Closed [Temple of All Gods] Follow the Path of the Pure {Markus}

[Asher Nightrunner]

Spring 49th 514 AV.

Syna had rose from her slumber, her light shining down on the city of Syliras. Giving it new life as the activity of the workers and citizens began. A young drykas struggled out of his bed, the grogginess of the night before weighting down on him. He yawned his feet hitting the floor of his room. Wiping the sleep from his eyes he stood and got dressed. He hadn't worshipped many gods in his life. Other then Syna and Caiyha, there weren't many that he had known about other then their names. Even then he still knew few. He decide to change this today, as he walked down the stairs. Nodding to the innkeeper to acknowledge his existence he slipped outside. He shield his eyes from Syna's bright light and turned down the street. He headed towards the one place he knew in Syilras, though had yet to visit, that worshiping of the gods was profound. Maybe he could find someone who would be willing to help his quest into faith. His feet walked along the streets of the City. His temporary home, though he had not a clue how long he would truly be here. He thought back to his people and wondered how his family and friends were doing, a small sigh escaped his lips. He pushed through the crowded streets. The sea of face's that pasted by every day. He had yet to really meet anyone in this city yet. Aside from the lady smith he had met when he first arrived and the other drykas, he had kept to himself. He hoped to focus on his craft but that hadn't come to be. He found himself without the inspiration he once had. He hoped that maybe the gods could help him, or at least knowing that he isn't truly alone would give him that spark to create again.

Chimes flew by as Asher made his way to the church. It was a tall building with a strong aura surrounding it. He could feel the faith of other who had visited this place before him. He climbed up the steps and pushed open one of the doors, he slipped in trying to cause as little noise as possible to not disturbed the others. He slipped into one of the pews in the back, he looked around. The place was a beautiful work of stone, with Syna's light filtering in through the stained windows. Casting a colorful light over the floors and pews. The place was almost empty, besides himself there were only two other patrons. They had their head down, seeming to be in their own world of prayer and reflection. He followed upon their lead and bowed his head. He closed his eyes and sighed.

'Gods and Goddess'. Watchers of this world, hear my plea. I have traveled from my home to Syliras in hopes to better my craft. But I have lost my way. This city has removed me from the path. I do not ask for much nor do I have much to offer you. But please, guide me back to the right path. Show me the way back and I shall use my craft to praise your name" he prayed, before sitting back in the pew and looking up at the ceiling.

[Markus Andres]

Restless. The sergeant felt restless. As if he wanted to do more than he already did. Give more to the knights. More to bridge the gap between himself and his family. So many things he wanted to do. The bed held no rest for him. Not today at least. Not when he was in there alone. Thoughts went to a blonde haired instructor, but those fond images were soon shattered as he started to pull on his clothes. He was wide awake and Syna was out there spreading her light and warmth on the blessed children of Mizahar. The clothes were simple. He wore his leather jerkin, for some reason he figured the day might get a bit chilly for a midspring day. Best to be dressed appropriately.

The sergeant had no official duties. One of the rare days off for the sergeant. Where he could do as he damn well pleased. Which meant he had a full day to whill away time until he knew what to do with his life beyond his duties. Arms and legs ached a little. Training was out of the question, already too beat, no reason to add salt to the wound – as they said. The pants were easier to pull on, the thighs did complain and ache a little, but he ignored it and fastened the black trousers. Soon the sergeant emerged from his apartment. A hand slid through his dark blonde hair to give it a resemblance of being well kept. Another hand touched his chin. Day old stubble had emerged, but not enough that he'd bother shave. Not until the next day. Besides, if he ran into a certain Messer lady, he might introduce her to a little stubble.

With a grin on his lips the sergeant's road reached a t-section. Without thought he turned right and continued walking. Let his mind wander as the body just walked about aimlessly. He hadn't even realized he had strapped the bastard sword to his hip. A habit he had picked up early in his years with the knights. Always armed. AS the mind wandered his body brought him to a place he had not visited for a while. The Temple of All Gods. Though if he could think of a perfect world, that name would be modified to exclude several gods. Primarily Rhysol. But no one would be foolish enough to worship that god within the temple. Markus entered the temple. It had been a while since he had last prayed under official circumstances. Worse yet, he had not been here since she had invited him there. Left quite the distaste for the area. Tore at old wounds.

Why'd I come here... Markus contemplated to turn back and find somewhere else to go, but his body kept pushing him forward and soon the heavy knight was placed on a pew. A couple of rows ahead of another man praying. The knight had not paid any attention to him. Had barely even noticed him so far he had been in the back. Did hear the end of his prayer. Craft. A smith or carpenter of sorts? Izentor he had prayed to perhaps? Markus focused again. Prayer. What would he say? Why would he pray to the gods. Did he not have a good life right now? Markus head lowered in reverence to the almighty gods.

”Blessed lord Yahal, I once prayed to you in my darkest bell and you answered me with a shining light in the darkness. You saved me and my brothers and sisters that day. My sword and shield are forever in your service, always ready to purify the impure and cleanse the spawn of Rhysol wherever I might find it. My heart is for all eternity faithful to you and I will always carry you close to my heart and your name upon my lips. I thank you for saving my life, I have tried my best to live up to your ideals. To be a man worthy of having been graced by your magnificent light. Of all my heart, I thank you and may your light forever show me the right path and reveal those who've succumbed to the defiler's will.”