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knife effect Vice Captain
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 Posted: Sat Apr 27, 2013 2:47 pm
this will be clean/organized soon bear w/ me for a bit!! > <
It was a slow crawl for Bishop Lefevre to leave his diocese and reach Blackmere, and the travel was not was simple as he'd assumed: it was a gruelling month of work between monasteries with the troubled east and a smattering in the south. In truth, the bishop fairly new abbot to The Annex had suggested he visited Imisus instead of taking the shorter route through Helios, which seemed a brave and favorable task given his rather isolated company in Shyregoed. What he had forgotten was that, though still did have to deal with many abbots in the North, he was generally not too fond of strange company.
To him, it was one of the reasons why this meeting seemed especially unsavorable.
It was early morning, and just as sunlight started to seep through the curtains once again, the horses drew to a gradual stop. Lefevre breathed in and checked his lap for the numerous letters given to him from abbots within Imisus, w?hich were desperate in tone, until the carriage driver pulled open the wagon door and ushered the bishop to leave, quickly. Upon doing so, he was overwhelmed by a sudden heat not present only a day before, and he tugged at the collar of his shawl gingerly; upon leaving, he thanked the driver quietly and walked with purpose to the Blackmere Church.
The carriage had left him in an area close enough to the church that its shadow loomed over his entire figure, but the walk was still surmisable to the man. The Church itself was not monstrous in the eyes of Orthodox Panymisians, but to him, it stood monstrous against the strikingly flat backdrop of the Auvinian city, which seemed plain in comparison to the work done on the stone sanctuary before him. Though he had seen the place before, he was in awe, silent in observance--
"Hey!"
--Until a bishop two heads taller than him stood proudly next to him, which gave Lefevre a good enough scare to prod him awake.
"Ah, hello," was all the older bishop said, until more bishops converged near him and made their way through the halls of Blackmere. There were only a handful of them, which worried Lefevre, and he disregarded their discourse, focusing only on finding the chapterhouse.
Bishop Lefevre supposed he was nervous.
---
The chapterhouse was stark. At the center was a long table, and all around them were red-robed Obscuvians of varied importance, standing in anticipation for the debates to start, some holding candles and flags of their home kingdoms. Truly, a great many of them were from Auvinus, even moreso from Blackmere, the Obscuvian Heartland, but the few others that were there beamed with just as much anticipation. They were, after all, fidgety from their travels.
Lefevre (and the rest of the bishops near him, now quiet) walked steadily to an empty seat next to Bishop Rosenthal, a fellow Shyregoedian man he had rarely seen for the past season. Everyone knew their place at the pentagonal table, with each Bishop seated compasswise to their respective kingdoms, with the Bishops of more noteable dioceses seated nearer to the center of their respective sides. When all were seated, Lefevre realized he was one of the last to be present at the chapterhouse, which embarrassed him greatly.
Facing him at the long table was Bishop Hawke, a raven-haired woman he'd only heard of from Auvinus. As all fell to silence, the sound of footsteps and hushed talking fading quickly, young Bishop Tolstoy, at the center of the Southern end, spoke clearly.
"We've convened today for an issue that has gone on for far too long: our Panymisian brothers accuse us of countless and ceaselessly violent acts against the Empire. Is it as they say? Are Obscuvos' children truly to blame?"
--
Various expressions of unrest and concern immediately arose. Violence against the empire was an ongoing issue in every region, yet the Auvinian portion of the table remained oddly silent. BIshop Hawke didn't expect this topic to be examined so early into the meeting, but there was nothing premature about addressing the issue itself. She lifted her chin and replied swiftly.
"As His children, it has always been our responsibility to search for truth. We should not deny any form of accusation, even if it comes from the mouths of our wingless brothers," she began. "That being said, I do not deny that it is as they say."
Her words stirred gasps of discontent, and the murmurs started once again.
"I do not deny the accusations," she repeated, glaring, "because they are not untrue, and I doubt that most of us think otherwise. We, however, will be showing untrue loyalty towards Obscuvos if we continue denying responsibility over actions committed in his name. If we are bold enough to claim virtuous deeds done in His name, we must be equally bold, if not, greater, to admit when we have sullied it."
While the southern end remained silent, Bishop Lefevre coughed into his sleeve. "While a few of us are hesitant to say it, I believe Bishop Hawke is merely doing us the favor of stating a point we've all known for quite a while. Unrest as of late has been rather harsh on the Obscuvian church... a lot of what the Empire knows of us has been the unsavory actions of some radicals."
A man from the eastern end, Bishop Say, spoke loudly, "While there may be a few radicals that pose danger to Panymium, is it to say that only Obscuvians are to be blamed? There are only so many of us, and even fewer of those pesky rebels who dare call us brothers! The actions pinned on us are of great magnitude... how could we be associated with those massacres, those acts of rebellion? Surely, someone against us must be exaggerating!"
"I have to agree with Bishop Say," another spoke, a younger face whose voice was never heard at the long table before, "How could we be responsible for so much? I'm not saying to deny any responsibility, sister, but in the end, none of us are sure whom exactly we should punish for these horrible acts. It seems, to my eyes, to be none I have worked with, and I'm sure many bishops here feel the same..."
"For all we know, those violent radicals may be nothing but rebellious cows hiding in Obscuvian skin. They might not even share our faith, sister Hawke," said Bishop Sutton, again from the eastern end.
Bishop Hawke shook her head.
"Perhaps I should have been more clear, brother Sutton. I agree that the radicals will be difficult to identify and punish." she quietly said. "I, too, am hesitant to suggest punishing them, but I doubt that any of us, punishment or not, would prefer such acts to continue. "
She turned to brother Mannerings and smiled reassuringly before gazing sharply at him and the bishops surrounding him.
"We must try to be responsible for what we can, brothers. Our size has never stunted our faith, and even if there are rebels among us, there are firm believers, too. If we cannot prioritize punishment, then we'll take responsibility in ways that we can. As bishops, our reach also has its limits. We must remind all our brothers and sisters of how Obscuvians should act, and by doing so, we can influence them to discourage the rebels from pursuing violence. As Obscuvians, we should learn to rely on each other. Am I wrong, brothers?"
Bishop Bennett from Shyregoed, and one only a few chairs away from Bishop Lefevre, leaned in cautiously. He stared at Hawke with great apprehension, "Are you saying that the doctrines we have now do not aid in that already, Sister Hawke? The Obscuvian discipline is a rigorous one. I daresay it may be more rigorous than even the Orthodox Panymisian church itself..."
"...And, if what Brother Sutton says is to be true, what way is there to truly repel imitators from sullying our name?" Bishop Mannering crossed his arms, "They are not true brethren. Even the combined guidance of our brothers and sisters may have no effect on these criminals... and I do think these men that Brother Sutton mentions are a very big danger, as well, even accounting for the rebels that may be within our numbers."
"Another threat beyond our own," a bishop from the western end scoffed, "I see why Bishop Hawke spoke so boldly. Another problem we face, brothers, is our innate childishness! How long may we push the blame to others? I say Bishop Hawke's advice may do some good!"
"Bishop Bennett has already mentioned we have tried what we could in that way, Bishop Ward," Bishop Lefevre replied, weakly, "In many ways, I agree... it seems we've been working harder than we ever have. What else is there for us to do?"
"The doctrines we have now, brother Bennett, do not affect the imitators! The false brethren are a symptom of our ignorance and nothing more; it is useless to punish them." Bishop Hawke loudly said, clenching her fists. At this point she wasn't sure if she was attempting to lead a discussion or trying to reaffirm her own beliefs. "Doctrines are only followed by their believers; they do not affect the false brethren. The doctrine cannot guarantee how a follower will act, it can only hope to encourage them to do what is right. All of our brethren, false or not, need a light to guide them, not a fire to punish them."
"...Our doctrine is weak in its current state, brothers. This is the truth." Her voice softened. " It is as brother Ward says. All we have done is blacken others with blame; we have not done all that we could do. It's impossible to continue convincing ourselves and our followers that we are competent."
She gestured around herself.
"Even now, we lack direction and leadership. A prophet empowers our doctrine and lead His children by example. Perhaps it is time to elect our prophet, or shall we delay that, too? "
The bishops at the long table stood motionless, while those around them did just the opposite-- the clergymen around them whispered to themselves, which clearly bothered Brother Tolstoy. He as an ever-patient man, however, and merely clapped twice to regain the attention of the chapterhouse's rising din.
"What Bishop Hawke mentions of the Prophet is something looming for many of us," Bishop Tolstoy addded, grimly, "Even those who aren't Bishops know just as well, if not moreso, of why we delayed choosing a Prophet for so long, but it may be time for us to move ahead and complete the task once and for all. The High Prophet may not be with us today, but--"
"Both you and Bishop Hawke underestimate the sheer effort it's taking to reform a system we once trusted," spat Bishop Bennett, now staring bitterly at the dark-haired woman, "It's not as simple as it seems, no, it's far more complex than that, and without the supervision of the High Prophet, it is not within our realm of discussion to propse such a thing. No. The last time youthful Bishops had a say in what we must all do, Mandy Young became prophet, and how foolish that was! It has left us crippled, and worse yet, made a mockery of our legacy in Panymium! Where before the Empire tolerated us, the make a fool of us again this decade!"
"T-that may be right," Bishop Mannering said, weakly, "But you can't deny what Bishop Hawke says holds some weight of truth in it... and, anyways, would it be so hard to replace a Prophet, in reality? Even without the reform, we were quick in deciding on Brother Tolstoy as the charge for the Blackmere diocese, a role filled just as rightly as if any prophet were here. Would it be so difficult, brothers, to trust Brother Tolstoy as the new Prophet?"
A few Bishops rang silently among themselves on the southern side, though many of the elders at the table looked away and exchanged glances of solemn disapproval. Bishop Bennett placed a palm to his forehead and stared to Brother Tolstoy, who, despite his solemn expression, was squirming awkwardly in his seat.
"I see the true purpose of this discussion today has finally shown itself," muttered Brother Sophorinus, another elder member, "Yet Brother Tolstoy has so little to say. Tell me, Brother Sutton: do you understand the inner workings of the House of Obscuvos? We may not be as old as the Panymese church, but we function in much the same way. The requirements to find a Prophet was previously complex, as was nominating one in the first place-- when we first made an exception to this, it was for Mandy Young, a naive but dream-filled fool. Her strong presence in our church was backed by the members of many younger Bishops due to her outward ambitions, but in the end, the weight of them was too much for us to bear, and her Prophethood resulted in nothing but disappointment.
"I resent the idea of nominating Brother Tolstoy to Prophethood, brothers, and you must understand why," Brother Sophorinus frowned," Though we were crippled during a time of need during the famine, and during the Imisese riots, are we suffering as much as we were then? No. I don't believe there is a need for a new Prophet, and Sister Hawke is exaggerating the role's importance. It may do us some good to remove the role of Prophet altogether, so we may forget about this reformation hassle altogether, and focus on other more pressing issues at hand, those that we all agree are pervading our church as we speak."
Sister Hawke laughed darkly, startling those who sat close to her. "Removing the role of Prophet? An irresponsible suggestion. It's like you say, Brother Sophorinus. We were crippled during the famine and the riots. Misfortune tested our Prophets, that is all. All Prophets must carry burdens. Mandy Young's just happened to be too heavy for her. We can only carry the burdens that we can." She smiled lightly, "Perhaps it would do us more good in choosing more wisely. Removing the role of Prophet would do us more harm than good, with our current issues at hand. We have no reason to choose a weak Prophet, especially now that we've seen so many of them wobble, much like Brother Tolstoy's chair. Mandy's stregnth came from her supporters. Our new Prophet's must come from themselves, so that when the burden becomes heavy, they can carry it on their own. I am certain such a person exists."
Ah, I must agree with Sister Hawke on this," piped Brother Mannering, clearly bothered, "I might not have the same experience as you may, Brother Sophorinus, but I'm sure many of us would agree that removing the Prophet would not be the most ideal... we need more leadership, not less! Even if we solve things, who will oversee them?"
"I would hope," Sophorinus replied sourly, "It would be us, the watchful Bishops of every diocese that exists in Panymium, rather than the nosy eyes of the Prophet and High Prophet, whose business rarely touches upon districts that aren't already self-sufficient themselves! Do not misunderstand me, brothers: I'm not dissenting against the High Prophet himself, but does such a wise man truly need an associate in Blackmere to do exactly as he says, when what we lack and yearn for most is equal representation of all dioceses, in all kingdoms? Let us look at the Panymisians: does the Entente have an assistant equal to the High Prophet, or do their people merely trust his wisdom?"
"The Panymisians may have a different system from ours, but must we really reform to change to old ways, Brother Sophorinus?" Bishop Lefevre clasped his hands together, "Though I've been quiet for most of this time, I find myself slowly adhering to what Sister Hawke has to say... while we consider Mandy Young a blemish to our faith, she has also proven that a Prophet can be something more than the echoing of the High Prophet's every word."
"I believe the Obscuvian faith is strong due to its separation from the Orthodox church, everyone," said another young Bishop brightly, "I may not have been around in this position when Mandy Young as a Bishop, let alone a Prophet, but if she did what she did with more influence, more backing, more power-- her dreams could have been fufilled! Consider this: perhaps her ambitions were different from that of the Prophets, and we, so unused to that change, were driven away from it."
"What a theory!" exclaimed another Bishop, sitting baffled at the northern side, "Even if that was true, Sister Agnes, if the Prophet were to be given support for their individual will, what use is there of the High Prophet? At this rate, we might as well have two High Prophets entirely, and do away with the fuss!"
"If the Prophets are to be done away with--we Bishops might as well be done away with too!" Lidia cried, exasperated. "Must we continue to subtract power from ourselves? Our system is different from the Panymisians, as is our leadership. Our leadership remains strong because of the traditions we've upheld. Mandy's loss was not an Obscuvian defeat, but an Obscuvian opportunity. Perhaps we should be making more effort than our Panymisian brothers in supporting our leaders' ambitions. Mandy's fall wasn't entirely her own. The House without a High Prophet and Prophet would be no different than Tolstoy's chair without two of its legs. As the Bishops , and our leaders' failures are shared by all. As Bishops of his House, we have always been entrusted with making the difficult decisions. We must not underestimate ourselves."
"ORE WA DARE DA TO OMOTTEYAGARU?!" cried Lidia. "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK WE Are"
Brother Tolstoy sat quietly offended at Bishop Hawke, and though a few other bishops had equal say in respects to his position, they kept to themselves. Brother Sophorinus simmered where he was, while Sister Agnes nodded in agreement to her fellow Sister.
"I will-- make sure to bring up the issue of electing a Prophet when I may see the High Prophet next," Tolstoy interrupted before Sister Agnes could say anything, which made her scowl a bit, "But other than discussing the possible outcomes of it, I'm afraid that, as Bishops, we have little say in when the elections will truly take place until then... I'm sorry to say, Brother Sophorinus, that while your concerns are genuine, I simply cannot imagine the House going down that route."
Brother Tolstoy raised his head to the remainder of the chapterhouse, "Everyone: this involves not only the Bishops, but all followers within our faith. Consider what these wise brothers and sisters are saying and understand your duty in the Nominations," he glanced at Lidia, "Truly, in these times, we cannot act passively."
The chapterhouse hummed with noise, and the Bishops at the long table sat aback, with Brother Tolstoy staring solemnly at Lidia Hawke. While he was used to the ostracization that came with his unlikely position, never had the young Bishop felt so nervous.
Though the debates continued, the prime manner still loomed over everyone through the day: passively, the Nominations had already begun.
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Posted: Sat Jul 13, 2013 1:30 am
lidia hawke is an adult
wip
The Blackmere monastery was strangely quiet the day of Lidia Hawke's congregation, yet the number of people present there made acolytes and followers practically ooze from its threshold. Though the Obscuvian bishops of Panymium were much fewer in number than its Orthodox counterparts, to assuage as many as there were for the ceremony was far more impressive than the last two times they sat together-- for the great debate and, less fortunately, Mandy Young's ordinaton.
Most waited since morning until the peak of the afternoon for the ceremonies began. First came prayer and gospels, every clergyman's face hidden behind a porcelain bird's mask. The clanging of golden thuribles echoed through the halls-- unusual, were this a Panymisian monastery-- and an herbal, relishing smoke loomed around the monastery in waiting. Acolytes sang at the head of the church, robed entirely in black and lit against the red-stained glass of the altarpiece.
Much to his unapparent discontentment, Bishop Tolstoy led a majority of the ceremonies, and his rigid instructions stopped at the direction of the bell just above them. The entrance of the Blackmere hall slowly opened, and the sound of its creaking haunted the air, with wind billowing the flames of candles held by followers with dangerous luster.
"The High Prophet," Tolstoy voiced, whereupon everyone turned to look at the robed figure before them. Onfroi Molyneux marched onward, masked with a delicately golden mask and an ensemble gilded and black. Once he reached the end and stood at the front of the alterpiece, he turned around-- after his entrance followed that of Bishop Hawke, and behind her a parade of three bishops of her choosing.
Onfroi took off his mask. It was a task rarely done, and revealed a stark and beaming face, grey eyes wide.
"Lidia Hawke," he called, "vox populi vox dei. Come forth."
The soon-to-be prophet stopped short at Onfroi's feet, and behind her, the procession followed suit.
Lidia sucked in a breath at her name's call. She'd be dishonest to herself if she said she hadn't been pining or grooming herself for this moment. Herbal smoke filled her lungs, and choral song invigorated her spirit. It was all as it should be: the procession, the atmosphere, and her garments. Her hawk's mask had been outfitted with coal-colored pearls, and her hair had been gathered into a ceremonial bun that her husband dubbed "fitting for a conquerer". Her gown weighed heavily on her shoulders, like warrior's mettle in the form of Obscuvian dress. Despite that she'd never participated in battle, Lidia finally understood, at this moment, what seizing a fort must have felt like. Today, she'd be seizing a fort that Mandy Young had failed to keep. Behind her, Ward, Mannering, and Agnes's features remained unreadable behind their masks. They'd followed her throughout the procession, but she could only hope that they'd continue to follow her for years to come.
She removed her mask with spidery malachite-painted fingers, and stepped forwards, head bowed. Her turquois eyes were closed, while her lips, once sealed, slightly parted.
Onfroi acknowledged Lidia's presence with a slight nod, then bowed before her, signalling the procession and the candidate to genuflect.
The High Prophet paused to look at the monastic audience, calm in presentation, then placed his hands on top of Lidia's head. He decided the gospel of Obscuvos with a certainty that rang with clarity throughout the church, and while he did so, the three bishops behind Lidia rose to take their places behind Onfroi.
He lifted his hands from Lidia's head and looked down to her, his palms now presented to her. "...Video sed non credo. By the grace of Obscuvos and the presence of our men, Lidia Hawke, you have been chosen as High Prophet to speak the words of our God and know them to be truthful. The brothers behind me find you virtuous."
The bishops along the altarpiece looked upon Lidia with a mix of pride and anticipation.
"Have you received the gospel of Obscuvos and the burden of his Prophecy?"
Suddenly, Lidia felt childlike in her impatience. She knew that ending the inauguration with such a question was a part of prophet tradition, but it nonetheless felt arbitrary. Of course she'd received the gospel of Obscuvos and the burden of his prophecy; her Obscuvian career was testament to such cause. Sarcasm aside, the atmosphere was feeling much too...like what Mandy's inaugeration must have been like, and Lidia had purposefully made every step of her Obscuvian journey as different from Mandy's as possible. Since she was a child, Lidia had always prided herself in her ability to fool others' expectations. The lambent glow of the bishops' faces was a nice-to-have, but the Prophet was almost certain that they'd beamed at Mandy the same way that they beamed at the prophets that came before her. Frankly, her ceremony needed pinache. Lidia Locke's inaugeration was meant to be revolutionary, so it would only be proper if she made an effort to make it so.
She ran her tongue along her lower lip like how she did as a child in mischief.
"Vir prudens non contra ventum mingit." Lidia nonchalantly replied, using all the willpower within her to avoid breaking out into snort-laugther. "A wise man does not urinate up against the wind."
Lidia's response earned a stifled response from Onfroi, at first, though he burst into an eager laughter and bowed once more to the newly indited Prophet. "Ah! Sister Hawke has spread a word of wisdom already: abusus non tollit usum." The three Bishops near the High Prophet took Sister Hawke's response with mixed emotion, though sister Agnes-- and the one proudly holding the stole and vestment, at that-- chuckled to herself, though it was difficult to hear during the din of rustling among the rest of the monastery. The other bishops-- Tolstoy in particular-- shuffled in their places, though a few of them looked awfully amused.
"Stand." Onfroi took the vestment from Sister Agnes first. It was brilliantly obsidion and detailed Obscuvian symbolism on the rim in a fine, fitted gold. He placed it on Lidia, "For your burden, I give to you Obscuvos' skin," he then took the stole-- a fine red cloth, and wrapped it around her neck-- "And his blood, so you may do unto your fellow word with both His guidance and that of mine. With the alias Prophet Hawke, audax at fidelis, the House of Obscuvos is proud to serve with you."
A humbling silence fell upon the audience then, and the gospels and wisps of thurible smoke begun once again. Onfroi stepped backwards, upwards toward the altarpiece, and the three Bishops resumed their place behind Lidia Hawke after a long bow. The High Prophet raised his hands toward the monastery.
"We will show thanks to our new Prophet's deliverance with prayer," he announced, then put on his mask once again, "I urge you all to rejoice as Prophet Hawke prepares her first liturgy, then may we celebrate Obscuvos' presence in Blackmere tonight with blessed food and music."
[3:32:49 AM] Elizabeth Li (黎民慶): Lidia reassumed her own hawk mask, Onfroi's words still lingering in her ears. The House of Obscuvos is proud to serve with you; the words echoed favorably at the back of her head. Although the prophet looked and dressed positively towards her new role, her esprit would be most evident through her liturgy. If there was any name that Lidia could endlessly praise, it was Obscuvos's. She'd done so during many Obscuvian meetings to the point where her followers joked that she'd giving an Obscuvian liturgy was how she left the womb. There was no-one more fitting to deliver Obscuvoss panegyric than the newly appointed Prophet herself, and her ardent passion for the glutton god would only make her liturgy all the more creative. Sister Agnes doubted that Lidia had prepared for her liturgy at all despite having prepared for everything else necessary, but she had faith that the hawk-eyed woman would do her best to make this ceremony as iridiscent in character as possible.
Before starting, Lidia tossed Onfroi a rakish smile, which she hoped he'd soon return. Stiffening, she then commanded a confident demeanor as she glided through her liturgy which surpassed Mandy's by at least one stanza, two, for good measure. After she finished, she closed one hand over the other, and anticipated a better reaction than what Mandy had received.
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knife effect Vice Captain
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