A Matter of Faith

[Kazmir Saelaris]

Paladin had made an error. He recognized this now. He could see it written like bolts of lighting on the night sky. Tiny flares of ire causing the silent contortion of her face and gait. And perhaps, if not having already been watching her face, he would have missed the obvious flares hidden beneath the mask of her trainers making and her own control. For that, if nothing else, Paladin had admiration for. This waif had such control. Maybe even more than the Son of Pala could claim. And as Paladin walked, a majority of attention payed to the girl not a few steps away, he could not help but wonder if he was wrong.

Stopping abruptly the swordsman was a drawn from his moment of deliberation by the soft thud of wood.

"I was born into slavery..."

'She has a pretty voice.' Paladin thought as the poor slave began her speech. 'One that might find music to its strength.' Paladin, despite having little skill in performance, did enjoy to sing. Though no bard in his understanding or passion, there was a certain quality of music that was found in no other thing in all of creation. A liberation in investment on the part of the singer, a freedom from form and function for admiration in pure beauty. It was, in Paladin's mind, as though emotion itself would become mist before his eyes and bathe singer in listener alike in an empathy which was so often ignored. As though two persons, no matter distance or difference, could for one moment reach out and touch the souls of another. To Reason as another has. 'What song do you sing waif?'

"I was trained in Athart by four masters. They, and the other slaves, were the only people I ever saw. My owner bought me and brought me here an arc and twelve trials ago. I was allowed out of the shop to meet others twelve trials ago."

Such power behind her gaze. Such assurance. She Knew what she said was true. She Knew her description of her small slice of reality was the way. She Knew. And in so Paladin Knew to. The girl was a Fool not of her own choice, but instead of a making by other hands. She herself confirmed it in her description of here nurture, could it indeed be called that. It was this twisted knowledge in her that, for a moment, even made Paladin doubt. How could a creature of such potent conviction ever be wrong? And still, with every admission of knowledge, every strange certainty she seemed to profess, she seemed only to argue with herself. Convincing herself of the reality in her situation? Justification and post fact reasoning. Did she need it?

To Paladin it seemed as a child and the love of mother or father. Not only of cruel fortune, but raw and naked nature raped and bent to suit another. They, the men and woman she had called master, broke her. Shattered her into so many pieces and scattered her Will, only to reassemble and abridge her very being. She loved these masters. For if not, what else? Why would she so willingly offer the her life in payment for the crimes of her tormentors? It was here that, in Paladin's mind, he saw something familiar in the dark haired slave. A distant dream of a dead man on a lonely battlefield. Maybe... regardless, Paladin wished to help. To wrap her in his cloak of protection and help her mend the wounds from which she did not know she suffered. And with each flow of the girls intensity that flowed through him, Paladin could only beg...


“...kill me"

For a long moment the swordsman remained silent, his blank face a reflection of the tempest that raged behind his saddened eyes. He did not, as of yet, have a word for the child. And in truth, he did not know if he ever would. The chains that bound this poor thing were... great. Maybe it was a better mercy to end her. To free her, perhaps her Lady would be kinder. Or perhaps nothingness in its truest sense, would be preferable. Death had been the birth of Paladin after all. His right hand lowering Paladin gripped his love and slowly began to silently draw the blade from its woody sheathe, before snapping back into place again.

“Are you mad girl? I'm not going to kill you, or your master.” Paladin laughed. “You fear so for your safety, I question what silly notions you caregiver has put inside that raven feathered head of yours!” Paladin bent at the waste as he leaned towards the waif, his playful green eyes meeting hers, “Stories of blackguards and monsters no doubt. Take it from someone who has lived in this world for more than twelve trials, it is not as cruel as some might make it to be.” 'It is far crueler still.' Paladin turned towards his companion, clicking at the beast with his tongue.

“And though it may be true I have no love for the slaver, it is equally true I have no notion of forcing others to live as I do. I do apologize if my curiosity had got the better of me....” Tugging on Baron's reigns, the horse sighed as the playful sound of his riders voice lightened the tension that grew in the air. “And as for my habit. My hand on my sword. I too was, at one time, a slave to masters. It is a habit. You have not had the fortune of socializing with many soldiers have you? We can be a bit too rough for some.” Paladin said with a bright giggle. He wanted to cry.

Dialogue Color Key
"Paladin." "Norn." ~Pala~

[Faith Augustin]

Faith

Thoughts are strange things; Faith had often wondered if perhaps she would be able to sing. She had heard songs, in the distance, but she did not know any and so she had never tried. But she had, on and off, wondered. Because she imagined that people could quite lose themselves in song, in the singing of words and the making of music. It sounded like an escape from life which every mortal might seek, in truth, either through songs or instruments. But she did not know very much about it at all and so, in her mind, it was quite a marvellous thing. But she didn't know that he was thinking that and, in this moment, it was a million miles away from her.

She spoke her words, gave him her truth and his hand dropped to his sword, starting to pull it from it's sheath. She didn't blink and she didn't drop her gaze. She had asked him to be true to his convictions, to act accrding to his truth and she could not in all honesty do anything other than the same thing herself. So, she stood and she waited for him to bring her death ~ she did not fear it, it was Famula's embrace, after all.

But then he asked her if she was mad and she looked at him in confusion. He bent forward, looking at her and for the briefest of moments Faith looked utterly lost. What did he mean? "But you were shouting and angry and you are armed and armoured" she said, quietly. She was afraid of him, but not for herself. She was afraid of him because he could hurt Jamal, he could harm him. But he had spoken his truth, and she knew that it was only fair that she spoke hers. "I was afraid that you would hurt him and then I would be alone" she said, honestly. Her mist-grey eyes were earnest and honest as she spoke and she looked a lot older than her arcs in that moment. "I don't know how to be that" she explained.

But he had been a slave? Her mind reeled with that information and she stored it away, thinking on it for a while. She lifted the cart and started to walk, slowly, her arms aching and her legs burning as she did. "I can tell you what I know about Famula if you... if you still wish it?" she said, uncertainly. He had asked before, and she had not answered him. It was only right that she did now. "What do you already know?" she asked.
.

[Kazmir Saelaris]

I

t had become too easy for him though he did not know it. At first he had simply tried resisting the questions the mercenaries and caravan master would ask, but as the road grew long, eventually answers were forced. The lies started small. Mentions of a prior mercenary outfit or hinting at a life of slavery. Paladin told himself that it was self preservation, and in part that was true. But half truths were spun even for the tailor himself. Paladin had killed a Centurion. A popular man with aspirations, ambitions, and many many friends. He had deserted his life. Left god, country, family and peers to wonder and question. One day they would catch up with him. Just as this newest lie would on day find him again.

As he watched the flustered waif, the club of guilt pushed into his guts. He lied to her, spun half truths for mutual benefit. In some fashion, yes, Paladin had been a slave but it was a slavery very different than the waifs. And maybe that was enough to breed this familiarity he felt with the strange raven haired woman with gray eyes. They both had been coerced by the Power of others to serve Will not their own. Still. Paladin felt guilty. He could not lie to her again. Period. If he was to work his works, he needed her to trust him. Trust in his honesty and integrity. No... he would not lie again.

"But you were shouting and angry and you are armed and armoured I was afraid that you would hurt him...” she said.

And she did have right to fear him. Perhaps it was even wise to fear him. He wished it was not true.

“...and then I would be alone. I don't know how to be that."

Paladin turned away from the girl, letting his false smile fall for as long as it took him to remove the travel blanket from the saddle and return it to its proper place under the thin leather tent on Barons rump.

"I can tell you what I know about Famula if you... if you still wish it?”

Turning to her again, he afforded a soft smile for the waif. He was honestly surprised she would continue to deign his presence. He watched the girl seize her cart, already aware that it would be difficult to see her labors in action. What a fool this master was. A sadist and a tyrant. For what good was it that the girl was pushed so hard? Her set to the works of oxen and horse, working herself as some beast far stronger then she. Was it simply another method of control? A demonstration of her value and use? Even at his cruelest, Paladin had never treated his slaves such. He would hold his tongue, despite his mind begging to offer his strength again.

“What do you already know?"

Licking his thin lips he watched the waifish thing a long moment, uncertain of how to begin. To seed doubt? To call questions? To beg of explanation? All of which swirled into his mind, though none seemed as important as they once did. Despite his hate for the abominations, in this girls case they were not the iron rings that kept her rooted in place. Though, still. Many when asked, truly did enjoy sharing their ideas with others. It was a pleasurable experience to talk freely of such things. And, if nothing else, it would serve him well in helping the little raven finding a calmness from the previous tensions. Realizing now he stared at the girl, Paladin spoke “I'm a little afraid to ask.” he laughed “If I misspeak or offend, you might bite my head from my shoulders for the third today, not even a break apart!”

Leading the curios Baron to a walk besides the little raven, the horse watched the waif for a moment. Paladin kept the horse between the two, but made sure he could watch the both easily. He hoped that this mountain of beast would grant the girl some buffer against her nervousness of the rider. Baron quickened the pace for a brief moment, looking the newest member of his herd in her gray eyes before he snorted happily. Then, stretched his thick neck forward and pressed his fuzzy dark gray nose against the girls head and he inhaled. “Stop that.” Paladin chided. Feeling his reins, Baron gave a dumb look at his rider. He just wanted to say hi.

“Fool horse is far too friendly.” Paladin murmured as he patted the beasts neck. “Well, if you please, start at the beginning. Tell me everything in that raven feathered head of yours.” The warrior gave the girl a playful wink, “But perhaps first, why? Why choose alliance with Famula over say... Ashan.” a strange dichotomy, perhaps. But Paladin chose carefully. “Why should Famula care of her followers? If I am to understand, all will come to her eventually. No?” No. Paladin had not. And perhaps never would... at least not while dead.

Dialogue Color Key
"Paladin." "Norn." ~Pala~

[Faith Augustin]

Faith

The reasons for her owner instructing her in this way were many and varied and, some would say, complex in places. Or maybe he was just a sadistic bastard who chose to exert power ~ Faith knew it was both of those things, in truth. But she asked Paladin what he wanted to know, what he already knew and he stared at her for a long moment. It was like he was two people in there, she considered, with his too-bright smile and sudden, oh-so-sudden changes in mood. But then he explained why he had paused and she lowered her eyes to the ground; he was right in that she had answered him in a way that was not conducive to him wanting to converse with her and she could not really blame him. As she walked, slowly, the pain in her body starting to build ever further, she felt her arms start to tremble with the exertion. But she judged that they were making steady progress, Jamal would be pleased, she was sure. At least with that bit of the trial.

She looked up, however, in surprise as the horse came to her and looked at her, sniffing her. When he did, she smiled in delight, looking the young girl that she was in that moment as the delight of the horse snuffling at her showed on her face. She lifted her hand and gently stroked the horse's face, looking at him in delight "Hello you" she said, softly. "It's very nice to meet you, too" the smile that lit her face was pure delight at the horses greeting and she turned a chipper grin to Paladin as he asked her to start at the beginning.

But first she needed to explain something to him that he didn't seem to understand in terms of how this had all come about. "The four owners who raised me taught me of Famula before anything. I knew Her name before I had a name of my own, and that changed most trials to remind me that I have only what they allowed me. My first memory is of being told of Famula, of being trained in service to Her. You speak of choice, but..." he wasn't going to like the next analogy, she knew, "My owners told me that they were shaping me, as one would sculpt a piece of stone." she shrugged slightly. "So I don't know why a free person would choose Famula, I know only that I was born to serve Her. But" she said, and moved on to the next part of his question.

"When she walks over the grave or place where someone has died" she said, softly "It is said that Famula experiences their death. Their souls, she takes each individually, looks at each one and if they are at peace, she helps them to move on. If they are not, they walk with her until such time as they are ready to move on. In this world, I can not imagine a more merciful act, since all will die eventually. She doesn't collect them, she helps them" she said, with a smile. "But I do not know anything about this.. Ashan that you speak of, I am afraid" she explained, somewhat apologetically.

"Will you teach me?"

[Kazmir Saelaris]

A

s Paladin listened to the feather head's abbreviated biography he could not help but to drop the smiling mask he wore. Eyes ahead and turned to the well paved streets, his mind collected and allocated the girls story. Each word was weighed and every sentence deconstructed. To simply know was not Knowledge, or so the Precept was understood, and despite his overwhelming desire to free this girl from her bondage Paladin did wish to Know. To see the world with her eyes and Know it through her Reason. How ever flawed it might be. Perhaps he did already Know though. But the bondage of the dead man, despite not even a full arc in the past, was still so distant. So alien.

It vexed him. How did one save one who did not know they wished to be saved? How did one illuminate the fogs of a mad world and there by dispel self constructed illusions? Surely the girl heard the flaw in her Reason even as it slipped from her own lips?

“I know only that I was born to serve Her.”

Setting those hollow green eyes upon her again, he held back the desire to argue and submitted instead to his desire to understand. To serve Famula was, perhaps, foolish, but he understood why at least. But to serve these other masters... it was madness. To serve them was to destroy her Self, a fact which was testified to even now. Paladin could see the girls arms shake, could see the way her legs burned and the small twinges of pain hidden at the corners of her eyes. But still she persisted, carrying honor for the glory of one deranged and heartless man. The girl had learned her submission was fact, why test her still? 'Sadist...' The swordsman's eyes turned from the feather head.

It was a city of slaves. He had not noticed before. Perhaps, in this brief time he had been in this blighted Andaris he had been too distracted. To blinded by his own memory, fear of the crowd, and fretting over foolish self preservation. Selfishness, purely. But now he could see. A woman of high birth walked quickly. Her bright yellow skirt, an abomination in Paladin's eyes, swishing back and forth with the sound of lace. The boy behind her was not her son, but her slave. He was dressed in simple sack clothe, her in shimmering satin and vibrant laces. His head was turned to the earth, her nose held to the heavens.

Across the way, Paladin watched another person of wealth. A man of advanced years dressed in airy cotten trimmed with sable furs. The man that followed wore much the same as Paladin, a simple jute tunic and slacks of earth tones. Though not a boy, the slave was nor a man. He did not walk with soft confidence, but instead the meekness of a scolded child. He, unlike a child, wore a short blade at his hip. Why did he not free himself? Why did he not fight for his own future and own will? Surely death was preferable to an unlife... The man-slave turned his head and saw Paladin across the road.


"When she walks over the grave or place where someone has died, It is said that Famula experiences their death. Their souls, she takes each individually, looks at each one and if they are at peace, she helps them to move on. If they are not, they walk with her until such time as they are ready to move on. In this world, I can not imagine a more merciful act, since all will die eventually. She doesn't collect them, she helps them"

'It is a a mercy owed.' Paladin thought.

Baron, bored with the humans yammering, softly pulled at his reigns as the memory of the girls attentions drew him closer to her again. The swordsman, despite not wishing to spook the feather head, offered no complaint. Horses, as Paladin knew them, were social creatures. Kind, mostly, and sympathetic. They were the herd they lived by, emotion and affection shared freely between each member. They, unlike many animals, did not lack the Reason to know others troubles. He saw this in Baron who, uncertain of the small female, glanced back at her cart. The horse was wise enough to know that he had strength far beyond the small thing and indeed most humans. Carefully the horse leaned into the girl a brief second, his fuzzy gray and white speckled coat barely brushing her arm.

"But I do not know anything about this.. Ashan that you speak of, I am afraid. Will you teach me?"

Turning a warm face to the girl, Paladin gave a soft chuckle, “I would if I could. To be honest, from my limited study I could find little information on he. Stories of connections with roamers, wanderers, freed men. Tales of ghosts and spirits and the like.” Paladin's voice was soft, a rigid whisper that rasped through his thin lips. “So, and please correct if I am to misunderstand, Famula was no choice to you? You from birth were raised for her?” he paused a moment. “But could you not have reb.. worshiped another? If not so forwardly but in secret? Why did you not choose this? Lack of desire? Fear of punishment?”

Paladin let the question hang, wishing to ask another but knowing better to keep it hidden for the moment. The girl had claimed there was no choice, but that was a lie. She had chosen. Perhaps not to begin the path her masters set her to, but instead she chose to continue it. As soon as she would have learned others did not do as she did, the matter became one of choice. Perhaps if, like Pala, the Immortals were hidden knowledge followed faith. But as each was sure to be real, faith was instead a choice dominated by knowledge. “Tell me,” Paladin nearly cut the girl off, “please. In what way does Famula benefit you? In what way you benefit her? This is maybe one of my greatest curiosities. What need do the Immortal have for the affections of men?” Paladin's eyed the girl a moment more, his tone curios and almost begging. As though a lost child might ask the way home of an adult.

OOC: I godded a little bit to aid the flow, though I don't think it was anything with negative impact. If you disagree just kick me in the head and I'll rewrite those lines .

Dialogue Color Key
"Paladin." "Norn." ~Pala~

[Faith Augustin]

Faith

He had stopped smiling she noticed. She didn't suppose that was surprising, he was far from happy about her or her situation. It wasn't new to her to come across that in people, she had found that they tended to react in one extreme or another. Very nice, very kind, very much trying to 'free' her, or very aggressive and pushing as much as they could. Such was the nature of the free, she rather supposed and she thought about it no more than that. But still, she spoke and she told him about Famula, or what she knew of Her. There was more to know, she was sure, but she had what she had and she could give no more than that.

And for all that the free so often didn't know how to react, the horse looked at her and nuzzled her and Faith smiled gently. "It's alright. It is. This one is my job. You have a different job, don't you" she said, nuzzling him right back and smiling gently at the horse. He didn't understand, but why would he? It must be easier, she thought, for that to be the case. Because no one expected the horse to understand, no one expected the horse to try and break free. And yet her? Totally different. But they'd be quick enough to ascribe human or other emotions to the horse's behaviour.

Sometimes, she concluded, people just didn't make sense.

And then, she asked him if he would tell her of Ashan and he didn't know anything. She frowned slightly, thinking something through and she listened to the rest of his words carefully as he spoke. He told her that he did not know of Ashan and then he clarified that Famula and the worship of Famula was not her choice - why did she not worship another? She looked at him and she smiled slightly, aware that her next words might sound like she was criticising him "You shouted in the temple of the immortals of death and what they do. You spoke of them with such certainty. Yet you do not know of Famula or Ashan? Which of them do you know, have you studied? I ask because that answers your question. I could not worship another because I did not know any other existed, they taught me only of Her - I have only recently started learning of the others. Why would I form an opinion on something that I do not know of, do not understand? It would, to my mind, be foolish to do so." she shrugged and continued on, listening to the next questions he had for her, considering them carefully and then answering.

"You speak of reciprocity amongst equals, I do not. It is not for gain that I worship her, it is because what she teaches touches my soul and I have no choice. Not because of others, but because it is the fundamental of me to be part of what She is. As a slave, I can own nothing, so I can not gain anything. Not like that. But she makes me whole, I would defy my owner for her, without question let or hinderence. As for what I give her? I have not spoken to her and so I can not ask." she shrugged. He had many strange questions, this man and she looked at him thoughtfully "What do you gain from hating them so?" she wondered, and it was a genuine wondering "Does it help you to make sense of who you are?" There was no judgement in her tone, she asked, apparently, from genuine curiosity.

[Kazmir Saelaris]

H

e listened in silence. The fencer eyes rested upon his feet and the rough cobble below. Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way. The man was under no illusions. If he was able to one day convince the girl of the already self evident freedom she possessed, it would be arcs until he would be able. He, in some way, understood this... addiction. The love of her own chains. Her inability to even understand the existence of another way. Her mind warped and self suffocated under what was must have been nigh two decades of cruel training, the thought of liberation was completely ripped from her mind. She had been raped by these monsters that claimed her and reduced to a coward. A justified cowardice. Paladin to, in another life, was the same coward. Violated by a system that by its nature sought to dominate and control. Death was his great liberator... Death and the White Fire. Paladin smirked, the corner of his lips parting to show a fang.

Maybe he should talk on Pala. Though his willingness the prior day was a mistake, maybe now it would be useful. She wished to know of other gods, and though she could not know of the White Fire yet, maybe she may understand. 'No.' Paladin thought. 'She is too tightly bound by her masters will. She would see attempt at conversion. Pala would rage.' The best case, Paladin thought, would be that the girl learned of the White Fire and then replaced her chains with fanatic devotion to Pala. But even that would never occur. Paladin wondered if the girl would defy her master for her Immortal....

"You shouted in the temple of the immortals of death and what they do. You spoke of them with such certainty. Yet you do not know of Famula or Ashan? Which of them do you know, have you studied? I ask because that answers your question. I could not worship another because I did not know any other existed, they taught me only of Her - I have only recently started learning of the others. Why would I form an opinion on something that I do not know of, do not understand? It would, to my mind, be foolish to do so."

Paladin ignored the insult. He had no time for petty jabs. Where as, at times, he would admit to being the Fool, as was natural, he was in no way foolish. His supreme dissatisfaction transcended the Immortals' minor differences and was instead based upon their abomination in deed, or lack of. The girl could not understand that either. She believed herself to deserve her abuse and neglect at the hands of her god and its siblings simply by merit of the beings having greater power than she. 'I wonder...' Paladin thought, '… would she stop me from assaulting a child...' Paladin shook his head as he chuckled grimly. Still, she had not answered his question. At least not to his satisfaction. Her excuse was that she did not know, but then admitted to know of other gods. And as soon as the knowledge of another god thing was birthed her adherence to Famula became a matter of choice. But that did not matter, as the questions was poised, obviously, on the assumption that she did have prior knowledge of other things which may be called god. For a moment Paladin wondered if the girl was taking this as seriously as he.

"You speak of reciprocity amongst equals, I do not. It is not for gain that I worship her, it is because what she teaches touches my soul and I have no choice. Not because of others, but because it is the fundamental of me to be part of what She is. As a slave, I can own nothing, so I can not gain anything. Not like that. But she makes me whole, I would defy my owner for her, without question let or hindrance. As for what I give her? I have not spoken to her and so I can not ask."

Paladin's head shot backwards and he laughed deeply. “Well at least your honest that your parents are absent.” Quickly though his dark humor was strangled from his throat.

"What do you gain from hating them so? Does it help you to make sense of who you are?"

~PALADIN! MERCY!~

Stopping mid stride the amusement at the corners of his eyes evaporated only to leave behind the faint hint of violent anger. Perhaps, if taken in retrospect, Paladin would have been happy to see such a will demonstrated by the raven feathered girl. But the curse of reason is to live within the moment. And at this moment it taxed every one of the mans abilities not to let his hand fly across the waifs mouth. How dare she. What does she know of anger? What does she know of hate? The fool whelp could not even comprehend the overwhelming disgust Paladin had for her beloved absent parents. It was not hate that fueled the fires of Paladin's murderous revenge, it was love. Love not for the abominations that shattered the souls of men, but love for those very same shattered creatures that she herself was. What did this whelp know. Bowing to beings that demonstrably do not care for the lives of men. Begging for succor under their protection? Guidance from their hollow wisdom? Kazmir Saelaris thought a moment to teach this whelp a lesson.

~PALADIN!~

Pressing his eyes tightly the swordman drew in a deep breathe and then exhaled slowly. “I...” He sighed again. “Do not mistake, for even a single moment, you have any knowledge as to who I am. Or my motivations...” ~Calm...~ “I know perfectly well who I am. My... thoughts on the children of the Eight are not only justified, but transcend such childish notions as hate!” Kazmir's words barked like war hounds. ~CALM YOURSELF!~ “How dare you demean the suffering of countless mortals by your callous disregard for their pain!” Kazmir's voice thrust like a spear. Each word punctuated by alien accent of anger. “Perhaps it is you that should learn more of the gods you so love, and by their misdeed and inaction the suffering they have caused! Your cruelty astounding...”

“TYRANT!” the Norn screamed as its wispy form drove like an arrow towards the waif.

“SAVE THE INNOCENT!” the Norn intercepted, its body pierced and discarded by the first.

“SPARE THE FOOL!” the second caught the first by the feathers, forcing it towards the ground.

“TYRANT!” the first screeched again as it span in mid air, its tiny talons racking at the belly of the assaulter.

“Fool!” the second maintained its grasp, unwilling to through away the girls life so quickly. Its beak lashing, across the firsts neck.

“Paladin. Slay the Tyrant....” the first begged as its tiny body hit the cobble hard, only to vanish back into nothingness.

~Paladin. She suffers. Heal her.~ 'I cannot.' ~Mercy. Intention. Action. Rebellion. Save the Innocent. Love.~

Paladin exhaled again. He would give his life for this stupid girl. That was who he was. That is want it meant to be Paladin. To give everything for the faint glimmer of a world not so... cruel. But this darkness was often overwhelming. How could he, alone, stand against the Tyrants of this world? How could he, alone, help the Fool to find what was taken from them? How could he, alone, save those who would be subjugated. It was a Fools quest. Asking the impossible. And, despite Paladin wishing to answer, he often doubted that he could. Perhaps it was for the best? The mortals beings had lived so long, and so lovingly, under their masters. What could they know of true freedom? How could they even comprehend a world without binding? Perhaps they deserved their beloved subjugation? If history was any indicator, it was true that Tyrants would always be. And that the mortals would be quick to lick the heals of these abominations. Mortal kind did not deserve freedom. Slowly Paladin's eyes opened once more. He wished to strike out. To lash the poor feather head with words or fist. “It is not hate. It is by love. Love for them.” Paladin gestured wide at the city around him. “Love for you... I would die ten thousand painful death. If only to save one. That is who I am.” Paladin's feather soft voice cracked.

“Come Baron.” Tugging at the thin leather straps Paladin lead his friend away from the waif. He had been defeated by the Fool's cruelty.

“Save the Innocent?” the third landed upon the girls shoulder. Sobbing it pushed its fluffy head into the girl. "Please." the third pleaded.

'I do not know I can.'

Dialogue Color Key
"Paladin." "Norn." ~Pala~

[Faith Augustin]

Faith

He ignored the point that she made about not speaking in ignorance. That was fine and up to him, but Faith felt it most sincerely. He was angry at what he did not know, he spoke vile words against Famula and knew nothing about Her. When someone gives an opinion, after all, they should be qualified to make it. Or so she had been taught and by wiser men than this one here. He was obviously hotheaded and volatile, unable to control his emotions. That was a shame, she thought, as he seemed like a pleasant enough individual underneath it all; but until he learnt what it was that he was angry about and undertook to understand, then he would never be anything but a melting pot of volativity.

At least she was honest about her parents? Faith looked at him and asked, in her quiet and measured voice "I have been, and continue to be, honest about everything. I do not lie" and then, he spoke again. She stood, calmly, and listened to his tirade, his anger bubbling again to the surface, his emotions overwhelming him as he spoke of tyrants, of suffering, of the Immortals "I am happy to learn. Perhaps you can tell me the specifics of which you speak?" she said, her mist grey eyes looking up at him pityingly. He was reciting a mantra, things that he had been told. And as for inaction? Faith looked at him levelly and spoke in response to his words.

"I see inaction every trial. People who claim to be horrified at slavery, who will fight against it. In the end, they do nothing. They assague their guilt by many means, but they deny the simple truth. People are suffering and in pain and dying all over this city. All over this world. Not because of the Immortals, but because of mortal hands and mortal inaction. It is my belief, master, that if anyone wishes to make a real difference to the world, to the lives of the most impoverished and the most downtrodden, then that fight is against mortal cruelty and greed first."

But he did what she had known he would do. What they always did. He took himself, his possessions and his certainty about the world and he walked away. Retreated to where he could name his pet, clean his armour and assure himself that he was a warrior for justice.

With a small shake of her head, Faith lifted the cart back up and made her way back to the only life she had ever known. As she did, she considered that, of herself and the man that she met this trial ~ she was the one of them who was truly free.

[Griffin]

Paladin

Story 5/5
Collaboration 5/5
Structure 5/5
Fame N/A
Basic Knowledge
Location: The Crown
City Structure: Cost of maintenance
Architecture: Temple is exquisite
Baron: White speckled horse
Sword: Cassiopeia
Monks: Observant
Rynlism: Based on Seven Hero’s who became Nobles.
Rynlism: Seven virtues on the creed of silence
Faith: A slave
Faith: A scrawny waif
Faith: A half-breed Edisi?
Immortal: Famula
Famula: Caretaker of souls
Specialized Knowledge
Mount: Horses unlikely to run into the wild if tame
Norns: Impatient, quick to anger and quick to judge
Faith: Bold by conviction
Faith: Cannot accept help with her tasks
Faith: Stronger than she looks, or more determined.
Faith: Flawed self-philosophy
Faith: Willing to die for her owner
Faith: Believes she was born to serve Famula
Faith: Will do anything for Famula
Philosophy: All things served and loved and cherished: This is greatness
The past will find you
Gains
One book: The creed of silence
Quest: Save the innocent.

Faith

Story 5/5
Collaboration 5/5
Structure 5/5
Fame N/A
Basic Knowledge
Location: The Crown
Task: To collect a body
Monastery: All welcome
Paladin: Volotile
Paladin: Seeking knowledge
Paladin: Philosophical
Paladin: Apologised
Paladin’s sword: Cassiopeia
Baron: A friendly horse
Endurance: Pacing yourself for physical tasks
Undertaking: Anointing a body
Specialized Knowledge
Freedom allows flexibility
Endurance: Pain of branding
Famula: Collects souls without prejudice
Famula: Caretaker of souls
Paladin: A troubled soul
Paladin: Could cause trouble for Jamal
Jamal: Has assured you of your contentedness
Philosophy: Mortals are responsible for their own cruelty
Gains
Congratulations! The effort of your task will leave you with sore muscles from neck to knees that slowly ease over the next four trials. It will harder to move and you will feel stiff.

► Show Spoiler

Notes
I enjoyed this thread. Lots of detailed philosophical discussion broken up by interesting details and characterized well by the individual personalities involved. I’d be interested to see how Paladin continues on his journey for absolution and to catch up on what awful events have caused his aversion to the Immortals. Faith, as ever is brilliant, feisty and devout. Can’t help but feel sorry for that little waif, but yet without pity because she’s so determined in her devotion to Famula. Let’s hope the Immortal deserves it! Although, I’m sure Faith would argue that it didn’t matter either way…

My advice on structure would be to step away from colour coding individual speakers and thoughts. Personally, I have to copy and paste all text into a document so I can read it, (I know right! I miss out on all the pretty boxcodes) at that point all the colours and formatting are lost. So I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to distinguish who was speaking. However, even in plain text the tags of who was speaking when were perfectly clear.

Lots of knowledges to award! If you have any questions please drop me a PM.