Post by Andy D on Jun 16, 2023 11:34:15 GMT
A Temple in the Dwarven Quarter…
After the Kul’Goran incident, Rykan had been left a little shaken, but who wouldn’t have been after nearly being crushed and lost in the depths of a labyrinth? Having made his way back to Daring Heights, tired and worn down: he got to his bed and fell asleep.
He woke in the morn to find himself completely drenched. There had been something gnawing at him after the battle, and an emptiness in his chest. He decided he needed answers: with haste. Knowing there was a Dwarven section of the city, which in his prior hurriedness (and partial shame), he hadn’t really set foot in. Mustering some courage, and in search of answers, he found the directions to a temple in the small dwarven area. Stepping in somewhat sheepishly, Rykan looked around for anyone vaguely of religious importance or authority.
At the front of the temple, followers of the dwarven pantheon gathered with the variety of priests that had convened that day. There had been a pantheon-wide service. Most people had left, but some wished to talk about spiritual matters with the priests and clerics. That very day was a rare treat for the worshippers of Moradin, for Mendal Vultan, Cleric of the Forge had joined in with the service, and was speaking with the people and listening to their concerns.
After several conversations, Mendal announced his goodbyes to the other pantheon priests and clerics, and began walking down the aisle and out of the temple.
'Right! That's another month sorted,' Mendal thought to himself. 'I've shown my face, should tide me over for another month without the religious leaders getting on my back' - "Mendal we don't see you enough. Surely Moradin requires a greater presence in the temple of his divinely blessed cleric?" - No he fucking doesn't! He's the god of the forge, therefore his clerics should be in the fucking forge!'
Rykan had tempered his hopes. He doubted he’d find anyone aligned to Clangeddin Silverbeard: likely for the best in a multi-nominal city, other groups wouldn’t likely be too fond of finding an enclave of worshippers to a God of War…
In spite of his tempered expectations, Rykan was still hopeful to find someone. It had been long, very long since he had spoken to other dwarves. Trying to muster up the courage to enter into the mishmash of clerics and priests, he remained near the entrance simply looking a bit lost. But the sight of a cleric making his leave through the aisle seemed a bit more…appealing to Rykan. Lowering his hood (though keeping his face guard on: him being beardless might have attracted some unwanted attention), he approached the Cleric.
“Ah, erm, excuse me, Priest.” His accent was particularly thick for a Mountain Dwarf, and it wasn’t uncommon for linguistic difficulties to arise. Rykan wasn’t wearing any discerning signs of faith upon him, save for the very big axe on his back, which although covered with a leather cover, was still clearly in the shape of a greataxe.
'Bollocks!' I was almost out the door!' Mendal thought, looking at the figure that called to him. The man with a face-covering concealing his features, was unmistakably a dwarf, and one with a good build that paired well with the greataxe on his back. "Yes," Mendal said to the warrior, and with extreme reluctance asked, "can I help you?"
“I was, ah, wondering if I could have a word. I have questions of faith which I hoped you might answer- or at very least, give clarity to.” Rykan recognised that while this cleric probably couldn’t advise him exactly on how to further himself with Silverbeard, he could probably give him some insight he needed towards finding how he could at least…find that faith in the first place. He knew he had a calling, he just didn’t know how exactly to take that first step.
'Bugger!' Mendal turned around to look back at the other priests and clerics. They were all busy, and all had several other followers waiting to speak to them. Some of the followers were looking at Mendal too. He knew what they were likely thinking - “Cleric Mendal is still in the temple, still on the clock perhaps?” ‘Bugger that! Bugger this!’ Mendal thought towards his little insight of the worshippers looking his way. But; he had a plan of escape! One sacrifice to prevent a greater pain though.
"Sure... I mean of course!” Mendal replied to the man in the mask. “But, let's go elsewhere though. No need to be in the stuffy temple.” And with a surprising bluntness he added, “and besides, if I stay here any longer I'll have another line of followers up my arse, wishing to talk to me! Let's head to a tavern, and you know what; you can show me that axe."
"Oh!" The demeanour of this Cleric surprised Rykan. He'd met Paladins easygoing, but he'd had this idea in his mind of uppity and disciplined Clergymen who were considered Clerics. The more you meet...
But the suggestion to go to a Tavern was well received. Rykan smiled beneath the faceguard, and nodded, his voice conveying his openness to the suggestion: "That's a dam-- a very good idea, priest."
A Tavern in the Dwarven Quarter…
As the two made their way out, Rykan began to apologise about bothering him, especially after Mendal had mentioned other followers. ‘Guess not all Clerics were thrilled to deal with people asking for questions, haha….’
Mendal was guiding them to a Dwarven tavern: Rykan was completely alien to the Dwarven Quarter, he'd spent his time in the more multi-populated areas. The request to see the axe was...peculiar to the face covered dwarf. Rykan considered that axe to be a gift- not that he knew who from (though he had his suspicions), ideally for Rykan, he thought, ‘maybe Mendal might be able to shed some light on it?’
…
Mendal brought back two pints of ales to the outside table where Rykan was sitting.
“Right pal. Nothing a pint and a chat can’t fix, spiritual matter or otherwise. But first, indulge a cleric of the Forge, let's have a look at that greataxe of yours?”
Rykan took one of the two ales and set it next to him, “Ah, of course. Funny story about this.”
Taking the Greataxe from his back, he removed the leather cap from the weapon, and offered the weapon to Mendal. Visually…it seemed to have gone through the wars. Although clearly Rykan had been taking care of the weapon, the age of it was nonetheless apparent. And yet inspired by its aged visage, its edge remained as sharp as a newly forged blade.
“Not bad,” Mendal said, inspecting the greataxe. I would have made the beard a bit more elongated, but I’m pleased to see the axe is fitted to the shaft well. I’ve seen some shoddy fittings before. Not getting the sense that your axe is magical, so I won’t make you sit here in silence while I cast Identify.”
Handing back the greataxe, Mendal asked, “so. God stuff hey? People do get into a pickle about their faith. How can I help you?”
Taking back the axe, and replacing its cap, Rykan flicked his faceguard open, and drank some ale. Rykan wiped some spilled Ale (trouble with the damn guard was that it got in the way of the mug), and spoke.
“If I might ask, how did you know it was for you?” Rykan ran his thumb in a circle on the side of his index finger as he spoke. “Serving a deity I mean.”
Mendal adjusted himself in his chair and sat up straight to better speak. “Well. Not gonna lie. For me it was easy. I’ve always been bloody amazing with my hands; masonry, smithing - probably anything really. Oh and now I’ve given jewellery-making a go. So, now I’m obviously amazing at that too. But, tinkering is where I’d say I’m most gifted. Now this caught Moradin’s eye! At least it must have done, otherwise why else would he bless me with his divine power? And what did this divine blessing mean for me?” Mendal punctuated the end of his sentence for dramatic effect. “More of the same really! Which was great - I like the forge and I like crafting. So how bloody brilliant is it that the god of the forge and crafting said; ‘carry on pal!’”
Mendal clapped his hands together and smiled wide, saying the last line of his tale a little louder and in the voice that maybe a god would have. Mendal had told this story many times and was well practised.
“Now!” Mendal said, retaking the role of orator, “Of course, I have to do some priestly churn work from time to time. But mainly, I serve Moradin in the forge, because a forge cleric forges!”
Mendal pointed back at the temple, “a lot of them in there can’t get their heads round that.”
Mendal chugged back some of his ale, as he came to the end of his sentence. Looking back at Rydan to assess if he’d made any sense to the masked man, he asked, “simple right? You’re finding it challenging yourself though, is that it?
Rykan listened closely to Mendal’s words, the enthusiasm of the dwarf brought a smile to Rykan. ‘So they weren’t all stuck up and pious to the nth degree’, he mused.
Hearing about Mendal drawing the attention of Moradin through his tinkering interested Rykan. He’d always had his suspicions of the axe, but even though he couldn’t confirm it, he started to get an idea about it.
“Aye. It is nice to find that…faith is not as, shall I say, demanding. In theological practice, I mean? You serve Moradin as a smith first but also as a priest.”
Rykan took a drink of the Ale before continuing.
“But yes. I am having trouble solidifying my faith. Like Moradin went to you...”
Rykan rubbed his thumb on the handle of the Ale tankard.
“I think Silverbeard came to me. I was drunk, but remembered feeling strangely light headed, but I felt sober. And then in a second, I was bombarded by light. Then, someone talked to, or well, chided me over mistakes of the past, before telling me to rise. After that, I woke up to find myself in a forest, and I found this.” Gesturing to the axe. “I suppose I want to know how to truly…find my faith in him. It is one thing to be a dwarf with an axe, but how can I truly show to him AND myself that I am more than just that, that I am willing to go to him?”
"Right well. Hold that thought Rydan.” Mendal brought his left index finger up, and then pointed to Rydan’s back. “First thing first. And be honest. What I want to know is… did you steal that axe?“
"No." Rykan shook his head. "I never remembered seeing that axe before, when I woke up - it was there. I took it yes, because I felt I had to. Call me a drunk or a fool, but I felt I had to. It called to me."
Divine Acts and Marks in the Dwarven Quarter…
Rykan took out the axe from his back, lying it on the table, and looking at Mendal.
Mendal glanced between the axe and Rykan’s face. Most liars in Mendal’s experience have been more defensive when outright accused. Mendal decided to give Rykan the benefit of the doubt. “Alright fine. I believe you had never seen that axe before. You have to appreciate though; I’ve heard it all. I’ve heard such gems as; ‘I don’t know how my neighbour’s money found its way into my pocket?’ Or; ‘god came to me in a vision and told me I should cheat on my wife.’ And then your one; ‘I had a few drinks, and before you know it; insert nonsense person knows nothing about’. All classics!”
Mendal picked up his pint and motioned to Rydan to do the same, and he did whilst enjoying a few sips. “Now, a nice easy test that can diagnose your experience as 100% divine, is if you’ve been blessed with anything out of the ordinary. For example…” As Mendal came to the end of his sentence, the colour of his eyes changed from brown to silver and then a fiery red. At the same time, the ground below the table shook. “Thaumaturgy - god stuff!” Mendal explained.
The ground stopped shaking. Mendal put his pint back on the table. “I didn’t learn that in the forge - Moradin just thought I should have it! So, Silverbeard give you anything?”
Rykan was smiling a little as he listened to Mendal summarise the lies he’s heard. The stories people will tell to save their skin, haha. No, Rykan had vowed long ago to himself that he was going to be honest to himself. Even if it was painful.
But, as Rykan picked his pint up, drank, listened, and enjoyed what he heard. When Mendal began his divine performance, it took him by surprise. ‘By a lizardfolk’s frills!’ Rykan’s eyes widened as the ground shook and Mendal’s eyes glowed like the fires of a forge. Rykan was glad Mendal had gestured for him to pick up his pint - waste of a good drink otherwise. Gently setting the pint back on the table after the shaking finished, Rykan put a hand on top of the rim, and held it there for a moment, incase of any aftershocks.
‘So, Silverbeard give you anything?’ Mendal had asked. Rykan looked at his arm. Unfastening the straps of his leather gauntlet upon his right hand, the Dwarf took the arm protection off and opened his palm to Mendal. Embedded into his skin like a tattoo, and the colour of the finest metal, was the sigil of Silverbeard: crossed axes.
“Asides from the axe, this is it.”
Something about the marking caught Mendal’s eye. “Hold on…”
Mendal rummaged around his kit to find something. Mendal was wearing his adventuring gear - full armour, weapons and pack. He had deliberately chosen to dress this way even though he was only going to the temple, because he thought it might provide him with an excuse to leave, if he found too many worshippers’ religious matters too tedious. He had not used the excuse that day, ‘I must leave. I have adventure business to get to,’ he managed to leave early without anything holding him up - almost anything. But, now, looking at the mark on Rykan’s hand, Mendal’s attention had been fully captured. Mendal retrieved his magnifying glass, and measuring device from his tinkering kit.
“Keep your hand still my lad. Let me get a good look at that mark.”
Rykan rested his arm on the top of the ale tankard, keeping his palm outstretched for Mendal's viewing pleasure...or whatever he was doing. The tinkering kit was quite peculiar for the kit of a holy man (Though Mendal did believe in worship through acts, not simple prayer, so it checked out).
Mendal examined the mark under the lens and measured the dimensions. He was impressed. “Remarkable! If it’s ink - doesn’t bloody look like it. and even if it was, it's remarkably symmetrical! Bloody hell! I think there might be something of the divine about you. Although, I’m still not entirely convinced someone didn’t boink you over the head while you weren’t looking. But now, your story does seem to have something of the divine to it.”
As Mendal verbalised his surprise, Rykan couldn't help but feel a strange bit of pride.
"Trust me, my days of being knocked unconscious I plan to put well behind me - I have been banned from many taverns in the past."
Mendal put his gear away, sat back upright in his chair and took another swig of his pint. Looking at Rykan, he shared a thought. “You know, it’s a nick mark.. But, I’m glad Moradin didn’t feel the need to brand me.”
Rykan chuckled a little, and as Mendal spoke his own thoughts, Rykan nodded. "I can understand. The choice, I suppose. Not that I'm against this. I think if Clangeddin chose me..."
Rykan stared at his open palm, chuckling again, "I should at least return the favour, somehow. Peculiar topic, how do you stand on facial hair?"
“... it requires maintenance, but that’s the cost you pay if you want a beard. Why do you ask?” Mendal looked at the chin area of Rykan’s mask as he answered.
Rykan flipped a catch on his face guard, and removed it, revealing his face, burn scars papered across his jaw and lower half of his face. Gently setting the face guard aside, he immediately picked up the ale and began to take a long drink. Finishing the pint, he set the tankard down, wiping his mouth and smiling.
“It has a tendency to get in the way.”
Mendal glanced at the scars. “That looks nasty. Not sure I could do anything for it now, but I could have a go at healing the scar tissue if you like?”
Rykan smiled at the offer, but shook his head. “No. But you are the first person I have met who has offered to do so, so thank you. When I was younger, I made a foolish mistake, and in doing so I gained this scar. So I keep it as a reminder to never stray down that path again.”
Rykan looked at the tankard, gently tapping it. “Also it gives me a reason to wear the face guard, which aside from getting in the way of my drinks and food, is quite handy when it comes to not getting hit. Sometimes.”
“You can come to me about that too, if you like. If the face guard does get banged up, I could repair it, or make a new one? I’d give you a decent price! Obviously worshippers of Moradin get a bigger discount though, hahaha!” Mendal chuckled at his own joke.
Rykan laughed as well. “It’s served me well, but I suppose one day it’ll break. Probably either from something mundane or at a really bad time. Offering discounts is one way to convert people though, haha!”
“Bit shady; yes. But you have to get them somehow!” With a little pause for his last little joke to have its effect, Mendal asked sincerely, “now - have I answered your questions?” As Mendal posed his question, he wasn’t honestly certain he had answered Rykan’s questions. But, he had at least bought him a pint, and you don’t get that in a temple.
Rykan was strapping his gauntlet back onto his arm, and nodded as the cleric spoke.
“Aye. You have. It’s like you said, you caught Moradin’s eye. He didn’t come to you for some amusement, he saw something in you.”
Though he had strapped up his gauntlet, he tapped to his palm, where the silver axes were tattooed. “I doubt Clangeddin would have done that for kicks.”
“Well I wouldn’t put it past some of them; real attention seekers. Merchants of charm more so than peddlers of faith… wait. Am I referring to the gods or the obsessively devout? Either way.”
Mendal finished his pint and lightly slammed the empty vessel down on the table, and stood up to signal his leave. “I’m done then! Nice meeting you. Have a lovely day, and DON’T go telling people that Mendal Vultan does an out of temple religious service! I’ll get no end of requests!”
Rykan clipped his faceguard back on, then began to rummage for some copper to repay Mendal. He chuckled at Mendal's words: "Fear not, your secret's safe with me. Thank you... Mendal."
Rykan took a moment to try and figure out how to pronounce Mendal's name, before saying so. In that time, he also offered Mendal his hand as a parting shake. The barbarian really felt like he'd learned something, and was quite grateful to the cleric. Plus, he hadn't spoken to other dwarves for quite a while... and it was quite nice.
End