The Odd and Slightly Dangerous Adventures of Life (1)

[1]

Trevor felt a bit uncomfortable about this. He had seen death before, but it was on the road, in battle. His village had rarely had need for executions of any sort, and most feuds were settled in a non-punitive way. This, this was different. He'd heard stories of city executions, but it still bothered him.

[llama]

A trumpet is decreed, but no musician is to be seen. The crowd silences and stare at the door of a nearby larger building in anticipation. The large double door swings open, revealing three hooded individuals being escorted by half a dozen guards. You see multiple bystanders lick their chops at the sight of them. The conjurer levitates the ropes ending with nooses upon three gallows that are on the platform. As the three people walk closer, you see that there are things of levitating text in front of each of them. They read as follows;

GOLD THIEF:
Didn't pay

WELL DRINKER:
Didn't pay

RAPIST:
Didn't pay


The conjurer raises his hands to accentuate the silence, making the nooses go around their necks. He is in front of the structure, looking up at them. At this point the six guards had walked off, leaving it be a one man show for the magic user. He lowers his hands and the pole part of the gallows begins rising, as if wood is continuously added to the bottom of the three gallows. The three people, their gender or race isn't distinguishable underneath baggy prison clothes and the hood, begin rising from the ground, their feet already beginning to kick.

[1]

Trevor shuddered. There was something deeply disorienting about the methodical nature of the execution. Deciding to quickly find the church, he stopped the nearest passer-by in the street.

"Er... Excuse me, do you know where to find the church?"

[llama]

As you're walking away you hear a loud cheer from the crowd as well as the kicking of air behind you. You take note that with this method of hanging, their necks wouldn't be able to break from the normal ones you've heard about; they'd be alive for perhaps dozens of minutes in pure agony.. and for what? Drinking out of a well?

You get the fellow's attention and he turns to you with a dumb looking face. His breath smells heavily of alcohol. "A wha?" As you get a whiff of his aura another passerby, a friendly looking robed figure with a feminine voice chimes in, "There's a worship district a few blocks from here." The person gestures where that district would be, "Within that street are centers dedicated to individual gods; Yulesia (Goddess of Life), Xerces (God of Knowledge), Fredul (Goddess of Balance).. all of the primary deities, may they be blessed." The person does a partial bow after this and, without giving you any time to reply, begins heading in the direction of the direction they had gestured just moments before when referring to the worship district.

[1]

Nodding back to the voice, with an uneasy smile, he too begins to walk in that direction. He trusted that the worship district would be a little less... much than the rest of the city had been. He had always been partial to Xerces, with his town's priest being largely devout to Knowledge, but would naturally visit the rest as well and pay his dues.

[llama]

You walk past the streets to the Worship District, the density of brothels and bars lowering the closer you get to it. Upon arrival, you look around the streets and see that it is much less populated than any other section of the city you have already been in; you would have bet that a city the size of Tort would have much more people here. This, obviously, is not the case.

Along with the aforementioned churches, you pick out a few more; Gratalda (Goddess of Humility) (a simple church, one of chipped, cheap looking wood), Buer (God of Exchange) (a church that looked more like a cross between an economic center and a frat house than a church), and an extremely obscure god that you have not heard of - Ploofteem. Underneath their name decrees what they represent: LORD OF THE CLEARING OF KARMA.  The church walls are adorned with sculptures of people with their arms raised, all in rather strange robes. Yulesia's had a gold hue emitting from its structure, Xerces's was made of a slick, shiny looking marble. Every part seemed to have been cleaned and shine; there was a perfect reflection off of it to the point where it looked like you were looking at just the sky or the street across, save for the distinguishable forms of the roof, stairs, and pillars which deceived its near perfect imitation of the areas opposite of it. Fredul's church frankly looked plain compared to the rest but invoked a feeling of perfect symmetry.. of.. well, balance.

[1]

Trevor keeps himself solemn and respectful as he walked through the district, and decides to visit this church of Ploofteem, first. He feels that he had always done the good thing, and stayed true to his word, but learning about new religions would certainly not hurt him. He would visit Xerces' shrine last, as he would likely spend the longest there, praying. Maybe he would also look into the library it probably had-- couldn't hurt to ready himself with some knowledge about the world. The "library" in his home-town was humble, and he'd gone through each book multiple times as a child.

[llama]

Heading up the steps and into the door of Ploofteem's church, you open the large double door to an entry hall. It is rather grand with the whole room being made of smooth granite, from the half circle entry desk which a robed figure occupies, to benches, to various statues of even more robed figures alternately turned to and away from the walls, occasionally set between one bench. The robed figure jumps to attention as you take in this room.
"Greetings!" The robed figure says, the voice being feminine. You try and get a look at them, more than just their robe, but it seems as though their face is shaded. Like you're just staring into the mouth of a cave that goes on for miles. "How are you, Debet?" This last word as a kind of sorry emphasis upon it, the same emphasis that a benevolent noble would refer to for the peasants that they govern.

[1]

"I'm good, thank you very much. What is it that you mean by Debet?"

Trevor bends his knees a little to try and get eye contact with the woman. He likes looking people in the eyes-- one of the things his father had taught him.

[llama]

You attempt to look them in the eye, and even when you're eye length with them, there's nothing there; no face within that hood. Just darkness. It has great contrast to the brilliant white of their robes to the point where your mind decided it was relevant to think about now. Truly brilliant; not a stain or even a trace of lint on it. They place their hand on the desk and, lo and behold, they're covered by white gloves.
"It is the term in our organization for outsiders. Debets are, however, invited, encourage even, to consider taking a look at what so many people turn a blind eye to."

[1]

Trevor nods seriously. He trusts priests and the religious nearly implicitly. The lack of eye contact unnerves him a little, though-- where the hell is her face?

"Ah, I s-see. I, uh, must confess, I've never heard of Ptflooeem before. I understand you're about ... redemption?"

[llama]

"Ah! See! A perfect example!" They lift their arms up at this, revealing the bagginess of the robe. It's impossible to get a hold on the body type of the person or really anything that could be hidden underneath the robe. "It is not you that is at fault but rather the leaders of communities. So much greater this world could be but, yes, the blind eye is turned." Resting their hands back onto the table, they pause before continuing, "Ploofteem is you and I, he is that which looks upon intrigue and follows the path less traveled. Karma is not a matter of good or bad, no Debet, but rather of the radical and the status quo. This radicalism is not proposing progressive social reforms or making statements with decapitations but rather the radicalism of going the road less traveled.. the one idea which is not even entertained by most." They give a slight bow at the end of this dialogue. "Redemption is had by entertaining and, if you're brave enough, taking action to this oddness. To go and not be comfortable with what you have now.. not necessarily constant self improvement, but rather constant shifting perspective.. poverty one day and riches the next. Cowardice to courage.. forgive me for going off, but it's been so, so long since someone has bothered to come in and hear this." Sadness is infused within the apology.

[1]

Trevor nods respectfully to the woman. "So impermanence of station, is redemption, then?" He hadn't heard of Ploofteem, bu sort of saw some draw to it as a traveler himself.

[llama]

"Yes! Exactly! Being able to see that no situation is better than another because regardless of the situation, it is still one that you experience!" The wave of arms is said with this declaration, moving them about so much so that you think that the sleeve of the robe is about to slip and reveal an arm.. but that doesn't happen. The end of the sleeve stays stuck to the end of the glove, as if the two were glued together.

[1]

"I can uh.. see where you're coming from." Trevor sort of agreed with the woman, but was sort of unnerved by not being able to see her eyes.

[llama]

"Great!" The person beamed. Noticing your discomfort, they lower their arms, more than likely thinking all the emotion and gesture are the things that could be the source of the nonequivalent enthusiasm. "Now.. Debet.. it is you that can bring about Ploofteem by living how I said. If just one person begins it, then it is something that will sweep the world like a wave of enlightenment."

[1]

"So it's a matter of accepting impermanence in living? I myself am a traveler, so I feel like I understand this sentiment a little." Trevor nods to the woman. It's strange how she's able to convey emotion clearly despite her face being hidden. Hell, he might as well ask about it.

"Uh, why do you..." he motions up and down his body "The clothes."

[llama]

The hood nods at your statement, "I'm sure that a person of your profession would be able to grasp it." This wasn't condescending but rather a confirming of your statement. Upon your question, you're sure that if you could see their face it would be confused before finally realizing the question you're asking, "Oh! The clerics of Ploofteem are supposed to be indistinguishable from one another as well as not able to be identified to our lives outside the church."

[1]

"Ah, alright, I see." Trevor shuffles his feet a little. He coughs. "I'll definitely be coming back. I would say see you later, but uh... I'm not sure if that's true." He smiles at the woman (?) nonetheless.

[llama]

The robed figure nods, and gives you a bow, "May your paths vary as much as the beauty and terror in this world."
You head out of the church, glancing around at the other centers of worship. The streets are still empty as ever in this district.

[1]

Trevor decided to head towards the temple of Xerces. He realized that it would be getting late soon, and decided to hurry it up. The experience had left him feeling pensive, and he appreciated the safety and silence of the halls of Xerces.

[llama]

The halls of the church in Vanduo may have been quieter, but it seems Tort's halls of Xerces are different. It opens into a large central hall, with the end of it hosting a stage in which an older, bearded man in a toga seems to be giving a lecture. Around a dozen people sit on benches in front of the platform, all of them looking up to him. You can hear some of his declarations from here, "It is.. the people.. our Gods given rights.." his voice rises and falls, allowing you only to distinguish partialities in his speech. You see that the hall tunnels off left and right halfway down the hall. Two signs decree that one of them is a library while the other is a room that acts as a smaller forum within the larger forum that is the Church of Xerces.

[1]

Trevor looks about, more out of reflex than curiosity. The halls of Xerces were sacred and special to him. He remembered the smell of old books and gentl conversation with much fondness-- it was in a sense, a sanctuary. Working to arrange books and clean the church made him feel useful despite his disability, and he remembered the feeling of actually helping with great nostalgia. He is somewhat surprised at the discussion that whispers by, being accustomed to a more quiet church, and so decides to see it for himself, before reading.

[llama]

The aroma of old paper and fine wine seems to occupy the halls of Xerces; the smell of thinkers, you reckon. You feel dedicated to this place that you have never been to in your entire life, and yet, you have.
You wander down to the end of the hall, where the bearded man is preaching up on the stand. You listen intently on his speech, "Freedom of the mind through these radical ideas; through the power of the vote! Proper representation of people! Us, as a supposedly 'more advanced' nation than the Confederacy, still we act in government just as their central one does! We cannot claim to be superior to them, or to Mustowians, or to any other nation when the Dual Kingdom is exactly the same! Hell, we're exactly like the Green Kingdom!" This brought a few gasps to the audience. At this the speaker throws his hands in the air and begins heading off the stage, grabbing his cane by the stairs and steadily heads down them.

[1]

Trevor is a little shocked at these ideas. He, of course has some doubts about the current system. The council of many seems inefficient, really. But at the same time, did he really want to give goblins the power to affect the central government? And at least for his small town, decisions were made with everyone involved. He shut up about that for the while, though. He would hear some more opinions before giving his two cents.