend’s eyes.
“This is NOT a punishment…. ahh…. my friend, have you learned nothing in your time here? Our God does not punish, he merely teaches and loves all, perhaps you being trained as a warrior priest was a mistake, in any order they are rare, especially ours, but we need the Knights of the Rose and they need us, they provide protection to us and we provide healing to them follow me…” he released his spirit and scanned the soft battlements with the eyes of his spirit viewing the training areas for the Knights as well ass those for the priests.
The fortress, for that is what is actually was, was offset by the fact that the customary granite walls were actually made from soft limestone and though the fortress did have a central water supply it was more a sheltered lake rather than wells, the protection for which was a thick mass of trees cultured and befriended in loving harmony by the priests. The love that Syn'x found her was beyond description, these priests and some knights due to their religious belief or mage birth had some powers or similar abilities that Syn'x had. Apart from this, there was only one other structure of note, the council chamber that seated both The Council Of The Rose and the separate Council Of Loyn that controlled every single priest of the God in the known world and of the multitude of Gods and Goddesses Loyn was one of the three largest worshipped Gods in the known world. It was here that the two spirits floated to.
“Do you remember the first time you appeared before this council?” asked the Abbot
“Yes”
“Let me refresh your memory” with a wave of his spirit hand the scene blurred to five years earlier, the Council was in full session, with every member was looking curiously on the strange bewildered man that stood before them. The man was naked, showing an Elven build that bespoke the nobility of that race, the muscles though perfectly proportioned would later turn out to have characteristics of the Dwarven community, the dexterity and reflexes of a Halfling with the pain resistance of what appeared to be a Troll.
These Priests however could sense few of these things, they were able to deduce that whatever he was he had free will, that much was obvious and though he was obviously a magical construct of some sort, his features being without any symmetrical imperfections that mark even the beauty of the elves, he was still in part at least, of the natural order his body being alive not dead. The spirits watched again as the frightened young man was examined by the priests, obviously as curious about them as they him. At one point the High Priest tried to test his reaction to new situations, he launched a lightning bolt to the right of the man’s head. The reaction was spectacular, the hazel in the mans eyes darkened to jade, as did the rest of the man’s eye and his own lightning, as dark as his eyes, was shot from his upraised hands, the High Priest managed to put up some protections and these saved his life. Instead of dying he was thrown across the ornate room higher than the council chairs, past the central table and into the wall on the opposite side of the room, breaking three ribs and fracturing his skull. The priests were speechless not just because a mere man-child could harm the greatest mystic in generations or the fact that he was able to cut through centuries of protection spells and cause ANY damage at all but, because the man was on the floor weeping openly and could only whisper in anguish, between sobs of absolute hopelessness,
“Help me, help me please”
“Most of us are granted abilities by our God, we can heal, defend and protect the innocent.” he paused and even with sprit eyes managed to see everything that is or ever would be of his friends soul. “Few in the council, let alone the rest of the order can release the spirit as we do, I gain this ability through years of study and the devotion to and the love that exists between myself and my God”
“I do not?”
“No, you are much too young, both physically and to our way…” his eyes softened “what does it feel like? To use your powers I mean?”
“Like I'm reaching into the darkest parts of my soul, I become filled with this black hate, that stays in my mind like oil and with a mere thought I shape and release it” the look that Syn'x’s spirit face had when describing these things was enough to make the Abbot, a man of the world as well as some years, shudder right down to the very core of his being.
“You always said it was bad but…” a sudden thought came to him “what is it like, exactly, when you release your spirit?”
“It used to be the same as when drawing on the rest of my powers”
“Used to be?”
“Recently I keep in mind the face of our God and it is like the darkness is lifted, the chains gone even as the worries of the flesh fade away…”
“It is the same for me…come brother…. let me help you pack”
Syn'x sighed, his bags where packed, three carrying provisions to the next town, probably Runtford, one carrying spare clothes and another carried his Ritual kit. He looked himself in the mirror seeing his light plated boots; dark padded trousers, silver chain mail shirt and bracers overlaid by the green robe of his order and wondered at what kind of man he really was, an angelic face he had, though not in the classical sense, his eyes hazel and not blue, his hair was also hazel and though tinted with flecks of silver could never be mistaken for the blond of legend. The face did not make the man though, he never really could understand the way that the people here could be taken in by such faces, not that he would ever turn against these people here, he chose this path and he loved these people, but knowing less of this world he knew more, he knew to look with his spirit eyes, with his priestly powers upon the soul rather than trust a smiling face. He looked round his room; halfway between a bedchamber and a cell it held the only things that he valued in life other than people. Books covered one wall rare and not-so rare were placed side by side equally loved, A miniature tree, sat on the hole that passed for a window and window sill, he stroked and assured of it’s love continued to see and tidy the room in which he had spent 5 years. A table and chair that was a gift from his brothers in the order and though it probably didn’t mean anything to them it was a strong reminder that these people and the Knights that lived with them were the fist people to ever show him kindness. Sighing once again he closed the door to the room that held all traces of who he actually was. Walking down the stone steps was strange now, he never noticed how hollow and empty walking out of the Temple of Loyn actually was, but then he reflected, had only left to gather herbs and treat the illnesses of the unnamed hamlet that was a mile away from the temple proper.
He had been ordered by both councils to begin his journey, a period of two years(ish) in which the candidate would look for the place where he belonged, to see before it was no longer an option, which path he wanted to take, the warrior, the man or the life of the priest. Syn'x’s choice came earlier than most, he being a warrior priest, not that being one was bad but, a warrior priest, if that’s what Syn'x wanted to remain, had to choose which took priority, to become a Knight with religious sympathies or a warrior monk. Then again he could simply be a priest or man, probably a sorcerer without the duties of celibacy, prayer and vegetarianism.
Looking now at the chestnut stallion that would carry him away from here he saw his life in its company, traveling on the road or seeing to its bed for the night. His thoughts were not so much romanticised as honest, he would be spending a lot of time with this horse, it was best he got used to thinking about it often so that he never mistreated it and he therefore was never mistreated. Anyway the horse was sturdy and would carry him through any place that he desired to go, he was trained by his brother priests and in, that if nothing else, he trusted. Placing a hand on the horse’s rump he soothed the animal, telling it of his peaceful intentions and filling it with the calm of his pious soul. Apprentice Go’lan passed him his Everwood staff that he strapped to his back and a small dark bladed dagger, which was put into the side of his boot and a silver steel rapier, which was placed into its scabbard on the side of his belt. Pulling up his hood and tightening the cowl cover his face his nudged the horse with his legs and it left at a steady trot.
It was a pleasant day and he was able to make good time, still he wondered at the face of Apprentice Go’lan as he left, though he appeared older, twenty-five or twenty-six and though Go’lan was only twenty he still saw the man as an older brother and he was sad to know what was in his face as he left, he saw the pain, the loneliness and the envy that his leaving caused. As he was taught he saw that, all the anguish and the secret longing and accepted that as part of life, something that he could not change could not heal, no matter how much he cared for his temple friend. It was hard though, bitterly hard and he prayed to his God that he could have the strength to accept these things, as he must, if he was ever to travel outside the temple ever again. At the thought of the temple he held his emotional controls in place even as the heartsickness of it all stabbed like knives of fire throughout his soul, he remembered life with the priests, with Go’lan teaching the village children, of meditating in spite of the cold waterfall that was under him and vividly swearing, in his own blood to be a Page of the Rose. Then he remembered something else, something he missed as Go’lan passed him his staff, he had slipped a note into his saddlebag. He had deliberately avoided the village, their was too many memories for him there, for a man in pain memories weighed down but for a mystic whose whims were weapons, the temptation to loose himself in the past was one that found he could not face. Not yet. His being a mystic worried him, people priests included usually were not, as the Abbot said, true mystics but, rather had the ability from years of study but it appeared that he was. Whether he was created with it or whether it was forced upon him worried him greatly, but then he mused it hardly mattered whether he was given them or he was born with them, it simply helped him to help people.
The sun was setting, the achingly beautiful prayer of setting was upon his lips before he could even think, and he mourned the loss of the sun, mourning that which helped those upon this world to live even as he knew that everything must rest, even it appeared, the Sun and he moved to the shelter of the trees letting the horse drink on a natural stream nearby he took out the note from his saddlebag but, the light was now too poor to read so he used the staff to channel his God-given power to lighten it’s entire length for both warmth and light. The woods protected him, he was the student of their father, Loyn God of Wood, Beasts and Wisdom had marked this one, though he knew it not, the Gods subtle hand was upon him and the mark of his love was stronger than any mystic talent. Syn'x read the letter
“Brother,
Even as you read this I am less for part of my soul stays with you.
The Abbot guided not doubt in his infinite wisdom has asked you to leave us, and I am uneasy to see you go, you must understand that we all wish you the best, find some happiness, keep to your vows and perhaps when your two year journey stage is up you will be allowed to return to the temple.
Go’lan”
Tears stung his cheeks as he read the short and hurried letter, feeling the warmth of care that radiated from it and he lovingly even slowly folded the letter catching the scent of his friends and the underlay of earthy tones from the temple itself. He would reach Runtford around noon tomorrow; he was in no real hurry. Even as he finished his small campsite by the light of his staff and realized that night had truly set in he found himself turning to the light footfall of Elven steps. A ordinary human, an Elf even, would not have heard the noise, nor here the almost silent sound of a dagger being slipped from it’s sheath. He went about his camp as if he hadn’t have heard these telltale noises, staring at the stars in as much wonder as any child across the world, the light slowly fading from his staff and just as the intruder was about to plunge their knife into his exposed back his hand came up, the staff flying from the ground ten feet away to land in his hands and coming up in the classical block knocking the katana from the attackers hand. His staff still had some light and he knew a small thrill of fear, which was quickly stifled as he stared into the bottomless pits that made up the eyes of his adversary.
The eyes of a Dark Elf.
His laughter rang out over the peaceful wood.