Ajora Glabados (npc) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blessedsaint) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
concordance_logs2015-02-11 10:45 am
blessedsaint) wrote in concordance_logs2015-02-11 10:45 am
A Holy Path
Characters: Ajora Glabados, Squall Leonhart, Ramza Beoulve, Rydia of Mist, Agrias Oaks, Vayne Carudas Solidor
Where: Mt. Bur-Omisace --> Paramina Rift --> Stilshrine of Miriam
When: 10 Blackfrost, 710 Old Valendian
What: Ajora undertakes the sacred pilgrimage to the shrine.
It is the wee hours of the morning, with the sun just peeking a sleepy face over the line of the horizon when Ajora takes the first steps of the Kiltia pilgrimage. The early start is required and customary for any who choose to walk the path to the Stilshine of Miriam. All is still at the summit of the holy mountain, save the priests who rise to begin the morning prayers. Morning chill is compounded with snow in the mountain range, and the jagd-induced ice in the Rift.
The priest has provided warm, fur-lined cloaks for his voluntary guard, choosing for himself naught but a hooded cowl and sturdy travel boots. Enduring the biting cold of the mountain pass is a test of character. And endure he shall. For while he undertakes this holy walk, there is another task at hand which must needs be completed, ere someone else do so. Before they depart the temple grounds, Ajora blesses each person accompanying him, then assumes a reverent position of prayer and petition.
The priest keeps apace with his protectors as they cross through into the Paramina Rift. The temperature drops upon entering the icy pass. Lazy snow flakes drift from the clouded sky, layering a clean scent against the burning in the nostrils one feels from the intense concentration of Mist in the Jagd Ramooda. Underfoot, dead grasses crunch in contrast to the snow. This walk is no simple matter. Monsters and undead shuffle in the snow, across the frozen Silverflow, around airships and dwellings long abandoned and forgotten, remnants of a war long forgotten and passed into time. Ajora pauses when necessity demands the monsters be cleared, though he remains only prayerful and pious, unable to assist with any battling.
It is only upon reaching the Walk of Sky on the shrine's grounds that Ajora lifts his eyes to take in the glory of the great edifice. The sun hangs way past its zenith, bathing the area in rich afternoon light. It occurs to him that it is quite the pity that so marvelous a construction should so seldom be seen by mortal eyes. The Stilshrine remains almost wholly untouched and intact, even after centuries of being exposed to the elements.
He nods briefly to his companions in thanks for their company thus far, then proceeds to the front doors where two Kiltias ever stand in wait. The basic pilgrimage is completed. So few of the sect proceed further in, either from fear of the guardians within, a lack in their faith, or a flaw in their character which compels them to feel unworthy. None of these bar Ajora from putting his hand to the door and pressing on. He shall reach the innermost sanctum to complete his task. Once more, he lowers his head in show of reverent contemplation and prayer.
The path the priest takes through the shrine seems to make little sense. While assuming the lead, his steps are measured and slow, permitting his escort time to remove aggressive obstacles. Yet somehow he never seems to stop moving. At first, he paces through the Ward of Measure, then moves into the Walk of Prescience. From there, his path loops around into the Walk of Reason then the Ward of Steel. Exiting from there places the group back into the Ward of Measure, effectively having walked the group in one large circle. It is a test of patience and awareness, both for himself and those who accompany him. He does not acknowledge this however, and moves through a well-concealed passageway into the Walk of Revelation. There is meaning behind each walk and ward, steeped in theology; if he is to accomplish what must be done, then so too must he observe all the rituals.
From the Ward of the Sword-king, Ajora takes the group to the Hall of Worth. No Esper presents itself to challenge the group. It is as he thought. None of the party is found compatible with Mateus the Corrupt. All is at peace this far into the shrine, with no further aggressors to press an attack. He lifts head once more and smiles warmly at those who have traveled so long a day with him.
"I must press on alone from here to pray before the holy relic. Please, take your rest." With that, Ajora bows to the group and turns to enter the the Vault of the Champion alone.
***
Once the door to the Vault has creaked shut with a heavy slam of finality, Ajora walks forward, eyes fixed on the pedestal which once housed the Sword of Kings. It is of small matter that the sword is no longer present, gone into the hands of a descendant of the man who played puppet to the Occuria. It is the base of such ostentatious creation which holds the priest's intent attention. Embedded in the now still metal, is a stone inscribed with the sign Pisces. Little more than a pretty decoration to the unknowing, not worthy of notice to the untrained eye. This stone is the point and purpose of this long day's ritual. The only shame being that not one among them was a suitable match. It would have made matters far easier in a sense.
As a precaution against snoops or curious escort, Ajora has prepared a decoy of the stone. He draws his hands into his sleeves to take it, then folds them together in feigned supplication, bowing before the pedestal. He lays his hands against the base, by all appearances simply showing proper respect and reverence to the god honored in this place. After all, to touch the holy relic is to beg blessing from the gods. It is then that he grasps hold of the auracite, leaving in its place the empty stone.
Rising once more to his feet, he turns to rejoin his company.
Where: Mt. Bur-Omisace --> Paramina Rift --> Stilshrine of Miriam
When: 10 Blackfrost, 710 Old Valendian
What: Ajora undertakes the sacred pilgrimage to the shrine.
It is the wee hours of the morning, with the sun just peeking a sleepy face over the line of the horizon when Ajora takes the first steps of the Kiltia pilgrimage. The early start is required and customary for any who choose to walk the path to the Stilshine of Miriam. All is still at the summit of the holy mountain, save the priests who rise to begin the morning prayers. Morning chill is compounded with snow in the mountain range, and the jagd-induced ice in the Rift.
The priest has provided warm, fur-lined cloaks for his voluntary guard, choosing for himself naught but a hooded cowl and sturdy travel boots. Enduring the biting cold of the mountain pass is a test of character. And endure he shall. For while he undertakes this holy walk, there is another task at hand which must needs be completed, ere someone else do so. Before they depart the temple grounds, Ajora blesses each person accompanying him, then assumes a reverent position of prayer and petition.
The priest keeps apace with his protectors as they cross through into the Paramina Rift. The temperature drops upon entering the icy pass. Lazy snow flakes drift from the clouded sky, layering a clean scent against the burning in the nostrils one feels from the intense concentration of Mist in the Jagd Ramooda. Underfoot, dead grasses crunch in contrast to the snow. This walk is no simple matter. Monsters and undead shuffle in the snow, across the frozen Silverflow, around airships and dwellings long abandoned and forgotten, remnants of a war long forgotten and passed into time. Ajora pauses when necessity demands the monsters be cleared, though he remains only prayerful and pious, unable to assist with any battling.
It is only upon reaching the Walk of Sky on the shrine's grounds that Ajora lifts his eyes to take in the glory of the great edifice. The sun hangs way past its zenith, bathing the area in rich afternoon light. It occurs to him that it is quite the pity that so marvelous a construction should so seldom be seen by mortal eyes. The Stilshrine remains almost wholly untouched and intact, even after centuries of being exposed to the elements.
He nods briefly to his companions in thanks for their company thus far, then proceeds to the front doors where two Kiltias ever stand in wait. The basic pilgrimage is completed. So few of the sect proceed further in, either from fear of the guardians within, a lack in their faith, or a flaw in their character which compels them to feel unworthy. None of these bar Ajora from putting his hand to the door and pressing on. He shall reach the innermost sanctum to complete his task. Once more, he lowers his head in show of reverent contemplation and prayer.
The path the priest takes through the shrine seems to make little sense. While assuming the lead, his steps are measured and slow, permitting his escort time to remove aggressive obstacles. Yet somehow he never seems to stop moving. At first, he paces through the Ward of Measure, then moves into the Walk of Prescience. From there, his path loops around into the Walk of Reason then the Ward of Steel. Exiting from there places the group back into the Ward of Measure, effectively having walked the group in one large circle. It is a test of patience and awareness, both for himself and those who accompany him. He does not acknowledge this however, and moves through a well-concealed passageway into the Walk of Revelation. There is meaning behind each walk and ward, steeped in theology; if he is to accomplish what must be done, then so too must he observe all the rituals.
From the Ward of the Sword-king, Ajora takes the group to the Hall of Worth. No Esper presents itself to challenge the group. It is as he thought. None of the party is found compatible with Mateus the Corrupt. All is at peace this far into the shrine, with no further aggressors to press an attack. He lifts head once more and smiles warmly at those who have traveled so long a day with him.
"I must press on alone from here to pray before the holy relic. Please, take your rest." With that, Ajora bows to the group and turns to enter the the Vault of the Champion alone.
Once the door to the Vault has creaked shut with a heavy slam of finality, Ajora walks forward, eyes fixed on the pedestal which once housed the Sword of Kings. It is of small matter that the sword is no longer present, gone into the hands of a descendant of the man who played puppet to the Occuria. It is the base of such ostentatious creation which holds the priest's intent attention. Embedded in the now still metal, is a stone inscribed with the sign Pisces. Little more than a pretty decoration to the unknowing, not worthy of notice to the untrained eye. This stone is the point and purpose of this long day's ritual. The only shame being that not one among them was a suitable match. It would have made matters far easier in a sense.
As a precaution against snoops or curious escort, Ajora has prepared a decoy of the stone. He draws his hands into his sleeves to take it, then folds them together in feigned supplication, bowing before the pedestal. He lays his hands against the base, by all appearances simply showing proper respect and reverence to the god honored in this place. After all, to touch the holy relic is to beg blessing from the gods. It is then that he grasps hold of the auracite, leaving in its place the empty stone.
Rising once more to his feet, he turns to rejoin his company.
no subject
He looks somewhat different than he had before, when he had approached the priest as a 'thankful beggar'. HIs leather cuirass is hidden beneath a larger, looser tunic, and his cloak is much more ragged and worn, though his weapons are carefully sheathed at his hips with a pride., just barely peaking out form the cover the cloak provides. He does not hide his bearing now, the way he braces for blows, his combat grace.
Noah waits, until the last possible moment, and then shifting just into the edge of Ajora's vision, waiting for the 'saint' to catch sight of him.
no subject
Without so much as a blink, Ajora smiles warmly and offers a typical greeting of blessing. "Light of Faram shine upon you, my son."
no subject
"I wish to thank you, for you have granted me new life and new purpose-" his voice lowers half a fraction, "twice, it would seem now, though I had been undeservedly irreverent about it." Noah had watched as Vayne played riddles around the priest, and seen him try to ease words out with sugared vinegar. He isn't going to pretend that this is about something that it is not. If his guess is right, he does not have time. His voice raises back to its normal pitch.
"I have seen and heard much of your great works. I wish to turn my abilities to the good of all people, to strive against the fickleness of... great powers," gods "–and unjust ills, alike the illness in Rabanastre."
He steps back and—on impulse—kneels before this priest all humility, as his words shifting against to a quieter register, "–and I have found it hard to challenge an Esper of my own." No games, no tricks, no fancy speaking. The waters of Rabanastre were poisoned, and if Ultima walks, it is no stretch to his mind that Cuchulainn walks also.
At last, he looks up, and meets Ajora's eyes as he slowly speaks his next words, as a pledge. "I would seek to be your knight, a vessel to Faram's will as it has been revealed to you, and to aid you, howsoever you need it."
no subject
As he responds to the offer, a faint glow, light of the high seraph making itself manifest through her vessel, manifests around him. It is enough to be seen by yon Kiltias who fall on their faces as well. Word will travel quickly that Ajora truly is a child of the gods, having seen their blessing upon him themselves. The show of light is a direct contrast to the far more humble words of Ajora.
"I accept and would be most grateful for a knight to stand with me in mutual cause. Though, you need not kneel. I am but a man and a servant myself." His hands to go Gabranth's shoulders, as an initial blessing and sign of fraternity, then a gentle nudge that he should rise. "There is much to be done, and we have but little time."
/finally tags back into this. >>
When Ajora gives him reason to rise, he does so, standing tall and shifting to stand at his side, as a guardian, almost. "Then we must move with haste, if we can."
You're fine! Life gets busy.
"Come, let us make for the holy mountain. You will wish to prepare yourself for what is to come." Quiet and hushed, his Esper whispers in his mind where to look next, where they should go. Indeed, it makes the best of sense and the mortal vessel wonders that he did not think of it himself. "Though ere we seek the next place of pilgrimage, I shall be required to attend the bedside of a dying child."
The peril of being given the gift of foresight: knowing what is to come and being powerless to stop it.
no subject
It isn't even wholly deliberate, but Noah knows that Ajora knows just how to act to make him trust.
He halts his statement, bowing his head slightly. "I will follow your leadership." He just hopes this doesn't become a terrible mistake.