Olik Family/Elerik Taim/Roleplays

Quest for the Relics, Part I: The Larmebsi Prophecy

Elerik stood in front of a crowd of hundreds, preaching the glory of Adaghar. The Lasanar peasantry listened to him, a strange man of the dark isle, because his voice was powerful and compelling.

But never did he feel as helpless as when a young woman approached him, pushing her way through the crowd to where he stood on a slightly elevated patch of ground near the market square. Her face was stony, but he soon realized she was holding back a wave of anger and grief.

"Why does your god take away my children?" she demanded, and the attention of those present focused on her. Elerik was at a loss for words. She continued, "Nthar, my firstborn, my son - stricken by plague. And Ryla, my daughter, her sight taken from her last winter! Does your Adaghar pray on children and widows?"

Elerik raised a hand. "Death and tragedies happen to all. No god is to blame for our mortal nature."

Now her anger showed on her face. "Then why is he to receive blessings for your mortal victories? Un-Tosa, Athnos? He works for your miserable island, but not for innocent children!?"

People in the crowd began muttering. He stepped down from his higher position, his face truly sorrowful. "Miss, gods take no interest in an individual life. To them we are so small. But realms and cities are Adaghar's domain. He is not to blame for his nature, nor your losses."

She spat, and then began weeping. "We are insects, then, to crush for the greater good." Her voice was sullen, not nearly so accusatory. Elerik Taim took the moment to step closer to her, and gently placed one of his large hands on her shoulder. This only made her cry harder.

The sermon seemed ended and the crowd dispersed; some muttering grimly, others quiet. But the woman remained, and Elerik stood mute, only able to show sympathy.

"Will-" her voice cracked, "Will you pray for my daughter's sight? Maybe - maybe your god will listen to you, if not me."

Elerik hesitated. Adaghar was a God, and though he could not say it to her, he knew that to gods, men, women and even children were nothing but insects. But perhaps Omorthion, or Lyonnhar... perhaps he could try.

"I will pray with you," he answered quietly. Then, realizing the poverty of the peasantry in this particular village, he fished a silver coin from his cloak. "Here... I have no need of coinage. Here, for your daughter and you - food will help the body, and help in the blessing ritual."

She sniffed and tentatively took the offered gift. "I - I thank thee, priest."

"Let us go, and meet with Ryla," he said, offering a very small, calm smile. "Perhaps the gods will listen to her, too."

Elerik entered the peasant hut belonging to the woman - her name was Shalnya - where her daughter was waiting for supper.

"Ryla?" she called. No answer. The form in the corner was still. The fire in the center had burned out. "Ryla?" Now there was more urgency in her voice. Elerik stood frozen as she went to her daughter.

"Oh, gods, Ryla! Wake up!"

Elerik sighed. This was too much. Had he arrived just in time for yet another tragedy? The mother would be broken by it... such cruelty...

But Ryla began to move. She was alive and breathing. And she suddenly sat up and looked - straight - at - Elerik Taim. Her eyes were a milky white, as if the membrane of a cooked egg had closed over them. In her face he was reminded of Lechis in her dying weeks - fraily, but incredibly old. The mother gasped in shock.

"High Priest of the Way, Elerik Taim," the girl spoke. Her husky and dry. It didn't sound like it could come from a little girl. Elerik felt a chill run through his body. The mother's eyes opened wide and she backed off, speechless.

Elerik tried to maintain his calm. "Yes... yes, it's me. How did you know?"

Then the little girl laughed cacklingly. The voice was amused and it made him feel wary, as if an unknown prankster was taking a joke dangerously far. "I know," the girl-not-girl said.

"Who are you?" he asked, kneeling in the dry earth of the peasant hut, looking the little girl in her strange, sightless eyes.

"You ask the wrong question, Seeker," she replied, giving him yet another shock. Few knew of his original moniker... there was Lechis, and Dormondt... and now this little blind girl far, far from the Dark Isle?

"You're not Ryla," he pointed out. He heard the mother swoon, and looked over to her with a sort of detachment. She would be alright when she awoke. Elerik idly wondered if he was in a dream himself.

"I bring a message, priest," she said, leaning toward him conspiratorially. Her voice continued to run chills up and down his spine. "You seek the Relics of the Gods. Hast thou in thy arrogance forgotten the will of man and demon? They shall oppose your search. Many will die. You will fall. Yet still you search."

Blinking, he tried on several questions. How do you know all this? came to mind. Which do you represent here, god or demon? did too. No words came out. She continued.

"Seek then the Foot of the Black-Haired Scourge. Pass the Forsaken One and break through his False Stone. There your quest will resume. But beware, Elerik Taim. For you will sacrifice something of great value to you. And thereafter, upon each successful step toward the Relics, the seekers shall sacrifice yet something else. Will the ends be worth the sacrifices? Ask not me, Seeker."

With that, the little blind girl slumped. He reached out and caught her. His breath was quick and his pulse racing. Her eyes were closed, but she was breathing - apparently asleep like her mother. She looked like a normal little girl now. He didn't know if she would be blind when she awoke. But somehow he knew that the message had been delivered.

Will the ends be worth the sacrifices? her words echoed in his mind.

It was a question he didn't even need to answer. For now he knew beyond a doubt, that the Books, and the Relics, would eventually be found. And with them, the power of the Gods would bless his people.

Quest for the Relics, Part II

Elerik spent many days, weeks even, in the Monastary Temple library. He was convinced that the answer would be here.

Now he read a Dusty Old Tome which seemed not to fit in. It was about some clothier's manufactory, written in a diary form. Most of it was illegible and there was no title. It seemed very old, and was found in amongst some of the books dating back hundreds of years. What was this doing in the Monastary?

Then he re-read a passage. The "vile, charismatic" man the author wrote about was named Jork. Jork. The name rang a bell in Elerik's mind... but he couldn't tell where or when he had heard it.

Frowning, he put the tome down and began looking over some of the other records. Legends. Myths. Folk-tales. He didn't find Jork, but when he found a series of books detailing the past Clan Chiefs of Ecsetuah, he realized that he knew Jork would be in there. Jork was once a lord of this land, and-

"My lord Priest!" came the voice of an acolyte. A crash followed, and footsteps. Elerik, concentration broken and now alarmed, stood up and rushed sternly out of the library.

"What is this?" he demanded.

The acolyte was frightened, near panic. More monks and local villagers were flooding through the doors. He said, "My lord Priest! There are monsters in the woods! They're attacking! Save us!"

Elerik's blood ran cold.

Family Politics

The foreigner had just arrived by a fast ship from Atamara. Surprisingly, he asked a few questions of the local guard and came straight to Elerik Taim, handing him a letter.

Being a Letter to Elerik Taim Olik,

I, Gauihu, am writing to you of the matter of the Estates of the House of Olik. I have learned that you have, once again, declared another "family emergency" and used it to convince my steward to send you gold from our family's coffers. Since the death of Trostian, my father, and before that the deaths of Oleg my brother and Athys your father, I am the eldest male of our family, and as such am entitled to govern all matters concerning our noble line. And I am writing you to inform you that such "support" as you have gleaned from the hard work of myself and my brothers is no longer acceptable. Those funds are to be reserved for true emergencies as recognized by myself, and not the whims of distant cousins on unimportant potentates in the far east. From now on, consider yourself cut-off from access to our treasury; my steward will no longer be complient with your "requests," and you shall have to simply make your way in the world. Though you be my cousin, my patience - and wealth - is not infinite.

Regards,

G.

Elerik read the thing twice, and then crumpled it up, sighing.

He'd only met Gauihu once or twice, when they were both children. He remembered the kid lording over the servants as if he were a king. He remembered hearing tales from his father, about how they'd found mysteriously mutilated animals in the village, and how when asked of it Gauihu would just grow cold and give a shrug. Who could care about animals? Or... anyone? his impassive face seemed to say.

He hadn't changed since then, Elerik now saw.

It was inconvenient, to be sure. But of greater import was the news that old Sir Trostian was now dead, as well as Oleg. That did indeed make Gauihu head of the Olik Family. A disconcerting thought.

He shrugged. Ultimately, it was not his problem. The Braegs and the Olegs operated best by ignoring each other.

And he... he had his Faith. All else paled in importance.