Lineage and Destiny
A10: Temple of Althea
It's Gilday, Quintoos 28 17:33:48 1020. The full moon is up. The tide is high and ebbing. The deep blue night sky is clear and cloudless, and the stars glitter. An icy wind blows from the northwest.
An'thirya is here at Althea's temple, kneeling before the hearth in quiet prayer. Some might note that she's been making the rounds throughout the temples, even visiting the temples to the more abstract and less directly benevolent deities. This time, she's come to Althea's temple both for refuge from the cold and perhaps... Advice.
Deak, one of the Hearthguards here, steps out of a room and takes a deep breath. At the moment, he's not wearing the gleaming mithral breastplate he normally wears, nor is he toting along his long, sharp bill. But he is dressed unmistakeably in the ceremonial robes of the clergy. Seeing an unfamiliar woman deep in prayer, and a Mul'niessa at that, he walks peacefully to the hearth and gently clears his throat. He says, "The light of Telmentar shine upon you."
Standing up, An'thirya turns around and sighs. "Sir." she says, "I would ask you a question, though you may not know its answer." then pauses and speaks a bit more quietly. "...Would one of my own kind, and one who bears a measure of corruption from a wicked deity's minions, be able to avoid her soul to be claimed by malignant forces?" she asks, "You may perhaps be aware of the deal my own kind struck, and likewise that some amongst mortals having immortal blood... Or else, the taint of fouler things. Between the two, I fear where I may yet find myself upon death."
Deak smiles as An'thirya turns to address him. At her request, though, he takes on an expression of serious contemplation, but says, "I do know a little of the history of your race... at least from the viewpoint of the Elunites. I appreciate the faith you show in the Compassionate Lady to bring your concerns here. That said, your question does not call for a simple answer. In fact, a fair bit of both academic research and deep soul-searching may lie before you in this path. Why don't we discuss it over a meal? I am Hearthguard Ragni Knutson, but my friends call me Deak. Our dining hall is this way." He lifts his arm to point the way.
Hetzakoatl has arrived.
"Of course." An'thirya says, and follows Deak to the dining hall. "To be more blunt." she says, walking towards one of the places set. "I have reason to believe that a... Fiend of some stripe, has either bargained with one of my ancestors or else laid with them to use the euphemism." she observes, pulling a chair out and sitting down. "Considering displays of particularly potent anger in battle, as well as some others pointing to me as a, 'Blood-Rager' whatever that may mean, I feel uncertain as to what impacts it might have beyond simple power."
The dining hall is as busy as one might expect, with only divans near the fringes of the central hall empty of worshippers, Hearthguards or petitioners. One such divan, where a white-scaled Sith-makar is seated, is surrounded by empty divans. Which seems to suit the Sith just fine, as she eats in peace, sprawled out over the cushion, her tail curling and uncurling rythmically.
Deak sits and serves himself from the communal trays on the table. He raises an eyebrow at the further disclosure, then says, "You know, I'm not sure that such a personal history as you describe necessarily means that you would be consigned to an infernal afterlife. Regardless, even if you discovered a way to cleanse the taint in your blood, that might have unintended consequences for you. For example, you might lose the ability to rage, or you might have to replace the demonic rage with some other source. For another thing, loosing yourself from the Dark Lady's pact might be as difficult as, for example, yonder Sith'makar throwing off her draconic heritage." He smiles over at Hetzakouatl.
"Perhaps." An'thirya says, "But I feel it worth trying, regardless. It's not an appealing prospect having some sort of filthy monster affecting me to this day." she observes, then waves to the sith-makar. Looking back to Deak she then says, "I can live without raging. I could try to replace it, or at least reduce its hold. Even if it twists in some unexpected way, I'd still be appreciative." she says.
The white-scaled Sith's eyeridges raise ever so slightly, and she glances around, her gaze settling on Deak for a moment, noting his smile. She returns the smile as best as possible, however there are far too many teeth, despite her efforts. She blinks slowly at the wave from An'thirya, and the look grows perceptively colder for the briefest of moments, before the red-robed woman stands. Black-clawed feet poke out under the hem of her robes as she walks, and she soon settles in behind the two.
Her obvious intentions seems to be focused on food, especially oranges and mangos, and she calmly speaks, a brief gurgle deep in her throat heard beforehand. "It iss difficult to pick out individual voicess from a crowd such as thiss, so I am only partially aware of what you sspeak of. The blood, iss it?"
Deak smiles at An'thirya as if were actually emitting a calming aura of serenity and tranquility. As Hetz settle in closer, he says, "Peace... on your nest." On the word 'peace', you can almost tangibly feel a wave of relaxation. Maybe its a supernatural gift with which this priest is divinely endowed? Anyway, he digs into his dinner.
"Yeah." An'thirya says, looking back at Hetz. "I think there's some kind of weird... Fiend-thing in my heritage. I don't know what it could do to me in the future, and that troubles me."
"Peace on your nesst.", the Sith intones quietly to them both, before looking to An'thirya. "A fiend in your heritage? Do you know whom it iss? I mean, do you have a name?", the white-scale wonders. "If it iss still alive, there existss a possibility of interference. Perhapss some interesst in your life. If it iss dead, then you have few worriess. One makess their own destiny, no matter what blood runss in their veinss." As she speaks, she carefully draws a claw along an orange, the fragrance of it quickly spreading. Pulling away the skin in one smooth go, she begins to snack upon the pieces of its flesh. "One musst not allow one's heritage to rule one's life, nor musst one use it as an excusse for improper behaviour."
Deak nods. "So, what shall I call you? I can ask around, and I rather expect that the Llyranesi and maybe the Eluiite or Daeusite clergy might also have bits of the lote you seek. As for letting your heritage rule you, well it seems to me like one of the hallmarks of evil is the desire to dominate others. 'Tis quite possible that a living fiend may take notice of your attempt to destroy his influence upon your soul. I think you should be very thorough."
"An'thirya." she says, "No surname." then rubs her chin at the notion of a fiend taking notice. "Maybe." she observes, "I've already bonded myself to higher powers in other ways, however." she says, unbuckling a leather shoulderguard and showing an intricate silver design. One might recognize it as having some affiliation with Eluna.
"I am Hetzakoatl, shaman of the Sith-makar, recently of Mictlan.", says the white-scale Sith. She eyes the symbol of Eluna and nods. "The Silver One.", she says. "A worthy spirit to bond one's self with. Keep her close in your heart and mind." She chuckles lightly before a gurgle is heard, and she coughs wetly. "Evil.", she says to Deak, "Iss not so one-sided. It often enjoyss subtle corruptionss, letting their target destroy everything in their livess, and enjoyss bringing the true extend of the corruption to light. To utterly bankrupt once good soulss."
Hetzakoatl looks back to An'thirya. "You have done much to free yourself of Charn'ss grasp, yess? You are already on the right path towardss what you seek."
Deak nods. He says, "Certainly. For my part, I try to not delve too deeply into the ways of fiends. I follow Althea, and that is all the direction I need to find joy, peace, and courage. Indeed, the main thimg the High Priestess keeps on ky case about is the fact that as a priest of the marriage goddess, I'm not setting a good example by remaining a bachelor at 27 years old, and should start getting serious about settling down." He chuckles. "But, no pressure or anything."
"I'd hope so." An'thirya says, then pauses. "So you're saying, I ought not to pursue this to the exclusion of good sense. Not going to extreme measures to purify myself lest I take on the burden of evil in ways well beyond simple mystic affiliation." she observes, "...I suppose you're right. But I'll still pursue this regardless, to whatever reasonable extent."
Hetzakoatl nods slowly to An'thirya. "Pursue it, but do so cautiously. And know that if you stare long enough into the Abysss... it staress back." The white-scaled Sith peers to Deak, blinking. "One iss required to marry to be part of the clergy? Interessting."
Deak says, "Well, not really. But once one starts to accumulate some seniority, there is a sort of expectation."
Astaren has arrived.
"Oh! In that case, I could propose to you right now!" An'thirya says, grinning wickedly. "Provided you're not sheepish of course." she observes, then waits for a few moments for the people nearby to take notice. "...Aaaaaand I was joking by the way." she observes, "Hopefully not offensively, I think it'd be a bit outlandish for us to get married on the spot just because of a soft requirement." she observes.
The white-scaled Sith stares at An'thirya for several long moments, until the Mul'niessa admits to joking. "I wass wondering. I would have to question one's sanity for such a thing." She glances to Deak and eyes him up and down. "It iss unlikely he is sheepish."
Deak looks slightly shocked at the proposal, but starts to chuckle just before she explicitly declares it to be a joke. Then, when Hetzakoatl remarks about his sheepishness or lack thereof, he rolls his eyes. He says, "Well... ANYHOO. I /was/ just trying to say that getting into a demonic mindset is beyond my comfort. But I see that An'thirya," he looks at the Mul'niessa, "has got the right of it. Now all that remains is to find answers to the questions you pose."
Astaren is making a delivery to the temple, grumbling all the while. "Just because I blew up a few labs... I get delegated to delivery duties." handing off a few packages to a clerk, "The globes you ordered." grumbling as he looks around and spotting the group. Perking right up he walks over, "You all look like an excellent distraction for me to avoid doing some work."
"Distraction?" An'thirya asks, "Well if that's what we are, then so be it." she notes, perhaps a bit annoyed at the idea of being used like that. "Either way though, I should probably get going. It's getting a bit late, and I have more research to do besides." she says.
Hetzakoatl grins again, with too many teeth, as before. "I am teassing.", she says with a throaty chuckle that ends in a gurgling cough. When Astaren arrives, the Sith-makar tsks. "Oh we would not want you to get into trouble for dodging your taskss.", she chides. "Ssurely that will not look well upon you, yess?" The white-scaled Sith offers An'thirya a wave. "Peace on your nesst.", she intones.
Astaren tilts his head and ahhs, "Was not my intent to insult, just been running errands all day. Accidently blew up a couple of the arcanist guild research labs. They are more worried about keeping me away for a bit then me actually getting tasks done."
Deak rises as An'thirya gets up to leave. He did, after all, learn manners in an orphanage. He smiles at Astaren and says, "Shirking is often funner than working, but I apologize. I, too, need to answer the call of duty just now."