The World Wyrm

Log Info

• Title: The World Wyrm
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Cryosanthia, Faranmidahn, Lanier
• Place: A10 Temple of Gilead
• Time: Tuesday, June 23, 2020, 7:36 PM
• Summary: Cryosanthia has come to the Temple of Gilead to pray, and asked Faranmidahn to meet her there. The lucht does, and her mother comes along as well. Unexpectedly, they run into Lanier. Cryo explains that she finds Gilead a little weird, because he takes the form of a prey animal as a White Stag, or in Am'shere, a White Bull armoured water-buffalo. Lanier explains his earlier reactions to her comments about winter, and Cryo is stunned, never having had to really suffer the deprivations of the season and taking it a little personally. Faran and Serrendine go inside to perform their sacrifices, while Cryo takes Lanier to look a Gilead's Horn. She gives him a summary of her adventures rescuing it, and the complicated things she was feeling in the final battle. The strange dichotomy, even after all the years have passed for her, of being thrall to the evil priest yet still finding a way to do the right thing and save the horn, when none trusted her and she trusted no one. She prays to Gilead to give her that strength again to find her way, no matter what happens to her perceptions, as she tracks a most elusive prey. Once again she asks for understanding of the things she's seen.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A10: Temple of Gilead *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

For being a god of the natural world, Gilead's Temple is one of the most active within the City. Sacred Hounds mix with the mutts of the City and roam throughout the ancient stone temple. The temple itself resembles a kind of large dais or low pyramid, surrounded by stubborn trees and the vestiges of the wild that insist on growing even here, in the center of Alexandria.

The temple's exterior platform is reached by ancient stairs. It is upon this platform and beneath the open sky where most of the activity takes place. For more formal affairs and for offerings, a modestly-sized building rests within the platform's center. Ancient of look and of craft, a great tree grows within this building, reminiscent of the First Tree of the World, Ygdrassil.

If one enters the central building, one will be treated to a circular-cut out in the middle where sunlight (and wind, and rain) pours in, at the whim of the weather. A grove populates this building, with the one, great tree at its center. It towers over the other trees present--they appear almost dwarfed by its appearance, though are actually quite normal in size. Too, any number of wild creatures that should never be found within the City proper rest here, yet Gilead's presence here allows it. Many of them are under treatment by the Hunters, though some have become permanent residents.

While Hunters tend the grove, the Wardens serve as guards. If one ascends the central tree itself (for there is a door built into it), one shall find a palatial altar among the branches, waiting for supplicants to lay fresh-cut branches and fresh-killed game upon it.

The temple here is one of the busiest in the City, approaching the realm of Daeus and Althea, who stand as mother and father to the Son of Hounds. Gilead's hounds lie along the benches, near workers who sit to the side on the stone benches atop the platform, crafting arrows, discussing the recent hunt, and more. Druids openly walk the grounds, frequently accosted by farmers from out of town seeking veterinary advice and treatment for their livestock, or in some cases, solutions to vermin problems. The clerics themselves are actually more reclusive, frequently passing their time in the rooms beneath the stone temple, or hidden among the light, forest-like grounds that insists on growing around it.

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'9"     267 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Faranmidahn  3'3"     35 Lb      Halfling          Female    Albino Lucht woman in black leather armor with a BIG spider
Lanier       6'0"     245 Lb     Human             Male      Young, lean and strong Acanian wearing hide clothing.
=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

It's afternoon, and the day has been a pale grey with Alexandria veiled in a light mist that keeps it warm, humid and still.

The Temple of Gilead is much clearer, the air stirred by activity of the worshippers and sacred hounds. The great tree towers over the platform, growing out of the stone temple. Within, it is alive with the sounds of animals, the offerings of hunters and the ministrations of the druids and wardens. It is unlike the other temples, bustling with activity, a forest blessed within the stone confines of the city.

A whitescale sith-makar woman stands on the threshold, looking into the temple, the least camoflauged entity in the area, standing out in her bright whites and contrasting the earthy clothing choices of the other worshippers. Her nostrils flare as she inhales scents, animal and burnt offerings, and not incense. She makes a clicking noise with her mouth.

"I... should have killed something first. I see that now."

"An offering of harvest works as well, sister." comes a soft voice spoken from low and behind the Sith.

There stands Faran, sheathed in her sand colored silks, her arms cradling a hare, apparantly taken with her bow. She smiles up at her and wonders, "How've you been, Cryo?" She still bears her swordbelt and the symbol of her order pins her cloak in place, though the Lucht stands with her hood back from her features. Another woman, smaller than the albino by several inches and decades older with earthy hues to skin and hair and an altogether austere, scholarly bearing, is beside her, offering up a polite, "Hello, Miss Cryosanthia."

The door leading into the heart of the great tree opens, admitting the form of Lanier Vaylan through, who closes the door behind him gently. He's carrying an empty leather bag hanging down at his side, and many of his usual travelling accutremants are not to be found. His narrowed eyes scan the temple grounds, momentarily stopping here and there as he appraises the work being done, then stops on Cryosanthia. He emits an audible grunt, changes directions, and walks towards the whitescale Sith'makar and the albino Lucht.

The lucht's voice always brings a smile and comfort to the white sith, and now is no exception. She turns with a warm smile. "Faran! I have been improving, and since two days, amazing! I have the most joyous news. Good to see you and Peace be upon your Nest also, Professor Waywanderer."

"That looks like a good rabbit, I didn't think to get either, harvest or hunt. Gilead, as you name him... is weird..."

A statement uttered just in time for the young acanian to hear as he approaches.

Faranmidahn arches an eyebrow at the appelation, but she smiles anyway, though the elder Lucht takes the remark without a batted eyelash, "It was Korsandir's way." the woman says quietly. Faran, a frequent, if not constant sight around the temple, blinks at the elder halfling with an odd look, but she holds her tongue. Instead, she steps forward and with a bright smile up into Cryo's eyes, wonders, "Oh! What news, what news?" excitedly. Good news being less ommon in their circles, though she turns toward the approaching fellow and gives what bow she can afford when so burdened, "Greetings!"

Lanier stops short as his patron god is called weird, his lips thinning momentarily before he continues forward. He stops a few feet away, and offers a nod to Faranmidahn and then to the professor, the hare getting a quick and appraising glance before his attention turns to Cryosanthia, "Can we talk for a moment? I owe you an explanation that wasn't suitable to give at the fountain the other day." He then adds, "You don't need to worry about having an offering today. When you're here, you're under our protection. Some of us Green Wardens do make appropriate offerings to the Master of Beasts on behalf of those who unable or unprepared to do so."

"This!" Cryo takes off her left glove, and shows the back of her hand to Faran. "Her mark is removed! I prayed and it worked! It might for yours too Serrendine, there is hope."

The white sith bounces in place, shifting weight from leg to leg and swaying her tail strongly. Not quite a dance, but a lot of energy to stay relatively still. She nods and tilts her head curiously towards Lanier, "Yes, this one enjoys talking and words. I appreciate the offering that I lack, what was the explanation for the fountain?"

The Albino manages to tuck the hare under her arm, but tiptoes up to try to try and hug Cryo with her free arm, 'That's wonderful!' Yes, she squee's, 'Oh, Cryo I'm so happy to hear that!'

Serrendine, the elder Lucht straightens a little, perhaps coloring a little bit, before she ahems behind her hand, 'I see, I will look into that. Congratulations on your resolution, Miss Cryosanthia.' She clears her throat again and, 'Faranmidahn.'

"Yes, Mother?"

The elder replies, "Let's give them privacy."

There's a quick look to Cryo and the Warden and she nods with a subdued, "Yes, Mother." before she smiles, 'We're going to make our offerings, and we'll come back to talk once you're done.' <halfling>

Lanier nods his head to Cryosanthia, turning to listen to the unfamilar words from the Luct and her mother. He nods his head to them and then looks back towards Cryosanthia, "Thanks." He reaches behind himself, lacing his hands together at the small of his back as his eyes travel to one of the acolytes working with one of the wild animals here, "First, I wanted to say that it didn't really have anything to do with you. Just the very opposite of indifferent attitude you had towards winter. I wasn't used to it." He looks towards Cryosanthia, his eyebrows low and his eyes seem almost pained, "Do you know what winter means to those of us of the Gileadite faith?"

Cryo hugs Faran tight, crouching down and acting like a tripping hazzard with her tail. She squeezes her sister then stands, "Sure. This one will be at Gilead's Horn if I am not near the tree."

She blinks at Lanier, "I'm indifferent to winter? I love winter! Snow was this magical thing in Am'shere I had to wait to come here to see, and stories of ice, and chasing silver sith around asking them to breathe cold. I love the white landscape, the sharp air and the striking sky. How ice can encase a flower or tree and keep it perfect forever. You are thinking perhaps of my former owner? The Fae Queen of Endless Winter? She is not one I will bow to now and her realm is akin to death, a broken cycle. I... am not familiar with Gilean doctrines, sith-makar or scaleless. What does it mean?"

Lanier grimaces and shakes his head, "No, I'm not talking about the Endless Winter. I'm talking about the regular winter that comes and makes lives miserable." He then shakes his head, "It's not really a Gileadite doctrine. It has an effect of everyone. Here, the winter comes, and depending on how harsh it is, it could mean any number of things. It's very difficult to hunt, as a large number of animals sleep for the winter or migrate entirely to warmer climates. Crops don't grow, and if it's especially harsh, it'll effect the crops next year, and then you're risking starvation unless you have gold you didn't expect to need to buy provisions to get you through. It's..." The ranger trails off, then adds, "It's not a good time for some people. Hearing of you speak of it that way caught me off guard."

Faranmidahn returns the hug gleefully, giving a smile and a bow, "See you there!"

The elder, where most of the Knight's features are derived if not her pigmentation, gives a polite curtsey and the two make their way further into the temple.

"This one..." Cryo blinks again, stunned and at a loss for words, "... does not experience winter that way. The last I had in Alexandria, a lifetime ago, a northerner laughed that this was not really cold, and the Wardens of Mictlan kept it warm and there was food. So, your explanation makes sense, and explains..." She waves her hand as if chasing away thoughts or bugs.

"This one wants to see Gilead's horn." An unusual request, the faithful know of the holy artifacts but it's rare for a non-follower to, although scholars might. It wouldn'te be common to expect to walk up to way, like the sith woman is acting it would be.

Lanier frowns, "Well, northerners can be frozen over even in the tropics. They never really quite thaw out, as best as I can tell." He grunts and then nods, "We experience winter differently then, yes. Many of our customs and ways might seem..." He smirks momentarily, adding archly, "Weird to you?" He seems pleased with the diversion in the conversation, satisfied with where he left the explanation, "What do you find so weird about the Master of Beasts, if you don't mind my asking? It seems to me that the taking of sustenance from nature should be ubiquitous, even if one doesn't have direct dealings with the act themselves."

Blinking, Lanier asks, "The Horn of Gilead? Why?" He shrugs, "I mean, I don't see a problem with it, but you'll have to ask one of the clergy members to take you to where it's being held."

"Well it never stops being hot in Am'shere, my brain is cooking half the time. There is no Winter there." Cryo explains, nodding, then she makes a small grimace. "Ah... he... dresses up as a cow."

She holds her hands up, elaborating, "Not an Alexandria cow, an Am'shere cow. They have horns that would be impressive on a dragon, leather hide that has hardened and seems like armour plate, almost scale-like, semi-aquatic, large and aggressive and able to rival the reptiles of the land and air. It is a cattle, but far more dangerous than here, he is bull obviously. Our words to Tradespeak it becomes cow."

"This one knows it is to test the hunters, a white bull that stands out, dangerous to fell, but he is the World Wyrm, The Earth Dragon. The Dragonfather is the sun, and the Nest-Mother to the Stars the heavens, and Lady Brightscales the moon. He is the ground we live on, the animals we eat, the green and browns of life. Son of the Sun and the Heavens, Prince of the Hunt..."

"And he dresses up as a cow... it's a little weird."

Lanier nods his head slowly, "That's in accordance with what's to be expected. Gilead is the god of a vast many things, even though the words to describe them are quite small. Not only is he the god of the hunt, but he's also Lord of the Rangers, and the Master of Beasts. He's the Hunter, and we understand him as the Hunter. He's the beast, and we understand him as the Hunted, but also the beasts understand him as a beast such as themselves. He appears in the form needed most to accomplish what he deems needs accomplishing." He shrugs, tossing his head to the side which sends his wild hair flying, "I would find it stranger if Eluna appeared as a brawny person in full platemail. She could, I suppose, but I would have a hard time reconciling it. I may even find it a little weird."

"Nope, Silver Dragon for her, well, Mithral." Cryo says, grinning, "It is understandable but I would have expected him to want to be known as a dragon. Let me find a Hunter and we can see the Horn."

The white sith looks around for someone that seems to be a cleric, finding one attending to some flowers out of the way. She hears Cryo's request, but stares at her in an odd way. Finally Cryo answers, "I got older, my horns weren't in." This seems to satisfy whatever curiosity was held.

The cleric leads the way to the shrine dedicated to the horn, a prominent feature in the temple, then departs. Cryo stands beneath, looking up at it, feeling the warmth of its life filling the area. She clasps her hands and stares at it, "This has the strangest memories for me."

Lanier nods his head, "From the outside looking in, sure. The hunt is one of the most powerful endeavors someone can take part in, and the dragon is powerful imagery. The driving motivation of the hunt is food, clothing, and protection from the weather though. From a single buck, almost every facet of surviving into the future can be attended to. It's important, but it's primal at the same time. In my mind, anyway, while the dragon is powerful, the stag is urgently neccesary, and thus more powerful in reality. No disrespect inteded to the dragonfather."

As the two interact quizically with the Hunter, Lanier follows along to the shrine of the Horn. He looks up to the great horn, his eyes reverential as he looks up towards it. After a respectful amount of time, Lanier asks, "What is your history with this artifact, Cryosanthia?"

"We rescued it. Faran, Ezil, Zap, Shara and I." Cryosanthia says, staring. It's unintentional, but there is a deep reverence in her gaze and posture. She's basking in the sanctity of it. "A Charnath agent found a corrupt priest to steal it. He used it for profane acts, blood sacrifice and summon demons. We chased him by boat up the coast. He destroyed a village with it, fled into Charnath. The horn has a power to call and compell, made worse with the blood. He splashed a lot of blood, a lot on me."

The white sith exhales slowly, "It twisted my mind, I served his commands. Friends were now enemies, not to be trusted. Strangers I didn't know the names of, well, I believed the best intentions of them. We risked provoking a war, and my thoughts were... logical, the facts the same, I remembered good deeds of my allies, but didn't believe they would have my back anymore. They couldn't snap me out of it, had to tie me up."

Lanier nods his head, looking up towards the horn again and frowning slightly, "I remember hearing of that. I had been away from the city for a few months when all of that happened. I hope that corrupted priest found what he ultimately deserved." He doesn't elaborate on what he thinks that might be. He then adds, "That happens, from time to time. The magics of the world can warp our perceptions of reality and twist us to do things we wouldn't otherwise." He frowns slightly, his lips tilting away as he ponders, "If you're here for forgiveness, I'm certain nobody blames you for your actions during that time."

"No... no... it worked out." Cryosanthia shakes her head, still staring at the artifact. "They left me tied up with another prisoner I was sure would kill me, then the priest started another ritual. The horn called me, Gilead, called me. It didn't want to be used for his perversions. I broke free of the ropes and dashed in. To rush in, alone, believing all against me. It was horrific, a slave pen. I know softskins call us smelly lizards, but this was a stench. Sith penned for days. A den of enemies and a slaughter pit of my people. He was cutting their throats. I still see their scales part and the blood. I dove into hell and he was commanding me to defend the horn, from my allies, and I would... when I realized he did not say defend him, and I could defend the horn from him, too."

The white scale sith turns and looks into Lanier's eyes, staring with her cold sapphire ones. Her pupils have spread a little wider, "I was insane, from the smell of blood, from my memories of charnath slave pens, the compelling, at my worst. Surrounded by enemies. Bestial. I felt the white dragon in me rise in brutal agony. I killed the priest. I tore him apart. Blood was everywhere. Faran, poor Faran, she was in my way and I cut around her to kill him. She was covered in his entrails. She must have seen a monster."

"And yet... I didn't hurt her. She touched the horn and I was free. Somehow at my worst, truly Evil, I still did the right thing. The weight of my experiences in charnath before had been enough, just enough, to tip the wheel. It was one of the best things I've ever done... I guess, that's my hope. That what happened in the Tower will be the same, enough to tip me when it counts."

Lanier turns his attention from the horn, turning towards Cryosanthia to study the sith-makar. He then looks away, considering, "I'm maybe not the best person to judge the nature of people, but I disagree on one aspect. I've looked true evil in the eye, and there's..." The ranger trails off, looking up towards the horn again, but it almost seems coincidental, "Intent." He looks back towards Cryosanthia and continues, "There's no drive, at any level whatsoever, to do the right thing like there was in your case. You can't compell that."

Narrowing his eyes, he asks, "Do you think a tiger is evil? The deer sees a monster when the tiger pounces."

"It's hard to explain. I was not gone. Our instincts are closer, stronger. It is up to me to control the tiger." Cryosanthia says. She looks down at the gloves, brushing fingers along the back of her hand, touches the watch in her corset. "I know some look at us and see animals, with the scales and teeth, and I know sometimes it is easier to stop thinking and go with instincts. There are things in my nature I don't understand. I was present, I was gleefully destructive, I enjoyed myself. My emotions were hot, frightening, and wrong and I still held on... I know what I wish to pray for."

Cryosanthia clasps her hands, gazes up at the horn. "Great Earth Dragon, World Wyrm, Prince of the Hunts and the Great White Bull, this is Cryosanthia. I have... been away, and I have been trapped. Your follower, Faranmidahn Waywanderer, Knight of the Purple Rose has been an incredible strength. She has seen me at my worst, and held me together. We are in a struggle against a most elusive foe, one that had me so badly trapped I was willing to gnaw my hand off. Her trail is faint through time and place. I have seen tracks, the qualities of her mind, but I do not understand the quarry. The trail and track I take is very narrow. If you are willing, let me see, or if I am faltering, give me the strength of prey in fleeing and the determination of predator in pursuit to come through so that at my worst ... I still do the right thing. Please."

Lanier shakes his head, "No. You're not gone. You're reverting to instinct. Everyone has an instinct to do what they need to do to survive. There's nothing wrong with that."

He nods his head to Cryosanthia, turning to look towards the horn as the prayer is prayed. Lanier falls silent during this time, being respectful of the act taking place.

"Thanks," She says, looking up at the horn, then turning to gaze with reptilian eyes at Lanier, accompanied by a small smile, "Thanks."

"Should I... make a sacrifice too?" Cryosanthia asks, "I guess this isn't the proper way, but it's what I feel the strongest connection to Gilead through. We got the slaves out, they're in the village the priest destroyed, helping rebuild it. We were going to return, help free some more in Charnath, before all this happened with the plague. I appreciate you listening. It was... a very strange experience."

Lanier nods solemnly to Cryosanthia, turning to face her again. He tilts his head, looking away as he reflects, "Maybe you've made your sacrifice already." He looks back to Cryosanthia and says, "One of the understated aspects of the Lord of the Rangers' work is that he and his people protect innocents from the most savage parts of nature. In fighting that savagery, we sometimes become it, even if only for a moment."

He nods his head, his eyebrows popping up for a moment, "You did, at great personal torment because of perceptions of your people, and you did it to free those innocent slaves." He glances back up to the horn, frowning for a moment before he adds, "You're welcome. With a prayer like that, you'll find your strength in the green spaces. Watch them and enjoy them. That's where you'll feel his presence in your life the most." He looks back towards the horn one more time and then gestures to the door with a tilt of his head, "You ready?"

"Yes, I am, let's go." Cryosanthia smiles, taking Lanier's words and placing them in a special place she'll remember them. Words, being everything Speakers are. The white sith takes the door.