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 Posted: Sun Mar 27, 2011 11:08 pm
Welcome to Katachii's quest for her own plague!
The Keeper's name is Rosalie
And the Plague is a censer by the name of Gabriel.
--
I worked on this while I was still lurking, so it's complete (for now, I keep changing things). But please, I'd love critiques. <3
Note: Thanks to chenabby, kotaline and CrispyWonderMint for helping me with this. <3
Dec. 26th--Prompt reply added and critique received from kota. Changes made!
Jan. 4th--After additional crit from Saint-Cinq and Snifit, I'm calling this done! Thanks everyone, and good luck to all the other winter entrants!
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Posted: Sun Mar 27, 2011 11:10 pm
Censer:
A vented vessel with a removable top in which incense is burned. It is usually suspended at the end of a chain, which is used as a holder.
A vessel suspended by chains, and used for burning incense at solemn Mass, Vespers, Benediction, processions, and other important offices of the Church. It is now commonly called a thurible. In its prevailing shape the censer consists of a cup, or bowl, which rests on a firm base and is provided with a hollow movable pan for holding ignited charcoal, a lid or covering, and four chains about three feet in length, three of which unite the bowl to a circular disc, while the fourth is used for raising the lid, to which one end is attached, the other passing through a hole in the disc and terminating in a small ring. To carry the censer the chains are grasped in the hand just under the disc, care being taken to keep the base elevated to a height of six or eight inches from the ground and to swing it gently to and fro in order that the current of air thus created may cause the fire to burn the fragrant gums or incense which is placed on it whenever the censer is being used. The censer played an important part in the ancient religious worship both of the Jews and Pagans. It is no wonder, then, that its employment in Christian ceremonies goes back to the very earliest times. These vessels in the Middle Ages were often made of gold and silver and enriched with numerous details of most elaborate ornamentation.
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Posted: Sun Mar 27, 2011 11:12 pm
.... [A Rose]
[Dreamer]
[The Grimm]
Name: Rosalie de Clare
Age: 22
Possible faction: Council of Sciences
Region: Lives on her family's small estate in Mishkan.
 Appearance: One would be hard pressed to consistently find Lie either 'plain' or 'beautiful'. Indeed, her looks seem to reflect on her personality, for it is the days when she is expected to behave properly that she seems the most dull; in contrast, the true Rosalie, a young woman with a far-off expression and messy blonde braids, with an accidental smudge of dirt or dust here and there, shines all the more brightly. But these traits are noticed after the basics...
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 115lbs
Eye Color: A blue-gray color; can look either more blue or more gray depending on what she wears.
Hair: Blonde, with a slight wave to it. While it could be beautiful, Rosalie has never been to the kindest to her hair; it is usually tied back in some way, since she hardly takes the time to brush it beyond a few ragged swipes.
Complexion: Slightly tan, with a naturally faint flush to her cheeks.
Build: She's of average build for a girl her size, neither too thin nor too stocky. She has thin, graceful hands--though you wouldn't know it, as they're often dirty or running busily through her hair if it's left untied. Running errands and doing minor work has left her with some hint of muscles, but not enough to truly affect her figure.
Clothing: Despite her mother's efforts, Rosalie gives no more attention to her clothes than she does her hair. Although her clothes are made of decent materials, they are frayed around the hemlines, with small rips and tears here and there. She wears earthen tones (at her mother's insistence, so that the dirt she accumulates can at least be hidden better), but ties her hair back in brightly colored ribbons.
Personality:
Rosalie is intelligent and opinionated, even sly and dryly sarcastic...but don't count on seeing that in the presence of her mother. She can put on a good show of being gentle and mild-mannered (although admittedly, she slips some subtle barbs in anyway), but would rather not talk to most people in the first place, finding them to be interesting only in passing, like animals in a zoo. Instead, she wanders if into the vivid worlds she can create in her mind without much effort at all, content to pretend her shyness doesn’t bother her.
If asked why she drifts off in such a fashion, Rosalie might tell you that it is an unfortunate thing she cannot help, that her mother says she was born with fluff between her ears--a nicer way of saying she was born 'slow'. But in truth, with little mental stimulation in a role too simple for her own perceived intellectual abilities and too complex for her social abilities, she created her own, where she could come up with puzzles to solve and places to explore.
Often, from her rough memory of various maps, Rosalie pictures the lines of the roads and creates mental mazes from them, challenging herself to figure out the various ways to get a specific location (such as her home, or an obscure tree she remembers) without ever writing it down or sketching it with her fingers in the air. Sometimes she makes it harder on herself; mentally creating a map of the environment she’s envisioned that day or week and trying to get to the rabbit hole her bizarrely detailed mind added to the landscape. Rosalie does the same thing with true puzzles; were she to be presented with a modern day Rubiks cube, she would try to figure out in her mind the steps to solving it.
Sometimes, however, Rosalie forgets she is in fact not of incredible intelligence and ability, and makes these tasks too hard on herself. It would be obvious to anyone who knows her antics; an impatient creature who does not take kindly to being bested by any kind of tasks—especially ones born of her own mind—Rosalie’s expression will suddenly go from glassy stare to sullen, stormy pout. She hates trying things more than two or three times and failing, and this isn’t reserved just for her puzzles; sewing, cooking, embroidery, sidesaddle horseback riding, braiding…and Panyma Himself, dancing especially are all things that at one point in time have made her want to sulk in a corner for minutes or hours or days or weeks or a year for having the audacity to challenge her. But eventually the childish pouting gives way to her strong desire to fix this problem. No challenge is too big for her, and she will prove it—especially to her snobbish etiquette teacher who giggled behind her hand at Rosalie pricking her fingers with needles all the time.
Domestically related or not, Rosalie is a silent competitor. In all aspects of life she mentally gauges herself against others who she deems better in some way, and tries to improve herself to match them so that—once again—she is at the top of the heap. Of course, her antisocial behavior does not lend itself well to this mental game, and sometimes doesn’t help. Rosalie is not only reduced to just watching peoples’ behavior rather than getting to know them and learning the subtle details of some trait, but she also has odd standards that don’t often connect with what society wants out of a well-bred young woman; she is more likely to try and imitate a loud, self-confident opinionated individual than a demure little mouse who sits prettily in the corner. Rosalie’s bad choices in choosing who to compare herself to only drive her problems, for these poor choices lead her to act in a ‘deviant’ manner, further pushing people away from her. But try as she might when she realizes her error, Rosalie cannot become that demure mouse for more than a day without wanting to rip her ragged blonde hair out.
Her odd behavior has of course kept her distant from other people, and only sometimes by choice. Despite putting up her distant and detached front, Rose often finds herself lonely as she watches ‘normal’ people interact, and desperately wishes she could do the same. But she’s shy at heart, and despite previous attempts to socialize, she’s never had much luck with friends, or even her own siblings. Instead, Rosalie frequently visits the Cleric of her chantry.
No matter what she says, Rosalie is also more sheltered than she’d have you believe. Growing up in the aristocracy, she has had little real life experience with the world she’s read about. She bases most of her impressions about the world on her estate, sometimes mistakenly. She doesn’t seem to realize she can even be a know-it-all from time to time, and has snobbish moments. Were she to abandon her lineage, Rosalie would find herself in a world of trouble, overwhelmed by the true chaos that has always loomed outside her door but that she has never been taught to see. For some time she would be miserable and lost in this new world, before finally her stubbornness would force her to find the solution. Permanently giving up is not a fault of Rosalie’s.
Rosalie certainly thinks she has faults, though, even if she doesn't quite see her biggest ones. If she’s not just talking with the Cleric, Rose is confessing even her most minor digressions. While she seemingly is clueless to the fact that she is arrogant, rebellious in her own fashion, snobby and just downright obnoxious sometimes, Rosalie will gladly tell you that she talked too fast during her reading in last Saturday’s sermon or that she forgot to pray to Panyma last night or that last week she was the one who accidentally spilled the milk but blamed it on her younger siblings because she tires of her mother lecturing her to be more mindful. Rosalie is forever haunted by the little slip ups, and these little slip ups build up and up until they seemingly become an insurmountable sin. This comes from Rosalie’s attention only for the details, down to how a tree looks disproportional in her daydreams, and not for the big picture. So concerned is she with the fact that yes, maybe she lied about remembering to feed the chickens that morning, that she fails to notice she didn’t feed them because she was too busy watching one of the servants sweeping and pridefully thinking about how she could sweep that corner better. Rosalie tries desperately to confess all of her perceived ‘sins’, for she believes God has punished her for such misdeeds by making her unable to interact with others properly and having no true friends.
Whether Gabriel's presence and interaction with people outside her small unit of association will change Rosalie is debatable. It would most certainly require a lot of patience, for she will not change for just anybody.
History:
Rosalie is the fourth child and second daughter of Emery and Alanna de Clare. She has spent her whole life in Mishkan; her father, as the younger son of a minor noble family, was moved there and married to a minor noble's daughter.
From a young age she showed signs of not being entirely ladylike, although she would concede major arguments to her mother. She always preferred the company of her father, however, and would often sit in his lap while he kept an eye on his brother's finances. It was from these interactions with her father that Rosalie learned to read, as eventually he could no longer bear his Little Rose's constant questioning. Although it was not entirely acceptable in his social circles, he taught his daughter how to read basic Panymese in the early evenings.
From that moment on, Alanna fiercely believed his decision to be a mistake. Emery, however, would find the entire situation hilarious; Rosalie had a fierce hunger to learn more, and he did little to stop the petite girl from climbing shelves to reach the books she wanted.
The more she read, the more expansive and vivid her imagination became. What started as exciting dreams at night slowly leaked into her waking life.
To say that Rosalie was never social would be a huge understatement. Although Rose gets on well enough with her siblings, even at a young age she was never close to them. She’d find it to be much the same with the other boys and girls of the neighboring families. Most of her conversations took place at the chantry, where Cleric Boniface told her stories and discussed Lucianism with her. She began volunteering at the chantry to fill her time when she came of age, helping to distribute food and clothes to the poor.
With the arrival of the plague, Rosalie grew uneasy. As tensions rose in town, a mounting fear built in the young blonde; knowing that her cousin, who lived in the center of town, was in greater in danger than her immediate family spurred her into calling on the family's faith. She went to the Cleric and asked for a blessing for her cousin and his wife, but instead, for her service to the chantry, was given an old censer that had at one point warded off evil before being retired; if anything could keep the plague away from the family, a Lucian symbol of blessing and cleansing could. She delivered it to her cousin at once.
All too soon, however, Rosalie found herself retrieving it under unfortunate circumstances. The censer had seemingly failed her cousin, and within weeks he and his wife had passed from the disease. Now more shaken than ever, and perhaps even a little bit angry at her God for failing her family, she took back the censer for herself. Maybe it was useless, maybe her cousin hadn't been holy enough: there were many maybes, but Rosalie didn't much care at the moment. It was a piece of the church that had brought her solace many times in the past, and if it was comforting at all in the ensuing chaos, then that was enough for her. If it smelled bad, that was to be expected; it had spent much time in a damp storage closet, and she connected the odd scent to the decaying wood and mildew it had lived with.
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Posted: Sun Mar 27, 2011 11:15 pm
...........
[Hero of God]
[Quiet]
[The Plague]
.............
Name: Gabriel (de Clare)
Item history: The censer was crafted with special care, the experienced hands of metalworkers creating movement in gold metal where previously there had been none, creating spirals for the thickly scented smoke to travel through until it found its escape in tiny windows. Delicate chains were attached, and it was deemed ready for use.
The gleaming gold object found its way to a Lucian chantry, the home of believers in reconciliation. Here, it became a vital part of ceremonies. Altar boys were charged to clean it and make sure it stayed filled with incense during masses, and the leader of these people gently swung it back and forth on its thin chains.
The hands that cleaned it changed many times over. Some were less gentle than others, and small dings eventually showed up along the once smooth surface. Years—perhaps centuries—wore off some of its shine, and even more times over, the hand that swung it changed. The worn chains were replaced at some point as an old one snapped, and the chains have ever since been slightly shiner than the rest. The censer had begun to resemble a child’s teddy bear; beaten, worn, patched in places, but still as beloved as it was the first day. Special care was taken to try and maintain some of its shine, and hands that cleaned it were seemingly more gentle over the years—possible because they had been strictly warned to be so.
Things changed around the censer, but the constant flow of Lucians did not, and many hundreds of faithful found themselves soothed by the familiar blessing the scented smoke bestowed on them until one day, when the church found that its dull gleam no longer could reflect the splendor of the religion. Funding was acquired for a new one, golden and polished and beautiful, and the old was replaced. The old censer's new home became a dank storage room, to seemingly live forgotten amongst tarnished candlesticks and pews in need of repair.
When the plague began to appear around Panymium several years later, things would change for it again. The plague eventually made its arrival in the town of the censer's chantry, and panic spread amongst the townsfolk. A young woman who volunteered at the chantry became worried for her extended family, as they lived in the center of the panic. She came to the priest, with whom she had a close relationship, and asked for a blessing; in return for her dedication to the chantry and her family's patronage, the priest instead brought out the old censer and gave it to her to give to her family to ward off the disease. It was a very generous gift; censers were the primary means of blessing and cleansing in the censer's religion, and thus as important symbol to any Lucian as Panyma's circle.
The very next day, before the plague has spread too far in the town, Rosalie delivered the censer to her cousin and his wife; the couple, grateful for the blessing, placed the censer on their bedside table. It stayed there for two weeks.
By the end of the second week though, things had gone wrong around it. Rosalie's cousin had caught the plague, and his wife had been forced into quarantine with him and fell ill as well. Dying together in their bed, both began coughing up blood as the plague progressed; the young man, facing the bedside table in his misery, began coughing his blood onto the censer, where it slid down through the decorative holes and festered within.
It didn't take long for both of them to die, and when they finally passed and the bodies were disposed of, the family was sent to collect the few belongings they could. As the family sorted through items, Rosalie found her censer and, more shaken than ever now with the passing of her cousin, took the battered object back to act as a ward for herself.
Personality:
Gabriel is caught constantly between two paths: the pure, holy being he wishes to be, and the imperfect reality of who he really is. Gabriel is aware from his early life that he represents the hypocrisy of church; he is supposed to advocate for equal treatment of all people, including the poor, and yet the gilded censer he comes from represents the wealth that the church chooses to spend on itself. As an Excito he makes some attempts to reconcile this by being charitable, even just by giving out kind words, but is discouraged by the fact that he cannot openly aid strangers without risking his Grimm. He tries to influence Rosalie to be more charitable on his behalf, but his existence gives her enough grief, and her constant dismissals on the subject will leave him feeling like equality is futile.
Because of his early experiences trying to deal with the large gap between the classes in Panymium and watching humans act harshly with each other, Gabriel is cynical. He believes that mankind might not be so redeemable as the Book describes, as they have failed God by falling into sin. It will not be impossible to stir his affections for people, however; Gabriel is drawn to people who embody the purity of his religion, and he can often find reassurance—and maybe even happiness—in the company of people who strive to do good. Since Gabriel has high standards regarding who truly embodies Panyma’s Light though, the judgmental plague is often left to his jaded moods, unable to see past flaws. It is uncommon for him to smile, and even rarer for him to laugh; typically, the only person who can draw this out of him is Rosalie, the one person he can fully forgive for their imperfections. Emotional expression in general is hard for him, as he usually dwells in apathy after seeing the failures of Man. Perhaps the only time he shows emotion outside interactions with Rosalie and the rare pure individual is when he reflects on Panyma; that mankind is so cruel and sinful is not Panyma’s doing, and the plague will be loyal to the god of his religion in spite of his cynicism towards people.
Humanity does not bear all of his misgivings alone, however. Gabriel is always aware that he could be better, that he should be better. He has trouble reconciling his religious obligations with the behavior of people, and that he cannot shrug off his judgments bothers him. He will be terrified as an Excito that because he comes from the plague and is not as holy and forgiving as he should be Panyma will punish him and he will become an Infitialis, which he thinks surely is Hell for plagues. Unwilling to voice this concern for fear that others will notice his unholiness, Gabriel self-punishes through intense silent prayer that can last for over an hour. He plays it off as reflection to anyone who asks, but really he apologizes for his own sins and asks for patience with mankind so that he can avoid damnation. That he still receives no patience must be a sign of his own personal weakness.
As an Excito he is entirely co-dependent on his Grimm, not only for protection, but for reassurance. He relies on her for even small tasks, because while he’d never admit it, Gabriel is afraid of two very real things: failing, and the unknown. As an Excito he is ill-equipped to deal with the reality that even he cannot always be perfect or right, and that he cannot see what lies ahead. Both these fears can provoke an intense anxiety in the normally stoic plague, who clings to Rosalie to protect him.
By the time he is an Anhelo, Gabriel’s role is reversed; no longer clinging to Rosalie, he instead recognizes that she needs him and begins to protect her. He has no true fighting ability, but if he feels that Rosalie is threatened he’ll respond with aggression—first verbal, and then physical if he has absolutely no other option. He becomes the planner of the two; while Rosalie is lost in her head, Gabriel is able to think clearly and decide their next best course of action. Not knowing what’s coming can still rattle him, and it isn’t uncommon for him to pace or fidget while he worries. His fear of failing is still strong, but it becomes less a fear of being imperfect and more a specific fear of failing his Grimm. He's not so concerned with self-punishment anymore, and has given over to occasional quiet reflection instead. It’s possible that as he’s changed and seen more of people and other plagues, he’ll begin to see more reason to aid mankind and will even become more content with his place in the world.
Concept ideas:
Censers for inspiration:
x
X
One with color to break the monotony
Plus the one in his post~
Things I'd like:
-For his Putesco form, the general tall and rounded shape of the first two censers (plus the one in his post) is what I'm looking for, but I'd love for the blue detailing from the last one to be added if it's possible (certainly doesn't have to be exactly identical). Blue detailing aside, the main body of the censer should be tarnished gold.
-Darker clothes when he emerges, please! Even deep jewel tones would be okay, he doesn't necessarily wear all black, but he's too rigid to wear bright colors. xD
-Gold detail in his clothes, maybe?
Mostly I just want the artist to have fun with him! <3
General feelings:
Somber, smoky, ornate, heavy, quiet, mysterious--all the sorts of feelings you get walking into an ancient, quiet cathedral.
Gregorian chant music
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Posted: Sun Mar 27, 2011 11:19 pm
 [Followers of the Light]
[Panymisian Sect]
[The Religion] Lucianism:
Lucianism is at its heart a religion focused on the battle between good and evil, symbolized as light and dark respectively. A small sect religion, Lucianism's parent religion is Panymisian; the sect diverted from pure Panymisian after disagreements over the nature of Panyma, and a focus on the darker side of the spirit.
Lucians maintain that Panyma is male, not female as ancient scriptures dictate, and He is commonly referred to Panyma the Light, for He is seen as the embodiment of Light. Lucians believe they can never truly know what He looks like, and forbid human depictions of Panyma, seeing them as unworthy and insulting. Instead the symbol of the Flame is used, sometimes in the center of the Panymisian circle, to represent the light it is believed God cast into the souls of the virtuous when he bestowed Ada upon Profugus.
While they are not the only Panymisians to believe that God is actually male, Lucians take a unique approach to Panymisian and place an unusual emphasis on darkness as well. Lucians go beyond the descriptions of the Sins and Hell and believe that Panyma is in eternal battle with his darker half, a malicious spirit which resides in the inky black shadows between the stars. Unnamed, but also believed to be male, this spirit is simply referred to as the Darkness, and his dominion is Irritum, the Nothingess. From this impenetrable dark he seeps evil into Profugus, tempting mortals away from Panyma and reeking chaos. Natural disasters, famine and disease are not seen as punishments from Panyma; they are instead the work of the Darkness, who is seen as equally strong as God. Lucians believe they were created to be a part of this war; as followers of the Light, it is their duty to put their strength into their love of God, to work with Him to hold the forces of Darkness at bay. Those who fail, who give into Sin, are taken by the Darkness to reside in Irritum, the Lucian depiction of Hell.
Rituals and Traditions
--Sermons are held early Saturday mornings, in the hour before and following dawn. At the beginning of any ceremony or mass, the Cleric uses a censer to cleanse the souls of all in attendance and bless the church. The first hour encompasses sermons heeding warnings against the Irritum; at daybreak, sermons switch to praise of Panyma. Commonly, the period right before dawn is used for group singing, as Lucians raise their voices together against the Darkness to give God the strength of their faith for yet another week.
Important ceremonies, including funerals and marriages, always begin at dawn.
--The Passing of the Light is Lucianism's coming of age ceremony. It takes place on the Spring Equinox, when light rules longest over Earth. A child born into Lucianism undergoes the ritual in the year of their 15th birthday, and members who come to the faith as adults may partake in the ritual after three years of devoted following.
--Confession is also vital to Lucianism. Members are assigned a constant day and time to meet with the Cleric to discuss their sins of the week and ask for penance. After confessing, the Cleric offers ways to achieve reconciliation and blesses the member, so that they may be successful in their penance in the course of the next week and their purity may aid Panyma.
--Lucians also engage in private prayer each morning when there is no mass.
Lucian Houses of Worship
Lucianism builds intricate houses of worship, with the hope that no Lucian has to travel more than an hour or two to reach their house of worship, and thus can be closer to Panyma. These buildings are maintained by a network of clergy members, and only have one person in charge for day to day operation; the church's Cleric. The Cleric leads sermons and funerals, teaches apprentices, maintains the church's finances, and handles Confessional.
Churches very closely resemble cathedrals, but for the one thing every true church has, regardless of where it is built: each church, if possible, is built to face the sunrise, and yellow-stained glass in the image of the rising sun catches this sunrise, so that by the time sermon ends each week, the room is meant to bathed in a golden light. This trick is not always successful in each church because of poor building locations, lack of funds and/or low quality artisans, but is attempted nonetheless. Candles are lit at all hours in churches so that even at night it is never dark, and the oil candle that is lit during a church's first sermon is never allowed to be extinguished.
Hierarchy of Lucianism
Lucians created their own authority structure not long after diverting from Panymisian, believing that Panymisian authority is misguided. Because Lucianism remains relatively small, not many of each position are required. The Grand Cleric is emphasized to be more an incredibly enlightened spiritual leader than the physical embodiment of Panyma; Lucians believe the Emperor in Panymisian to be a false prophet, as he insists on allowing female interpretations of Panyma.
Grand Cleric: Akin to the Pope, the Grand Cleric leads all Lucians in what is named the Grand Chantry, which was built in Helios. Grand Clerics serve for life, and are elected by the Council of Light, a collection of Illuminated Clerics. They, and all other priests, are always male.
Illuminated Clerics: Illuminated Clerics control certain regions of the continent. They are appointed by the Grand Cleric and work for him, maintaining Lucianism in their specific areas.
Clerics: The priests of each church. They are responsible for the day to day running of their church, as well as the spiritual needs of their followers.
Apprentice Clerics: Young men who have recently graduated their religious study programs but have yet to be assigned their own church to lead. They are usually used for dirty work, such as cleaning and running errands, but are also allowed to provide spiritual guidance if called upon to do so.
Origin Myth
Lucians widely believe in the basic story of Panymisian, including the six days of creation. Where they divert is in their belief in the Darkness. Lucians believe that at one point, long before humanity, God was not an entirely pure being, able to feel the temptations that now plague mortals. Striving to break free of these temptations, the Seven Cardinal Sins, Panyma began an intense internal battle. When He could not eradicate these sins, God instead split Himself into two parts; Panyma, the True God, and the Darkness, an unintended manifestation of all that is evil and wrong. The Darkness began to assault Panyma once more, craving to destroy the purity God now fully embodied. Unwilling to allow the Darkness to claim ownership over the universe, Panyma quickly created Profugus in six days, imbuing his new mortals with His purity, so that there would always be a harbor against evil.
Unfortunately, the Darkness tempted humanity, and humans were now sinful. It became the duty of all virtuous humans to shed their sins so that they could return to the pure state of origin, for it was only through purity that they could aid God in defeating the Darkness.
History
Lucianism began several hundred years ago after breaking away from Panymisian. Although Lucians were in the minority over depicting God as a male at the time, they began to rapidly progress from this difference into a different idea of how both humans and sin came to be. A small group of Panymisians, the first Lucians, presented to a Panymisian council the idea that God Himself was at one time the embodiment of right and wrong, an imperfect being whose greatness came not from His original purity, but from His strength of will to cast off sin.
Upon rejection, these few followers diverted from original Panymisian and began to preach to others to change their views. Although their unusual depiction of Panyma kept their numbers relatively small, Lucianism quickly changed itself from original Panymisian in fundamental ways. In their revised Book of Ada, God was not only male, He had unintentionally created Sin Itself, the Darkness, which through an alliance with humanity he seeks to defeat. While many other characteristics of Panymisian stayed the same, including the story of Ada, these new changes led to a new way of thinking. Lucians became more focused on mankind's power to aid God and less on God's ability to aid mankind (although He is still frequently called upon to aid His followers, especially so that they may fight at their strongest in the battle against the Darkness). Criticized for being self-centered by outsiders, Lucians nonetheless strove forward in establishing themselves as a strong offshoot of Panymisian, developing their own system of churches and rankings within it.
Currently, Lucianism has few followers outside of Panymium; the church's focus has not typically been conversion in the last century or so, and so few but Lucian immigrants have carried the religion off the continent. Churches have become more innate as Lucianism has gained more affluent followers, and many are beginning to seek solace in these large cathedrals as the plague advances. In very rare instances, Lucians have begun to pack tightly into their churches for the duration of the plague, so as to form one strong unit against the Darkness, which is believed to be the cause of the epidemic.
Some Lucians have begun to rely more on individual prayer and penance to aid God and less on formal sermons to reduce the risk of catching ill. Still, the average Lucian regularly attends Confessional and Mass, and as a whole Lucians have kept their heads low as they brace for the oncoming chaos, which they believe will be the strongest assault by the Darkness in human history.
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Posted: Sun Apr 03, 2011 8:05 pm
ahdjkasd I'm horrible at critiquing but I think this entry is amazing to me * A*
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knife effect Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Apr 03, 2011 8:44 pm
R-really? *u* That made my night, even if I know this thing isn't perfect lolol.
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Posted: Mon Jul 25, 2011 9:04 pm
Oh! Oh! My first critique, I hope I'm helpful. I'm at the same place in my quest... ready but wanting feedback.
First thing that comes to mind: I LOVE the history portion. I think the fact that Rose stole the censer from her freaked-out uncle and unwittingly got the one thing he spent all that money for his humorous and apropo. Well thought.
Second: I applaud the religious creation. It's also well thought out and full of expensive, fancy sounding words which lend it a great deal of credibility.
The only thing I really thought could use a bit of tweaking is Rosalie's personality section. I enjoyed her personality and don't think it needs any real changes, but the flow seemed a little off. And that could just be me. For example, you mention her coming up with puzzles and places to explore and then follow immediately with a statement on her impatience. I would love to find out more about the puzzles she creates for herself. Do these usually spark her impatience, or does she usually come up with things more appropriate for herself and then get frustrated when faced with situations outside her control/that someone else has presented her with?
I love the part about her silently competing with everyone around her and nobody else realizing it. I think a lot of people have that quality but that it isn't presented realistically often enough and it will add some great depth to her. However it does seem to be a little bit at odds with the fact that she's distant from others. I would think that if she's trying to adjust her behavior to best those around her she might want to be around the people she's secretly trying to best. I would be interested in more description about how her distance/social awkardness and her competitive spirit interact with each other in regards to her view of the world and her place in it. Is it that she maybe has no filters when it comes to her competitve spirit and people don't like that? Or is it that she's not very good at adjusting her behavior and it makes others uncomfortable?
The last thing is that I would love to learn more about what she perceives as her faults. I'm intrigued by the idea of her constantly confessing and would really be interested to know what sort of digressions she confesses to and what she's completely oblivious to. It might be an interesting way to explore her psyche a little more.
As far as Gabriel goes, he sounds really interesting! I would be interested to find out what he perceives his faults to be. It seems that realizing that his Grimm has imperfections could be a huge catalyst in his development and might be something you're wanting to save for later, once you've actually gotten them. But I still find myself dying for some big dramatic plot regarding that element, lol. You mention the darkness lingering inside him and I'm curious about that as well. I would guess it has to do with being a Plague and feeling the need for repentance or something, but I'd love to know the details. What exactly is this darkness, what causes it, why does he feel the need to repent, and to repent by helping others?
Anyways, hopefully just a couple of points to inspire thought. I really like this quest and hope that once we both succeed in getting Plagues we can do some RPs together! Gabriel seems like the sort that would get along with my quest plague Elcarim, and your Grimm seems the sort that wouldn't get along at all with mine. Could be fun!
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Posted: Mon Jul 25, 2011 9:22 pm
Ohmygoodness Fae, thank you! That was certainly helpful. <3 I'll write one for you in the next couple days!
Not gonna cover everything since most of it I'll edit to fix where I need to, but yea I've known for awhile her personality section needed work. It was originallly...longer, maybe? I don't remember, but I edited and took out things without really rewording, so the flow is definitely off. Those are good points about her puzzle/frustration competition/reclusiveness tensions though, I hadn't even thought of it! And I'll add faults too. I'll also flesh out Gabe's 'darkness' too, even though he doesn't notice it for awhile~
As far as the religion: Thank goodness for the Catholicism class I had to take at my university, we read a lot of theological work and analysis worded like that, so I just managed to scrape together what I remembered from freshman year. xD And thank you!
I'm not sure anyone will ever get along with Rose, stubborn child. ; w;
EDIT: Alright, I took a stab at both their personality sections!
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Posted: Sun Dec 25, 2011 11:25 pm
Winter 2011 prompt reply:
Out of the winter solace, a sudden burst of sound shattered the silence.
Gabriel immediately shot to his feet, prepared to meet their attackers. That he had no real fighting ability failed to cross his mind, and it was a lucky thing indeed that no hostile creatures suddenly materialized out of the frosty air. Still, he moved to stand over the blonde who sat on the muddy ground where they had scraped away snow, as if this would somehow safeguard them from any further onslaught of potentially dangerous noises.
No distant sound reached him again, but rather a quiet, tired, beaten-down sound floated up to him from the ground. “It’s a tree shattering, Gabriel,” came the familiar voice, too tired to even drip with its usual know-it-all disdain. “Father told me of it once.” She spoke no further for the moment, but Gabriel turned his eyes away from the distance and towards her. He waited expectantly, knowing that his Grimm enjoyed elaborating on such odd tidbits as shattering trees, but still nothing came.
The Anhelo sighed softly to himself and decided that he would have to engage her himself. “I imagine a...tree shattering—“what an odd concept, to be certain “—and a riot do not sound all that different, Rosalie.”
Finally, his Grimm did something entirely typical of her: the young blonde let out a derisive snort and even went so far as to roll tired eyes at him before finally looking up. Now that he’d challenged her, the pile of blankets and clothes that was his Grimm looked less exhausted and more her usual disgruntled self. “Even if it were the riot, which I assure you it is not, what of it? We’re in the trees, Gabe. I sincerely doubt they’ll be coming after a young woman and her shrouded companion.” A tired sigh. “They have much more pressing matters on hand to attend to.”
That point, he could not argue. This Winter was becoming unbearably harsh for all of God’s creatures, and Gabriel found himself thinking once more that this weather was the last thing Panymium needed. Although he had been born of the plague, his parent wreaked havoc on men, and tensions seemed to be coming to a head wherever they went.
The fragile threads of civility had snapped in one Imisese town just earlier today. As Rosalie traveled about for the Council gathering knowledge, Winter had struck hard at the pair. They were now forced to spend as much time as they could in small inns along the way, furtively trying to detract notice from the Anhelo. These were always tense times, and each had been at the other’s throats for days. Rosalie, even though it had been some time since she stole away from the comforts of her Mishkanite estate in the night to keep Gabriel a secret, was not well-accustomed to small spaces. The tight quarters and unease over being found out led to an even more acidic than usual demeanor, and her constant snapping had sent Gabriel over the edge.
Reflected in their own moods had been the atmosphere of the whole town. From what scraps of conversation they had overheard while paying the innkeeper, the merchant who had been supplying much of the grain to the haggard townspeople had decided to make a profit off desperation and upped his fares. The men of the town, who lived under constant stress between the plague and providing for a family, had gone into an uproar.
Gabriel had decided it was best that he and Rosalie not tarry long after that. As she quickly shoved their few belongings into bags, the plague had caught sight through their tiny window of a mob of men prepared to storm the small shop. Presumably, the grain and not the merchant would be all that ever came out.
Using the din of the riot as a distraction, the pair had had no choice but to quickly skirt the crowd and head for the woods lying several hundred yards outside town, unwilling to be caught in the ensuing melee. There was a gut-wrenching moment where Gabriel swore a man had realized what he was, and after that he wasted no time in grabbing Rosalie’s wrist and hauling her out of sight and into the tree line.
It was for that very reason that he could not seem to sit still now. Gabriel knew they could not move from where he had made a makeshift shelter under two massive pines. Daylight was fast giving way to twilight, and he wasn’t going to drag Rosalie through a dark forest in the dead of winter. But the fear that the man would speak up still lingered in the back of his mind.
Their little camp wasn’t safe. The way forward wasn’t safe. What was safe?
Unable to answer that question, Gabriel let out an uncharacteristic grunt and crossed his arms against the wind, watching the trees for any sign of movement.
“Sit down, Gabriel.”
He made no sign that he had heard his Grimm. She had no cause to be annoyed by his standing, and she could deal with it as far as he was concerned.
“Standing up is not going to free us of this mess any faster, fool.” The words were intended to be insulting, but the worn voice behind them could not back up the sentiment. Rosalie had spent too much time angry since Winter began: angry at him, angry at their situation, and if Gabriel had to guess, he would say angry at pretty much everything, Panyma included. She no longer could muster the energy to be angry, and was left only with empty barbs and rolling eyes.
If only to spare them both another pissing match, Gabriel relented and grudgingly sat back down.
A strained silence settled over them, and Gabriel began to pray in his head that Spring came early this year. This snappish relationship with his Grimm wasn’t at all indicative of their normal behavior, at least not on this scale. Rosalie could be quarrelsome and terse, but such bouts rarely lasted more than a day. That they had been trading cool words for nearly two weeks now worried him. Now more than ever they both needed the other to survive, and yet they were having trouble even deigning to cooperate with one another. Even now, in spite of his worries, he couldn't find it in himself to apologize.
Apologize for what? She started this.
A violent shiver from Rosalie pried him out of his thoughts. She wouldn’t outlast the cold for long; tomorrow, they would have to pray to Panyma with all their remaining strength that another town was not far off. Rosalie had grown more independent since making the ultimate choice to flee home when he was still a new Excito, but that didn’t make her any more able to withstand extremes such as this. They'd need to find better shelter as soon as the sun rose again, before illness or frostbite went to work on her.
For now, all he could offer up as means of help was a pathetic little fire in the sheltered roots of one of their trees. The wind prevented anything truly substantial, but hopefully the meager warmth would ward off frostbite. As Rosalie inched closer to the tiny flames he’d just brought to life, Gabriel went with her, shoving aside their recent animosity to huddle with his Grimm and provide her what protection from the wind he could. Rosalie had given up her life for their safety. The least he could do was let go of the past weeks’ resentment.
Despite the bitter cold raging around them, the pair seemed to have come to a silent truce. Gabriel could feel some of the tension between them dissipate as they sat together fighting to survive.
For the first time in days, and despite the overwhelming odds against them, Gabriel saw a tiny smile ghost across Rosalie’s face. “Praise be to Panyma.”
What they were praising Panyma for at the moment Gabriel wasn’t sure, but the Anhelo found that he couldn’t disagree, and he echoed the sentiment. “Praise be to Panyma, the Beacon which guides us.” Perhaps we will survive this after all.
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