Solo Change in Faith

[Sayana]

Fall 91, 516 AV
- Temple of the Black Sun


“I’m lost, Rhysol.”

It was a hard thing to admit, especially out loud in the grand halls of the temple.

“I thought I knew you, or at least understood you enough to travel to your city and worship you here. I want to see the ripples of chaos under your name. I want to feel the thrill of ambition and conquest. But I cannot be myself. Your people do not care for the likes of me, and I have to be a lie beneath a lie beneath a…”

She sat in one of the pews, her voice strong but not raised in these grand and echoing halls. Lies. These were Rhysol’s domain. Even now she had a cloak to cover who she truly was. What would a god of betrayal and lies do to a worshiper speaking of pitiful truth and self-doubt? Shatter that sorry truth and spin a new web of lies.

And yet she continued.

“In Syliras it was easy. I could pit myself against the natural order of the knighthood. I could push boundaries, sow seeds, drive a thorn between people, create false hope… But here. These are your people, your priests, your military strength. What right do I have to spread chaos amongst their ranks when you have already deemed them yours?”

For strength, for ambition, for testing and challenging the resolve of his followers. Did they truly worship him? Did they believe in him like she did? Did she worship him to her fullest or was she lacking in commitment?

The thought lingered in her mind. Doubt. But then she was reminded of what Rhysol was. A lie beneath a lie beneath a lie…

She took a moment to look around the grand halls. There was a smattering of people. Some in worship, some moving about in black robes, others talking in hushed tones. Rhysol accepts all. The words lingered in her mind. There was nothing she couldn’t be. It was merely a test to her resolve. A test of her ambition.

It was all but a lie. A lie that was going to fuel her ambition.

[Sayana]

Her mind was made up as she rose slowly from the pews. So neat and tidy and pristine. The whole city seemed like a reflection waiting to shatter with a big enough impact. The vast pillar, no, shard at the front of the temple struck out harshly amidst the regal archways. That would be her target. She could feel the thumping of her heart within her chest as she walked with her face cast down towards the exit of the temple. Black robes lined the passage way out of the building. She wasn’t sure if she should be nervous or thankful. Either way, she would have an audience.

For about half a chime she steeled herself, concentrating intently on the black shard from her hunched and unassuming posture. She imagined a fierce ring of fire burning, glowing and dancing about the black backdrop. She mentally readied herself for magic, feeling the djed within her, and preparing to will it out. It was time.

The Eypharian flung off her cloak and made a grand entrance down the center aisle. Within the next tick she had drawn a dagger and held it above her head with her two high hands as if beckoning to the gods above. Her elegant red and black dress practically shimmered as she walked stately and purposefully towards the black shard. This was the moment she was most terrified for.

“From the Southern Cities, from Syliras herself, I call upon the civilization and peace and order and…” The moment she spoke the word ‘order’, she flinched and turned to the right as if struck by an invisible blow. Regaining herself, she continued forwards. “I charge this an unholy city, a city of chaos, and as such, I will return it to the righteous order of Sylir.”

This time she doubled over at the name of Sylir, clutching her stomach with her mid and low hands while her highs remained above her head gripping her dagger. She was still several feet from the black shard and as she tried to stand, her words echoed about the hall.

“For truth, for honor, for order.” Each word caused her to flinch from an invisible force and at the last word she uttered a small cry.

Now for the real magic. She cowered with her arms wrapped around her chest. Only her highs timidly and defiantly held the dagger aloft. She concentrated fiercely. Her mind seeking that brilliant ring of fire amidst a black void. Then she gripped the djed within her and expelled it out through her heart, her chest.

For a split tick, she was terrified as she glimpsed her scarlet res in a gas form, but soon she managed to condense it to a liquid. A bright red liquid covering her chest. She gave a loud shriek and opened her arms towards the sky and revealed the scarlet mess upon her skin. “Help me. Give me strength, Sylir!” She forced res out from one of her arms and the magical crimson liquid seem to bubble forth.

Another cry escaped her lips and she suddenly felt fatigued. Actually fatigued. She raised her dagger and rushed over as if to strike the black shard with it, then stopped half way, clutching her throat and gasping for air. It was if time had frozen and all eyes were on her. She trembled, holding her neck and sucking in ragged breaths.

“Please please,” she sobbed and focused nearly all her effort on the res and not letting it transmute by mistake. Instead she let the dagger fall and clatter dramatically on the floor.

“Please Rhysol. I beg of you. Mercy.”

[Sayana]

It had gone quiet, her audience captivated. There were certainly those who were suspicious, skeptical even, but she was no longer acting in a dangerous or harmful manner. Slowly, ever so slowly she reached down to pick the dagger back up. But this time her mid hand that wielded it struggled and trembled as she held the dagger in a deathly grip. Gradually the knife seemed to turn on its own accord to point towards her throat, and the shaking got worse.

“No, no. Please no. I’ll honor you Rhysol. I’ll believe in you. I’ll worship you. I’ll do anything. I’ll serve you.” Her voice seemed panicked, scared. But when the tip of the blade had just begun to press against her throat, it seemed to stop.

“Yes. Please Rhysol. I’ll serve you. I’ll worship you like no other. Just spare my life and I’ll inspire others. Please Rhysol, please let me serve you.”

The dagger seemed to be back under her control, but when she looked down she realized that scarlet res still lingered and threatened to transmute. Suddenly she had the blade pointed at her throat once more. With three quick and well placed slashes, she mimed cutting into her chest. Sayana let out a curdling scream. “Please Rhysol! I’ll serve you. I’ll forsake my ties to Sylir. He is nothing. I can bring more to your side. I can serve you. Spread your word and your domain. Convince others to join you.”

She fell to a huddling mess upon the floor, arms wrapped around her, seemingly broken and distraught. It was then that she focused on the res that remained and after several ticks of concentration, it relented and shifted to her natural element: water. The sudden shock of real liquid left her shivering and her clothes damp. But as she slowly straightened up, signs of the red fluid would be entirely gone.

[Sayana]

The Eypharian looked at her chest and arms with disbelief on her face, and as she turned around she made sure that onlookers could see the result as well. Her arms would appear unscathed but on her chest were three scars where she had made the fake slashes with her dagger.

“Rhysol has shown me mercy. I have been healed!”

There were mutterings of surprise, awe, and suspicion. Despite her convincing act, there were those present at the temple who would know whether Rhysol had truly been present, simply due to the chaon marks they bore. However, other tampering could have easily occurred for such results. A skilled hypnotist or projectionist could have had a hand in this, or even a clever Chaon. However, the common citizen watched in amazement as Sayana polished off the last of her act.

“I may not be human but you treat me as one of your children. I will not disappoint you Rhysol. These marks, these scars will be a reminder of my duty, my service to you. And also a reminder of your mercy.” As she spoke with religious devotion she clasped a hand to her chest and drew attention to the aged scars etched there. “I promise to repay you for the mercy you showed me. With courage in my heart and strength in my arms, I will show you devotion just as strong as any human in your realm.”

This was the point she intended to drive home. She was not human but Rhysol had spared her. Sayana fervently hoped that there were no skilled aurists to detect her false charade, and little did she know that there were other ways to notice such a thing. Whispers filled the grand hall and slowly it began to revert to normal as her dramatic scene came to a close.

But would any call her out on the act? Those who knew or those who suspected? And yet, at the religious core of the city of chaos, who could possibly refuse such a dramatic display of propaganda towards the faith of their god?

When Sayana at last stepped out of the Temple of the Black Sun, many eyes were upon her. Some curious and fascinated, others wary and watchful. But she as she left, her head was held high and her cloak tucked under an arm. No more was she going to hide who she was.

Truth and lies. Ravok was a city of unlikely opportunities where betrayal and deception could yield rewards just as great as ambition alone.

[Rufio]

　　　
　　
　　
　　
　　
　　
　　

g r a d e s

xp

Philosophy +1
Prayer +1
Acting +2
Reimancy +1
Weapon, Dagger +1

lores

Ravok: Temple of the Black Sun
Rhysol: God of lies & chaos
Religion: What does it mean to be truly devout of Rhysol?
Sayana: Life in Ravok - a lie beneath a lie
Prayer to Rhysol: Self-doubt becomes ambition
Acting: Playing a devotee of Sylir
Acting: Rhysol’s mercy to raise her status in Ravok
Ravok: A city of opportunities where betrayal & deception yields rewards as great as ambition alone

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