005

--TheirWorld--

In Miala De Ri, the Cathedral of the Lady dominated the cityscape. While not the most impressive of it’s kind she’d ever seen, Guin could have spent hours admiring the structure’s rich simplicity. Dark, marbled stone gleamed in the dim light of the cloudy day, covered in thick swaths of creeping vines with bright green leaves and small red flowers. Double doors set within a three tiered archivolt was carved with a floral pattern. It framed an incracate tympanum containing the stature of The Lady. Her gracefully carved form sat among a garden of real and sculpted flora, holding a single, painted flower of red in her hand. Wings outstretched toward the city, her eyes were focused upon all those who would cross the threshold of her holy doman.

Two clerics dressed in white robes stood at either side of the entry. Their heads were down, hidden underneath hoods lined with green and red embroidery that matched their post. They kept so still, that Guin doubted they were people at all— but people they were. Silent. Each holding a single red flower in the palms of their open hands; the only evidence of life were the moving of their mouths in silent prayer, invisible from afar.

Under the gaze of The Lady on high, Guin looked up at the statue over the door. Constructed of a lighter stone than that of the building, she stood out. Time and exposure to the elements had cause some erosion, and allowed moss to fill in cracks and gaps, covering her with a velvety cloak of green. The expression on the carved woman’s face reminded her of the Mona Lisa back on Earth. What secrets lay behind that smile? It was warm, yet distant; as were her eyes.

Something warm and wet fell upon Guin’s cheek, but she did not move to brush it off. Rather, her eyes went wide as she saw the statue of the woman who resembled an angel seem to come alive in a flash of light. Though subtle, it’s expression changed. Her smile turned down ever so slightly, and her eyes narrowed, as if grimacing from pain as a single tear stained streak tracing to her chin. From her wings, red feathers fell, spiraling like flower petals, falling ever so slowly down to the world below…

Red feathers? Blinking, Guin wiped the wet off her cheek and looked around and thunder rolled in the distance. Rain began speckle the roads with a dark, polka dot pattern. The scent of the storm was carried in on a heavy, humid breeze, scattering petals from the red flowers of the cathedral into chaos. The statue was a statue again, pale marble covered in a bit of moss; the only red, the flower in it’s hand, her expression peaceful.

It was then her body reminded her to breathe, and it was then she shook her head. With deep, staggering breaths, she rubbed the gooseflesh off her arms, calling herself back to her senses.

Chuckling at her own reaction to the storm, she marveled at game’s change in weather pattern. She held her hand out, and let the warm droplets run over skin.

It had been a long time since she had felt the rain. So long since she had heard the sound of thunder. Closing her eyes and leaning against the cathedral’s doorframe, she listened to the pitter-patter as the clouds opened to a downpour. An involuntary smile stretched across her face as she listened to the players and townsfolk laugh as they ran for cover. Thunder rolled in the distance.

Thick scents of earth incense wafted through the open doors, beckoning her inside where it was warm and dry. Tearing herself away from her peace, she looked within. She still had work to do.

The narthex was lit with a half dozen large candelabras of twisted iron and a pair intricate stained glass windows. Fire light flickered against the glass, bringing the images of angels and dragons and all manner of creatures to life. For a brief moment, Guin wondered about the stories contained in those panels of glass, but remembered she had other things to focus on.

The narthex opened to a nave, which, save for the great, vaulted ceiling, was otherwise modest in both construction and decoration. There were no carvings or evidence of wealth, which made what it did have all the more impressive. Red and white tapestries hung from the inner railings of narrow aisles that ran along the second floor. Monks and nuns diligently prayed in individual, boxed pews, while a choir at the front sang soft hymns. A great organ of mahogany and gold cause the air within the building to reverberate with a hallowed air with every note.

There were others there, as well; NPCs of various status, and player characters speaking to priests and priestesses off to the side. Some players were looking for groups there, while some groups were looking for players; but they all were seeking to explore or finish specific quests and dungeons in the extensive labyrinth that was the Catacombs.

Checking her quests, she listened to players ranging from levels 10 to 25 advertising for parties. Only being level 8 was sure to be a problem. Her quests may have a difficulty level of ‘C’ for her current level, but that wouldn’t take the dungeons aspects of the zone into consideration. Without a group, there was a very high chance that those elements could easily overwhelm her

Don’t get distracted, Guin! She scolded herself, wiggling her nose. What she needed to do, was to focus on finding the High Priest before anything else. She scanned the room, seeking the most likely candidate.

Over by the choir, a large, rotund man stood tall. Dressed in red and gold silks, he stood out against the sea of white robes that were shuffling around. His hand rested on a scepter with a blue orb encased in a moulded gold setting; one of the few things in this room that hinted at any sort of prosperity. When Guin approached, he looked at her with small, beady little blue eyes that she decided she didn’t like.

“Excuse me,” Guin said. “Would you be the High Priest?”

“I am,” he confirmed, his voice deep and bellowing. “And who might you be?”

Bowing curtly, she said, “My name is Guin Grey, and I have come on behalf of the Head Scribe. She has sent me with the intention of entering the Catacombs to inspect a certain glowing inscription— “

“What nonsense is this!” he huffed, slamming his scepter on the floor, sending out a loud crack! that made whole room look up in shock. His face turned red as he looked her over. After waiting for the room to lose interest in them, he muttered through his teeth: “I asked that wretched woman to come to me herself! Who is she to deny me and sent his… you — girl! — instead! Just how many of her insults should I withstand before — before — !”

“Please, mi’lord, contain yourself,”” Guin told him flatly, unimpressed by his manner. “Allow me to offer my apologies for not being clear. I have merely been sent ahead of her to record and report that the head scribe may research the matter before surveying it herself. I am sure no insult was intended.” Not that she would have been surprised if that’s exactly what the Head Scribe had intended after seeing this man’s behaviour.

The High Priest licked his lips and smacked them together as he shoved his hands behind his back and stood ever taller to look down upon her. “What rubbish,” he spat. “It’s preposterous! I know exactly what kind of woman the Head scribe is — and you would to well to recognize it before she tempts you into a sin that you cannot recover from. May the Lady protect and guide you from folly! The woman is a devil, making demons of unwitting youth!”

“Be that as it may…” she started, not wanting to indulge in his pointless tangent.

“The Catacombs are a sacred place, filled with history and holiness!” he explained, his tone making his annoyance clear. “Those inscriptions are a history, a mythology! A story left behind by those long passed to remind us of our roots! It takes years of study to even begin to comprehend the markings — you cannot even imagine — the depths of knowledge, the art, the master! — and the Head Scribe sends me… you.”

Patience waning, guin told him, “The Head Scribe sent me because I was the best qualified at hand to understand the inscriptions and treat them with such dignity as they deserve. Aside from the fact that I am able to see that which others cannot, I am no novice to the studies of iconography. Rest assured that I will do no harm to such prized historical artifacts.”

Though he eyed her unhappily, he said, “If any harm should come to those was, know that you shall pay a heavy prince indeed.”

May your punishment be fair and just, my lord,” guin curtseyed, half tempted to scratch them a little just to piss him off. Not that she would; the value of the art weighed far more heavily on her mind than the value of his insult, but he thought of his angry face pleased her.

“Fine,” he surrendered, pulling out a key from the sleeve of his robe and holding it in the air. “This key shall allow you to enter the Catacombs. I give you fair warning, however, there is more than just dust and bones running underneath the city. Miala De Ri is the City of the Dead; a name not given lightly. Passed those might gates that hold the darkness at bay is a place of ancient magic, from which the Lady protects us with her Light; a blessing that will not follow you into the depths. The curse runs deep in the bones of Uldarin, as it has in all the memory of time.” He held the key out to her.

“Thank you,” she said.

But as she went to take it, he held it firmly, leaning over and meeting her eyes with crazed ones, speaking to her in a desperate whisper: “I know who you are, Candidate! And if I know, they shall know! Take heed! Stay no longer than you must; trust no more than you dare. The Tenmath are on the move; they seek the Heart, but you must remain hidden from them! Follow the path set before you, and gather the willing to your side! Heal the corruption of this land, and seek the crown of Heart! You, and you alone, can free us, Candidate!”

Guin fell back a few steps as he let go, clutching the key to her quickly beating heart as the High Priest stood back in his noble stature. Shivers running down her spine, she stared at him. Though it had only been a few days since she had left the tutorial, she felt it had been ages since someone had called her ‘Candidate’.

Clearing his throat, the High Priest said, “While you are down there, you should take the opportunity to clear out some of the pests. One of them ran off with a very important key of mine; Find it before you return, would you? You’ll know it when you see it. It’s a job you are much more… Suited to, I am sure.”

[The Rodents Below]

[Mice Slain] - 0 of 100

[Rats Slain] - 0 of 100

[Gremlins Slain] - 0 of 10

[Lost Key] - 0 of 1

This quest is optional. It can be skipped. (Difficulty: C)>>

“Y-Yes, of course,” she nodded meekly.

“By the way, before I forget,” he went on with a wave of his hand. “To find the inscriptions, you must follow the bones. Always follow the bones. The more bones, the better. Do try not to fall prey to the dead, lest you become one of them yourself.”

Though his face was firmly set into a disapproving frown, he seemed sincere enough that she allowed herself to dislike him a little less. Bat as she walked away, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of mess she had gotten herself into.