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Snippet #2677296

located in The Dying Land, a part of The Lost Lands, one of the many universes on RPG.

The Dying Land

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sairen Varimor Character Portrait: Ren of Yulia Character Portrait: Adella of Yulia
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Secrecy wasn’t his preferred method of doing anything. He recognized Athira’s power and importance in the pantheon, but she wasn’t his official patron. He did find peace in her time of power though and she had protected him and other refugees of the Great Church, for none of the Witches of Yulia had sought them after the Pillaging. Perhaps they assumed everyone died, which suited the young cleric well. It gave him the chance to protect all the poor orphans, most victims of the Old War, until they were grown. Entering towns for supplies were tricky, but Sairen never feared. He trusted his life completely at the hands of Tinon.

On such a supply run, he paused before the ruins of the Great Church and straightened his back. Nothing had grown on the site in the last eight years, which to him proved the blight that these Witches and Deceivers were to this land. He snarled under his breath and then immediately, closed his eyes and silenced, pushed back the fierce anger that had become his constant companion. He was not of those chosen to fight the battles of vengeance. That task fell to the warriors of Ahl and Oros. But where are they? The thought came unbidden.

Ignoring the possible consequences, he knelt down at the site to pray, pray for all the gods’ protection for his charges, and pray for guidance on what he should do now. Since it’s been eight years, more than half of those orphans left at the time of the Pillaging would be coming to age soon and it would be time for them to choose their own paths. Again anger burned in his breast. The Deceivers had taken away several of those options. No. We can rebuild. As long as there are willing hands and hearts. A peaceful smile split the thin cleric’s face and he had his answer. He stood again and looked toward Aressa and beyond that the supposedly cursed Elidia. There… There is where he must go.

That supply run was several weeks ago now. The next supply run he took for himself. The eldest three of his charges have taken up the mantle he bore for the last eight years. They would take care of their younger kin and gather supplies when necessary. The Deceivers have taken away several trade options for the youth of Miriand, but he realized that it also opened up other opportunities. Still it wasn’t enough to change his opinion of them.

Now he entered one of their strongholds in secret and pouring rain. He had to contain his rage again at the sight of at least two Yulian Witches and a criminal Inquisitor. He bit his pale lower lip and tightened his grip on the ash staff he bore. To avoid unnecessary trouble on the way, he wore a medic's coat over his normal cleric robes, because clerics were not welcome under the Deceivers’ rule.

Since he came as a medic, he would be just as responsible for the health of Witches and Deceivers as those from the other enslaved kingdoms. Witches had notorious ill health, because they tried to claim power that did not rightfully belong to them. His task seemed so much simpler when he knelt at the site of the Great Church.

Tinon and Athira. Day and Night. Sairen needed the strength of both.