[Treasure] Cathedral of Light

Cathedral of Light

Settled atop a hill near the outskirts of Stokbon rests the Cathedral of Light. Though not devoted to any god in particular from the Elysid Court, countless denizens from across Falderen trickle in to pay homage to the deities of the pantheon. Treated as a pilgrimage of sorts, these followers of the faith come for one reason and one reason alone - the famed test of faith offered by the monks residing within this sacred domain.

Upon entering, one is met with the main hall of the basilica that towers gloriously overhead. Its walls are covered in seemingly endless murals composed of various panels depicting well told stories regarding each of the divinities. Brightly colored, stained, glass windows radiate gently with light as a plethora of soft hues shimmer down upon the hall’s floors.

Filling the bulk of the main hall, countless small cushions for prayer can be seen. Lined in neat patterns that spiral out from the center like arms of the Milky Way, a number of individuals remain situated towards the center and clustered about an elderly man engaged in discussion with pilgrims. A majority of those present however have filtered off to the left side of the cathedral near a glistening flight of stairs.

The path remains sectioned off from the remainder of the cathedral as the walkway continues upwards towards the basilica’s upper levels without branching off to any of the actual floors. The stairs continue to wrap about the perimeter of the main hall, ascending slowly but surely with each passing step. Various platforms mark stopping points along the way. Upon closer inspection, pilgrims pause upon each of these extensions and kneel to engage in prayer.


Only one option may be utilized:

Hidden: The Shepherd

Requires Expert in one of the following: Illumancy, Devotion, Muse
Your familiarity with numerous recounted stories from the past aids greatly in your comprehension of the trails that lay before you. As a shepherd tends to their sheep, you too may guide others along the path of enlightenment. (Experiences are similar to the other option but without risk of failure.)

If the first post results in a fail, players may:

• Exit the thread permanently and return to safety unharmed (edit your post with a few words about leaving).
• No, there's no second attempt.

Hidden: The Path of Inner Reflection:

After reaching the first milestone, you too are met with a gaze filled with expectation from the monk stationed upon this platform. Though youthful, his expression is soft and wizened far beyond his years. The monk beckons for you to step forward and engage in worship. Upon doing so, a strange vision washes over you as reality is swept away by some ethereal and intangible force. Visions of the past, present and future come to mind, displaying various situations that touch on subjects of a more delicate nature with regards to your own experiences.

Should you face the darkness and come out ahead, you may rise and resume along the path as a stronger individual. As you continue, your fellow pilgrims begin to thin in number. Many turn back visibly shaken than before but with a strange sense of inner peace that’s hard to explain. The process repeats seven more times, marking eight in total. With each passing marker, the visions grow more intense in realism, touching deeply upon the darkest insecurities and secrets held within a person’s heart. Can you endure?

1. Roll d100 in your post.
2. A roll of 85 or higher is needed to successful brute force your way through the obstacle without the proper knowledge and skills to navigate through the trial. If the first post results in a fail, players may choose 1 of 2 options:

• Exit the thread permanently and return to safety unharmed (edit your post with a few words about leaving).
  
• Proceed anyway and post a second time (no words required - if the trial was correctly done in the first post) with your roll(s). Failure on the second roll results in character death.

Code:

[dice]d100[/dice]

Symbols of the Divine: Looking down upon the basilica hall, a final platform rests above the others. Atop this vestige of power rests a small table with twelve small statuettes: an open circle with a spread hand inside, a barbed black rose, an oak shaped in the form of a woman, a bleeding steel gauntlet in the shape of a fist clutching onto a barbed vine that coils around the wrist and forearm, a mask which left eye slants up ward while the right eye slants downward, an open book with an arcane flame on top of it, a kukri dripping with venom, an upright, double bladed axe with the outline of a shield around it, a woman's head in profile view with two olive branches beneath, water with ceremonial crown on top, a crescent moon atop a gondola, and a tree with an open circle around it; the circle had radiance pointing outward, resembling the sun.

Centered between all twelve figures on the table rests a small brazier of flames and a jar filled with incense sticks. Before each of these statuettes are small pots containing other sticks of incense that have been left behind by others. Having reflected upon your journey within the cathedral, how should you proceed?


Note: This is an event for people (one character per OOC account) who have yet to open a treasure chest this month (timer reset's on the first of the month). Last reset - 8/01/17.

List of Ineligible Participants:
N/A

Briefly tell a story about what were you doing up until this point, then describe how you would claim the goods inside the "chest". (300 words minimum, 1000 words maximum)

Due to the nature of this thread, it will be open for responses until 8/19/17 at 00:00 EST. Results will follow shortly after.

0/3 Rewards Claimed​

 

It had been necessary, upon the conclusion of conflicts at Castle Dormont, to travel back to Stokbon and take heed of the political situation. Only hours before had the actual siege been won and the day proved a modest victory for the guilds that had allied with the elves. Despite their victory however, the Admiral had felt no merriment in celebrating the day away. There simply was too much that needed to be done, and while others could use the festivities to improve their morale, hers had not faltered. She was as committed to the guild as ever, her only questioning of it being what purpose it served. Was there a larger goal? An agenda to consider? No word of such things had been spoken to her or the other neophytes within its structure, so whatever plans Yulan had from here on out seemed a closely guarded secret. That was fine, then... she would play her part up until it became necessary to deviate from whatever Astor, Jack and Lucia had up their collective sleeves.


She played her part well, as the front lines warrior and a strategic mind that considered all the... complications that came next. She had not bothered asking for permission to travel to Stokbon and take in the news of what happened. She had merely bathed and changed into simple clothes, grabbed the first horse she had been able to that looked as though a peasant might afford it, and rode hard and fast back to the capital city. There, she navigated its familiar streets, listening for word of what had happened, and heard... none. Apparently the good King and his Councillors wanted to control the narrative, and not spread such humiliating news without properly investigating all the best ways to tweak it to their favor. That was what SHE would do, anyway. But even men of power needed to take solace in faith, and so she had gone to the grand temple, hoping to hear something there. The pilgrimage caught her attention instantly and she joined the process of faithful that made their way up it. She was careful to tie a blindfold over her eyes, to prevent herself form being able to look down, and felt out each step and platform at which she said her prayers. At each stop, visions of the wrongs she had and conceivably could commit in the future washed over her like a black despair. Friend slain and enemies murdered, rather than letting them face a more true justice, to ensure they never harmed a soul again. Betrayals and bargains with devils. The visions made her stomach turn, but she fought past them and climbed higher until a zenith was reached, smelling of incense and innocence. She removed the blindfold just enough to look over the display of altars and smiled, reflecting on the lore of this place. There was a clarity to Lheo’s simplicity, and so she place incense at the altar of the double headed axe.

He was the warrior and conqueror, and it was not by power that she sought to rule but through power that she hoped to protect. The warrior fought as told and faced concrete, easily defined enemies that were tangible to tempered steel! It freed them of the tormenting politics and mind games of others. It was peaceful in that way.

Nevertheless, Lheo alone was not worthy of her attentions... She did not know how appropriate it was to place more than one incense at the altars, but she lit one for Endra and Iedi as well. The lady of coins brought fortune and oversaw travel, and commerce was too important to any world to neglect her holiness. Iedi on the other hand was the pauper's delight, full of love and charity for others. It was these three gods that best represented her hopes for helping the world... even if it were just an artificial one, a gaming construct. It allowed her to bring out the best of her, and so she lit her incense at the Double Bladed Axe with a Shield, the Woman's Face in Profile with Olive Branches, and the Water with Crown.

Thrown die:

10

 

Thrown die:

87

 

The cathedral near Stokbon's outskirts was a marvel of architecture and design. As Ash walked through the archway, she glanced around at the interplay of colors from the sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows, giving the impression that everything within was part of an ethereal dream.

Though the main hall was beautiful indeed, Ash's attention was captured by the large group of people trickling up the resplendent golden staircase to the side. It spiraled high into the upper reaches of the cathedral, the people ascending it growing smaller and smaller until they were nothing more than ants. The heavy scent of incense drifted down from the staircase, a mix of fragrances that blended together not unpleasantly. Ash was hard-pressed to pick out any specific scent but the entire thing felt... cozy.

She felt the urge to join the group ascending the stairs and let her feet take her with them. At the first stop she stood by as the rest knelt, not really knowing who to pray to, or if she should at all. Most people had their heads bowed, some were mouthing words, others whispering, and still others looked as unmoving as stone.

From her brief bits of interaction with others involved in the worship of the Elysid Court, Ash thought that maybe Qora would suit her? As if knowing that her mind was made up, a monk at the landing urged her forward to one of the cushions, waving a hand over her head as she knelt.

What followed were not so much visions than they were experiences, something not only of sight but also something that reached deep into her mind and heart to pull forth her hidden thoughts, hidden emotions.

She shivered as she emerged from the vision, feeling smaller and more fallible than when she first knelt. But she was determined to reach the top now. Others turned away but Ash pushed herself to her feet and began climbing the stairs again. At each landing the process would repeat, but Ash continued despite how intense the visions were.

At last she reached the top. Thoughts of Qora were firmly in her mind now, so it was without hesitation that she took a stick of incense, lit it, and placed it at the small pot before the tree surrounded by the sun. Then she closed her eyes, and listened.

Thrown die:

90

 

Due to the nature of this thread, it will be open for responses until 8/8/17 at 00:00 EST. Results will follow shortly after.​

 

See, the thing about leaping head first into a new game without socialising to people or even looking up a wiki beforehand is that one would tend to get lost in doing so. In Bob’s case, absurdly lost. Though his ignorance was not the only factor to blame in this scenario. Rather, his curiosity took a large majority of fault for his absent mindedness.

“I bet this map doesn’t even go that far.”

A statement that would lead him out of the spawn points of Brisshal and into the unknown for consecutive days of travelling constantly before logging off and coming back afterwards to do the same thing. Obviously, he had been severely beaten in that wager. Once again he had to take a break. Yet this time it was at the steps of a cathedral. Better off than in the middle of a PvP zone or a shady town he supposed.


His head tilted upwards to gaze up from his seated position. The place looked a lot like the revered ‘temple of brightness’ he had overhead people talking about. “Temple of brightness,” Bob repeated to himself. “Where have I heard that before?”


An answer would come immediately into his mind. Men he had heard whilst passing by were discussing the whereabouts of a cathedral of some sort. The Cathedral of Light. Gears ground against one another in his mind as he a minute flew by. Inner mechanisms of his mind were being put to work at processing.

“Blah blah blah Cathedral of Light blah blah blah.” He recalled the first man saying.

“Blah, blah blah blah blah treasure.” His companion spoke up. “Blah blah blah blah death.”

Out of the many things that had been picked up, ‘treasure’ was the only significant word in the bunch. Only one thing was in his mind at that point in time- the chance of there being treasure up in the building he stood beside. As all players in the game knew:

Treasure = Good

Having that in mind, Bob immediately rushed into the site of worship and up the path of inner reflection unknowingly. If anything came out to surprise him, he figured that running away was always an option considering the free-flowing game mechanics in place so far.

Thrown die:

12

 

Kyupin had, after various missions and encounters, finally made her way to the capital of the game. Stokbon. She had spent the necessary hours recuperating to refill her 'Rest' and 'Energy' meter, her avatar silent and still as it slept. When she'd 'woken' and trotted out, she ignored her reflection. She had no need to see puffy red eyes staring back at her.

The innkeeper had not been as discrete about it. "Rough times, huh?" he'd asked her, taking her grimace as a solid 'yes'. He had leaned in, as if to tell her a massive secret. "Y'know, I've seen your kinds before. They say there's a temple, in them hills," he had gestured vaguely in some direction, "praying there gives 'em peace of mind." He had offered a sagely nod, and Kyupin, a weak smile back. "You should tries it."

And she had nodded. "Of course," she had replied, so easily. Because it was just a temple, and you just had to pray, right?

Kyupin found herself on top of the hill, staring up at the massive cathedral. It was beautiful. And, as she entered, Kyupin realized it was just as gorgeous on the inside. She inwardly thanked the innkeeper who had told her of the place, her senses relaxing. Even the soft pit-pat of footfall calmed her. Instinctively, she approached the large group of people lined up before a set of stairs. One by one, they climbed.

"Wha-" she tried to speak, though was quickly shushed by an irritated woman in front of her.

Curious piqued, Kyupin trailed after them (were they... pilgrims?). She did not know words of prayer, did not know the gods they worshiped, but she begged silently for their forgiveness regardless. It was a game, but each death had felt so real. Each corpse so still under her fingers. If there was somebody or something out there in this oddly realistic world, she hoped they heard her.

She slowed to a stop before the wizened monk.

He said nothing, so she didn't either, just trotting forward obediently when he gestured for her to approach. "I love you, Vale-" She faltered, heart stopping at the familiar voice. The look of disappointment, of pain, her father squeezing her hands, crying by her bedside when he thought her still asleep. The rage her brother had felt on her behalf. She felt sick. How did they-

She came back to reality with a start, blinking her eyes clear of the tears welling in them. Kyupin whipped around to look at the monk, questions simmering inside of her. His sad, sad smile... Kyupin bit down her sob, facing forward in determination.

These were her sins, weren't they? She had to face them, had to know that this was her fault. She was used to shouldering an unbearable burden.

She could do this.

Again and again, as she climbed through the path, her mind was ravaged with... experiences. Visions. Hallucinations. Whatever you wanted to call them. Some from her real life, some from the things she'd done in this game. Her clothes were soaked with sweat, skin pale and eyes haunted by the time she stumbled on to the final platform.

She carefully eyed each of the statuettes, drinking in every exquisite detail. Were these the... symbols of the gods?

Twelve gods. Deities. Figures.

Twelve people to beg for forgiveness - no. Not forgiveness: for understanding of what she'd done. Acceptance.

She took a shuddering breath, taking twelve incense sticks, lighting each one and carefully putting a stick in every pot. Soft, broken whispers escaped her, tumbling out explaining herself.

Clenching her skirt tightly, Kyupin waited for... something. A sign, maybe. A sign of their judgement.

Thrown die:

93

 

Extending through Friday.

 

Roland was unsure what had set him down this path. After the battle of Dormont he had taken to blindly traveling as he tried to recuperate his thoughts. Is what he had done, been the right thing to do? He had never sworn an oath to Falderen, but on the other hand he had acted as one of their soldiers. Betraying them seemed cowardly, and yet there was the demon in the midst of the keep. It was possible he could have been duped, but did that really change anything? Was he really concerned with doing the right thing in the first place? Jinn, the player, never had any qualms in using and abusing people. Why, would it change for him in a fantasy game? As time passed, he never seemed to really arrive at any conclusions leading him to continue to wander pointlessly forward.


After a great amount of time spent in mental anguish he found himself in the outskirts of Stockbon, on a road leading towards the Cathedral of light. A large throng of people stood huddled at the entrance some struggling to enter, while others prayed at makeshift shrines at it’s entrance. Without thinking Roland moved towards the crowd, parting them with a stern glare and a hand on his sword. Most of them were unarmed civilians, and quickly jumped out of the way while others stood nearby whispering of traitors. It seemed news travelled fast. He tried to push it out of his head as he headed into the main hall of the basilica, all but ignoring its ornate decorations.


He hadn’t come to sight see, deep in his heart he knew he was looking for some type of salvation. It was this desire that pushed him past the sea of pillows to the sectioned off corner of the room. Without a second thought, Roland, ducked under the rope heading up the tight stairs that seemed to wrap around the perimeter of the main hall. It didn’t take long until the journey became laboursome, leaving the man covered in sweat and gasping for air. Time and again he would approach a new platform dedicated to one of the Elysid seeking to rest, before an unseen hand pushed him ever forward up the path.


Eventually his journey took him to a monk, standing before him knowingly. The monk seemed about his own age, but his eyes spoke of a wisdom Roland would likely never know. Eagerly the monk pressured Roland to join him in a prayer, Roland tried to resist but found himself unable to as he was forced to knell before a featureless statue. Roland stared at the stature becoming lost in its blank features as a wave of darkness overtook him. Everything before him was suddenly a blur of indistinct colors for several moments before it passed. Roland looked up again wondering what had happened, before again he was bathed in a sea of fleeting images, none of which he could make out. As soon as it passed, it came again, this time, however, Roland could tell the blurs held emotions, anger, hatred, betrayal, and lust. The visions faded once more, returning with more distinct forms, there was a man, no several, each were struggling. The vision was again waned before returning, each man contained a different emotion inside them, almost consumed by it, the pain, hatred, greed and lust he had seen before demonstrated before him. The vision blurred as it came once again, it wasn’t just any men, they were all different versions of Roland. Some of their faces twisted in hate, others in joy, hatred, envy. They disappeared. Then came again, they were Roland’s various faces, his passions each struggling against one another, now tearing each other apart.


Roland ripped himself away from the eighth vision forcing himself to stand up, shaking his head wearily. The monk from before was gone, or so Roland thought. His vision was swimming, the visions still not fully gone. What did the flashes mean? Was he to torn between his desires? Roland pushed forward as he clawed at his eyes trying to regain the focus he had before. Without realizing it he somehow came up to the final platform, he looked around them room, seeing the dozen statues, and illusions of far more. With great pain he tried to focus forward, only one seemed right. A barbed black rose, the symbol of one of the Tora. Why was it calling out to him? Roland wasn’t sure, his body now moving on its own in earnest towards the effigy. Numbly his hand forcefully took a stick of incense, thrusting it into the fire of the brazier before moving it to the black rose. Roland’s vision blurred, had his heart stopped? Was he breathing? He couldn’t tell. His last motion placing the incense into the pot before the rose, before he fell to the floor.

Thrown die:

97

 

The young healer known as Daren had been a quiet soul since the disappearance of his guild leader and a few of the people he had gotten to know over the course of playing this game. As of the current moment, many people had become distant from him due to his guild symbol, but to him, it had not matter; until lately. The prices of food and other necessities had been driven up by the NPCs whenever he was in the capital city. This was granted of course; you see his guild was not known for having the best policies around nor the friendliest faces. But, that was why Daren was in the guild; he had promised Merky that he would do his complete best in order to make sure their guild stayed alive and was well taken care of. So here he was in the capital; wandering the streets in daylight, getting the accusing glares and his path spat on. Sighing, Daren continued walking until a small human man had stepped in front of his path. This man was clothed in a brown cloak and was offering to help Daren by taking him to the Cathedral of Light. Nodding and thanking the man, Daren followed him willingly and without thinking this could be a trap.

For a few moments, Daren and the Cloaked Man had wandered the streets until they had come upon a beautiful and large cathedral. Bowing his head, the cloaked man then walked away. Thanking him, Daren had then taken a silent breath. This was the first time in years that he or any of his MMO characters had set foot inside of a church or sorts. Entering the building, Daren was taken aback by the sheer...size of it. Outside looked massive but the inside was...even bigger than he had ever imagined. In front of him were several pilgrims that were discussing a test of faith within the cathedral as well as the ones that had fallen from it. Walking past the group of pilgrims, Daren's eyes could scarcely believe what he was seeing, it was as if they had taken the King's College Church in Cambridge and brought it into the game. Looking at each panel, he could read the divinities name that it depicted. This was just too beautiful. Still stunned by the murals, Daren's mind was only brought out of its state by the talking of a few people in front of the murals.

The one that was speaking was an elderly man. Quietly, Daren had sat down on one of the cushions and listened in to this conversation. Eventually, many of the people around him had walked off toward the left side of the cathedral. It was here that he could see a line of people disappearing up a flight of steps. Slightly scratching right above his temple, Daren's eyes cautiously scanned the elderly man before finally, Daren stood up and stepped away from the cushion. Brushing the side of his pants and the newly equipped chest-plate, Daren lined up to eventually take this test of faith. He knew that the previous raid had gone against almost all of the gods wishes and perhaps had even sparked the hatred toward himself by the people. So, he sought retribution for this mistake. You see, he feared that if he did not ask for some sort of forgiveness that he would be doomed to repeat his mistakes. It was a lesson he had learned at a very young age.

Finally, it was his turn to take the test of faith. Walking up the slowly winding steps, Daren's heart began to lightly beat faster and faster; with each step came a certain amount of pressure that he had not felt, ever. Ahead of him, he noticed a few pilgrims pausing at each platform and offered a prayer to his or her goddess. Daren himself did not know what to do so the first thing he had done was offer a prayer to Synra; the goddess of death, loneliness, and necromancy. The next platform he offered a prayer to Elwora, then Ahra. Daren had not offered a prayer to Ansora due to the fear that he would conflict with his own heart. Eventually, he came to a platform that was around the middle section of the way up. This platform he slowly knelt down and offered a prayer to Iedi and Tyl. He sought their forgiveness and their guidance; he asked how he could be forgiven and if not that they would show him a way to at least apologies to the people of Falderen.

After spending a long time praying to these two higher beings, Daren continued his test of faith. Eventually, he saw the second to last platform, where he saw no pilgrims praying nor had the railings been touched before. Daren assumed that this platform was reserved for the pilgrims of Ys; the alfather. Bowing his head in a respectful way, Daren continued his trek up the stairs. Finally, after having spent hours praying to the Elysid, Daren had arrived at the last platform, in front of him was a small table adorned with the Symbols of the Divine. Taking a single step toward this table, his eyes began to glaze over and then he saw nothing. Quietly he prayed to each god and goddess for their permission to come forward and offer his thanks to them. Eventually, his eyesight had come back and he now stood before the table. At each symbol, there were incense sticks ready to be burnt and offered. Taking the one in front of Ys' symbol, Daren lit it first before lighting the rest of the sticks.

Bowing his head, and having already attempted to open this chest, he found that he could not so, in respect he simply began the journey back down and out of the cathedral.

Thrown die:

47

 

Introspection within a person's own heart was troubling endeavor, one which few dared to challenge. Ignorance, as some would label the matter. Typical as it were, the immense Felis having seen an abusive amount of tropes used in gaming back in the day, a church proved to be the correct place to settle down. At least until he could collect his thoughts. By now the stares he got from the surrounding denizens of the world were resisted by his calm stride. He could place them to the side, out of sight, and out of mind. Alonso was no religious man, but he still held a bit of respect for the quiet solitude of a holy ground.

Various people spoke of the pilgrimage to the Cathedral Light housing icons of the Elysid and Tora pantheon. All twelve of them. Odd considering four of those, according to lore, are considering malevolent, he thought. The man knew he could never rid some form of malicious or vile intent. In a sense, even traitors had some form of compassion and guilt. Of all people Alonso and quite a few others knew the rush of turning on Falderen. He could be forgiven, just as the woman who gave the man a family may have done so long after her passing.

How long was the Felis out for? Wandering around should not have taken him to a place that lacked people of various backgrounds and intentions. In front of the man stood a younger monk, but this young fellow seemed to lack the immaturity of someone else sharing a similar age. Silence, Alonso's natural and off putting demeanor, gesturing to the Felis to join the monk in a worship sessions of sorts. The man's jaw lowered to speak, but doing so would have been rude. His head gave a snail's pace nod instead. A simple task of doing nothing more than walking forward to kneel in front of the fetish.

Yet, this holy symbol bellowed forth a vision which began to abuse the muscled player's senses. It was a mild sensation at best, but disturbing as he noticed recollections of some events. Family. Most of it that. No, they were back home, outside of this game dealing with their own lives. Alonso shook his head, a quick gasp as widened eyes scoured the room. The young monk gave a mere smile, holding up eight fingers, then lowering one before giving a nod. One of the boy's hands motioned towards the ever ascending places of worship.

Each one was worse than the last. Alonso could fight, but justice proved to fail him in his youth. Perhaps that may have been reason for his self perceived lack of effort during the siege. He had rushed in there with a belligerent sense of law rather than taking into consideration all that rest before him. Solitude was the correct path. No, that was not it, he raised a loving family over the years. But he failed them, most of all her. The Felis's massive hand engulfed his face, the guilt pressuring and stabbing every part of his venerable being. She had died because he could not bring himself to reveal the truth.

Alonso was a pathetic liar.

But then, he persisted in life for a reason. He still had people he could trust, and he somehow managed to not drown himself in booze despite his own revelation about preferences. At the end of the road he faced twelve symbols, each displaying different figures of he twelve gods. Right, he was in the cathedral still. Long, heavy breaths heaved his mighty chest up and down, the Felis easing himself back into reality. Alonso still wanted people in his life. Every time he called in to give his children any concerns, they told him they were fine, and there was at least one person out there who could bring a sense of true purpose back into his own life.

"I see, and I remember. You go through the same thing," the man said, wandering over to pick up an incense stick, lighting it up within the brazier. Someone here, as lore told him, went through mental pains over her duties and experiences. Someone he could relate to. Alonso wandered over to Idna, lighting the incense before the statuette. However, one more still remained. This one had another to guide her through the darkest of days. Another trip went towards the brazier, lighting up an incense and giving it to Iedi's, "And I believe you are the person who helps her, and stays there for the other. I'm... familiar, with wanting such a person who can help me."

Thrown die:

59

 

Last day for entries!

 

In the waking world, Sabine was not a woman of the cloth, she offered prayers to nothing, and she believed only in the strength of her body and the judgment of nature. It was a harsh thing to love and worship, if you could call it such a thing, but she loved it all the same. There was an unending steadiness to a cliff face, even when it shed stones like a snake did skin. There was a blissful second wind when a breeze wove by and brought a moment's respite. There was the the unparalleled glory of making it to the top, of reaching the trailhead a week after first heading down it, of standing where the earth met the sky and a sea of clouds and liquid golden light stretched out forever. Her god was somewhere in the between that, some living and breathing and growing thing that pulsed in the veins of all creatures of the world.

Gwyn saw it no different, couldn't with how grounded her player was in herself. They were a mirror image of one another and so when they closed their eyes and sought a higher power? It was always the stern face of the mountainside or the mysterious veil of the treeline that loomed in the black behind their eyelids. This gilden and golden cathedral was beautiful, but it felt an awful lot like a lie. She didn't care for the pompous air that lingered outside. She was pleasantly surprised when she entered. A few other players had come and gone and she had watched them all nervously, unsure as to how exactly they could so earnestly reach out to gods in a game. Perhaps it was apart of the characters they played, perhaps they were religious out of it and were projecting, perhaps they were lying to themselves or to the NPCs. She wasn't sure if that was lying to the priests of the place or the AIs that were the gods... if they existed. A small shiver crawled up her back. It didn't hurt to assume they were real in the confines of the game. They could use all the help they could get. She could use all the help she could get.

The ranger certainly didn't intend to try this odd path of theirs, but the kind eyes of one of the priestesses landed on her. She spoke of the gods and the building as if they were one. Her eyes had teared up as she spoke of the power and the love she felt from the gods and for them. Gwyn didn't have the heart to turn down her challenge. Well, challenge was incorrect. But it helped to consider it one.

She was shooed upwards, the spiraling staircase looking more like the dangerous spine of a dragon than a way to the heavens. She enjoyed a climb, not a leisurely walk, and while Sabine has trespassed more times than she could begin to count... Gwyn felt like she was trespassing on the property of not one god, but apparently twelve of them. How incredibly, painfully awkward. They had warned her of the trials, but the first time she stopped to follow and mirror the motions of the pilgrims, her vision darkened. A figure sat across from her, despondent and hollow-eyed. Soft skin, silken clothes, manicured nails, and long ears. She was as beautiful as she was dead in all but body. With the pounding of blood in her ears suddenly roaring into focus, she snapped out of it, blinking wildly to chase the phantom from her vision. The hunter has a sinking feeling she understood what the trial was. It certainly wasn't a weak ass version of hiking up some lofty stairs.

However, Gwyn ap Herne did not back down from a challenge she hadn't attempted in the first place and she wouldn't be stopped. No, she rose to follow a few pilgrims to the next. Her vision became blurred, spots of light bleeding the colors of the world around her until they spiraled from their lines. There was a sense of joy, of camaraderie, and thrill. Figures blurred by, the gleam of toys or accessories or weapons at their formless hands as they charged after some distant goal. In the next things grew dark, a thing rising and rising and rising. A baleful eye, a hundred eyes, a trillion teeth- she couldn't tell. It hissed and screeched an unnatural noise like glass or crystal raked across metal. It descended upon her and she didn't flinch, let it pour over her and down her front and back. It pooled around her feet and when her vision focused she was still staring up. The vision was gone, but her neck ached from however long it had held her attention above and there was an unsettling feeling that it still loomed above her like a guillotine. She had not been the hunter, she had been the prey.

One had her flying. Standing on a sun beneath her like a dias, a ring of peaks rising like a crown around her, and a red carpet's worth of trees colored like fall. The others blurred together, only the vision of a woman cradling a limp child in her arms and the feeling of being paralyzed stayed with her. The whiplash between the visions was worse than unending malevolent ones. The kinder ones gentled her like a startled horse, only to throw her to the wolves once more. As she finally found her way to the end of the path, she could see the shapes of the altars above.

Thrown die:

56

Though close, there was still one to go. As she took her moment at it, only one other pilgrim present this far along, she froze. Entirely, completely, from nail down to bone and organ. When Gwyn fought to move, she couldn't. Her eyes flicked about warily, looking for whatever held her back, but nothing had changed. It felt like a hand held her still as stone, fingers pressed into her skin and pinning her muscles in warning. There was a precipice she couldn't see and the feeling of wind tickling her skin. Falling. The anticipation of pain. Nothing. No pain, no pleasure, no wind, no blood, no nothing at all. She was entirely paralyzed and from the void of feeling came something awful. A single point of pain tore through the joint of her hip in an all too familiar place. She didn't stay to try carrying on the trial. Sabine tore herself from Gwyn and logged off. She'd come back later, but it wouldn't be to here.

 

Locking for review.

 

A blinding flash of light radiates from the altar as a wave of magic washes over @The Admiral . Given a moment or two, vision returns to the your eyes, making it painfully clear that you've been returned back to the base of the stairwell...

Though having failed, a quiet feeling of warmth envelops you. You have not paid obeisance to the power that presides over this cathedral... but know you are still loved by her nonetheless.