I had an astounding rp with Chakrasul, Ethne and an unnamed Templar Knight. I've never posted any logs (that I can recall) but I knew I had to share this one.
A low, sultry voice resounds within the depths of your mind, "How is the Templar I gifted?"
He suffers, and I seek to end it. It is my duty.
"I suppose My question," She begins as Her Presence settles on the outskirts of your mind, "Is
if you learned your lesson? Touch My belongings, I make your own suffer." You feel Her drag a
metaphysical claw against the fabric of your conscious. Taunting. Goading.
He is not a belonging, but I have. My.... -temper- is to be curbed.
"Not a belonging but he belongs to the organization you lead," She croons in response. A
silence spreads between those words and Her next, "Yes. Know your place. I am certain your
temper is terrifying to other mortals," you can hear the amusement in Her tone, "Mine, however,
will always beat your's. I am certain you and I will not have this same issue again."
Rasani swallows, jaw tense.
I hope we do not, believe me.
A low, sultry voice resounds within the depths of your mind, "As much as I enjoy you wallowing
in despair as a consequence of your actions, it grows boring. I have removed My taint. The
wounds will remain. If My Sister decides to play with him, there will not be a clash of Our
essence anymore. Which... Would be amusing, but not at all fun."
Against your nature, a trickle of fear tickles down your spine as her low, alluring laugh
echoes in your mind. As it begins to ebb and then, vanish entirely, you are left feeling hollow
Light flares in the Siroccians, followed by a searing wave of heat and the thunderous peal of a
hammer falling at the Forge of the Rekindled.
Rasani shivers, brows furrowed. "F*ck."
*fast travel, fast travel*
Cistern within a busy yard (4587) - The city of Enorian (428)
The noonday sun shines down, tinged grey by its passage through the thick clouds above. Silent and slobbering, a bulky warhound plods about here. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. Staring out at the world through glazed, jade eyes is a battered Templar Knight here.
You say to a battered Templar Knight, "Are you with us again, Knight?"
A battered Templar Knight says, "I-I... yes."
Rasani sends her hound off, gripping the Knight by the shoulders gently.
You say to a battered Templar Knight, "My brother... I am glad you are back. I'm so glad you
are back, and I am so, so sorry I failed you."
A shudder makes a battered Templar Knight tremble as he attempts to move the broken and defiled wings on his back, "I... All I saw were just... Pits of despair... My family tortured..." He
tries to control the sob that is pulled from his lungs, "What did I do to Her?"
Rasani's eyes are dim, uncommon for her, the fire in her gut seeming to be on embers only. "You... you did nothing." It's painful to admit, her eyes watery. "She sought to punish me, and you suffered for it. I'm supposed to protect you, and I failed you."
(Order): You say, "My Lady, my Knight is back."
(Order): Ethne says, "Ah! The one with.. lepidoptery issues?"
(Order): You say, "Yes, She... spoke to me, released him. I'm speaking to him now."
(Order): You say, "It pains me to see that he has suffered so."
A battered Templar Knight lifts a bloodied hand to mirror your gesture and grip you shoulder,
"Then... I," he chokes on another sob, coughs roughly to chase it away and continues with, "I
am happy to have my soul tempered by Her punishment, then, if it is Her attempt to punish you,
Pentarch." He replies on a broken voice, those vacant eyes slowly filling with clarity as they
lift to your face, "I am certain that whatever you did to Her, She deserved and your intentions
Roughly, a battered Templar Knight says, "As is my duty as a Templar Knight in the face of
(Order): Ethne says, "She released him? He is well now? Or recovering?"
Rasani rubs at her eyes. "No. No, I lashed out. In anger, I yelled, I... I did
stupid, childish things." Her jaw tenses. "Whether or not She deserves them is... irrelevant.
Anger was in me when I did them, not the righteousness demanded of my station. I need to be
better." She nods. "You though, you are a beacon for us all to reach toward, strong enough to
stand after all this..."
(Order): You say, "He's... battered, his mind recovering. He saw things I wish on no one."
Rippling heat precedes the arrival of Ethne, the Rekindled.
Silence clings to a battered Templar Knight as he processes your words, "My stance still
remains, Pentarch," he replies on a broken tone. At the arrival of Ethne, the Knight wobbles
and drops to one knee in respect for the Goddess, "Fire," he whispers in awe.
Rasani offers Ethne a nod, still gripping the battered Knight by the shoulders.
Rasani's brows furrow, her jaw tense. "Your stance is one of duty, and I swear
I will honor it." She swallows. "I swear to you, my brother Templar, that I will be the best
damn Pentarch I can be. I will be worthy of such devotion."
Rasani wipes at her eyes again, tear tracks on her cheeks.
Striding with a determined manner Ethne approaches the kneeling knight, the room warming as She nears. She looks to the butterfly wings, then the knight bearing them. "Knight, I am impressed at your fortitude."
Rasani nods. "He's truly one of the best of us."
"We already believe you are," a battered Templar Knight states as he lifts his head and allows
his partially glazed eyes to settle on your face, "As long as we continue to temper ourselves
and be better, then you are something to aspire to, Pentarch." Quickly, ensuring he does not
disrespect the Goddess, the battered Knight groans in pain as he rises and downturns his gaze
respectfully, "Your words honor me, Fire."
Ethne shakes Her head at the knight as She leans closer, inspecting the work of Corruption. The air grows oppressive as She looks to you. "Pentarch, what do you wish? He has endured much."
"I want to do right by him." Rasani says simply. "He is no less Templar because of what She has done to him, perhaps he is even more of one, but a Templar does not abandon their own." Her eyes land on Ethne. "Is there... is there a way I can lessen his burden? His pain? Even if I must take it upon myself, I would do it in an instant." She examines his wings. "I'm told an atavian's pride is in their wings. Perhaps we can do something for him regarding... that." She looks to the Knight. "That, however, is only if you wish it."
"I dare not look at my wings," a battered Templar Knight admits, though the defiled appendages
twitch as he attempts to fan them. Instead, a grimace downturns his expression and a shadow of disappointment filters across his face, "I cannot ask either of you to make such a sacrifice...
" His wings twitch again and a groan pulls from his lungs, "My path is in your hands, Pentarch.
As I am, broken, I cannot serve my true purpose amidst the Templar. I will be useless on the
battlefield. I will do, as you command, always." The battered Knight cranes his neck to look
over his shoulder at you.
Tracing Her hand over the area around the accursed wings Ethne listens to you, then the Knight, considering. "These should be destroyed. The damage transferred..." She looks to you, gaze piercing. "It will not heal." To the Knight, She adds "Wings may be crafted. You have suffered for another, and should bear a badge of that honor. No Atavian should be without their wings."
Ethne, the Rekindled says, "But this is the choice of the Pentarch. I do not undo My Sister's
work by My impetus."
Rasani nods. "I will bear this pain for him, if I can. I will help You forge his wings, if you would allow me." She stands at attention, looking more like a Pentarch and less like a weeping mess. She looks to the Knight. "You will fly again, you will fight again. I will see to it."
Ethne nods, giving a hint of a smile as Her eyes alight. "You please Me, Voice. Consequences
taken as they ought." She reaches forward and touches Her hand to the Knight's wing, stopping
short of touching. "This pain will be felt by you, Pentarch. It will leave you marked. He will
heal, but to be made whole, the Templar will need gather materials. You will all forge these
Rasani nods, that fire in her eyes back. "I will take these marks and the Templar will gather what we need. We are a family, a tribe. We take care of our own."
Ethne, the Rekindled says, "Kneel as he has done."
You drop to one knee, demonstrating your humility and respect.
Without hesitation Ethne takes the base of the butterfly wings in Her grasp. The heat of the
room rises yet again sweltering like the fires of Her Forge. She tears them free, Flame from
Her hands consuming them in the same swift, merciless motion.
A strong heat grows across your back, down your shoulderblades where wings would connect. With Her tearing motion, the pain becomes that of a limb being torn from you body, incomprehensible agony washing your senses away.
Rasani seems as if she want to cry out in pain, but her throat closes, the sound dying there. Her eyes are wide, body shaking with the pain, nearly doubling over from it, nearly falling. Her foot on the ground shifts, grounding herself, keeping her barely upright. Smoke leaves her mouth with each heavy gasp, sucking in air as if she's suffocating.
Wounds open across your back as though the wings were torn from you, and as the blood wells
from you, the similar wounds upon the Knight close. Ethne's attention turns back to you, Her
eyes aglow with living Flame as She reaches forward, to touch your back, searing the wounds
closed as She draws Her touch down the wounds.
Rasani's hands curl into the ground, more pained gasps, though some relief from within seems to come with the heat. Her eyes are glazed, the pain still humming through her body, but she smiles. "G-good." She manages to choke out, body still shakey. "G-good." Her eyes dart to the Knight. "H-how do you feel?"
Ethne nods at you and steps back further, Her lips pursed as She considers. "Pain is temporary... the true work will be what the Templar do to replace his wings."
Rasani pushes herself, with some great effort, to her feet, staggering. "W-what do we need? I'll find it."
Ethne shakes Her head. "Gather yourself, we need not rush."
With a back now bare a battered Templar Knight inhales deeply, "There is no pain, for me," he
confirms as he rises and bends an arm backwards to grope at the skin between his shoulder
blades. He turns, clarity returned to his eyes as he regards you, "Thank you, Pentarch. I will... Never be able to repay the sacrifice. I can wait for wings." He glances around, looking for a
weapon, "I will train so I can assist on the field. We can call our brother's and sister's of
the Knighthood to undertake this task together. United."
Though disappointed, Rasani nods. "Y-you're right. We've time." She releases another long, shakey breath. "We should do it together and you... you should see your family. We've time to make you your wings."
Ethne, the Rekindled says, "You will forge these wings, you should consider what they are made
from. I will fire My Forge for the work, and the Templar shall see it as task for all."
A battered Templar Knight walks with a new confidence to you and grips you shoulder, so alike
the gesture you offered earlier, "Thank You, Lady Fire." The Knight expresses his gratitude as
he turns to stand beside his Pentarch in support of you.
Rasani looks more vibrant than she has in weeks, despite the pain coursing through her. "I've... got an idea, perhaps. Metal I saw during the Atav war." She grins at the Knight. "Retaking from them sounds fitting, no?" Shocking perhaps, she laughs, a freedom in her.
Ethne, the Rekindled says, "I shall return to rest. What you decide, tell Me, and we shall make
Rasani nods. "Of course. We'll see it happen." She salutes this time, though she's half bent over.
Ethne, the Rekindled says, "From the Atav war? Interesting. This is a solemn thing, I should
not be excited by talk of work."
Ethne, the Rekindled says, "You bear the pain well, Voice. This is not a good thing, but you
have made it so."
Ethne, the Rekindled says to a wingless Templar Knight, "And you are an example of what a
Templar should be."
Rasani pants. "It is better than sitting on my hands, unable to help. But you are right, it is not yet time to celebrate."
Ethne nods Her head emphatically.
The towering form of the Rekindled dissolves into a collection of flames, each flickering and
eventually dying out.
"Thank you again, Pentarch. It is time I begin to train as the Templar decide on what to build
my new wings from," a wingless Templar Knight says as he squeezes your shoulder, "If I may be
dismissed to begin."
Rasani nods, saluting the Knight. "Dismissed. I'll... Pit, lay down likely." She gives a weak chuckle, though she is clearly pleased to see him move with such renewed vigor.
She is a powerful Yeleni of Troll heritage standing about 8 feet tall with a strong jaw and a
curved nose. Her brownish-red hair is cropped short at the top and fluffed up slightly, the
closely shorn sides having had the Havothi woven triangle shaved into them. Her sideburns
travel down her cheeks and onto her jaw, grey hair starting to pepper the red locks. The same
red hair covers her stomach in soft locks, running down her arms. Smallish, dark bronze horns
curl up from her head. While one is capped with gold, the other has been broken in battle. She
sports extended tusks that poke out behind lips that form a firm, straight line- a remnant of
her Trollish heritage. Bright, orange eyes peer from under intense brows, nearly glowing. Her
skin is tanned and dark. Despite her youth, her face is peppered with small scars. Broad
shoulders and a thickly muscled form make up her body, every inch of her perfected by military
training. In Trollish written down her forearm is a Troll war prayer, letters carved and
scarred into the skin there. Shifting through hues of orange like burning embers are two scars that run diagonally below her shoulder blades, the defect akin to the markings of severed wings.