[Temple of All Gods] Questions Answered [Goss]

[Rhuryc]

37th Day of Summer, 510 AV

Why was he still here?

Rhuryc's eyes gazed unto the ceiling with an idle passion. His head remained clear, his body motionless. Like a permanent fixture the man sat with his arms draped over the back of the pew, his coat splayed unceremonious over the seat and his boots firmly against the tiled flooring. Silence permeated the atmosphere. On occasion Rhuryc would catch himself counting the seconds between the heaves of his chest, long, exhaling drafts expelled from his lips in a rhythm uncouth of a blacksmith. Always the music was presented, though here, in the Temple of Gods and Goddesses, the melody was soft, quite, bereft of imperfection and steep in serenity. No man that sat in the halls felt himself a stranger. Except for maybe Rhuryc.

Since the Nuit left he felt alone. His thoughts had drifted from one subject to the next with no real purpose; questions though, they surfaced time and once again. Peculiarities, strange happenings. Were the Gods watching? Did Jilitise truly involve herself so closely to the games of the divine or were her meanderings some misguided form of self-righteousness? What was worse, was he so insignificant? Life as a blacksmith was not a bad lot, but it held no glory, no adventure. Days melded into one, solid experience, nothing like the times he shared with his uncle. Nothing like the stories the man had told him. If Tyveth did favor their family, than how did he come to sit, discontented, within a city of Knights? Such were the ideas that crossed Rhuryc's estranged mind.

Columns of stone drew the man's attention back to reality and he raised his head, glazed eyes drawn to the very front of the chamber. The shifting of his tunic broke the meditative silence and a click of boots on tile played havoc on his ears. What little peace he had vanished into the stoic night. Darkness reigned beyond the walls and only the pale light of the moon now illuminated the innards of the temple, shadows cast in all direction like stalking predators. The beauty of design was lost on the apprentice and he strained to see with what little light was offered. Nothing. Of course there would be nothing. A sigh rumbled forth from the man's chest and Rhuryc found himself once again posed with a singular question, one that roused above the rest.

Why was he still here?

[Gossamer]

Nothing actually changed in the temple. The atmosphere didn't darken or the stained glass illuminate unexpectedly. Instead one moment there was no one with the lone man and the next he had company. An elegant figure perched on a pew across the isle from him. The man was dressed as a warrior, though his armor was leather and he wore no noticeable weapons at his side. But as he stretched out his legs and surveyed the Temple, the man who was obivously a warrior didn't seem as if he was a stranger there nor did he seem uncomfortable or awkward. It was as if the temple was just another of his homes. "It's empty without Glav around, isn't it? Events move fast in the world - faster than I think we can even anticipate. Nothing stays the same forever. Survivability lies in the adaption of life TO life, wouldn't you agree?" He asked, glancing sideways at Rhuryc, a smile playing across his lips. "There are lots of questions in your head, lad. It seems as if you need someone to talk to. With Glav Navik gone off to do something that no one thinks he can actually accomplish without getting killed, there's no one left here to take over that task of just listening. I thought I'd step in for a minute and see if I couldn't help you out a little." He added, smiling slightly as he shifted, stretching one long muscled leg out and leaning it on the kneeling board on the pew in front of him. He drew in a deep breath, seemed to consider something, then spoke again, this time softly - his voice no higher than a whisper. "Maybe you should start at the beginning. It's always easier than starting in the middle. You seem a bit... undecided... lost. As if you need some guidence. I can help you if you'll let me. But that requires you speaking what is in your heart, lad." The warrior said, settling into the pew, leg outstretched, not only enjoying his seat but somehow owning it.

[Rhuryc]

Grandiose displays were often lost on Rhuryc. Banners, parades, bright flashes and loud noises remained unimpressive, no more than tricks for the eyes of which to waste their precious time. Maybe that was why the man took so strongly to the temple's new arrival. So subtle was the entrance that at first he did not notice the presence. For seconds the young man stared over-onward, his irises unconfused and hazed; until he spoke, that is. What? A quick shake of the head brought Rhuryc from his stupor and his vision flicked to the warrior. Calm, confidence, he could not help but feel safe in the presence, like the might of a thousand men at his back; a camaraderie existed there and the man found his expression to be warm, jovial. Contemplative even. The aura was one of a friend, no doubt, but never mind the assumed friendship. Where had this man come from? No one just 'appeared'. No mortal. A mage? For all he knew about magic Rhuryc could have been staring at the greatest wizard of all time and mistaken him for another fool off the street. There was more here, something more than spells and sorcery.

"I, ah." Rhuryc blinked. A hand rose from the pew and instead found itself attached to the back of his neck, rubbing in a consistent circular pattern. "That's a fine thing you're offering." He started, his thick baritone unsure, but filled with a subtle resolve. No matter what words left his mouth the man found them to be true, at least. "And besides the hundreds of questions I did have, I'm fairly certain that they just doubled in number, if not intensity. You'll have to excuse my rambling, sir, but you know." His hands came together and he pushed the palms forward then parted both in, his fingers separating to mimic volume. "Poof. Nothing, then something. No man, then man. Or. Whatever you are." Rhuryc's countenance took on a queer expression at that last bit. Even he was not sure what he meant.

The gears in his mind began to turn. Curiosity enveloped his soul like a fresh flame of a forge, consuming its fuel with a relentless tenacity. Once the flood gates were lowered there would be no stopping the foray. And so Rhuryc held back, sitting with baited breadth for some sign of appreciation, a little nod, a jerk of the head, even an approving glance. Yet he was not sure this fellow could feel any more right. Why resist, then?

"Lost isn't the word I'd use, I don't think. In fact. I don't know what to use. Apprehensive, scared, bothered? If I could explain my emotions in tongue than I suppose I wouldn't be. Well. Whatever I am." Rhuryc stopped. Why was he talking? He had no desire to explain himself here, in this temple, but the act seemed right. As if he should. Hmph. "If someone told you that you had a responsibility, one that you never agreed to, or signed on with; something so steeped in refuse and rumor that it felt like a drunkard's lullaby, what would you do? What can you do?" A frown spread itself across his lips. Now that was something. Rhuryc had no idea he could even talk that much.

"I guess, mysterious arrival beside, I'm Rhuryc. Hi." He said after, leaning back into the pew. What was a meeting without a little civility.

[Gossamer]

The warrior smiled, extended a hand, and said gently - "It's nice to meet you Rhuryc. I'm Ty. " He seemed to look thoughtful as you stared at the young man. Then, finally, as if he'd been thinking about Rhuryc's question, he addressed it. The man took a deep breath, looked thoughtful, and spoke again in his soft confident voice. "I would ask why. Why is one of the most important words we use, Rhuryc. Then, if the duty was indeed important or I was in some way obligated, I would follow through with it. Something may appear to have nothing to do with you, but upon closer examination, the truth might just reveal that it is indeed all about you without you ever realizing it." The warrior said, shifting where he was perched on the pew to drop down and begin pacing in front of the young Syliran. "Again, why don't you start from the beginning? Every story has one. And perhaps if you tell me the beginning and what you know of what has transpired between then and now, I can tell you of the end or at least help fill in the parts you don't know so you can indeed understand." The man said, then amended it with a 'If I can...". He had a clear gaze - a righteous gaze. It was as if the wisdom of all time was in his eyes appearing clearly for Rhuryc to see. IF, that is, he took the time to learn the language of gazes. There were other languages here too - body movement, tone of voice, facial features. Ty seemed to watch all of these things as Rhuryc gathered himself to speak. "Yes, lost isn't always a good word. But unless you know where you are going in life or at least have decided where you want to be, it often fits." He added while he waited for the young man to speak.

[Rhuryc]

"Well met, Ty." Rhuryc took the man's hand in his own. Tough. Firm. A handshake told much about a person. There was something unique to this mysterious new acquaintance, something almost familiar yet entirely foreign. If he had years to contemplate it Rhuryc was sure he would reach some epiphany but here, now, he would just have to settle for curiosity. Concerned, but not obsessed, the young man leaned into the figure as he continued to speak. He was captivated. Those eyes. They spoke beyond the movement of Ty's lips, far above the words he used. Rhruyc felt as if he was better just for gazing upon then, wiser, more able. The effort it took to look away was almost too much.

It was difficult to describe, being both at ease and uncomfortable at once. He shifted. His shoulders tensed, then relaxed, his eyes flicking from the man to the dais then back again. In an effort to retain some kind of civil atmosphere Rhuryc straightened his posture before he spoke. Conversation had never been his strong suit. He preferred to speak with actions, with events. What tale could he spin that would be worthy of this superior specimen? None, no doubt. Might as well try anyway.

"From what I know," Rhuryc started, his tone clear and precise. The keen baritone seemed to falter before the warrior, but the unwavering soul behind it never let up. Was it so wrong to have such a strong intention? "Or from what I was told, this." He paused to pat the blade at his side. "This is Naravane. My family is named after her. Supposedly, she was given to an ancestor of mine, long, long ago. By Tyveth." He grinned through his words, taken in by the incredulity of it all. "So. I was taught to follow his word, carry on the values of his credence. To champion honor. Justice. But I'm no Knight." He sighed and leaned back on the pew, his gaze lifting toward the top of the temple. Such a sight. "My father was a Blacksmith. And the man that held the blade before me? He was a bastard that would kill his own family for coin. Even if she was once beautiful, Naravane is now old and worn. I'm sure there's a metaphor in there."

"And no matter how I try. To be honorable, to be righteous. This duty - if that's what it is - it has never shown itself to me. People just die. Or they leave." Why was he telling this all to a complete stranger? Rhuryc leaned forward once more, partially ashamed, but also relieved. To get that off of his chest was like the weight of the world from his shoulders.

"Forgive me if I'm wasting your time. I usually spend the night in solace."

[Gossamer]

The man looked thoughtful, his dark eyes resting on the blade for a moment. Recognition sparked in them and then he smiled softly. "Everything has a history and most histories are made up of other histories. Right now you are crafting a history that your children may or may not know and may or may not follow where you'll form your own traditions and see to your own duties. It is the way of the world. Those who craft successful histories will thrive. Those that fall short often won't survive this world." He moved then, slipping from the perch on the back of a pew and walking over to Rhuryc. Ty reached down and uninvited plucked the blade from the man lifting it up. "Weapons never get old. Nor do ideals. Only their wielders." He resumed his customary perch on the back of the pew next to Rhuryc and laid the blade across his leather covered knees. "Naravane was not born a weapon. She was born a servant in the Alahean Empire. She traveled to Suva one stormy night with her mistress' entourage and baggage train. She was there when it all happened and the world fell apart. She was one of the only servants that made it out alive just before the Valterrian. There was never a braver woman, Rhuryc. She was charged with the care of a God's son born of Kova and Ivak. And after Galifor murdered Kova and impaled her on the gates of Suva for all to see, she was the one that carried the child out that day, under Galifor's nose, and paused at the Gates. She cried there openly, in the crowd, a baby swaddled in her arms and promised the corpse strung from the gates that her son would be safe. The birds were already pecking at Kova's eyes then. The guards were doing nothing to dissuade them." Ty said, stroking the sword. After a long moment he spoke again. "That child did indeed make it out alive. But that isn't really a tale for today. The important thing was that child grew into a man under Naravane's watchful eyes. She had only the riches she could carry on her - the jewels in her hair and the slippers on her feet - and after that day none of it was worth anything because most of the world died. She did not. And keeping true to her honor and her promise, she managed to survive and got the boy to her father's people in the region that is now Zeltiva. They went underground, as there was no other choice, and that's where the boy grew to a man. Naravane had sons and they grew to age too. Ivak's son became something of a leader, and her own sons became his protectors as well. One of them, Nythan became a blacksmith and then later a weaponssmith for the outside world was even more dangerous in those times than they are now. He forged fishhooks that fed hundreds and door hinges and even crafted plows for when they tried to tend above ground fields. And he made armor and weapons. Naravane eventually died. But saving that child for Zeltiva was giving them a gift. And her sons were just as important. Kaival, Ivak's son, was one of the only surviving Azenth. And he kept the whole of the underground population calm. Nythan was his best friend. And when in his later life Nythan eyesight failed, he forged one last weapon before he finally fell to disease that took his sight and then his sanity. And that last weapon he named Naravane. She was never given to an ancestor of yours. She was crafted by one. You're entire family owes its existence to Naravane. Zeltiva owes some of its early survival to Kaival. It was an epic friendship and tale of two brothers who shared no blood but shared a great deal of heart." Ty said, stroking the blade gently with his fingers, as if remembering. Its tarnished and pitted look slowly vanished as he did so, bringing forth the inner beauty and the incredible craftsmanship the sword was made for. "You know, of all the weapons he made, there's only been five swords. This one is the finest. You should cherish it, Rhuryc, and its ideals." The man said softly, sincerely.

[Rhuryc]

He sat in silent awe. This was a dream. Caught in the ancient tale, Rhuryc could scarcely believe the words as they came, but he listened. His hands tightened in fists, knuckles white in sheer anticipation of the tale. Ty could have bestowed to him a thousand gifts and none would have meant more than this simple story; a lesson, history as it was. And somehow he trusted this man. Man? No. Rhuryc had known since Ty's arrival, this was not a common clergy, nor a mortal in any way. His very presence was divine. When Naravane took new life Rhuryc caught himself before he fell over. He watched the blade transform before his eyes. The alterations were subtle, removing years of wear and use, but it may has well have been a different blade all together where Rhuryc was concerned. He knew every inch, every fault and crack, each imperfection as if it was his own flesh. There were nights were he did little more than tend the sword, polishing, keeping it fit for battle. There was no other position he cared for deeper, and ss the blade changed so to did he feel something in himself. A stirring. An odd sort of warmth. It seemed like ages, but when Rhuryc could finally remove his vision from Naravane only a few moments had passed. And there remained Ty. "Naravane." He said the name with a hushed respect, that thick baritone of his quiet, but strong. Rhuryc's countenance never wavered. He may as well have been carved from stone, albeit only had to look in his eyes to see how much this meant. "All of these years. Doubting, not knowing. Hating my uncle for his lies, hating my father for his decisions. I," He paused and blinked, shifting focus from the man to the blade. "Have no way in which to repay you. I'm no man of greatness." While he spoke, Rhuryc felt himself raise from the pew. His brow furrowed, his shoulders straightened. He fell to a knee and bowed his head, both hands coming to rest on the forward leg as if in prayer. "I have lived as I could in your grace. Always, without hesitance, I know who you are, my lord. And that you should find me - of all the men in this land - worthy of your time, I can do no more than offer myself. In what small ways I can aide you I have no idea, but if there is a purpose greater than that I have yet to find it."

[Gossamer]

When Ty handed the blade back to Rhuryc, the writing that was once illegible was now clearly visible. It simply read "Truth, like the Sun and Moon, will not be long obscured." Ty read it to Rhuryc so there'd be no mistake. The hilt was no longer wrapped in plain leather but instead was wrapped in impeccably cured pigskin dyed a deep ruby red. The immortal handed the blade back to the mortal with all the dignity of a king presenting his son with a favored blade. "Take good care of her. Once upon a time she took good care of your ancestors and Ivak's as well. You will always have an affinity to the Azenth, whether you know it or not, and it would do you good to seek them out. Your bloodline has a nurturing aura that helps stabilize theirs. But beyond that you will have bigger dreams and a greater purpose than most who have come before you. Civilization is stabilizing. Its moving into a situation where things can grow. There is a purpose for all of your kind walking the world, even if the purpose is just the moment of death or an instant of understanding during a quiet sunrise. Cherish those moments and be the best man you can be Rhuryc. Many of us, my kind, are not far from you. And mostly, we have time for a chat once in a while." The God said, offering the blade back to Rhuryc. If he took it, when he took it, the moment it touched his hands, a silvery glow would fill his fingers and his palm would burn as Tyveth's mark would etch itself there. "I grant you the ability to always know the truth, Rhuryc. Do not abuse it. But use it for the good of all if you can. Your moment is coming and the danger that fills these times spreads. When civilization stabilizes, those that seek to bring it down grow stronger as well. Sylir is dead. He was the leader of many of us in many ways. A new God of Peace is on the rise. It will be Glav, Rhuryc, if any at all. He has a chance, a very slim one, to ascend to our ranks being Sylir's son. He fled from here, from this city, because those that would oppose his ascension are thick here now. The moment he was noticed he was vulnerable. And until he ascends, he can't be revealed because they will eliminate him. That is the truth of it. And while our battles are not your problem, you will live with the consequences be it a Valterrian or the death of peace. That is why you need to have faith, Rhuryc, and stay strong to your ideals. They can guide you enormously." Tyveth said softly, firmly, perhaps telling the man more than he needed to know. "Ivak will come again, whether we like it or not, either this year or by the turning of next. Those that will free him are growing close to his prison. You must be ready. I do no know what these changes will bring tot he world, if anything." He said, looking sad and softly worried.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc's head rose, his countenance alight with silent consideration. There was his blade. His uncle's weapon. The family sword; namesake of the once unknown heroine of the bloodline. He was hesitant to take such a relic. Although refurbished, new to the touch, it remained as it always been. His blood, his soul. Gently, he grasped the hilt, fingers entwined about the new coverings, calloused skin meeting fresh leather in an odd sort of kinship. Rhuryc stood. The burning that followed did little to phase him. As he did at the forge, the young blacksmith paid his penance, fervent eyes locked onto the light that emanated from his palm. In an instant his life changed. Faith. Gods. Ivak's return? Rhuryc's gaze shifted from Naravane back to Tyveth. That a God could express so much emotion was unknown to him. From the divine's tone to the subtle downward curves of his lips, Rhuryc felt pained to merely observe such an expression. Not his problem? At those words the mortal's back straightened, his shoulders squared and he lifted his sword, the blade set before his chest in a salute of respect. And purpose. No matter the state of the world or its denizens, Rhuryc was unwavering in his loyalty, that much - at least - he could offer. "Never without honor," He spoke with conviction. "In any deed, large or small, for how we hold ourselves when the world turns away is who we are. These are my father's words, his father's words. And now mine. I will be ready, my lord, and I will come when there is need. This I swear on my own life, I would follow you into the darkest depths if that is what was needed." What else could he say to a God? And not just any, the sole idol he was taught to worship since birth. Tyveth. Honor and Truth. All Rhuryc's mind could grasp was promises and deeds, words of purpose and destiny. These events were beyond him. Maybe if they could talk about screws and furniture frames. Rhuryc had never felt so inept in all his life. "I, well." Rhuryc paused for a moment, his vision flickering from Tyveth to Naravane once more. "I'm not so sure I can make any more vows tonight."

[Gossamer]

The God smiled. "You won't have to son. Just take time, think things over, and understand that life is more or less what we make of it. Difficult times are coming. Strong minds and bodies will be needed to see people through them. Use what I have given you wisely. And learn from your history. You're ancestors were not wrong." He said thoughtfully, then as quickly as that, he was gone. Tyveth came when needed and vanished when such things were unnecessary any longer.

. Character: Rhuryc Experience: Observation +3, Interrogation +3 Lore: The history of Naravane. Rhuryc's Family History, Having Converstations With Gods. Being Able To Ask Important Questions In Rare Situations. The True Story of Galifor, Kova, and Ivak. Knowledge of Ivak's Living Bloodlines. Kaival's History Gnosis: 1 Mark of Tyveth Additional Info: Naravane has been restored to its original 'new' condition. It is Azenth forged and though its not Ivak Marked, it tends to get people to speak their mind around its bearer. Rhuryc may or may not notice this property. It's a shadow of the Azenth gift of release. Additional Note: You are a very insightful person to thread with. I enjoy your reactions and the fact you give a lot back to the writers you partner with making threading with you easy. Thank you for that. I enjoyed the thread. .