Althena walked from the main chapel into the courtyard to stand before the shining white shrine she had built for Avaren almost a mestrun ago. Bowing her head slightly, she raised a hand, passing it over the shining stone, pausing brieflly over its surface as she spoke the prayer. "The Fire of Life cleanses all sickness and corruption." [burst imbue fire]. She smiles as the carved surface bursts into a white flame and bows her head in silent prayer. After a moment, she glances back toward the interior of the Warren, hopeful that the youth she had sent was able to find the Angori Claviger. With a nod, she knelt down before the shrine to meditate and offer prayer as she waited.
The sounds of Volrog's enthusiastic entrance into the courtyard could not be missed, no matter how deeply in mediation Althena may have been. She smiled softly to herself as she listened to the boistrous Angori regale the child with his tales. Rising, she brushed down her skirts before turning, walking over to the pair.
"Thank you, Oren," she said, extending a silver piece to the youth. "Run home now, and tell your parents I will be visiting soon." Smiling broadly, the youth sprinted off.
Taking a deep breath, Althena focused her attention upon the Claviger. "Volrog," she begins, deciding to simply get the task over with and set the Angori on his path. She tilts her head slightly to look up into Volrog's face. "I have had a need to speak with you regarding your...rather unique interpretation of Avaren's 'mercy'." She shakes her head. "But first, I need to speak with you about the rather disturbing accounts I have heard of events from these past few days."
Volrog cast a glare after the child for a split-second, determining the little one must have been too loud and woken Althena from her reverie. Shaking his head then taking on as stoic of a face as he can, he started,
"T'waz a gloriush battle! At first, da paladins dat look like ush were unda siege. We wents ta help, but dat heart got 'way from us. I offered ta go eets it for him, but Lemesin's First told us ta go get mo' of us. We'z sieged dat tower, but traitors among da ranks caused us ta lose da heart. Zangdrax tink he killed us den, den he tink he keeled us a few more times, but we'z too smaht an' clehva for stoopid Arch Fiends. Paladins fought wit strength an' honor along da way, but some of dem fall in battle."
The scargrim winces as he remembers, "Alistair fought an' died fer us. Ah thought i was gonna meet Avaren or Arimir when Zangdrax used tricksy soul magics, but Alistair disshippated an' told us dat redemption was upon us...."
His eyes perked up as that statement jogged another memory. "OH! So everytin' got dark durin' da day, an' we had to lift up a mountain ta get to him while foighten' 6 udda Deafs, but ROIGHT afore we'z broughts Her Mercy on Zangdrax, dat bugger gots snatched up by Dhuroscht, heart an' all. 'E was strong. Stronger den me. Stronger den bacca. Maybe stronger den TEN bacca!", Volrog shudders at the thought.
"Anyways, we gots 'em good and smashed, but dey failed when dey tried to use magics ta banish 'em. Any ole Angori wot's worf deir salt can tell ya der'z a roight an' propah way ta send Fiends back to da Pit! But right when i was about ta jump down der an' deliver da killing blow, dat First of Lemeshin done da whole shining light thingy, an' no mo' Dhuroshct."
Althena allowed a smile to cross her features as the Claviger recounted the battle at the side of those who followed Lemesin, although she did take a step back as his rendition became more passionate. When he paused, perhaps out of breath, she spoke again.
"Your bravery and willingness to thrust yourself into battle is not an issue, Volrog," she smiled at him. "Although you are, perhaps, a little too willing to engage in a fight. I do understand, however, that is the Angori way. But what I found..." she frowned for a word choice, glancing away briefly before continuing, "...disburbing...was a tale of an encounter you had with a Tyrant." Here her smile vanished, replaced with a stern frown, her brow crinkling slightly. "You engaged the creature, only to run as it taunted and blasphemed the Name of Avaren." She shakes her head, and then turned away, pacing slightly before the shrine. "I realize you have never served in a church before, Claviger Volrog," she turned back to him, ceasing her pacing and clasping her hands before her. "However, even should death be the outcome, one who so serves an Immortal must not only follow and protect the providences and instruction of the one we have sworn ourselves to, but," she stepped forward, unclasping her hands to place them upon the Angori's shoulders, "we must also defend against any assault to our Immortal, whether physically or verbally." She shook her head, "to do otherwise diminishes Her name, diminishes the trust She places upon us, and weakens Her when her most faithful do not defend Her."
The Scargrim nodded solemnly, "A Last Stand is a renown an' respectful ting; but when outmaneuverin' is a possibility, we'z owes it ta ourselves ta fight anudda day. 'All life be sacred' as she says. We Angori do not -run- from a fight. 'Initiating tactical wifdrawal', however, is an entirely different ting. Dat tyrant was Epically big an' nasty. Ah smashed it's home when it started dis blasphemy against Avaren, an' used mah cunning an' guile, along wit' a little Gate Crystal, ta lure it back ta Jastrey, where it got smashed!"
The Scargrim huffed, "Der is no honor, nor glory, in pointless defeat."
His eyes turned into questioning slits as his fangs bare, "Who dun' told ya dis? I'll show 'em Mercy."
Nodding, Althena remarked, "I accept your explanation of events, Volrog. It did seem as though there were missing elements, and rather out of character for you to run away from a fight." Her smile broadened, "You are, indeed, one who seeks to protect and I will always bow to your superior knowledge of strategy when it comes to warfare."
"However," Althena rolled her eyes at the last. "There is another point of contention, Volrog," she tilted her head slightly. "I must address your definiation of Avaren's 'mercy'." She frowns deeply here. "I think you have been spending far too much time with the Riven, Pelle, if you believe that 'mercy' applies to bodily harm of those who disagree, insult or assault you, or are Avaren's sworn foes." She shook her head, turning away, "'Mercy' is what is given to those in need. And not at the end of a weapon." She turned back, features set in a determine frown. "All Life is a blessing, and thus sacred. We protect and heal those who are sick in the body, seek to counsel and guide those who suffer both in mind, body and spirit. We do not deliver mercy to those who sicken the body, or poison the mind or soul with malice. What we deliver then is justice."
On the outside, Volrog just stands there perplexed for several long seconds, the only sound being cicadas fiddling in the far distance.
"I... Justice? I thought Justice requires dat whole trial an judgement ting dat da King did wich Poppers."
His face twists and contorts several times as he begins to utter something, only to ponder harder.
"Pelle be wise doh, wise as at least three people, since he is at least dat many put togevah! Just maybe a different kinda wise den us. Right?"
"But not Mercy? I.... I need ta find mah crusade."
Watching as the myriad of emotions and thoughts displayed themselves so perfectly upon the Angori's features, Althena felt a pang of sympathy for the straightforward Claviger. "The first thing you need to understand, Volrog, is that Pelle Carne is not wise. He is deceitful, selfish and thinks and cares only for himself. He is a poor guide with regards to 'mercy' or 'conscience'." She smiles to soften her words slightly. "Secondly, justice is not always delivered by lawgivers. What is 'lawful' and what is 'just' are not always the same thing. After all, there are lands wherein slavery is 'lawful', however you certainly would not consider it 'just', now would you?"
Several creases rivet themselves along Volrog's forehead.
"I know Pelle does the hidey stuffs, but I diden know DAT. He lets me eat a lot though, and if one gains power through those they eat, den he's not entirely wrong on da path to strength" he says with a scoff.
"But... if whatcha says is true, den I needs ta correct him on dat Mercy thing. Maybe he just confused like I been?"
Smiling at Volrog's innocence, Althena merely nodded her head. "You try and do that, Volrog. And, do not let Pelle lead you astray as you try and explain to him the truth of 'mercy'."
She then steps back, studying Volrog closely. "You must also learn what 'mercy' is. Patience as well. And, as such, if it my duty to set you on some basic tasks to help you in learning to curb your enthusiasm with wisdom and patience, as well as consider carefully what 'mercy' truly means. As I said, you were not properly trained in any church. Every alcolyte must learn these lessons before leading any believers. First, however, I instruct that you may not call me 'Althy'. You must call me 'Althena' or 'First'. This task is set for you to end when darkness falls on Third's Third of Arathost, 5,731 NB." She gestures to Volrog, indicating he was to follow her into the Warren. "And, now we must see to your second task."
The scargrim's head frowns and nods to what the First was saying, but his brain was working in overdrive.
"Dis all is really confusin', but I'll try Althy-yiirst."
He plods into the courtyard after her, wincing as a headache sets on, quite possibly from all this cursed 'thinking', especially at trying to count a number higher than his number of fingers and horns.
"Your second task is to clean the entirety of the Warren, top to bottom." She turns to Volrog. "Even should it appear clean," she gestures toward the intricately carved shining white stone walls, altar and pews that filled the small chapel. "All must be cleaned. Once the chapel is clearned, you will then clean the hospice: wash the bed linens and surgical tools using hot water and clean cloths. Finally," she turns to Volrog, watching his face closely and then stepping forward to press a hand to his head. "The Fire of Life is a blessing." [cure - Volrog's headache]. "You will clean the orphanage. Again, clean all of the bed linens, the toys and tables therein." She tilts her head slightly. "You are capable of casting imbue prime, are you not?"
Volrog's face dropped at all the tasks set before him, hesitation taking him a couple moments before responding,
"I don't mind doin' mah part, but usually i do da heavy liftin'. Why you wants da place all cleaned? Did-"
His eyes flare open with [Rage]
"DID DAT TRICKSY ARCH FIEND GET IN HERE AND MUCK STUFF UP?! I'LL GIVE HIM MERC- I'LL SMA-"
Contemplation hit Volrog for a moment. "Wait, 'es already smashed up good."
He shakes his head, "Whatever it is, i'll make it all noice and shiney. Except for, err, dat last part. Ah can't make tings shiney wit' da prime like you can."
Althena chuckled, shaking her head at the Angori Claviger's outburst. That was exactly what she was trying to curb - his impatience - while still maintaining the passion he had for his faith.
"It's alright, Volrog," she said softly, patting the Angori's muscled arm. "I will continue with my rituals of imbuing the Warren and Shrine with prime as well as re-lighting the Fire. These tasks must be done, each day. When the sun sets, you must then go before the Shrine, and mediate for one hour before leaving for the day, reflecting upon what you had accomplished and learned during that time. This task will end upon Third's Second of Arathost, 5,731 NB, at which time I shall give you your final tasks."
He nods, not really understanding the number, but comprehending he should take an hour to meditate every day.
"I've tried dis... 'refrection' stuff before, but not really work. Not really mah style, but ah... I tink i knows jes da person ta help wich dat!" He grins, knowing a certain individual he had ventured to Jastrey with that was well versed in the ways of meditation.
"Whatever dat final task is, i'll be up fer it, even if i have to have both horns tied behind me back!"
Laughing outright at Volrog's enthusiam for the tasks she had set forth for him, she nodded. "Thank you, Volrog. Although, you must keep in mind that these tasks are yours to follow through. You cannot ask any for assistance, not even me." She tilted her head slightly, green eyes glancing upwards. "Your task must begin immediately. You will find buckets and clean cloths in the hospice." She moves to step away before pausing and turning back. "I hope you know, this is not a punishment. These tasks are set to help you learn patience and reflection. And I have every confidence that you will excel at these." She glances toward the doorways leading into Jastrey. "I will retire to my chambers at the tower. The Warren is empty - I have found homes for all of the orphans and those who had been in the hospice have either passed on to Avaren's embrace or returned home. You should not be disturbed."
At first, there is naught but silence. Soon though a distant boisterous Angori voice grows stronger
Volrog makes his way around the building to enter the courtyard, carrying with the youth on his shoulder, his tusked, toothy grin evident as he was regaling a tale.
"-An' den, ah picked up da whole tarrasque, and tossed it back ovah dah wall. Mastah Fu an' Warchief Truff an' udda townsfolk helped too, but dey left de heavy liftin' ta me.", his voice lifting to a confident crescendo at the end.
He rounds the corner and sees Althena meditating at the shrine, immediately putting a finger up to his lips as he huskily whispers, "SHH! We gots ta be quiet 'til she done doin' her commune-union stuffz. "