Philosophies Pious [Valerius]

[Maedoc]

10th Day of Winter, 512 A.V. The roughened warrior stood upon the bow of the ravosala as the small boat slid silently under the archway that lead into the Beautifully crafted Temple of the Black Sun. The shadow of Rhysol’s might in this mortal world humbled Maedoc. As he passed into the calm disembarkation area, Maedoc caught sight of the two coldly immobile Paladins standing watch. Their emotionless gaze left him uneasy. But he was a citizen now, after all. Iron doors, so black as to be hewn of night itself stood sentinel with the Ebonstryfe warriors. In their faces were pearls so large Maedoc wondered briefly if they were real. But of course they were, the Chaos Lord would not settle for less. It was easy for him to find the central worship chamber after crossing the threshold of the doors. It was the only place within the Temple he was meant to go. The black marble of the floor was kept immaculately clean, though it was traversed all day by the people of Ravok. Maedoc glanced around himself. Such wonders were foreign to him. A huge mural of what he could only assume was Rhysol was looming above him, greeting the people of Mizahar as they flocked to him for protection. And a slab of blackness jutted from the ground in front of him. But all was not right here. The place was scarred with recent turmoil. Burns and blackened wood were all over, and workers tended the wounds of the temple while acolytes watched imperiously, protecting the integrity of their deity’s house. Maedoc did not know what he should do, not having worshipped anything in so long. He saw many people sitting in the pews and praying alone, clearly there was no service now, but people still came for guidance. Was the need for guidance what brought him here now? No. He simply wanted to know answers. Or perhaps is was questions he needed to figure out first. What had drawn him here? What about this city seemed so welcoming compared to the rest? Certainly not it’s reputation. He rubbed a hand through dirty blond hair. He was no philosopher, but he should be able to figure his own mind out. Petch it. He slid between a few pews and stepped into an alcove out of the way of the main area. He looked out of place here, amongst the devout. And he felt out of place.