conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Eradis: Spoiler: GM tracker 
       Player  
    Character  
    PP  
    AC  
    HP  
    Condition  
   
    DoctorGlock 
     Lucien   
   13 
   16(10) 
   12/12 
    
   
    
   
  
  
  The cool breeze of a spring morning came through the windows of the temple at the far side of the town. Its back against the forest surrounding the area, the building stood tall among the modest habitations forming its parish. A bright star ornate with a horizontal bottom-facing moon crescent was carved over the doors in the honor of Leoht, the All-Father, god of light and bringer of beauty.
  
  The sun was only starting to raise as Lucien, adopted son of Sir Julian Mordeux, was already there for prayers with an handful of young disciple of the light like himself. All church-goers and of a similar age, there was a striking difference between them. Lucien never quite fitted. His colleagues respected him openly and out of necessity, but the young man knew deep down he was despised by more than the common and intolerant citizen of Goresh. His yellowish eyes betrayed his elvish nature. Changeling he was often called, freak, monster, imposter, pagan even. Had he not been found by the man he saw as a father, his infant body would have been left in the woods to perish. As little comfort the prayers brought him, Lucien knew he had a few friends within these walls, but above all else, a brief peace of mind.
  
  The prayers were abruptly interrupted as they are most week day by Templars with duties to assign. Among them was Sir Mordeux. The man was tall and fit of a royal guard, although the only thing he guarded was his precious faith and its values. Decisively he walked to Lucien with a message.
  
  " 'Morning son. "
  
  The man paused and looked at the corner of his eyes the rest of those already present and resumed his greetings once everyone was in motion.
  
  " I have a special task for you today. You will go to the temple of Vii in Bellarive. Apparently they need a new perspective on an issue the priests there are dealing with. The road might be short, but ask for shelter if the sun is about to set once you are done serving there. "
  
  Sir Mordeaux turned on his heels assuming a positive answer.
  
  " May Valott guide your path " he added before heading to the exit.
  
   
   Spoiler: Out of character 
   
   Bellarive is a village at the other end of the forest. Smaller than Goresh, but tightly linked by the church. Lucien has already been there several times over. It is in the forest separating the two places that he was originally found by Sir Julian. 
   Vii is another deity. Daughter of nature - and of Leoht - she is the one who reigns over nature and who gives it its color. 
   Valott is a lesser god, the one of guidance and travel. His name is often used when wishing a safe travel or when seeking wisdom or counsel from others. 
   
   
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: DoctorGlock: The words had never meant much to Lucien. Prayers belonged in dusty tomes with dusty gods. But the ringing of the votive bells and the chanting was soothing. He needed that. The nightmares had come again last night, a crooning lullaby with cracking syllables and the harsh croaking of ravens.
  
  Here the bells and sprawling rosebushes brought peace. That was almost like prayer, he hoped.
  
  His father's voice interrupted his reverie. The task seemed a simple one, and his father's warning sensible. And he had turned to leave before Lucien could inquire further. No sense rushing after him, not where all could see. What would they say?  Lucien cannot follow simple instructions. Lucien has no discipline. Lucien is no knight. 
  
  So that meant a quick trip to the armory. First, his quarters. A fine set of silver-gleaming mail, lovingly polished through the years, beneath a white tabbard bearing a red and violet rose, styled as if from stained glass. The same that graced the great chapel. It had been his father's once.
  
   Brigands and blackguards prowl the forests, and far worse beneath the waxen moon... 
  
  The armory, yes. The grizzled old quartermaster with his one eye handed Lucien his spear, topped with its long, thin, curved glittering blade, Another gift from his father, so different from the arms of the other knights. He had never told him where it was from, but it was obvious it was made in no local forge.
  
  'What do you know of the road to Ballarive,' Lucien asked the old man-at-arms. "I've heard there are bandits there now.'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Eradis: Spoiler: GM tracker 
       Player  
    Character  
    PP  
    AC  
    HP  
    Condition  
   
    DoctorGlock 
     Lucien   
   13 
   16(10) 
   12/12 
    
   
    
   
  
  
  The quartermaster was not sight to behold. The years have not been kind on him. Once a great man, a great warrior of the holy church, the old man always made time for stories. When in public, the tale of his lost eye was one of wavering faith leading to his fall in battle. " Had I not hesitated and gave the gods all the credits for my victories, I'd be standing in your ranks still... With both eyes! " he often said. That story had a different angle when he talked to Lucien in his younger years. The quartermaster found the young boy crying in the alley behind his magazine and told him his story as he told everyone else. There was a twist then and it was the only time he heard it:
  
  " You know boy, I was doing pretty good that day. Good work too. What I accomplished saved many lives from the grasp of evil and twisted creatures. Yet I was punished by the gods for doubting. I tell the story, but I gotta tell you laddie, I doubt even more since that bloody day. Even more when I see innocent kids like you being bullied for being different. The only difference it really made is that I don't take any chances now. Always watching or not, I won't be caught in their disgrace again. "
  
  Obviously holding back his plain thoughts, the message was clear then: the gods are not perfect if they still care for the mortals.
  
  "  Bellarive  you mean " coughed the wrinkly man laughing. " I thought you would get that word right with that fancy name of yours  Lucien  " now putting an accent in his name.
  
  Erwan took a rag out as he spoke to the changeling and started cleaning the top of the furniture lying about.
  
  " Bandits are a plague that afflicts every isolated road lad. That forest behind the church is no exception. Bandits is too great a word for what they really are. Mostly they are those in need abusing the hospitality of both the temple of Leoht and the nature's goddess'. "
  
  The man took a pause with a changed look in his eye. It examined Lucien from the boots to the tip of his head.
  
  " Don't linger too much there laddie, you more than anyone else. Don't even think of camping there this time of year "
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: DoctorGlock: Lucien grinned. From Erwan humor always came from a good place, and he was one of the few that would say Lucien's storybook name without a hint of mockery. The grind swiftly vanished under the man's scrutiny.
  
  'Something beyond bandits troubles you about Bellarive, Sergeant?' Lucien asks, his amber eyes gleaming like cats' in the dim torchlight of the armory.