Heralds of Obeah/Ruminations

Roleplays by the Heralds, Templars, and Inquisitors of Obeah

Roleplay from Rania Eastersand JeVondair

Message sent to all nobles of Obia'Syela (26 recipients) - 13 days, 4 minutes ago GRAPHIC WARNING: The Torture of Elshon Geg - Priest of Mordok

You are awakened by the sound of footsteps outside your door. Your heart beats faster, you wonder if this is it when through the bars, instead of a torturer, you see a woman. She is cowled and veiled, and the gloom makes it difficult to maker out her features.

"Hello" she says in a melodic voice. As if in answer, Guards open the cell and force you to your feet, brandishing open steel but otherwise making no moves to harm you further. Their peaceful attitude, it seems, hinges upon yours. You contemplate this as your 'guest' speaks again.

"Why have you, a knight of a fallen people, come to the Sacred Lands? Make use of your tongue, lest We decide to have it from you." Her words, rich with inflection, left no illusions as to the precariousness of your present situation...

When you do open your mouth to speak, you barely have a moment to draw breath in surprise as the guards rush you, stuffing a gag in your mouth as another punched you hard just underneath your ribcage, forcing air back through your gaged mouth and exploding from your nostrils. Already you feel nauseous from the spectacular blow to your midriff and you're given no time to recover as another guard kicks his booted-foot into your left kidney.

"As if We would be interested in anything an unrepentant priest of that sordid faith in Bara'Khur might have to say. You are no child. You should have known better. We will teach you."

The first guard that had punched you grabs a fistsful of your hair and bashes his knee into your nose. It breaks. Blood mixes with spit and tears, soaking your gag.

"You will be chastise, severely, for your transgressions. We think We'll begin with your forked tongue..."

She turns on her heel then and strides away. The guards heft you by your armpits and drag you after her, deeper into...wherever you are. Unfortunately for you, the night did not end there. You are held down, your head held in place and facing the ceiling with your mouth forced open by an evil-looking pair of cast-iron tongs, pinning your tongue in place. Suddenly she is there before you again, you can feel her gaze beneath her cowl. She moves out of your sight and the last you see of her is a torturer placing a knife in her dusky-skinned hand. The next sensation is the slice of white-hot pain as she uses the knife to cut your tongue down the middle. You try to scream, but end up just swallowing your own blood as you witness that same torturer pass that same hand a glowing-hot poker. "Under her Eye..." she intones with ritualistic reverence as she cauterizes the fleshy bits of your now-forked tongue, the pain of it is so intense that you blackout, surrendering to the mercy of sweet oblivion.

You awake back in your cell an indeterminate amount of time later. The dull thud of blood pulsing through your horribly maimed, swollen tongues is overwhelming. The aches and pains of the rest of your body come to naught by comparison. But you are alive. You take comfort in that at least.

–

Roleplay from Jarra Bennet (3 days, 19 hours ago)

Message sent to everyone in "Heralds of Obeah " (13 recipients) Few were the books and scrolls but many were the faithfull. Scarce was the stained glass, statues and decorations - spirit and piety were abundant. How strange is this temple - Jarra thought - how unlike the ones I've seen before. She felt not the true calling, she was unsure if she'd recognise the true calling if she felt it but she was certain that the fiery zeal of the Inquisition and pious devotion of the Heralds were not what she felt. Neither could she compare the disposition of her heart with the blazing flames of extatic crowd she saw in front of the temple nor with the smoldering embers of those she noticed meditating silently in the corners. It may have been ambition that brought her to Beluaterra, it was apetite for adventure that brought her to Athol Margos; was it the need to fit in that led her inside this temple? Was it her purpose when she decided to join the Heralds? Certainly! But it wasn't her sole purpose. She did felt the need to define a cause and goal of her existence, and not just one of this hideously carneous plane but one of more etheral and perennial nature as well. And she felt it long before she entered the temple in Rines. "Feeling comes with understanding, not the other way around" - she recalled one of the very few lessons her cousin ever gave her.

Standing before the administrative clerk of the church with enormous tome of names in front of her certainly wasn't the way she dreamed of becoming a believer, yet her shy nature prevented her from asking for a private audience with the Oracle. Given name, family name, origin; given name, family name, origin; given name, family name, origin... Many rows had empty place in the middle column, those were mostly scribbled with crooked letters. The rows that had all position filled in were calligraphed beautifully.

"This is the register of faithfull, tome 11th, m'Lady. To officially become a Herald you need to have your name written in the register, though many nobles don't bother to do it personally. Then you will need to swear to serve Obeah, embrace her magic and renounce daimons and all things evil. Her Holiness haven't blessed us with official statement of faith yet, so you'll need to speak in your own words. It's intention that matters."

Jarra took the quill and wrote "Jarra Bennet, Flowrestown, Dwillight" then glanced as her captain scribbled clumsily "Maura, Desert of Sillhouettes, Dwillight" leaving the family name column empty.

"Now" - she said, looking at the tiny collection of scrolls she noticed in the temple - "where can I learn more of the Obeah?"

– Jarra Bennet, Templar of Obeah

Roleplay from Vahanian Blint (22 minutes ago)

message to all nobles of Obia'Syela -Camp outside Ardmore, just before arrival-

Vahanian was in his tent, gathering a few hours of sleep before their arrival in Ardmore and the subsequent occupation of the region. He was planning on using words and kinds acts to show the peasants the errors in their ways and the benefits of converting to the protection of Obeah and her devout Templars.

Sleep had eluded him for several days, he was exhausted. He lay on his cot, eyes closed whispering quietly to himself. He realized he was praying, something he had not done before. He prayed to Obeah for release from the torment of consciousness, and to grant him an unmarred slumber, free from haunted visions of the past.

Soon his mind and body succumbed to the warm embrace of unconsciousness. He'd been asleep for roughly 2 hours before his dreams started to shift. He was sitting in a field, naked, among the grass and birds. He felt a warm glow on his back and turned to see a veiled figure striding towards him, he couldn't see any features behind the blinding light, but he could feel the presence of a powerful magic and the warm embrace a mother would give her child. The figure waved at Vahanian and he was clothed, wrapped in soft linens of white and blue, and he felt truly warm for the first time in years. The figure kept walking past him, and Vahanian diligently followed. They walked through a town, based on the layout of the town and the look of the folk Vahanian guessed they were in Ardmore. The peasants ran from the figure of light, some out of fear, others seemed to despise the light, thinking it a work of evil. Vahanian sensed the warmth of the light entity start to fade, it turned from warming light to a fire fueled by anger and treachery.

Vahanian collapsed on the ground, visions flooding his head of peasants being dragged into the streets and given a choice, conform to the teachings of Obeah or die. The visions changed to his wife and daughter being brutally slaughtered by a daimon overlord as Vahanian was held captive. His throat raw from screaming, his muscles bulging against his restraints.

He screamed once more and woke in a flash. He was covered in sweat, fists clenching the blankets. Baldwin rushed into the tent weapon drawn, eyes scanning the shadows. Vahanian took a deep breath and stood, Baldwin dropped to a knee and said "My lord, forgive the intrusion you were screaming in your sleep." Vahanian poured water for himself and drained the goblet. He nodded to Baldwin, and grabbed a robe and left the tent. He went to a nearby river, still breathing heavier than normal, thinking on his dreams. He bathed in the cold waters and said to himself and the heavens, "I understand veiled one. I am yours."

Vahanian returned to his camp and dressed quickly. He wore a comfortable tunic and trousers of muted grey and black, underneath boiled riding leathers. They were hardened enough to slowdown an arrow or blade, but not stop it, and light and pliable enough to still allow for a wide range of movement.

He grabbed his cloak, a fur trimmed cloak of a deep dark crimson, with his house sigil emblazoned on the back in gold and grey.

He pulled his hair back into a semi-tight braid and ran a comb through his beard. he had a sword and dagger on his hip, a special blade for peeling oranges on his lower back and several throwing blade strapped on his thighs. When he stepped out of the tent he looked the most regal and determined his men had ever seen him. Baldwin approached and said "The men are gathered per your orders, Lord Marshal." Vahanian nodded, mounted his horse and said.

"Wolves, we ride into Ardmore to begin our occupation of the region. I have had a vision and a dream of our Veiled Goddess, she is angry with the peasants for renouncing her ways and succumbing to daimon worship. We will correct that indiscretion with an iron fist. The region is to be taken by brutal means. Baldwin - direct the rest of my army to do the same and send a report to Marshal Goriad that we will be taking it by force." Baldwin nodded and turned to a servant dictating the orders to be sent.

Vahanian turned back to his men and said "Wolves, kill any who resist. I want the daimon worshippers caught and captured. They will either submit to the inquisition or be executed on the spot." With that Vahanian spurred his horse forward and his unit was on it's way to take a region.

-In Ardmore, amongst the TO- Vahanian stood at a town center by a large bonfire his men had built, there were several brands heating over the fire. Hand on his sword, he nodded to Baldwin who called out in a parade ground manner "Wolves! BEGIN YOUR SEARCH!" Vahanian had his men in groups of 3 and 4 kick in doors and drag peasants into the street, any who did not submit to Obeah and beg forgiveness were beaten and chained. They were lined up and Vahanian walked the line telling them they had 2 choices, submit to the inquisition for a purging of their souls, or execution. Most chose the inquisition.. Most. As he walked the line there were some peasants who spat at him and one, bolstered by his companion who stood chained next to him, even said "Daimons take your false god. May the ravage her memory in the depths of hell!" Vahanian had passed the man by 2 or 3 people by the time the man finished his blasphemy. He stopped in his tracks. Hand still on the hilt of his sheathed sword he spun, whirling his cloak around, drawing his sword, and cutting the man's throat all in one fluid, and graceful movement. Vahanian crouched next to the man as he fell to the ground choking on his own blood and dying. He grabbed the man's hair and whispered in his ear "You will never know peace in death, and you may have just cursed your entire family to execution."

He grabbed the man who had egged the dying peasant on and pulled him from the line. He threw him in the mud and said to Baldwin "Brand him a heretic, string him and his friend up and leave them as food for the carrions, and a warning to the rest. Heresy and Blasphemy will NOT be tolerated."

Baldwin motioned for Vahanian's soldiers to do as commanded, but was a bit shocked at his lord's actions. This was a changed man, and an even more dangerous one.

– Vahanian Blint, Marshal of the Templars of Obeah

Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus (just in)

message to all nobles of Obia'Syela It was early afternoon in one of the towns in Ardmore. The weather had well, the soon stood high in the sky and the townhall had been very crowded on this pleasant day. Many spoke amongst themselves about the forces of Obia'Syela whom had been rumored to have entered the area and started claiming the lands as theirs. The village had not been reached yet, but they knew it would be a matter of time until the invaders would arrive and so many had gone outside to discuss their future with their fellow villagers.

In the mids of this activity a man moved up to the announcement booth of the local governers, a small hightened spot which was also used by local entertainers, but this was nobody they knew. He was in his fourties and looked as if he had been to war, but he was no noblemen, that was for sure and there were no troops, so who was he? "People of Ardmore, listen to me!" the man started "Soon the men of Obia'Syela come here to demand your loyalty, to demand that you bow to their Goddess, Obeah..." he paused a moment "The Daisha are not pleased with this herecy and we must not relent!" and as he spoke he heard some rare cheers from the crowd while most were silent. "Yes, yes! Come here my brothers, those that follow the Daisha, those that hold our faith high, join me here and show your fellow villagers how strong you are!" and he pointed towards those that cheered "Yes, show the unity that Daisha gives us all" and slowly the group on the hightened platform grew slightly. Some men, old and young, women and even some children, certainly a group of 50 assembled on the platform while others did not join.

"Aaaagh! noooooo!" cries were heard from the public below as about 20 of the 50 men on the stage slit the throats of the other 30, even the children and then suddenly another man approached forward, a dark cloack wielding two curved blades. "Thank you Sigmund, now allow me," he said with a smile to the first announcer.

"The faithful of Obeah know, only she can rid us of the daimons, only her return will save us all. Those who vehemently would oppose her can only be purged by death! Those of you who doubt, you can still be reasoned with. These lands are yours to work on, as long as you accept our rule and pay honor to Obeah! Together, our faith will call the coming of the Veiled Goddess, those who oppose her coming will die!"

– Goriad II Gabanus, Marshal of the Inquisitors

Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus (6 hours, 7 minutes ago)

message to all nobles of Obia'Syela "There is much I still don't know. Before I came to Obia'Syela I only knew reading, riding and broiding." Goriad II escorted Jarra further into his camp, leading her away from her horse "I have a copy of that scroll with me as well. I have no reason to doubt Lady Rania would lie much, so assume the majority of that sermon is truth. Magic is strong here, but never forget the power of the sword as well or you will be dead before you found the strength of magic."

Rather than leading her to his tent and his scrolls however, Goriad II was leading Jarra away from his camp and into the treelines "Do you see these trees? They do not grow anywhere on the colonies, I know because I've been everywhere on that forsaken island, nowhere! But in the lands of Atamara they were as abundant as here," he paused for a moment "While much of this island is the same as my homeland's, there are clear differences to it. Here the daemons invaded the human world seven times now, on Atamara we did not even believe they existed, none had ever seen them. Imagine that!"

He kneeled down, took a small dagger and carefully plucked some flowers "These were my favorite back home," he said as he held the flowers near Jarra, but as she went to reach for them he took them back "Painfully poisonous of course if you know how to process them. If you boil the stem for about an hour with some stomach acids from a human the heat and acids will cause an interesting reaction with the plant and it will create a most deadly and painful poison. All you have to do then is extract it from the stem. As I said, all here is as I remember it, but here our north stops at Melegra, here many of the great southern cities are no longer here, swallowed by the ocean, all the consequences of the deamon invasions from what I've read."

He smiled for a moment as he placed the flowers in a bag "There is something about this part of the world that the daemons come here but nowhere else. Here the veil to the Netherworld is weakest. The rest is simple logic as well. We know there is another world, for it is where these daemons keep coming to strike at us, even if we kill and banish them from our world, there will come a time when they return in strength again, when the veil is at its weakest again. It is only logical that if there is one other world, that there will be others as well, such as that of Obeah. We also know that the deamons demand human worshippers and that this not only strengthens them, but also weakens the veil that keeps them in their world. So we know that the human worship to these deamons opens the way for them to come to us and thus we cannot doubt that the same will work for Obeah. If enough of us pray for her coming and weaken the veil to her world rather than to that of the Netherworld, she will come and only she will solve the issue of the deamons for all times. Her power will strengthen the veil to the Netherworld and will close their path to our world for all times. An alliance between our world and hers, to cast off the Netherworld foregood."

He looked up for a moment "You see, it is not only faith, much of our faith to Obeah is simply logic and logic cannot be refuted. The faith aspect is that we must trust Lady Rania on her world of the presence of Obeah she felt and the events in Keffa, but so many people have seen it and she swears it, who are we then to doubt it still?"

– Goriad II Gabanus, Marshal of the Inquisitors

Discussion Between Inquisitor Dame Jarra and Templar Lord Otoro

Letter from Jarra Bennet (10 hours, 9 minutes ago) message to all nobles of Obia'Syela Lord Otoro,

Grandmistress mentioned you've been with Obia'Syela since Keffa. Are the tales of enthralled daimons true? Have you seen them? Were they mindless beasts serving as tools for the Veiled Goddess, or were they sentient creatures in service? Jarra Bennet Steward of Athol Margos

Letter from Otoro Sakana (just in) message to all nobles of Obia'Syela Lady Jarra, it is indeed true that there was a force of daimons, bound by the power of Obeah to the service of men. They mostly kept to themselves when they were "off duty" and while "on duty" they did not interact much with others. So, I cannot speak much to the level of will and personality they have. Even while I had Lordship over Keffa, I had minimal interaction with them. They the task that they were given, and they were going to fulfill it was all I really had from them. Otoro Sakana Margrave of Rueffilo

– {{{2}}}

Too few people understand what faith is, it is not blind devotion. It is not an excuse to commit horrible acts in the name of a god or goddess. It is an act of selflessness. It is admitting that there might be things greater than one's self in the universe and that there might be a grand design. It is not something that is a matter of fact or fiction, if it was it would not be called faith but fact and science. Faith is giving yourself to a cause greater than yourself. Being willing to admit you don't have the answers, and that you don't know what is going to happen and that it might scare the sht out of you, but you believe it will be okay. Because you believe that there is a higher power. What I see are people using the excuse of religion and faith as a means to an end, as a means to feel powerful, to feel important. Some of the most faithful and devout people are the quietest in the room. I am certainly not that, I admit. I am prone to outbursts of emotion and rash words. It is a trait that runs in my family, and one I am not proud of. But I do not claim to be a servant of Obeah because I aspire to a throne, or to a seat of power. I choose to be a servant of Obeah because it is the only peaceful thing in this world that has comforted me since the death of my wife.

– Vahanian Blint, Marshal of the Templars of Sacred Obia'Syela

Roleplay from Goriad II Gabanus (13 hours, 35 minutes ago)

message to all nobles of Obia'Syela It was early in the morning when the messengers arrived at his camp. Some standard reports, he didn't care for them, but also two separate ones from Rania. The first wrote that he had been appointed as Grand Inquisitor, the other followed with a request from the Oracle "Rines is in desperate need of courts in my absence. Please hold court to restore order to the city." He looked at Sigmund who read the letter, and nodded "We set travel to the capital," and Sigmund replied "Are we bureaucrats now milord?" and Goriad II could only smile: "Sigmund, you should know better by now, I am Grand Inquisitor, not Grand Chancellor, or Erheas. Send word out of our arrival to the local inquisitors, let them be ready."

When they arrived in Rines they first moved to the Temple where a group of 20 men had gathered "Inquisitors, the Oracle has tasked us to hold courts in Rines in her absence now and we shall restore the order in this city. I trust you have done what I've asked of you?" and all 20 men went down on a knee until one of them said "We have been busy mapping the heretics' whereabouts milord. Goriad II looked at them, "Perfect, then show me to them, I shall hold courts today in the streets themselves."

As the group of men entered the city they quickly walked towards the area where they would hold court today. Now that he had become Grand Inquisitor his authority had greatly increased and as such he had taken the liberty to start arming the inquisitors throughout the realm, starting in Rines. They had some light armor to protect against knife cuts and clubs, but still light enough to move swiftly as he always prefered himself. The pride of their armor however were their weapons, two curved blades, much like he carries himself, combined with two smaller blades for difficult and extremely tight spots. He also had them train with the blades two hours a day, so in time they would become most feared. In the meantime Goriad II brought some of the local militia with him as well, the Sword of the Inquisition, 40 archers of which he placed half of them on the roofs around the small square where he would hold court today.

As they arrived the archers were ready, some guarding the streets, the others on the roof ready to take down any rebel who opposed him. He sent out the 20 inquisitors into the houses to where they had tracked heretics and quickly a group of 38 people were gathered on the square. Several hundred of people heard the noice and came outside, not knowing what was going on.

"People of Rines," Sigmund begun "The Grand Inquisitor has set out to remove the rebels from among you, the heretics who would oppose Obeah and who would overthrow our great rule here in Rines," and before he finished 5 men started to attack some of the guards in one alley, knocking down 2 of the archers, but as they attempted to plunge a knife into their chest arrows started flying from the roofs, shooting down the 5 men and wounded some additional peasants who stood closeby.

Now Goriad II stepped forward "Heretics have no place in our lands and those who oppose Obeah will meet the Inquisition. Assaulting the realm's militia is punishable by death, as is opposing Obeah's coming. If you know of any heretic, make it your duty to report them. And as to you," he said as he turned to the group of 38 men and women and even 3 children "You will also tell us everything about the heretics in the area, one way or another." He smiled, "Take them to the dungeons, make them talk."

– Goriad II Gabanus, Grand Inquisitor of Sacred Obia'Syela

Roleplay from Lavitz Gildre (20 minutes ago)

message to all nobles of Obia'Syela Lavitz chewed idly on a vegetable root as he hiked through the forests of Zuhle. The woods were thick and dark, yet held no malice within their greenery. He thought, as he chewed, of the world he had come to not know. It was inconceivable how much had changed. During the infancy of the Sacred Obia'Syela, they had been openly battling Daimons in the streets. Daimon Princes had controlled entire cities, and the hordes were held at bay by the sacred armies of man.

Now, however, he only came across simple and quiet people. He couldn't believe the state of the world. Things seemed so... quiet.

Yet, as he found out, not everything had changed. The hearts of man still harbored evil within their depths. Dark forces continued to conspire against the light, and agents of the Nether made their way through the world in the subterfuge of normality. And while these agents of darkness persisted, he would continue to hunt.

Since leaving Kell, he had discovered two more small groups of Daimon worshipers. He had let these feel the smite of his spear, and vanquished their souls to the darkness they so yearned for. The last group had begged for mercy, renouncing their actions and faith.

While Lavitz had his share of faults, mercy was not one of them.

He would continue his journey, to rejoin his Prophetess, and he would purge any heretics along the way.

Lavitz pushed through some brush to reveal a deep, long, green valley. This marked the edge of Zuhle, he knew. Once he entered Eg Tutnu he would be in the wild lands. Unclaimed territory, ungoverned by man. Wild people were said to run free in the southern wilderness. Perhaps untainted, yet darkness could easily have found a safe refuge in this unobserved part of the world. Lavitz would judge their purity for himself. Heretics would be dealt with.

He spit the root from his mouth and advanced forward down into the valley.

The light of Obia would show him the path.

– Lavitz Gildre, First Grand Templar of Sacred Obia'Syela Amen Keffa

Roleplay from Janis MacGregor (6 hours, 28 minutes ago)

message to all nobles of Obia'Syela En route to Ruefillo :

The Lady Janis MacGregor had marched up to the hill at a swift pace, just now cresting the top. Nevertheless, she and her entourage were still an hour outside of Ruefillo proper. Her unit itself was just down the hilly road, her new captain standing at the front of them, just starting to lead them all up the incline that she and Bonita had already crested.

After the loss of her first unit, very recently, of which Bonita had captained, Janis saw fit to sign her on as a 'Special Advisor'. She valued her former captains calm, organizational mind greatly and utilized it for everything from errand running to direct counsel. Mostly, though, she found the woman's mind could keep her former commanders temper in check like no one she'd known to date. Something about the woman calmed her down; perhaps it was just the way she carried herself, or perhaps there was more to it than that.

In any case, it had been the former captain Bonita who was there when the daimons had come. They had shared too much at this point to simply let her vanish into the night like a forgotten or some discarded tool. Bonita Severosa had become something of her rock in this new land, a steady guide against her own temperment, and so here they were, looking down upon the village, gauging what the rest of the hike might be like, somewhat winded.

From their current vantage point, they could see the main village that encompassed the town itself. It wouldn't be long to the town proper now.

She paused here to wait for her troops to come up the hill and meanwhile, gained a bit of respite. It was likely along that path or perhaps somewhere in town where Marshal Vahanian... uh, hm, well. Former Marshal Vahanian, she guessed, would be waiting. You began to develop a sort of familiarity with calling someone by their title, she was learning.

And indeed, it did seem odd not to address him as Marshal Vahanian, despite whatever may have happened previously. She wondered if she should issue some sort of apology for that, still. It had not been her intention to get the man fired. After all, his was not the majority of the red paper that had been thrown around, from her recollection. Such was the mantle of leadership, she supposed. But still, what had happenned had already happenned. The unity of the armies was probably another sort of mistake, to be honest, she thought. If anything, Lady Rania should probably be the one to field the blame there. Then again-

"Milady... " Bonita said, interrupting her thoughts, and nearly putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Hm?"

Bonita pointed slightly past and behind her.

Janis reached back with her right hand and felt the large scroll slipping out of place again. She cursed softly. She was beginning to suspect the thing was actually cursed. Each scroll carried a certain stigma and awe, especially with the guards and other common folk, considering the beings that they had come from. Not to mention most considered anything coming from such persons to be truly curse-ed items anyway. However, the other two scrolls were small, parchment-like, easy to transport, and carry, and probably use- what one might expect of any scroll- and showed no signs of being cursed or any other such nonsense. After all, this was the land of Obeah herself, Obia'Syela, a realm of magic, not silly superstitions. This large scroll, however, was comparatively enormousse, and seemingly mischievous, almost with a mind of its own. Or perhaps a will of its own. It was also, oddly, the size of something that could be pasted as though it were a large wanted poster on the side of a building. She would be glad to be rid of this one, in particular, though she had expressed some small curiosity to the other ones, she was glad the Lady Rania had called for them. It felt good to be contributing to the cause of the realm, no matter how seemingly insignificant perhaps the call may be this time.

It wouldn't be but moments later, as she tried to turn back around, thinking it secured again, that she would actually trip and fall over, the scroll itself tumbling forward toward the village and seemingly trying to escape. Even with the shock of the fall- as she never stumbled or anything so graceless, which sealed the deal insofar as convincing her it was cursed- she still managed to reach an arm out and grab the very edge of the parchment during its daring escape attempt.

As she did though, it unfurled itself with downhill momentum, and was laid bare with strange runic words and symbols open and facing her. Were they right-side up? She wasn't certain. But a sudden overwhelming curiosity overtook her. She tried to read the runes and letters- were they letters?- as strange whispers echoed around her, and a humming seemed to be eminating from the scroll itself. But it all fizzled at once and blinked out.

Nearby birds flew away and she noticed suddenly the air had been silent. Bonita stood still and looked around as well. There was a noticeable calm in the area. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she regained her composure and stood up, furling the scroll. She was certain she had placed it back in its place on her pack, but later, when she would present the other two to Marshal... former Marshal Vahanian, it would mysteriously not be there with the others.

(Some time later)

It was deep in the bowels of night, after the crickets had stopped, long after the last peasants were asleep, and even the more devious beings that bump and stalk in the night were generally down and lay to bed already, their business concluded for the time being. Morning was too far off yet to see the light creep over the horizon, it would not be for a few hours hence. No, it was still, and quiet. But it was peaceful, in a way.

Lady Janis sat comfortably on a log, near an outcropping facing the coast here in Rines. She remembered her original journey to this land briefly, and the comforting smell of the Ocean. Breathing it in soothed her. It brought comfort to her in a more tumultuous time, at least in her mind.

She had learned to like Ajitmon, in a small way, mostly due to that- the Ocean and its calming effects. The region would be her stepping stone to greater things as well as well, and so, her resentment, too, had thankfully faded.

Mostly now what she was remembering was several nights ago near the borders of Ruefillo. She remembered the giant scroll and the happenings of the day prior. But what she remembered most was what had happened that night. The scroll, as mysteriously as it had disappeared... had reappeared. Right there, in her pack as though nothing had happened. The first time she 'cast' the world went still, but nothing else had occurred. A failure of magic, though to be fair, she had not really tried to succeed, she was simply reading the letters. That was when she had learned the potency that magic held. This was the thing that could bind daimons, hurt them, defeat them. That had been the primary worship of Obeah.

Had she felt a connection to the divine, then? Perhaps.

She and Bonita had been near a campfire that night, much like the one she had had going earlier this night, if perhaps a big larger. The one beside her in real time had gone down to faintly glowing embers, long enough that her eyes were adjusted to the dark rather than the flame. But the one she recalled of that night, still burned brightly in her minds eye. In her memory, it blazed and flickered off the reflection of her own eyes, as she took out the giant scroll and held it once more.

Would she try it? Here, now? she had thought. Perhaps it was not wise, and yet, it did call to her somehow.

The details beyond that point were more dense, like a fog, in her mind, rather than like she was looking at a clear portrait. The fire was the last thing she remembered clearly. The rest had been absorbed in the curiosity and what was hopefully divinity that followed. She remembered succeeding. Had she collapsed from the effort? Was Bonita actually there or had she fallen asleep? Was it like this with all magic?

She had begun to question more seriously the nature of magic itself, and of her connection to it since then. It weighed on her heavily, and daily. Is this what the First Prophet felt so long ago, as she started on her path to magic, she wondered? Were there significantly different types of magic? If so, was all magic ultimately, holy? Such were the teachings of Ob... of Obeah according to the First Prophet.

Doubts truly began to take root, to form in her mind after that night as well. These were the same doubts she grappled with now. How could she tell anyone it may have been her fumblings, and her curiosity that called those same undead she battled towards Ruefillo? Was that not the intent of the scroll? In her curiosity, her hunger, no, her near desperation to learn... To seek this knowledge, she had momentarily overlooked the potential consequences. Was it her own eagerness alone? Or was it something perhaps built into the scroll itself for some unknown design or purpose? A safeguard to ensure it would be used perhaps? She could not tell.

Tonight, though, those thoughts of doubt and uncertainty had resurfaced, re-emerged, rekindled. They had done so because... in her hand now, she held another scroll. It was of the same kind of the two she had given to former Marshal Vahanian. Small, normal-looking, and purported to be of the Summon Undead variety. Was it destiny perhaps? Especially competent guards of her region? They were very diligent hunters of witches and warlocks by now.

Well... technically it was her orderly that had delivered the scrolls to him, anyway. She did not wish to face him directly until she could gauge his feelings towards her personally. For some reason, she did not want his resentment to weigh on their first official meeting. Yet another weight on her mind, though a lesser one, perhaps, still a burden on her weary shoulders. The cinders of the fire sparked and kindled playfully in the deep, dark of night, as her mind asked questions there was not possibly any answers for.

–

Roleplay from Vahanian Blint (7 days, 21 hours ago)

Grandmistress,

I have spent the last several weeks mulling over the words and council you have provided me. Dissecting each word and exploring the possible outcomes and paths that my decisions would have.

I understand that I am no herald of Obeah, and that they are given the singular honor of writing holy scripture and sermons. However I would like to share with you my journey to faith and allow you to decide if it is worthy to become sermon.

- A Crucible of Faith pt.1 - When I was a child, I made a blood pact with my brother and sister. We swore to one another that we would always be there for each other. No matter the cost, no matter the distance we would have to travel, and no matter the reason. If one of us needed help the others would answer. And we did. The calls for help ranged from, bullies when we were young, to broken hearts and lost lovers, to the fields of battle and armies of realms. One called, the others answered. Until, one day... I didn't. I had traveled the world, sailed to another continent and joined a realm that was strong. They were changing the shape of the continent with their armies and politics. I found a mentor in the realm, he guided me through the intrigues of politics and shaped me into a commander of soldiers. I sworn my sword to him and he had my loyalty.

My sister was not having as easy of a time in this world. She was suffering from an unknown illness and her mind was not always her own. She suffered even more upon the death of a man whom she had fallen deeply in love with. She had lost her reasons for life and my brother sent a call for aide. I did not answer. Could not answer. I was defending a realm I had come to know and love, I was defending a man I thought trustworthy and honorable. It was not until his betrayal that I understood the ramifications of my actions. My sister had died, and my brother was out for blood. I fled to the northern regions of Beluterra. Resigning to live in exile for failing my family. For dishonoring my oath. For staining my honor. I wandered the northern tundra's a ranger, hunting down daimons and bandits that plagued the lands and it's people. I become known to the common folk and when the time came to align themselves with a realm, they chose me as their lord. I was charged with their protection and safekeeping, and I was determined to never dishonor another oath again.

When daimons came I rode forth and met them in combat, when bandits came I rode forth and met them in combat. I was good at killing. I liked it. I became blind to all else when in combat, I became fueled by a bloodwrath and wouldn't stop until my foes lie at my feet, broken and beaten. That same bloodwrath that had led me to so many victories would be my undoing. It blinded me to a daimon lord who struck me down with a grievous wound. I lay in the mud, covered in blood and the stench of death and saw my life end. It was not until the cool feeling of a wet cloth being pressed to my brow that I realized life still coursed through my veins. I lay in a barn on hay and blankets for several days. My wounds constantly festering, and being cleaned. There were several times I begged for death, preferring that to the lancing pain of glowing red steel cutting away rotting flesh.

When finally my vision cleared, and I was able to see clearly for the first time in many years I laid eyes upon the kindest face I have ever seen. She was gorgeous. She was full of life and love and happiness. She was able to stitch together the wound in my heart that had been ripped asunder by the death of my sister. She became my reason for life. She became my wife. I took her hand in marriage, knowing she was not of noble blood. It didn't matter. She was MY queen.

She showed me it was okay to live again, and she showed me how to live an honorable life. She was able to repair what I had broken, and clean what I had stained. She was the very reason my heart beat, she was the purpose with which I woke in the mornings, and she was the reward I sought when going to sleep at night. Until she, like everything else in the world that mattered to me, was taken from me.

I am a firm believer that everyone faces a crucible in their lives. The length, difficulty and personal impact of each crucible is unique. Some may even face more than one. For some, they might realize right away what they are facing, others will take time to understand, and others still, may never fully grasp the grand scheme of what they endured.

My Crucible was and still is her death. We were captured by the same daimon lord who was in a way the reason for our meeting. He was furious at my constant destructions of his hordes. He captured us and tortured us. First he tortured my body. The physical pain was like no other than I have ever experienced. A daimon can make you hurt in ways you didn't know were possible. Days went by and my body was pushed past the point of breaking, it was beaten, bloodied, broken, and scarred in ways I can't describe. Yet it was my wife that kept me alive, that kept me breathing.

When at last this daimon lord understood that physical pain would not be my undoing, not while my wife lived. He adapted. He resorted to emotional and mental pain. He began torturing Katserina. I thought the physical pain was the worst thing imaginable. Until he began to torture my wife. I was chained to a wall with magical bindings and made to watch as he exacted the very same torture on my wife as he did on me. I fought with every single fiber of my being, every drop of willpower and every inch of soul I had to break my bindings and spare my wife pain. Nothing worked.

When finally, she was given reprieve, and I was allowed to hold her once more, I knew in that moment she wouldn’t survive the night. Her willpower had been drained from her, she was the strongest woman I have ever met and she couldn’t hold on. I held her in my arms and watch the life leave her eyes. I cradled her lifeless body to my chest and screamed until my throat was raw and no sound escaped my lips. The bloodwrath I had once known returned to me with ease. I became death, the reaper of souls. In a land of darkness and despair, I was the only nightmare. I did what I had become so effective at. I killed. I hunted down and brutally, viciously, and efficiently murdered every last daimon that had taken a hand in the death of my wife. If Obeah is a vengeful goddess, I was her angel of death that day. With my words as weapons I sung and death and destruction followed.

I had been robbed of the very thing that was able to repair my shattered heart, and I was once again broken.

Like their crucibles, I believe that each person faces faith differently. Some are born with an inherit ability to have faith, others discover it along the way, and some still never know it. I always considered myself in the latter category. I had always felt that faith was a gift I had not received and a path I was never meant to walk. Until I arrived in Rines. Upon my arrival in this city, and my entering of the first temple of Obeah, I was greeted by a subtle sense of calmness. I was greeted by the familiar feeling of warmth that my wife used to provide by being near me.

Upon my arrival in Rines, I knew right away that there was something special about the city, there was something that was imbued in the stones of the streets, and the air that filled my lungs. There was suddenly a light in the world of darkness I had come to reside in. It was not until I accepted Obeah into my life that I was able to feel my the wound in my heart begin to heal once more. I do not believe Obeah will ever be able to fully fill the void in my heart and soul that was ripped open when my wife was taken from me. But I also don’t think she is meant to. She is here to show me, that things will get better, that I can make them better and that when my time comes to pass through the veil, I will see my beloved once more.

For any questioning Obeah’s light, or her power. I leave you with this.

In the face of total loss, in the face of utter destruction of everything I had come to know and love, Obeah did not falter. She did not cast me aside, and she did not squander my need. She lifted me from the broken defeated man I was and built me into the Templar I am. She did not leave me in the cold darkness of my own hatred, but guided me into the warmth of her light and compassion. Remember. It only takes a spark to set a flame alight. Let Obeah be your spark.

–

Roleplay from Yxevarii Auru'in (8 hours, 25 minutes ago)

message to all nobles of Obia'Syela "...HOOOLD! HOOOLD!"

A lone soldier stampedes across the perimeter as no less than three stewards, two trench-diggers, and a cook are knocked to the ground - likely on their way to the encampment of this or that noble. As the indignant cook lifts a single finger to the sky in defense of his once-pristine apron, he emits a wide-eyed gasp and shudders in silence. The marks of a massive, horrifying claw can be traced along the man's back and sides - caked in a mixture of soil and ragged slabs of infected flesh whose deathly pallor bears the likeness of a corpse. Nothing less than sheer terror could drive a wounded man to such desperation, tempered by a faith that flows through chilled veins whence lesser men would gladly embrace death...

Mid-stride in full sight of the Vice-Marshal's tent as half the assembled army stands watch, he collapses - skidding facefirst across the rim of a firepit whose waning coals glow a sputter.

With equal measure of curiosity and annoyance, Yxevarii clambers through her tent-flap and locks eyes with the dying man mere moments before before the fall. A sigh of relief seems to escape his somber grin as eyes close and legs give out, countered by the gasp and grimace of the woman he gladly served.

"GET HIM OUT, GOD DAMN IT!"

She charges forth to bridge the gap as confused onlookers merely gape and those nearby have yet to rise. His body trembles feverishly as she grabs a bloated ankle and pulls as the nearest man falls to his knees and takes the other. They drag him out swiftly by his feet, still frothing at the mouth as the sickening stench of charred flesh whispers sweet nightmares unto those assembled. Yellowed pupils flutter for the last time as he cradles something in his arms; as if the fate of the world might rest upon an object so innocuously vulnerable as a thrice-folded slip of soiled parchment.

His cold, dead eyes lay frozen in a look of abject horror, slackened in its final moment by the respite of duty thus relieved. Quiet prayers rise upon the tips of countless tongues whose masters mere watched, as Vice-Marshal Yxevarii pulls the slip from his bloodied hands.

Knowing by heart the manner of its intricate folds, she unseals and scans the document - pausing briefly to lay a hand upon his chest and tear off a silver amulet; bearing the mark of Obeah and motto of the Merciful Veil.

"...Thank you, Halmut. Your watch is over."

The camp is deathly silent as she raises her fist into the air. By now everyone has exited their tents to stand in shocked silence at the sheer madness of events as all eyes fall upon her.

"ENLIGHTENED! Do you see that man? Some of you knew him as captain Halmut of the Merciful Veil, commander of my rangers. He sacrificed his LIFE to keep our countrymen alive - after securing MY freedom from those daemon-loving BASTARDS... By his report, we've no less than 14,000 CS of hellspawn rallying in Ardmore - nearly DOUBLE our mobile forces - and with more inbound. Heed his warning for Obeah's sake - and let's give the man a hero's burial!"

With fateful parchment safely in her grip, she turns about-face and salutes the body of her fallen captain - captured in Ardmore and tortured beside her by the agents of Daemonkind. A man who defied mortal wounds to save his commander's life - only to later escape and brave the trek across a beast-infested wasteland in the name of his nation and the Veiled Goddess.

"You heard the man! Tonight we HOLD!"

– Dame Yxevarii Auru'in defends the Sacred Lands shortly after the Oracle's Reclusion

Roleplay from Antonia Fitz Roberts (1 day, 5 hours ago)

message to all nobles of Obia'Syela A toast to the Blessed Lady

Antonia got unsteadily to her feet, a metal tankard of ale in her hand, and climbed on top of a cart full of beer barrels. All around her, the Martyrs were drinking and celebrating victory, as well as toasting the dead. She looked at the crowd of peasants, nervously watching the soldiers that had come to their village.

‘Good people, the Blessed lady has liberated you from the tyranny of the monsters and necromancers that plague these lands!!! Bring yourself into her protection; join the most holy of realms, the most blessed land in the world, join Sacred Obia’Syela!!!!’

A small cheer went up from the crowd, but most did not join in, still looking at her placidly. Antonia continued, more determined than ever

‘We know that you fear battles that bring fire and ruin to your homes and crops!!! But the monsters do far more damage. We bring civilisation to the anarchy!!! We bring light to the darkness!!! We bring order to the chaos!!!! There will be more battles, but not right now!!!! Right now we drink!!!’ At this, to a cheer from her troops, she downed her drink and then picked up one of the barrels and threw it to land in front of the crowd

‘Join us in celebrating our Victory!!! Join us in celebrating freedom from the tyranny of the monsters that once controlled you!!! Join us in the light of the Blessed Lady!!! But right now, and most importantly, join us for a drink!!!!’At this last exultation, the crowd roared and surged forward. By the evening, the crowd had mixed completely with the crowd and couples were beginning to sneak off into the houses and nearby woods. Antonia turned to Rossitta

‘I think many a little bastard will be conceived tonight, Rosie’, Antonia slurred, raising her glass

‘Aye, Ana, and who do you think will have to pay for them?’

Antontia laughed at that and fell back onto the straw of the haystack that her and Rossitta were sitting on. She looked up at the sky, where the sun was beginning to set.

‘One village down, many more to go’, she thought to herself, before rolling off the hay stack and going to find another drink

–