A Spirited Church-Visit - RPLOG
Participants
Date
11/3/480
Log
It is early in the morning in Ironstead, and the sun is only barely rising above the horizon. Yet, the town itself is quite lively already, with various beings cleaning up the remainders of yesterday's feast with surprising efficiency.
The priestess, for her part, is resting on one of the pews inside the church, facing the entrance with a smile on her lips, and her strange, unintelligible First Text in hand...
Ironstead was wrong. There was something just not right, from the smell in the air, practically. He didn't know what to say, what to do. He didn't have a copy of the first text with him; he couldn't counter her arguments with fact, only from memory. But he was right. He had to be. At least the church was... mostly intact, from the outside.
Krove shudders, though, and it pales quickly from hope to horror as he sees what has happened to the Creator Saints within.... but why? Even blessed St. Alan... why would they do that to him, too? He's speechless.
Fenris saunters after Krove casually, and looks around, as if he is surpised to find himself here and in company. "What are the odds we would both end up here?" he asks with a grin, "I was sort of hoping to catch a noon meeting, but the place looks pretty empty."
"You are early, if you were looking for a noontime meeting, Fenris. But you're free to wait around, if you prefer?" the owl offers, before gesturing Krove along."
"You will have to pardon the mess. The villagers were a bit... Overzealous. While I can't say I worship the saints, I do recognize Eric and Patricia's achievement. I am certain uplifting a species is no small task," she offers, as she gestures towards the sanctum. "However, that is not what we are here for, is it? You wished to see the treasures the Church hides."
That... that wasn't quite it. The Church wasn't hiding anything. The Church protected, saved, brought peace and health. They didn't hide anything. They kept it safe, kept the people safe, from the Creator's wrath. "I wish to see the Church respected. We wouldn't be here without the Saints... and Alan, more than anything--why would we ever want to disrespect his memory?" It almost physically hurt the doctor to see a church this way. No wonder they were so lost and confused.
"I AM a little early, aren't I? How silly of me!" Fenris says easily, "Well, as long as I am here, you don't mind if I tag along, do you? I always love to see something new!" In his odd, Creator-esque garb, it is not hard to imagine the tiger aboard one of their great flying machines and tinkering with the strange magic of the Creators.
A smile, a nod, and a small gesture towards the sanctum once again. "Ah, yes. Alan," she offers. The one that purportedly gave us Promise? What a world he gave us. One where the world, all around, will try to kill you. One we had to make habitable ourselves. And then, there's the shadows. Quite a coincidence the Creators decided to apologize for that, no?"
"When's the last time you thanked a Noble for convincing the Crown you were useful?"
He grunts. There was no need to thank a noble for convincing the Crown. He didn't work for the crown, there was no need to feel needed. He just helped people in need. "What reward is there without work? How could we love what we have put no effort into? There's a rule that work makes reward great." He was trying to dig in his heels, and prepare for a conflict. "I get my use from seeing someone breathing after apoplexia. From hysteria giving way to rest." Still, he was nervous, and shaking a bit.
Fenris scrunches up his face in confusion and looks to Krove. "She must be talking to you," he says, "I can't say that the crown has ever found me particularly useful." The tiger turns a smile on the owl. "As for the whole planet thing, well, there is a reason they called it Promise and not Eden," sounds like someone has been reading up on literature from the Creator preacher in residence in Thera'Dor, "Call it a parenting move."
The big tiger saunters over and pats Krove on the head between his antlers. "But now you have peaked my interest! What are you going to show us?"
"Follow, and you will see," the owl offers, as she strides through the double doors, into the inner sanctum, where several devices are stalled out, and several valuable materials are stalled out. "Behold. The Church's riches. And this Church isn't even that big," she notes, as she gestures to one device. "A machine capable of slicing even the toughest of creator steel."
Another gesture, this time at a smaller device. "A compendium of knowledge in the first tongue. Most of it, unfortunately, beyond the common being's grasp, but some, some of it very valueable. And of course," she offers, as she guides the two along to a large tube made out of creator steel and glass. "The sacred doctor's more powerful relative."
Creator steel... that was basically a powerful scorcher. The compendium of creator knowledge... that was a query. But the giant tube? That didn't make any sense. "That couldn't go anywhere. How could anyone use that for someone lying in a fever in the slums?" He could figure out ways of bringing the sick here... but it was treatment. That wasn't how to end a plague, one victim at a time.
Fenris is pretty sure that while the church in firmament may have a defunct cutting tool and maybe an archive, they definitely do not have a device like the third one. His unflappable demeanor is momentarily flapped. "Creators above," he breathes, "A regeneration tube. I never thought I would ever see another one of these. And it still works?" Fenris may be one of the few beings on Promise to ever see one of these things in action.
"Here's the marvelous little thing, Mister Krove. This machine here works together with the Sacred Doctor. You bring someone with an unknown illness here, and by using the right setting on the Doctor, the Doctor will be able to administer the proper treatment," the owl offers. "The Doctor isn't infalible. But when combined with this beauty, it can combat any plague," she offers with a smile. "You could save a city within two weeks, and even then, you'd only have to ask the machine to do its work very rarely."
That, combined with the fact that Fenris wasn't responding, finally crumbles the resistance. This could save lives and end plagues! What--why was it here? Why wasn't it the first thing turned to, whenever sickness came? In his investigations, the doctor hadn't found anything to explain the pallor and the sickly demeanor of some of the residents... it didn't add up. They were all healthy, but looked sick.
"Is that--" He furrows his brow and turns back to look at the entrance to the plaza. "Is that why nobody here is sick? But they all look so--" It's hard to justify himself, but he could find nothing wrong. "How did you know of this?"
