Tiri'yaana en Ethgan'tor [Bright Temple of Ethgan'tor]

[Charybdis]

Despite a classification as dark elves, the Moriquendi inside the holy, ancient city of Ethgan’tor were unarguably some of the most pious within the entire Empire. Shrines, trinket stores, and various small cart-like stands dotted throughout the streets, extenuating the great importance placed upon a devotion to the divine. These did, however, quickly pale in the sight of Ethgan’tor’s greatest achievement: The Yaana en Ethgan'tor. Placed in an easily accessible location inside Ethgan’tor’s walls, the Temple was a staunch reminder to the Moriquendi populace to spend at least a moment in their busy brightening in silent prayer towards Aetheria.

One of the main streets in Ethgan’tor traveled past the front entrance of the Temple, veering off slightly towards the building’s entrance. The pathway from street to entrance was paved with even slabs of marble; perfect rectangles fit together like a jigsaw puzzle before disappearing into a small, foot-high wall bordering each side. Large ferns covered the corner foot of the wall, extending their green foliage out horizontally, sending shadows upon the ground below. A few tufts of grass encroached upon the place set aside for the ferns, popping their tips out into the sunlight. The monotonous green followed from the feathers of the ferns throughout the rest of the front entrance, broken up only by a few randomly placed trees. A great green carpet of grass extended from the foot of the walls, spreading far to the edge of the Temple’s plot of land within the holy Moriquendi city.

Rising up from the well-kept lawns, the Temple itself stood over two stories high. Most of the building was hidden from sight. From the road one could see the entrance of the Temple and trace the walls of the wing as they extended outwards in the center, indicating it was built in a round shape, the tip of which faced the roadway. The tip of the wing was flattened, causing the walls to start upward as a rectangle and then round in a dome-fashion towards the top. Two matching wings jutted out from the central area of the building at precise angles, showing one horizontal wall and its far edge. The entire building was made from smooth, glassy marble, polished with great care. The outside walls, however, were showing a bit of their age. A few chips revealed the duller stone underneath the top layer, accentuating the hairline separation between blocks. Along the sides of the building, sunlight shone through deep, richly-colored stained glass windows, one wing holding a specific design while the other was yet another style. The glass caught the sunlight, making it dance around the lawn below. The deepness of the colors and the difference between the levels of light kept one from seeing what was inside. A few windows had a glaze of blackish soot in between the leaded fractures, indicating the Temple’s ancient age.

The path from the roadway led to three steps which, in turn, ended in a larger, flat patio area extending from the foundation of the building. The horizontal edges of both the steps and the patio itself were rounded. Pale grey marble columns cut into smooth cylinders were the only breaks in the cold smoothness of the entranceway. They stretched from floor to ceiling, colliding with the overhang stretching out to shield and shadow the entrance area from the sunlight. The entrance directly facing a visitor to the Temple was as grand and ornate as the rest of the building. Large oaken doors stood up nearly a story and a half high, rounding to a point at the top. Blackened, hammered iron crossed between doorframe and door in three different places, matching neatly with the long vertical handles, indicating that the doors pulled outward. Flanking each side of the door was a matching stained glass window made out of deep red triangles, splashing bits of their color onto the pale floor below. Most every brightening the large doors would be kept slightly ajar, as if welcoming any possible petitioner into the interior of the temple. Small whiffs of fire floated out the doorway, tantalizing the senses. The Temple was made to appear both serene and grand, and its entrance and exterior were no exceptions.

Entrance Wing:
The distinction between the outside of the Temple and the interior was impossible to miss. The floor pattern itself changed from a shined, even marble to a mosaic-style. Erratic pieces of tile were framed with white grout, further bordered with an even line of dark marble at the edge of the walls. The front foyer itself expanded in width towards the middle, keeping with the round shape seen from the outside. The level of light instantly diminished from that of the outside. Four more colored windows besides those in the front manned the side walls of the hallway, allowing some sunlight through. Narrow rectangles of yellowish light extended from the frames of the windows themselves towards the middle, meeting and creating two even columns.

Before, in between, and after the windows along the walls stood six statues of the Planetar: Rak, Cetheron, Kalendryas, Kaimelea, Materna, and Srennius. The Planetars were each made of marble, carved with loving detail, showing their ascribed personalities with great accuracy. The statues were created in a life-like size, standing no higher than the average Moriquendi who might frequent the hall. Some seemed dressed for battle; others had a more peaceful look, garbed simply but still with the aura of unearthliness. The veins of the rock still showed through plainly, adding to the exquisite detail amongst the curves of their robes and the curls of their hair. Despite their careful creation, the Planetars’ expressions were still cold and distant, due to the natural solitude of the material used and the dark shadows of the foyer. Their eyes seemed to follow the new petitioner as he walked the hall towards the atrium, their forms poised for action.

A few alcoves were cut into the hard rock walls, filled with varying sizes of cream-colored candles, adding their flickering light to the room. Small rivers of smoke flowed through the walkway, swirling in the yellow light. To the right of the statue of Srennius, in the very far corner of the entrance, a doorway was carved in a precise rectangular fashion, breaking the solidity of the hallway. The door itself was perpetually pushed inward, revealing a small closet-like space holding numerous shelves filled with arranges shoes. An attendant was usually found leaning lazily against the side of the frame, arms crossed, waiting for a new, ignorant petitioner who dared to enter the atrium of the temple with their shoes still firmly in place. Past the closet, the walls of the foyer narrowed at the end of the hallway, the width matching that of the front entrance. The wall flattened, giving a squared edge to the oval shape. The area where the entrance connected to the center part of the Temple, however, was left open and lacking a wall. The edges of the entrance were built of light marble and rounded, shining with the flow of light from both hallway and atrium. The thin points of the two boundaries extended a bit into the empty entrance way and then retreated, leaving a clear view of the central atrium.

Central Atrium:
The central section of the building was crafted into a perfect circle in contrast with the ovals that shaped the wings. The floor of the atrium collided in harmony with that of each of the wings, taking the even rectangular borders and continuing the pattern throughout the walkway. An overhang no more than ten feet extended from the very top of the ceiling towards the middle of the atrium, held up by cylindrical marble columns lining the inner circle. The far sides of the atrium were shadowed from the upper partial roof, letting the wings blend more fluidly into the atrium itself. Telath’s suns shone brightly through the opening, sending shafts of light bouncing throughout both the walkways and the garden in the middle. The level of light within the atrium was enough to spread throughout the darkened halls, adding to the intended star pattern.

The entire atrium measured almost fifty feet in diameter, thirty of that being the open garden. The marble floor that had extended out from the foyer and each of the adjoining wings blended together into an outline of stone around the greenery, ending in a lower step, and then falling into the ground. A moss-like grass grew close to ground level, covering the entire center section like a living carpet, sweeping under the three trees strategically placed in a triangular pattern at the very center. The trunks of the trees were a dark mahogany color, extending upwards towards the suns in curled and twisted patterns, barely standing more than eight feet from the ground. Their leaves bounced off a pink color, matching the shade found tracing within the marble of the building. Round and perfectly oval, the leaves framed tiny, white five-petal flowers built in delicate star shapes. Trimmed hedges circled around the three trees, keeping the Temple’s patrons from trampling upon the formers’ roots.

In the very center of the triangle formed by the three trees, a small fountain bubbled. Made of matching grey marble streaked with pink, the bottom bowl of the fountain was built in a round, circular shape, placed into the ground, leaving the water at ground level. Small blue pebbles had been put into the bottom of the pool, adding to the luster of the blue color found within the water itself. In the center of the lower level stood a perfectly cylindrical pillar of marble, shooting upwards five feet before meeting a matching but much smaller disc at the very top. From the center of the top disc the water bubbled, filling and then spilling over the edges of the disc into the pool at the bottom. The area in between the trees and the fountain was generally set aside for the teaching of the various arts offered from the temple staff. Occasionally one could find a priest teaching a new initiate in the ways of healing, herbalism, or the holy sphere of Thaumaturgy. The outer areas of the gardens were usually filled with milling temple petitioners, sometimes choosing to which god they would present their concerns, or simply socializing in hushed voices.

In the walkway around the garden, one could see seven open archways extending outwards shaped exactly like the passage from the front foyer to the central atrium. The entries were evenly placed around the garden, barely showing shadows of what laid inside. A few shadows of colors illuminating from inside the wings flashed along the marble, but little more. A priest, hands held demurely inside belled sleeves, stood in front of the connection between the entrance and the atrium, bowing slightly in greeting as a new visitor would enter. “Serale. Could I help direct you? The wing dedicated to the God of Honor, Aslan, is here to my right, your left. Next is the sanctuary of the Lady Carmelya. Following is the Wing of Orod, God of Logic. Directly across the gardens is the holy shrine of the Lord Ioannes. Next you will find that of Archon Phedos, then Arch Archon Maj. Finally you will come to the Hall of Lady Diana, directly here at my right.”

[Charybdis]

Aslan’s Wing:
The most obvious portion of the wing dedicated to the God of Honor was the large, life-like statue standing towards the back of the room. Aslan’s full face seemed to peer intently at the entranceway, waiting patiently for any newcomer to stumble upon his domain. His expression wasn’t fierce, but rather more alert and distant, as if aware of the surrounding environment and themes beyond the marble-encased hall. The Aetherian was portrayed in full battle garb, armor casing each limb. He was equipped with a long sword held tightly in his hand at waist level. The flat of the blade itself lay gently across the front of his chest, as in a sign of devotion. A wide shield was held up in his opposite hand, showing the tiny risen area in the center making the pattern of a sun, the rays extending out towards the edges. The shield was kept lowered, refraining from hindering the view of his upper body. His face was both young and regal, covered with delicate curls surrounding his features. Around the top of his head sat a circlet of connected triangles in the shape of a crown, nestled deeply amongst his hair. Separate from the body of the statue, a banner appeared to fly freely behind Aslan’s figure, its ripples frozen in stone as it extended down towards the ground from above the Aetherian’s head.

One large window stood behind the statue, nearly taking the entire wall. As a result, the entire hall was bathed in rich color, thick with its tone. The window curved in line with the dome of the ceiling, making a half-circle near the top. Made out of a deep, almost blood-red color, the window’s pattern started in a swirl near the bottom and then curved into the middle. A small line made of yellow glass traced along the outside of the red, breaking the sea of color. The window lent a makeshift frame to the statue, pulling eyes around the outer line of its form. In front of the foot of the statue stood a rectangular block of marble, extending upwards four feet before flattening out at the top. The very sides of the sculpted altar pulled into a sharp point horizontally. A small golden saucer sat in the center of the altar, extending a whiff of smoke from the burning incense. One of the apprentice priests were assigned the sacred duty of keeping the saucer filled, allowing a spicy scent to diffuse throughout the room. Also kept lit were yet more recessed shelves built in an oval pattern filled with candles matching those in the foyer, adding to the light allowed through the window. The floor itself was made of a creamy-colored stone, cut into star shapes fitted closely in a mosaic style. A priest of Aslan could usually be found either meditating or sitting quietly in the corner, ready to help any petitioner in their quest after the God.

[Charybdis]

Carmelya’s Wing:
The bright red adorning Aslan’s temple splashed out into the bordering walkway of the central atrium, colliding heavily with the deep, forest greens from the wing to the left of Aslan’s. Inside, Carmelya’s shrine was covered in flickering green shadows, much in keeping with the Goddess’s identification with all things natural and full of life. Three long rectangular windows stood vertically inside the back wall, standing as sentinels to allow sunlight to stream inside the temple’s room. The light danced upon the grey marble along the walls, catching in a few of the alcoves and then spilling onto the ground. The floor itself was crafted from matching marble cut into even oval patterns fitted together as an exact puzzle. The intended leaf-pattern on the floor was continued up from the ground to the walls, easing the transition from horizontal to vertical. The scent of evergreens evaded a petitioner’s senses, wafting from inside the side alcoves. Branches of the fragrant trees nestled their companion candles, adding their dim light to the hall.

The Lady Carmelya herself stood as a welcome sight to the petitioner, directly in front of the entrance. Carmelya stood nearly ten feet in the air, both tall and willowy with a gentle, lithe figure covered in stone-still drapes of fabric. Her dress was loose, falling and curving towards the ground in artistic bends, tucks, and folds. Her face was rounded and almost circular in fashion, carved to be mother-like and gentle in feature. Still, the Goddess’s expression held an ethereal beauty, reminding one of her status as an Immortal. The marble had been painted inside the iris of the eyes to a deep green color, mimicking the same shades that circled around the entirety of the room. Long, silken curls traced around the very sides of her face and then tumbled down over the front of her shoulders over the scooped neckline of her dress, ending at her waist. A tiny woven crown of vines with even smaller flowers intermixed along the top of her head, barely obvious amongst the cascades of hair. Small indications of feet could be seen beyond the hem of the dress, hinting at a lack of shoes adoring Carmelya’s feet. Her left hand was outstretched towards the front entrance bearing a gnarled branch heavy with blossoms. Her other arm was covered with the folds of her dress, changing direction at the wrist to show her delicate palm. Inside her hand Carmelya held a round fruit much resembling an apple, patiently proffering it towards the newcomer in the goddess’s domain. An altar adorned the very foot of the statue made from two cylindrical columns with matching flat circular discs covered with leaves. On one a perpetual tickle of smoke rose up towards the Carmelya’s nose, filling the room with a natural sweet smell, evoking pastoral, spring images within one’s mind. A few prayerful devotees and an ever-present priestess garbed in pure white wandering throughout the hall.

[Charybdis]

Orod’s Wing:
Orod’s own wing was just left of Carmelya’s, following in a counter-clockwise pattern. A few shadows of blue traced outward in triangular patterns from entryway to the side of Carmelya’s, though not with the vibrance seen by the previous two. The room itself was surprisingly dark compared to the previous wings and the Central Atrium itself, as if the bright cheeriness of dancing light was banned by some unspoken rule. The floor extended out from the Atrium into the hall in a precise rectangular pattern, taking on the appearance of marble bricks. A small flicker of sunlight dared to enter throughout the five horizontal windows across the back wall of the hallway. The window was made from a dark, deep navy blue flecked with spots of black, shielding and reflecting away most of the light from outside. The color, however, shone brightly onto both the floor below and the statue of Orod directly in front of it, turning the marble from grey to blue.

Noticably smaller than his divine counterparts, Orod was fashioned out of a chalky white marble, giving him an almost emancipated, blank appearance. His form was bent from the waist, leaning forward heavily, sending wisps of hair across his impassive face. In stark contrast, Orod’s eyes were both alert and vigilant, staring with alarming energy from underneath bushy eyebrows. The God was dressed in a toga-like fashion, the folds and bends of his clothing betraying a figure heavy with inactivity and sedateness. A thin, exact cylinder extended upwards from Orod’s toes, finding itself in the god’s left palm before it ended in a crystal tear-drop. The crystal grabbed the limited available light before throwing it in erratic patterns onto the ground, breaking up the solidarity of the figure. The sides of the stick were marked in precise increments, as if to make a measuring apparatus. The opposite hand extended barely forward from the long, belled sleeves, showing a large crystal hourglass with frozen sands falling from top to bottom. The tops and poles of the hourglass were made from a deeply-stained wood, lending the only sign of life into the entire hallway. Orod’s altar was built in separate rectangular blocks decreasing in volume as one went upwards, finally ending in one the same size as the very base. The sides of the altar were mosaic, made from yet more blue glass flecked with black, mimicking that of the window behind the statue of Orod. The side alcoves of the room had replaced candles for piles of parchment and books, breaking the cold stillness of the marble walls. A few mahogany tables were set up in the corners flanking the entrance, far away from the center of the god. The top surfaces were perpetually covered with loose parchment, though kept in efficient piles by the wandering priests who manned the Orodite hall.

[Charybdis]

Ioannes’s Wing:
The wing dedicated to the Lord of Aetheria and Telath could not possibly have been missed by any patron of Ethgan’tor’s Temple. Directly facing the entrance wing, the doorway to the hall of Ioannes was cut into a noticeably greater size than its companions. The very edges of the doorway were covered with a metallic gold color, catching and scattering the sunlight from the open roof of the atrium. The gold color continued to shadow upon the even marble floor of the wing itself. Three long rectangular strips of marble stretched from entrance to back wall, breaking only twice in the entire expanse. Most noticeable was a small, round window built directly facing the entrance, framing the back of the statue of Ioannes. It extended barely past the edges of the figure of the God, but could still be easily seen amongst the bareness of the marble framing it. Built in a mishmash of all colors of stained glass, the window swirled outwards in tiny veins throughout the wall, barely visible, but still enabling the travel of light into the wing. Along the side walls, three long, rectangular windows stretched upwards in an evenly-spaced line, pulling the eye up towards the rounded ceiling. Each window met with its mate directly across, breaking the encasing marble in a stripe-like fashion. Again, the sunlight was clearly visible, this time falling straight down rather than at a strange angle.

Ioannes himself was fashioned from the purest white marble with traces of grey outlining specific features. The God was sculpted with three faces; two stared to each side with the center facing towards the entrance. All three faces were identical despite their varying angles of view. The features upon the faces were paradoxically fierce and caring, as if Ioannes was a father-figure with a capacity for turning against any who opposed him. His mouths were set in a straight line, matching the rest of his sharp features. The lines of his jaws and cheekbones could be clearly seen, framed into an even, impassive appearance. His chins were firm and unyielding, tracing down into a point. The God’s body was singular despite his multiple heads, built in the perfect form of a young athlete: strong, able, and yet wide, as if matured with age, time and experience. A long, erratic lightning bolt extended from the right hand of Ioannes, away from his body. It slashed through the air, stretching from the statue’s head to his knees in a diagonal angle. The opposing hand held a small sphere with upraised representations of the various known land masses upon Telath. Ioannes’s fingers stretched upward around the minature Telath in a protective look as his eyes seemed to watch the planet with unwavering vigilance. Three altars stood at the foot of the statue, each holding their own golden disc full of sharp, spicy incense. The smoke from the fires intermixed with that blowing from the candles within the alcoves built into the side walls. A pair of priest and priestess wandered the hallways, occasionally found with a lighter or new stick of incense in their hands, keeping both sources of light and smell perpetually running within the wing.

[Charybdis]

Phedos’s Wing:
The Archon Phedos was held in deep respect by the Moriquendi within the city of Ethgan’tor. The regality and cold, formal beauty of his dedicated sanctuary inside the city temple was yet another sign of their devotion to Phedos. The Archon credited with the creation of the Elves had his part of the Temple bathed in dark purples and black, adding to its sense of royalty and respect. The source of the deep colors came from the large, full window taking up the entirety of the back wall. Swirls and erratic circles of mostly purple glass flecked with a touch of black stole the sunlight from outside and turned it dark, shadowing across the statue of Phedos crafted of grey marble.

Tall and stately, the Archon’s form was built as one prepared for war. His face bore the graceful features of the Elves, both sharp, firm, and yet graceful and hauntingly beautiful. A tendril of hair curled down across high cheekbones, ending at the edge of his chin before disappearing against his neck. His head was uncovered despite his full suit of armour so adoring his chest, legs, and arms. The typical Elvish lithe, delicate figure was still obvious behind the heavy armor, showing the artist’s desire to tie in the race of Elves with the Archon himself. Despite the stillness of the stone, the long cape fastened onto Phedos’ shoulders and falling towards the ground behind seemed to waft in unseen wind. The breastplate upon the Archon was embellished with upraised portraits of a battle long past. Two armies ran quickly down the hillsides, colliding with startling velocity as they approached the center of the valley in between. Three heroic figures seemed to stand out from the crowds, searching for fame and undying glory amongst the destruction as massive armies clashed in a struggle of arms. Matching pieces armored Phedos’ forearms, though decorated with swirls of ivy rather than figures. Both of the Archon’s hands grasped the edge of a long piece of parchment. A few folds of the parchment enabled those below to catch a glimpse of writing in intelligible patterns. Phedos’ eyes were riveted onto the parchment, both alert and calculating. His mind seemed to be moving with all speed, taking in and analyzing the information. The altar at Phedos’ feet extended upwards from a circular mosaic pattern along the floor, made from three triangles. Upon their top points sat a long, flat, rectangular slab of yet more grey marble, ready for any offerings from a petitioner. A priest of Phedos could usually be found garbed in the royal, deep purple matching that of the window behind, silently keeping up the various lamp stands that surrounded the altar.

[Charybdis]

Maj’s Wing:
Ironically, Maj’s Wing was located directly next to that of Phedos. The ignorance of the Temple’s ancient designers was rather bemusing to its employees, often the source of dry intellectual jokes amongst the priesthood. In contrast, however, the Arch Archon’s form stood out regally against a background of iridescent light blues, a very different hue than the deep colors held within Phedos’s. The colors shone from the diamond-shaped stained glass window, breaking up the monotony of the back wall as it framed Maj’s form in a perfect pattern. Small shadows of green and gold traced onto the mosaic diamonds on the floor as one would study the windows from the different angles. In response the light shone upon the blue glass in the window, changing colors in keeping with its iridenscent properties. The sunlight shadowed the breaks in between the marble tiles along the floor, alerting a petitioner to the slight unevenness of the blocks.

Maj himself was in a pose of attack and fierceness, as if prepared to attack whoever dared to cross his will. Both palms fitted around the hilt of a large broadsword, adding to the almost hostile attitude. The blade itself was upraised, away from his body as it crossed diagonally across his torso. His armor-clad breast leaned forward, pushing momentum along with the weapon. Thin layers of gold had been interwoven with the marble grey in the armor pieces adorning the Archon’s chest, legs, and arms, flickering back the light from behind and that of the candles along the side wall alcoves. The armor itself was precisely decorated with an upraised, six-pointed star at the very center of the plate. The rays of the star illuminated outwards, disappearing at the very edges until it was flush with the background. Maj’s face was mostly covered with a square helmet. A bridge from the helmet covered down his nose, stopping at the tip. The Archon’s mouth was set in a firm, determined line. His fierce eyes could be seen from underneath loose strands of hair trailing across the sides of his cheeks. The ends of his hair flowed down past the edges of the helmet, curling with the flow of his neck until they disappeared amongst the neckline of his armor. Despite being made from cold marble, the statue seemed to have a dangerous but paradoxically serene appearance, most likely due to the blues flowing from the window behind. The altar dedicated to the Arch Archon was made from marble speckled with crystal. A single piece had been carved into a v-shape, spreading out wide as it approached a flat portion set firmly on top. A small golden disc was sitting underneath the top of the altar, precariously positioned between the legs, its sides barely catching onto those of the stone. Smoke rose with a good amount of energy from the censer, though the smell wasn’t entirely pleasant. A priest sat quietly at the side of the altar, elbows resting on his knees with an almost lazy expression on his face. He would help if called upon, but offered little more to any petitioner to the Arch Archon.

[Charybdis]

Diana’s Wing:
The last and final wing found while following a counter-clockwise pattern around the Central Atrium was that dedicated to the Queen of Aetheria, Diana. In keeping with her Immortal status, the hall was bathed in a golden light extending from the small, circular window in the back wall, almost haloing the Aetherian’s form. Diana’s sanctuary seemed to be filled with a sense of earned glory, both from the color of the window and the fanciful engravings of Diana’s exploits against the demon-like Cyraxians along the side walls. History was deeply recorded amongst the marble, reminding a patron of the old stories as he was transported to a time gone by. Swords clashed as unnatural powers flew over the battlefield. Numerous unknowns fell as the forces fought for their very survival. The scenes extended from the entranceway, leading the eye of the petitioner towards the actual statue of Diana, standing firm and tall amongst the fierceness carved into the walls.

The exalted Ancient Allerian was pictured in her first form as a delicate but willful Allerian prepared for battle. The chilled white marble shone against the golden sunlight streaming through the perfect circle surrounding the goddess’s form set in the back wall. The feathered wings were exquisitely carved with precise attention to detail, extending upwards far beyond her head, then trailing down her back towards the ground with two matching tails upon the floor itself. Diana’s face showed a vigor that comes with young age. Her eyes were bright and alert, staring beyond the upraised tip of the spear extending from her ankles to level with the top of her head. Full, long curls of hair swirled around the sides of her face, cascading down in a torrent of tiny carved lines behind her back, ending in a rounded edge of hair. Long belled sleeves surrounded her wrists before they met with her palms, falling towards the ground. Her shoulders were a mass of the clasps from her breastplate and the fastenings of her dress, the edges of the former covered with drapes of marbleized fabric. The armor piece seemed to be decorated in an upraised design, but it was impossible to tell due to the delicate drapings of Diana’s dress running across the plate. The breastplate ended at Diana’s waist, turning into a full skirt with slits revealing toned legs slightly bent in an attitude of springing readiness. The spear shaft followed down almost to her right foot, ending barely above the uncovered toes. The statue itself was set above the floor by an even cube of marble nearly two feet tall, setting a plain background for the altar in front. Made from a stumpy-appearing circular stand, Diana’s place of offering was a flat shaped into a star, the edges slightly upraised, making a bowl in the middle. Upon the random shapes made into a mosaic walked a few priestesses to the goddess, all garbed in long, flowing robes with censers in their hands. The delicate sound of string music seemed to waft amongst the room’s walls, its source hiding in the shadow of the doorway into the atrium.

[Alexiali N'mora]

One problem sorted, so began another. Alexiali was sure in his heart that he must have done something to anger Ioannes to force the events of the past few eras upon himself, things had been going so well, his goals so near his grasp…then all taken away by Baragot and his forgotten Arium Legion. He’d been left for dead, practically dead in fact, when his men had whisked him away from the guards and brought him hurriedly to the temple where some Thaumaturgists, corrupt ones at that, were bribed into healing him. That alone was a sin he needed to atone for, abusing servants of Ioannes to undo what had been done. Then there was the price to pay to the House, his men had done what they were legally bound to do and then done what they were also bound to do: Leave him for dead in search of the new leader.

The House was behind him now but his sins were not and thus the fallen Moriquendi sought refuge in the temple and in reflection, absolution for his sins so that he might be at peace with what he did next.


Tiri'yaana en Ethgan'tor

Slowly Alexiali headed there, head bowed, not really for now looking around him, knowing this was a time for reflection and not for slipping back into what he remembered of his former life. Stepping onto the road to the temple and as he came in sight of it Alexiali knelt in his ruined clothing, offering a small prayer.

“May Ioannes forgive me or judge me, tell me what it is I must do as I enter his place.”

He offered piously, raising from his kneeling position and walking through the temple, refusing to look upward and bask in it’s glory, he was here to offer prayers not to marvel at architecture, privately he still held that God’s didn’t need large amounts of money to be spent on them and that there were better ways to show ones faith but the Priests were Priests not him, he wasn’t about to devote his life to changing all that either, not unless he got told to.

Equally he felt he had no right to gloat over anything, not until he knew or did not know if Ioannes was displeased in him, he’d have to see. Having been here before though when the priest told him the directions Alexiali finally looked up, shaking his head firmly.

“I know the way but Vedui to you good priest.”

He commented in plain yet clipped Moriquendi, blinking once at the man before lowering the hand he’d held up and passing the priest, not wanting to be disturbed. Heading past the man he walked slowly to the Ioannes Wing, stopping and lowering himself to his knees before the statue and clasping his hands in his lap, closing his eyes.

“Ioannes forgive me for I have sinned though I do not know how, for always before you have granted me absolution in my work to serve both you and Telath, now I fear I have wronged you and you have punished me, so tell me Ioannes? What did I do wrong?”

The Moriquendi, formerly one of the most powerful spies in all of Alleria, whispered quietly, eyes closed, waiting for some sign and willing to wait like that for quite a while.

[Innocence]

“What you’re doing wrong Alexiali, is be a weak fool,”

The voice rang out in the marble wing... but it was not the voice of the god that he prayed to... it was the soft, but venomous Moriquendi of a woman that stood at the gateway to the room. She stood beneath the gold on the opening, her dark eyes looking at nothing but the Moriquendi bowed in prayer. “Weak,” she said again, almost spitting the words on the ground, disgusted by the sight she saw beneath the statue of the Lord of Telath. Her words would have jolted the pious prayers of the once noble lord, catching him off guard. Whether he turned or not, she started walking towards him; her feet padding across the ground quietly... silently, almost unheard.

Though she said nothing else as she made her way towards the statue. Her body was bathed in the soft golden glow of the wing, her pale silver, blonde hair flashing every time she stood in a break of sunlight caused by the windows that surrounded the statue. She was tall for one of her kind, and her body was built long and lean... and her walk flowed with grace, and an air of strength and arrogance followed her. She turned her face to the outcast for a moment. Her eyes were dark, contemplative, judging... judging him. Her lips had curled into a faint smile, and though she could not be considered beautiful, she was a certainly a striking and attractive Moriquendi.

The unknown woman took a final step forward... she was directly next to Alexiali now; whether or not he had turned to see her. Slowly... so slowly she began to kneel down. The side of her toned calves and legs brushed against him almost seductivly, as finally she rested on the ground next to him. She turned to face him, her breath caressed the skin of his face and his neck, and she smiled... with malice and with venom, before she spoke.

“So the once great Alexiali has turned to pity prayers from a god who doesn’t care about his existence?” she spoke in common and laughed in a whisper that filled the room, and surrounded the statue. “Ioannes can do nothing... nor have you done anything but let down your house, and its members... and I once thought of you as the greatest of all the N’mora... Ariva was always right about you,” she laughed again, her dark eyes dancing with spitefulness. “Always right...”

But before he could speak, she bowed her head, and began her own whispered prayer to the god before them... leaving him with far to many questions then he could verbalize at once... who was this woman? He did not know her... nor did he recognize her... but somehow... she knew a lot about him...

[Alexiali N'mora]

Alexiali lowered his hands slowly at the words, not about to be goaded by people he didn’t even know. He opened his eyes, taking in a breath or two and putting his hands to the floor, then closed them again and shook his head, he’d expected something like this sooner or later but who was it? The voice certainly wasn’t familiar. Neither it turned out was the face nor the features as the woman took it upon herself although she certainly seemed to be trying to tell him something.

As before though he wasn’t about to be goaded, cautious and confused more like. Quietly he stood, moving away from the woman, hideously aware he’d be reaching for the hilt of a sword if he owned one any more and could use it…although that was then, this was now. Slowly he paused, relaxing from the sudden surprise, it hadn’t been drastic – he didn’t scare easily – but disturbing none the less as he waited for the woman to stop her prayer, however long it took, his iron patience holding against the woman’s vague barrage.

“Ioannes cares for all, why then do you pray to him if you do not care for his words?”

Alexiali inquired, not quite finished as he moved foot over foot towards a position where he was between the woman and the door, not because he planned to stop her if she left…more that he could get away, he was no fighter any longer although he was confident enough no-one would try and start a fight in the Temple.

“Whatever problems you have with me say them, I don’t have delicate ears woman, there’s room enough for both to pray here without causing a fuss and I’m not about to attack you if that’s what you’re hoping. Your relationship to my…former…brother means little to me either, I’m doing with House N’mora, they don’t concern my affairs any more as they’ve seen fit not to concern themselves with me.”

A partial lie but Alexiali still lived in a world of lies, it hurt little in fact not at all for him to speak it, his violet eyes focused intently on the woman, studying her for any hint of who she was or what she represented, also studying her as a woman, admittedly aroused by her attitude, curious as well as weary.

[Innocence]

“He cares for all who a worthy of his guidance and strength... but you Alexiali are a weakling, and not worthy for even a glance by a god like Ioannes,” she stood up to face him, her face more grievously angry than the malice of before. But her words were almost baiting him... begging him to prove her wrong... that is what the depths of her dark eyes said... Prove me wrong

“As for my problems with you,” she took a step towards him, the stands of her long pale hair flying behind her and shining in the sunlight. “My problem with you is...” she paused, running her tongue along her lips as if trying to find the right words to say to the man that stood in front of her. For a moment her strength of conviction had gone, and standing in the presence of this man overwhelmed her... but it was not a feeling that lasted for long. She blinked in the silence... in the light, her dark eyes not leaving his violet ones before her smile returned... a perfect painted picture of malice.

“My problem with you has nothing to do with the House N’mora, or what I may have done with your “former” brother, as you called him, in patterns past” she said with a lie. “N’mora concerns me no more than then a fear the suns will not rise over Eth’gantor again... I am nothing to you, nor will I ever be... people like me were never good enough for lordly princes like you,” she stared at him with hatred. “So why would you care about me now Alexiali... why would you care how I feel or what problem I have with you? You are an outcast after all... we all heard it... rumors travel fast in the ‘underground’ of Eth’gantor...” she stopped, her face falling as if she had said to much.

“I guess I just needed to prove that my beliefs were right... that you didn’t have the courage to stand up to that spiteful brother of yours, nor that house who thinks they are better than every other Moriquendi expect the Sun House... and here I find you after following you through the city to this place, where you beg to know if you have done something to offend this god? Alexiali... you are more than this! I know you are more than this! I have watched you...” she stopped, her anger, her out of control rave turning into giving him to much information. So instead she moved to push past him... using her shoulder to get him away from the door so that she might pass... whether he tried to stop her or not...

[Alexiali N'mora]

Alexiali cocked his head to one side affecting a sorrowful expression, for a moment his prayers forgotten for they had been answered. This is how you test me Ioannes, send a wandering sheep forth from the flock to be brought back into the fold, or perhaps to test me, provide me with a way to enter the fold, test what kind of a man I truly am.

Alexiali’s confidence grew a little at that, he knew what he had to do now, so simple in thought although not so much in action, still he’d done it before and might still have the knack, for turning people, for wooing them with words to his cause and to their own betterment, that was his way. He worked always by the three virtues of Ioannes:
Law: That of the Gods.
Order: That of a stable world.
Justice: His own.

He saw no wrong with this for the Laws were the province of cruel and twisted men, order that of equally corrupt and selfish bodies, he was the stabilizing force, or had been and would be again if he succeeded in Ioannes’s words. In a way whatever the woman had been trying to achieve, she’d failed, although as a pawn she’d succeeded brilliantly. He didn’t speak as she moved forward, stepping as quickly as he could into her line of motion, although he was weak he wasn’t that weak, muscles built up over eras probably not completely gone. With as much grace as he could muster, aware that but a few eras ago he could have done this near effortlessly, he grabbed at her wrists, attempting to hold her still even if he had to swing around to put momentum in the movement, pulling her close so her face was in front of his, sorrowful gaze filling her face.

Alexiali was back, the uncertainty vanishing in a fog as he looked at her, no smile of triumph, nothing but pity for those who did not understand.

“How little you understand.” He breathed in a quiet whisper, holding her wrists firmly together and towards his chest if she hadn’t escaped, calling after her if she had. “I’m not what I was before woman, the rumors tell only of my fall, not of its nature.” He paused, eyes roaming her face as he held her. Feet gently moving the pair around in circles. “How I pity you your lack of understanding, coming here to expect something that doesn’t even exist. I came here because I was lost, because I’d lost part of what I was. Now I know that part wasn’t important, thanks to you, I know that what was once lost can be regained, the price of the test, the price of redemption for my sins.”

He released her towards the doorway arms coming back to his sides as he affected a gentle, well practiced bow, turning the situation on it’s head…the woman had been thinking he wanted to know more, oh how wrong she was, Alexiali needed nothing more from her unless she wished to give it, if so: So be it, if not he would not delay her any longer.

“I thank you, nameless one for your time, for you have done more for me than I could ever do for myself in the sorry state I was in.”

Rising from the bow his right arm spread out invitingly.

“Of course if you wish to talk further I welcome a chance to change the opinions of the Ethgan’tor underworld, Outcast’s don’t have to loose all their honor, it’s not a resource to be given or taken as the House’s think it is, why after all did I leave the city if I was obsessed with position girl?”

He asked with a hint of disbelief, ever the chameleon, the unpredictable.

“My position in Ethgan’tor brings me nothing in the outside world just as my position there brings me nothing here, the two are as separate as the planes of the Arcane are from one another.”

Alexiali finished bluntly, stepping forward slowly, arms by the sides of his ruined clothing, violet eyes dancing with revelation. Oh for shame he might at one time ignored the common people, now tho