Archangel, II
The burning one
The herald of the dawning day
Summoner of the final hour
-/--//--/-
"Rise, Adonai." Patron says, and you manoeuvre yourself slowly to your feet. "You have done well, Angel."
You nod once, your head still bowed. You feel water cascade over your head, and you know that Patron is dowsing you in the Baptismal waters once more, for your second birth - your initiation.
"Let this child, this Avatar of Your Will, Oh Mighty, Rise once more and take the first steps on the path to Your side." Patron called out, his voice echoing oddly with the acoustics, creating an ethereal doubling effect.
You remain silent as he finishes anointing you, then turn and walk back the length of the Hall, and stand sentry at the entrance to the Hall. Patron offers the acolytes the final words of the ceremony, and then steps back from the podium. Matron steps up.
"And now, the feast shall begin." There's a pause - these theatrics have been repeated enough times that the acolytes know to wait for her next words. "Come now, dearies, eat up!" She giggles throatily and steps back.
You stand sentry at the doors of the hall for the next two hours, watching over the acolytes as the eat, share gossip about each other, the town, whatever subject comes to mind. Mealtimes are the only times when the genders aren't segregated, so it's one of the most animated times of the day.
Once the feast has ended, Patron once more steps up to the podium. "Acolytes." He begins, smiling across the Hall. "The day is ended, and you have taken sup. Look now to our Angel of Song and pray."
You stand silently as the acolytes move away from their tables, go to their knees, and prostrate themselves in your direction. Patron and matron remain standing, though with heads bowed. The magisters behind them are on their knees, hands clasped in front of them.
You remain silently for the next minute before, as the acolytes rise, you turn and exit the Hall of Initiation, the serfs silently closing the door behind you.
-/--//--/-
You go to your dorm from there - Patron will not have need of you tonight. Tomorrow is your final day in Ealdstone, and you don't want to waste it by waking up late. You want morning lessons finished as quickly as possible - you want to go hunting again as soon as possible.
You enter your room and bolt the door behind you. You're the only initiate - graduate, now - who has their own room, and you have made it yours… To an extent. Your bow adorns one wall, your various sets of arrows beside it. On the desk resides your Book of Hymns, that magisters gave you to study when you began learning magic - twelve years ago, now.
You take the bow off the wall and the Book off the desk, and settle onto your mat. Although a bed and feather-down mattress is provided, you have always preferred sleeping on something harder, firmer. You prop yourself up against the wall, Book in your lap, and open it to the two-hundred-and-eighty-third Hymn.
Your bow in your hands, you recite the Hymn as you string and re-string the bow.
"In Heaven, a spirit doth dwell,
Whose heart-strings are a lute…"
-/--//--/-
The next morning you awaken on your own, and redress yourselves in your hunting gear. Consisting mainly of browns and greens, it fits your form relatively snugly, whilst allowing freedom of movement. You leave the hood down, for the moment, and pull the collar forward to allow you to see inside the tunic.
You frown at the symbols inside. Faith is faded, and Vitality is outright dead. You sigh, before releasing the collar and pulling out your flute. The flute was gifted to you on your ninth birthday, to help channel your Hymns. Whilst singing would have a similar effect, the flute amplifies it far more than mere words could. Whilst you have managed to get the recitals down to only hummed notes, using your flute is still useful for precision work.
You play nine notes precisely - Faith is our, whilst Vitality is five. Fairly standard symbolwork, but you see the runes are back to full strength. You replace the flute at its rightful place against the small of your back, it's comfortable weight calming you.
You enter the gardens of the church, to see your magisters are already waiting for you.
Magister Yril clucks her tongue, her long robes cascading over her form. "You are late, Selen." Though your magisters are supposed to call you Malach Adonai, it's really more of a title. You much prefer Selen, though you would never tell matron or Patron that - it is a bastardised form of Selene, an old-world Goddess of the moon. To ask others to call you it would be blasphemous, and should Patron find out, your magisters would face dire consequences.
"Apologies. I had to renew my symbols. I'm ready for your teachings now, Yril." You bow your head and clasp your heads, and she chuckles.
"Oh very well. Moving Drill number three, then - don't want to run you too hard on your last day." Yril replies, and you nod, a tiny smile gracing your face.
You move to the archery field, where eight targets are set up. You turn away from them to face Yril, close your eyes, and draw your bow. You string an arrow without looking, then throw yourself backwards into a roll.
As you roll you loose an arrow, and as you come up you dive once more, firing again as you turn in midair. Your stringing arm touches down momentarily, enough to let you move into handspring, string another arrow, and fire once more.
You land in a crouch, and loose two arrows at once from your bowstring, before bending over backwards into a handstand, bending your arms, and pushing away from the ground. Your gear allows you to become weightless momentarily, and you float higher than ordinarily possible, before stringing and firing two arrows in quick succession. You tur in midair, land in a crouch and straighten up, before firing once more.
Eight perfect bullseyes.
You turn to Yril patiently, as she approaches the targets. "Hm." Yril is kind in all things other than archery. She will forgive you for forgetting to finish a chore or two, or for beating an acolyte too badly at Thun, but she would punish you severely if you forget to unstring your bow before bed. "Sloppy. As usual, Selen. Adequate, I suppose, for your last day."
You know, inwardly that what she really means is that you have surpassed every other archer in this region of the holy land - 'although only just,' she would no doubt be quick to add.
You open your mouth to thank her, but you hear pounding footsteps and turn to see an acolyte running up to you. He gets to his knees before you, and prostrates himself.
"Angel Israfel," he says. "Malach Adonai. Patron has sent me with your final task."
You frown. You remember nothing about a final task - is this just a test? Or something… More sinister?
"He has given me three missions to offer you, of which you may choose one to complete. He wants this done by the end of the day, in preparation for your sojourn to Shiffreath."
Shiffreath is where the church of Af, Angel of Anger, resides. It would be your first stop, on your path to kill the other Angels. Although some would no doubt have already set off to find the other Angels and kill them, the church would have given you some clue as to Af's whereabouts.
"Very well," you reply. "What are the tasks."
The acolyte hands you three pieces of parchment, and you look over each quickly. You scan for the important details, attempting to find the important instructions - to help decide.
"Inform the patron that I have made my decision." You hand him back the two other parchments. "Tell him I will take care of it."
The acolyte nods, prostrates himself once more, before running off to Patron.
You look at the parchment in your hand. The task you chose…
[ ] A new church has attempted to set up another place of worship. You need to pay the clergy a visit to... Deter them.
[ ] A band of merchants have entered town, boasting of impressive and rare goods of great religious value. You are to obtain the relics - by any means necessary.
[ ] A mercenary camp has set up outside town, and has been causing trouble with the locals. You are to take them as quickly and as quietly as possible.
