Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Forbidden Temple of the Great Falls

Status
Not open for further replies.
Upper body rising rapidly, sword drawn in an automatic reflex, Morr awoke to the screams of... who was it? No matter, looking to the side, Morr saw Mary, scared out of her wits obviousely curled up into a ball of tears and cries-

He felt nothing. Not even the tugging of a memory. But at least Zato was able to care for her.
He had no time for useless brooding nor wallowing in self-loathing now.

Resolving that the source of the screams first had to be determined, Morr, too easily, tore his gaze from her to the open door leading to the next room. Standing up, cautiousely walking inside, he saw a man, his clothes betraying his profession as that of one of the monks, face contorted in what Morr understood quite well: Pain.

Morr yelled over the incessant screams of the monk. He could not help this man, but-
Morr's eyes fell on one of the poultices on the cupboard next to the man's bed, one of them he recognized as the mind-numbing medication known as 'Cherub's Tears', bad-tasting but effective enough that he had himself come to use it quite often. Grabbing the poultice, tearing off the lid, he almost jammed the opening into the screaming man's open mouth, trying to limit the flow of the liquid.
 
The Child covers her ears, with her hands and the pillow, she blocks most of it out, almost all in fact...

but as her tired mind yet again gives in to sleep it returns in her dreams, her imagination running wild with images of what it could be, all of them horrifying the girl.

Getting her to rest easy was going to be harder than the Monks thought.
 
Korsarro grins happily, glugging the tankard to completion and practically slamming it down on the table as he stands "Least I can do Arn, you know more about this thing than the rest of us, which admittedly isn't much at all anyway. Where would you like to start?" He looked over to Alyssa, still wearing his giant grin "You wanna come on an adventure Aly?" He tried not to laugh with excitment. He would finally be able to study again. At least, he could be more than just a monk in name.
 
Valetni coughs, writhing on the bed, throwing some of the liquid into the air, it's getting everwhere, all over him, the bed, and whoever was trying to shove it down his throat. Enough makes it down his throat, however, that his thrashings slowly begin to grow slower, weaker, and eventually he ceases all movement. His sleep the steady, measured one of true rest.
 
Surely... surely this man CAN NOT be in full grasp of his mental capacities? Still, vernasus can't seem to help but smile at his antics.

The strange impromptu camel haired wig sits awkwardly upon his head, before sliding off and falling onto the stone ground of the courtyard.

"Hassan, I ... I regret that I do not have any coin with which to give you, my friend. We are not in the habit of keeping money, here at the temple. I fear you may be greatly disappointed by your journey here."
 
Al's watch did not seem to deter the creature from settling in; in fact, when seeing the monk's intent to stay the gryphon stretched his forelegs forward, and a rumble rose from his chest. It may've been a content sound. He began combing the tip of his beak through his feathers; errant plumes fell from them and began piling on the ground. "This will be the first night in recent memory that I need not worry about being shot, or stabbed, or bitten as I sleep." he spoke between mouthfuls of feathers. "I know the Temple is not a place to let one's guard down, but the wildlands are-"

The gryphon's ears swivelled to catch the screams, and he lifted his head like an alerted guard dog.

"...It seems my arrival is not the only trouble tonight. It sounds to have come from within the Temple. Should we go? I fear my presence there so soon would be... disruptive."
 
If Hassan was disappointed, Vernasus certainly couldn't see it from the trader's unchanging face, "Money unimportant! You got good item for barter yes? Anything for trade of quality camel?"

Hassan grabs Vernasus by the shoulders, twisting the monk to face a particularly large and fat camel that was lazily browsing whatever grass was available, it looked like the portent to a terrible decision, "That one like you, I tell! You give offer, Hassan barter. How trade work!"

Hassan seems to walk away from Vernasus, talking to himself like a man possessed, "I sell polar camel to man for jar of snow once! He tricky man, because snow was magic!" He runs over to his podium, looking through the crate before taking out a small jar half filled with water, "when back in store, jar filled with water, must be Djinn!" Hassan beams with pride immediately after saying this though, holding up the jar to his face, saying, "Hassan get last laugh though, camel had intense fear of water! Silly camel."
 
“Good. Good.”

It was reassuring to know she was fine. The other two she could worry about later on. She was about to remark how it wasn't Angeirr's fault. He could be blamed no more than a defeated soldier could be faulted for battle that ended in a route. The poisonous source was Vern and Val, Alyssa was about to voice such an opinion when Korsarro spoke up.

Her first thoughts on his idea was a resounding no, but she relented. It would do some good to focus on a project for awhile, cool off for a bit. Mary could be perfectly fine, perhaps it was just a severe coughing fit. Irregardless, the others monks were busy and Alyssa wasn't about to leave Korsarro alone with Arngeirr as the inspected an unknown artifact.

Rising from the table she grabbed her own case and made to follow them.

“Sure I'll tag along. Best to help avoid what happened last time, right Kor?”

The unscarred half of her mouth upturned a little into a joking smirk, she was mostly positive things couldn't go that bad again. Mostly.
 
He thinks for a moment. Maybe... ah!

"Hassan! Now I do not claim to be a man of great wealth, but I do have one thing I could trade... something very important to me"

"Is there any chance you'd like... honey?"

He points to the painted honeycomb symbol on his head. "The bees in our temple are special. Blessed, holy creatures created by the great goddess herself. I spend most of my days watching over them. Finer honey you have never tasted in all the world, I assure you. We have more than enough to share, if you desire..."


Why was he even doing this? He had absolutely no need for a camel. There was just something about this man that made it impossible to say no.
 
Hassan claps his hands together in joy, he's making a trade! "Hassan love honey of bee! Give all you can, fair trade. And then!" Hassan twists Vernasus's head to face HIS camel, his cheeks squished by Hassan's tender, soft hands before his view of the magnificient creature is obstructed by Hassan's outstretched head, "I show you camel, you show me honey. Ten jar sound good yes? Give fifteen and I throw in THAT camel free!" He points to what appears to be a donkey costume.
 
His efforts proving fruitful, Morr removed the bottle, carefully resetting the lid, the man who had just screamed in greater pain than he had when that finger-long piece of metal had somehow found its way through the slit between helmet and breastplate, piercing his lower throat and nailing his tongue to the underside of his upper jaw.

Setting the bottle where he had taken it from, Morr returned to the room where Mary and Zato resided, the former having fallen back into an uneasy slumber, the latter desperately trying to grant her peace with familiar closeness.

Absentmindedly, Morr noticed the bowl of nourishment he had requested earlier had been brought in his absence. Almost mechanically his jaws met one another as he ate, all the while swearing to himself to find out what had happened while he had been unconscious, before once again he laid himself back to sleep. He had long ago learned to stop waking up screaming.
 
Zato calmed down as Mary went back to sleep. He felt exhausted, but, it seemed, it would be best if he remained awake.
 
"Very well then, gentleman and gentlewoman. I am indebted to you both. For a many things, I feel."

Arngeirr tucks the box under one huge arm. He cranes his neck, loosing the stiffness that had come on after so much slouching and bowing. "Now then. I don't believe masters Zato and Wolfram would appreciate us taking these items outside, and the library is off limits. And I don't believe the reliquary would be a very safe place to research these items. So, lass and lad, where should we be off to?"
 
The gryphon said nothing in return, merely taking another long look towards the Temple before returning to his preening. It was not long before he had seemingly combed every loose feather from himself, after which he began tugging out healthier ones and carefully avoiding those reddened by his now drying blood. After he had amassed a small pile of plumage he dug out a small depression in the ground, carefully setting aside the grass and any weeds he'd pulled out; once the depression was roughly bowl-shaped he lined with the plant matter, and then diligently spread the feathers about it. The whole process took about 20 minutes, and when he was done he stood, walked a few paces away to put an appreciable difference between himself and the small pit, and again laid down, curling up tightly; though he was partially out from beneath the tarp overhead, the small nest he'd made was entirely beneath it.

"It is there, should you need it." he rumbled, eyes already shut and ears folded back against his head; he had scarcely laid down again before the rhythm of his breathing became his only motion.
 
He stares at the strange looking camel for a moment.

"No, no... I think. Hmmm." Something seems odd about this creature, but he just can't put his finger on it.

"Perhaps... perhaps we can work something out, Hassan. I have a small colony of my own, safe in the gardens.The queen is but an infant now, and the colony still has much growing to do, but...."

"You understand that under any other circumstance, I would never part with these blessed creatures, yes? But I must admit I feel the gaze of the Beesiah herself, looking down upon us today. You are definitely no ordinary man Hassan, and I would be remiss not to see the significance of your arrival, here today."

"I will give you this gift I hold most dear to me Hassan, along with many jars of honey for your journey beyond here... all for a simple promise. Should any of my comrades come by and need something of you, my friend, and I have no doubt they will... I want you to make sure they get the perfect camel. Whatever it takes. For that, you will have my gratitude, and the finest nectar from The Goddess Buzziah herself, for the rest of your life."

He looks up at the sky for a moment and smiles. The arrival of this strange man was definitely no coincidence and neither was the feeling of bliss and utter confusion that seemed to travel with him.

"What say you, my friend?"
 
Korsarro winced slightly at the mere thought of the previous incident that had caused his trust with artifacts to be shattered. Much like the artifact in question. He smiled despite his discomfort with the subject. He would regain the trust. He'd show them all. Whether they were willing to open their eyes and see he could be a good monk was another dilemma entirely however.

"Well, we can hope, but who knows what might happen! That's why it's an adventure!" Korsarro nodded happily "Besides, sashs don't break as easy as vases, I'm sure it'll be fine." He thought on the subject. On the one hand he was the only monk and therefore most qualified for the research. On the other. He was undoubtedly not the sanest of this bunch. He chuckled quietly to himself. It was Arns relic, he would let him take charge.

Korsarro took in the Giants words. "Monks often use the spare rooms for research. They're bare. I doubt that'd be a problem though. Research and study notes tend to paint the walls on bigger projects" Korsarro nibbles the end of a finger, nodding to the box that Alyssa had brought "We could study your artifact as well if you're alright with it, though I know how you feel about letting me near shinies." Korsarro grinned at her.
 
Hassan raises an eyebrow at the confused monk, looking between him and the strange looking camel, "Oh! You not see trick!" Hassan says as he runs over to the donkey. With a deft feel over, Hassan finds what he's looking for on the donkey, and with a loud ZIIIIIP he reveals the donkey is not a donkey at all, "It camel that think he's donkey!" Hassan proclaims loudly as the miniature camel looks at Hassan with an expression Vernasus can only describe as 'what the hell, man.'

Hassan taps his head, "It has mental issue some say, but some then say I have mental issue, hence the CRAAAZY!"

Hassan listens with great interest as Vernasus describes his end of the bargain, gripping Vernasus's hand and shaking it furiously upon it's conclusion, "Deal my friend, deal! Hassan always find camel that fits the customer, part of business. Wait..." Hassan glares deep into Vernasus's eyes, who might feel his very soul being penetrated by the gaze of the trader, "You offer ME bee colony? Oh what a great day! I know where put it too." He smirks, doing a little dance as he moves over to a camel curiously missing a hump, "Hive fit here, yes?"
 
"Splendid," Arngierr says, "I'm sure you know your way around here better than I, brother Korsarro. If you would, please lead the way."

Arngeirr was certainly feeling better. The huge man would at least have time to think about what this relic could actually be, perhaps ponder the inner workings of his father's mind. And at the very least, he would have one person who seemed intelligent and level-headed enough to bounce ideas off of. Certainly lady Alyssa would be more cognitively capable than the diminutive monk. Not that Korsarro's presence was not unwelcome, certainly; it was just unlikely that... that his though processes would align with those of Anvindr.

Not that this temple wasn't full of surprises. Perhaps Korsarro would aid Arngeirr in unraveling these mysteries with some epiphany brought on by his strange little mind. Every gentleman had a huge place in the huge world, and Arneirr certainly would not discredit the man simply for being odd. For he was certainly odd.

If not friendly.
 
Had...had it just offered him a bed? Surely it couldn't be serious. Still, just in case. "Er, thanks, but I'll be fine. There are some bits left over from the tent." A few minutes later he has a small, shoddy piece of work that'll at least be better than sleeping with a demon's kindness. Shuddering, he resumes his duty.
 
"It can wait Kor, honestly. What utility it has can't be outweighed by the...actions one needs to perform to make it function."

When they mentioned the utility room it finally clicked that she needed a few things, namely armor and some more unsubtle weaponry if they were to start testing. Pulling over a younger monk she gave him specific instructions to get whatever help he needed and to bring her things from the mule in the stable, provided they hadn't been moved to her lodgings yet, and bring them into the restricted room level and leave the gear with the guardians there. They technically weren't supposed to go there but she knew it'd be fine if they went no farther than the threshold.
 
He watched as the apprentice monks prepared the small beehive and jars of honey for transportation.

"Be careful with that, or I swear I'll have you all washing floors for a month..."

His body wavered for a moment, his legs trembling again as he stood in the garden. The events of the last 24 hours had left him physically exhausted... especially the toll taken on his body by Arngierrs retribution. He had used up every ounce of strength in him, just to keep himself standing till now and it had become far too much. His body was rebelling, and he desperately needed to rest.

He shouted a few words out to the preoccupied monks before finally taking his leave. He wandered off to his bed chambers and fell into bed, exhausted and ready to sleep for as long as his body needed.
 
Hassan directed the apprentices to exactly where to put the bottles and hive and in what amount, his words articulated in intricate lines that would make a poet weep...

... In fluid Arabic. To the apprentices, he was yelling at them in a rapid, blurring foreign tongue that vaguely sounded angry. His business done with the monk, Hassan directed his efforts once more to get customers, moving back to the familiar podium and beginning anew his proclamations of cheap camels and camel accessories, the finest in the Orient!
 
As he was pushed onto the podium, Morr again beheld the faces of the people that so desperately wanted to see a hero in him. The hero that would save them all, that would bring them such prosperity that they would never again be forced to hunger.
He was their hero.

Yet, thinking of the murdering he directly helped them accomplish to reach this moment in which they wanted him to hold a speech, that his words could inspire them and be remembered for generations to come...
It was unfair.
Was this truly what it meant to be a hero? To have the person be a ruthless murderer or knowing failure, while to the people around him he was the greatest saint ever to live? Were perhaps the few stories he had read in his childhood nothing but lies perpetrated by desperation, the truth, that should be accepted and atoned for, instead nothing but a burden that the people would demand be forgotten, along with all the victims?

He had to realize, these people did not care for his person, none of them wanted to believe he was just a man that had tried to do some good, they wanted him to be something higher, they wanted him to be an icon. They wanted him to be their idea, encased in his flesh that seemed so invulnerable to them. Through him, they could feel powerful and almighty.

His training and life had not prepared him for this. Atonement, that he could do, protect some beggar from harm, yes, but this? How was he supposed to...

He stopped pursuing that thought, starting anew; these people needed his help, his guidance. Their past deeds were simply a testament to that fact and he had to teach them their own fault, their own way to atonement. But right now, if he would simply demand from them...
He had to lead them. No matter how much he despised it, he had to lead them, for without him, without their icon to believe in, he had to fear that they would become animals, animals that would pack together to ruthlessly slaughter the nobles in the higher part of the town, no matter how much he hated thinking like this.

But, if he led them, maybe he could bring them truly to a better way...

Thus, he spoke to them. Of hope, of justice, of righteousnees. Liberty. Equality. And somewhere, he truly began to believe that he could yet serve his purpose truthfully. His reward was praise and hail.
He did not know that those who gladly listened were eager to interpretate his words in a way that they could believe themselves...

His head high, hopeful and glad that he could serve justice yet, Morr followed one of the men to a feast in his honor...
 
Status
Not open for further replies.
Back
Top Bottom