Holy Duty [ Bear & Cheshire Smirk ]

[HeyThereLittleBear]

Even in the middle of the day this room was nearly black as night, and that perhaps is why she was still of the faith. The woman stood in the heavy black cloak of ceremonies, the hood drawn tall over her head and the sleeves hanging loose from her wrists, drawn inexplicably to the room of eternal shadows as if something else were pulling her strings. Her eyes were blank, nearly vacant as she moved towards the great stone basin that sat in the center of the room just beneath a sky light that could open if need be.

Her feet stopped just short of actually stepping into it, staring down at the contents as they swirled slowly. The sight of it always brought forth memories of when she had been young to the faith, barely just a woman flowered when she had found herself on the steps of the holy place of worship, drawn then as she was now. The calling for her had been something she couldn't deny, a greater purpose in her life than simply wedding and bedding a man she was mildly fond of. Aerys found that she was drawn to this no matter what she did, and now she closed her eyes and let her head fall back.

In her mind, this room was still full of people, all dressed in their dark cloaks as they hung around her like large black birds ready to consume their prey. They'd stripped her naked, not sexually but for spirituality, each of them closing in on her until there was nowhere else to go but the basin. It was deep enough it could have held a man three times larger than she'd been at the time, a smaller framed girl at the time, but with great potential. She remembered staring at the contents and being naive as to its power, her face filled with horror and disgust as they had forced her steadily onward into it.

Her eyes opened now, letting out a soft sigh as she let her cloak fall from around her shoulders. Aerys was the last of the ancient faith of Hemos, a once mighty order that believed in the strongest of magicks of all - Blood Magick. She'd devoted her life to the faith and had watched as the rest of her brothers and sisters fell one by one - murdered, slain, or pissing themselves of illness in their death bed. In the end, she was the only one that had been worthy enough to continue on and now it was time for her second baptismal ceremony, as her mind swirled with thoughts of thoughts of the world around her and one large thought that was frightening - something in the world was very terribly wrong.

Her foot dipped into the swirling liquid slow, letting it slide up her leg like a lover seeking to caress her, the other sliding over the edge of it slowly to join the first as she let out a sigh. As always, it was warm in the basin, nearly hot as she let her body ease down into it slowly to her shoulders, her blond hair suspended around her near the surface as she let her eyes close. "Hemos - I offer myself to your cleansing touch, a servant in your faith and a dutiful woman. Cleanse me. Bring clarity to my mind... May the blood of the gods wash away all else but your power." She felt the power in her voice, could hear the God listening to her as she let the blood seep around her, pulsing as if it were still attached to a heart.

Her mouth closed and she took the last and most frightening step, dipping herself down into the basin completely. It rushed around her ears and clung to her skin, hot and sticky as it followed the same throb, throb, throb of a heart. It moved slow and felt heavy on her, pushing away thoughts of everything else as it threatened to take her to the bottom of the basin and drown her, her body suspended in time and thought as she lost concentration of everything else. The moment seemed to drag on for an eternity before she felt her muscles grow strength again, pushing herself back over the surface. Her lungs gasped for air and her body dripped crimson now, eyelids fluttering own and making new droplets down her face.

She was a vision of the servitude, her hair slicked against her head as she let out a low groan. Her mind was cleared, but there was something new there now - a warning that hung heavy in the back of her mind, that of a traveler and his shadow companion. Her lips formed a hard line as she slid from the basin, pressing a soft kiss to the outer rim in thanks and reverence to her god before she donned her robe again, letting the cloth stick to her skin as she nearly ran out of the temple towards the street, leaving bloodied footprints all through the hallways. She stood at the entry with large eyes that didn't quite see, staring at the people that walked by.]

It wasn't until she found the one person not staring at the woman dripping blood that she knew her target. "You!" She called to him, "Come, traveler. Rest your weary feet in the temple of Hemos."

 

[UltraMechaStalin]

A small crowd had gathered around the tall stranger strumming on a lute at the edge of the bazaar. The man's voice carried with unnatural force and clarity, sharp highs and deep lows as he sang a rather ribald song about a stablehand and her mule. A sturdy booted foot tapped along at a brisk tempo. Sometimes his foot struck ground toe first, other times it was heel or even a side of the foot. Each movement made a noticeably different sound, each sound loud enough rival the performer's voice. The one-man show captivated passersby, ensnaring one lingering soul and then another. After a few moments even the market guards began to take notice of the spectacle. Some of the guards moved to get a better angle on the scene, unsure of whether watching the growing crowd for signs of trouble was as important as making sure this man never had to stop playing.


Roughly two feet to the man's right there was a case for the lute, opened up to serve as a receptacle for whatever coinage the audience felt like donating. Small baubles and strange idols from foreign lands were scattered about in a haphazard but strangely deliberate manner. A shaggy black mass of fur that looked more like a small bear rested next to the case, watching the world with a pair of topaz-hued eyes. The beast's eyes were strange on their own, but were even more uncanny if one noticed that the strangers eyes held the shame striking shade. Near it's broad stout (slightly open to reveal massive teeth) several coin pouches were also opened and starting to over fill as the gratuities increased proportionate to the audience. Another rowdy tavern song followed and people were starting to move, small circles of jigs and even what looked like a line dance began to form.

"There are too many of them! I've got to find a way to end the projection without this place becoming a beacon to the Nullifiers for a month." The man's thoughts were panicked. He'd became caught up in the act again and had probably bit off more than he could chew. Were the weaves collapsing? A glimpse of horror washed over the performer's face as he saw the air begin to drift and laze, swimming as if a heavy heat haze had settled over the market square. "Boil me in cow's blood and serve me to the fae, this is NOT good!" he thought, his fingers working faster on the lute as he tried to finish the song up a little earlier than usual.


A keen observer would notice that the man in the limelight was dressed in a manner meant to attract little attention. A heavy cloak sat about his shoulders, beneath it a sturdy jerkin and a pair of travel-worn trousers beneath. Barely kept mahogany hair fell down to the man's throat, a month's worth of unshaven scruff accentuated a strong but not overly imposing jaw. One could tell by this performance that he was able to wander quite comfortably and yet he did not don the spectacular clothing of a traveling Bard or member of a showman's troupe. No, it was clear that this man had spent years learning how to make himself scarce when necessary.

But then alas, Deus Ex Machina! A female voice called out as the song finished, it's speaker clearly addressing the stranger. Always one to trust the Fates' design he gave a shrug and looked around to the audience. One low bow and then he swiftly packed up his gear. Instantly that behemoth of a hound rose up on it's haunches and began to slowly pace, circling around her master while ensuring no disgruntled audience members tried to take their contributions back. Preparations for departure took about 30 seconds, every bag, pouch and bauble safely stowed away within a seemingly endless number of pockets concealed within that unusually bulky cloak. The traveler produced a small, somewhat conical hand rolled bundle of strange herbs and black flower buds and pressed it to his lips. The man gave a glance at the ground and snapped his fingers, lighting the cigarette with a discreet cantrip. One long slow inhale, and an even longer exhalation then the man answered the summons.

"Sorry folks, I was really only playing to get her attention. Maybe you'll catch me again!"

And with that the traveler made his way through the parting crowd, faithful companion close at his heels. Swift steps paired with a surprisingly long gait helped the man make his way quickly to the temple's looming doors. A low growl rose up in the dog's throat when the two stopped, the scent of blood overpowering it's keen nose. The stranger's nose wrinkled in time, his own otherworldly-touched senses able to smell each lingering drop of ichor. Arzale had been called over by priestly types before and it never seemed to end well. Perhaps this time would be different!

The man's shadow distorted on the ground beneath him, flowing and writhing as a pair of black wings rose up from it's shoulders and then settled forward defensively, like an eagle guarding it's nest-eggs.

"You'll have to forgive me but I've never heard of your god before...Homos, was that his name?"

 

[HeyThereLittleBear]

The man was strange not only in his demeanor but the way that everyone seemed to work around him, an ominous sign that he was something that was to avoided, almost as if they too could sense something off about him. His companion was a beast that was near monstrous size and her eyes lingered on the creature's eyes, her own nostrils flaring with the metallic smell of the blood. It made her mouth taste like copper and she could feel it starting to congeal slowly on her skin, making the tiny hairs on her skin stand stiff and feel like she was being hugged tight. She felt the influence of Hemos encourage her ever onward in this encounter, though her human instincts wanted to turn away from the man.

She steeled her jaw and beckoned him again, this time with her hand, forcing her body into a lax form of acceptance and welcoming demeanor, "The god Hemos will forgive your ignorance," She assured him, motioning that he was allowed to enter the temple, which of itself didn't look all that welcoming. The walls were made of a cold stone and banners hung heavy in decorations, an emblem of a black crown dripping blood on a stark white material. Candles were just spacious enough to light the way into the main worship chambers, a large and circular room with a large altar at the far side decorated with candles the color of blood and offerings from those people who still revered him, though the offerings were becoming more and more sparse.

"Hemos has welcomed you personally into his temple. His blood calls out for you. Come, traveler," She motioned to a table that was near the altar, setting it with two flagons of wine and a plate of food that she had - rare fruits from foreign nations and cheeses that were still fresh. Aerys took a seat in what was obviously her seat, offering the man a smile. "I am Priestess Aerys, good servant of the magicks of the blood. Who are you, traveler?"