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No title.
(2013-02-13 - 2013-04-15)
No description.
Faruja Senra Bath time in the Shard Seeker's Headquarters! Ever polite, Faruja of course strictly adheres to the listed times, not wanting any mishaps. And after nearly being killed first by a certain gargoyle gone feral, /then/ by a Witch and his own attempts to disarm her, the rat is in dire need of one. Having finished cleaning himself, the Templar's taken to simply lounging in the water, quite thankful to remove all of those restrictive bandages.

This puts wounds old and new on display; layered burns across chest and face, as well as signs of more recent fire-and-explosive damage across arms, chest, and legs should anyone look. This Burmecian has had a rough time of it, and every now and then, he twitches from the pain of his Witch-caused wounds. At least he managed to dig that bit of glass out!
Percival Only a handful of the Shard Seekers seemed to even know of his presence here. After all, he kept mostly to himself, awakened at twilight and rarely found his way past the garden or the kitchen. Thus it would probably only be passing strange to the few who did that he'd set up a quiet vigil in the garden. He hadn't eaten since the tournament match. And there was nary a mark on him. At most times it was a blessing that he didn't carry the wounds of battle past a single day. He considered it a curse at the moment. It was as if his body had no memory of what happened. It matched his mind.

As it stood now, his sword lay a good distance away from him. He was praying in a manner far different from that which he'd be accustomed to. Instead of taking one knee, he'd taken both, which did not look particularly comfortable given his physiology. Instead of the sword being symbolic and used in his prayers, it took no part in the precedings. His hands are clasped together, with their talons laced. He spoke quietly, his tone would only be heard by those a scant few meters away, if even that. But it was always the same prayer. It was parrotlike, like a mantra, or a chant.

"Deus meus, ex toto corde paenitet me omnium meum peccatorum, eaque detestor, quia peccando, non solum poenas a te iuste statutas promeritus sum, sed praesertim quia offendi te, summum bonum, ac dignum qui super omnia diligaris. Ideo firmiter propono, adiuvante gratia tua, de cetero me non peccaturum peccandique occasiones proximas fugiturum...."

It did not seem like there was any way that he would cease doing this, unless he were interrupted.
Faruja Senra Ear-perk. Faruja may not know the language, but he knows someone praying for forgiveness when he hears it. Slowly, a sigh exits his muzzle. Wince. Turning around, he leans on the stone edge of the outdoor pool, single red eye peering over at the praying Squire.

What ever is he going to do with the Gargoyle? Faruja has certainly calmed down about the whole affair, though he's hardly happy. Frown. His tail twitches.

Even a Templar has his limits. How long has the poor Gargoyle's vigil been? The Burmecian finally speaks.

"Squire. While I appreciate thy piety, and a desire to make amends...'tis a touch much, is it naught? How long have you been here? With so many troubles in the world...a Squire is a person of action. Say appropriate prayers, however, we are no Priests. 'Tis our duty to show our piety through deed."

The rat pauses. His head tilts. "How long has it been since you have eaten?"
Percival Its almost certain that he'd heard him beforehand, but he didn't react until Faruja starts to speak. In fact, he doesn't even turn around.

"Action? I suppose we are. But we are men of action who are held to a higher standard. A standard which I've failed to meet, time, and time again. My sins are great enough that I require a day or two for introspection, every now and then."

A pause at his second question, he hadn't really thought about it. "Forty hours, give or take, by my reckoning. It isn't necessary for me to break my fast yet."

Still he doesn't turn around, or even look at him.

"Your concern is appreciated, but not necessary. You are fully within your rights to punish me in any manner of your choosing. I make no excuse for my behavior, and will accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate."
Faruja Senra And Faruja thought /he/ had a flair for the dramatic. Not even being looked at. Truly, the Gargoyle speaks the truth. The being's shamed to the core. A little squeak escapes him. "Fair enough." The rat can't find any argument against the need for introspection. Lips purse, and the ratling briefly turns to a streak of red in the water from his recent injuries.

"Well then. If 'tis punishment that shall right thee, then so be it." Arms fold. Faruja goes silent, pondering.

"There is a Priestess here in Fluorgis. Former citizen of Alexandria. Her daughter was slain somewhat recently." A snort comes from the Templar, though one conflicted. She /is/ a Priestess. Yet an /Alexandrian/.

Given the...state of my country and her former one, as well as her lost daughter, she refuses to allow me to escort her. Would you be willing to take her to Mullonde? It will be a dangerous trek in these times. And to be frank, I believe a Priestess is exactly what you need."
Percival Percival listens to his request, and eventually rises from his kneeling position, turning around.

"If that is your wish. I would be honored to escort her to your holy city. Though I would prefer you choose a more worthy individual than I."

He surveys Faruja momentarily. His usually stoic expression cracking for a brief moment. He wondered his injuries were solely his responsibility.

"While you may believe otherwise, and that is your prerogative, this incident was not my first...lapse. No, lapse is too tame a word. Sin. Mortal sin. My first involved the murder of a boy, Ser Senra. Again, I make no excuse for that. My fellows tried to make them for me. The child had a gun, he was a combatant, our orders were to make sure they were all killed for their part in a massacre. But in the end, I killed a boy who had surrendered. A boy I had already spared. It was murder, and the worst part? I don't remember it. In my faith, one cannot be truly forgiven unless they have full knowledge of their sin. If one has no memory of it, then I cannot truly be forgiven."

His expression does not change through all of this, as he regards the Burmecian with a grave look. "And the worst part is, they offered me Knighthood for my valor on that day. They tried to Knight me for my sin." A pause, as he levels his gaze fully to meet Faruja's.

"They would not judge me. And so I do not often speak of it, for I waited for a Knight who would be unbiased in their judgement. So I ask you instead to take their place. Will you condemn me, as they should have from the start? Or do you still trust me as an escort on a holy pilgrimage, knowing this?"
Faruja Senra Faruja ignores the mention of worthiness. Certainly, the Squire has much to make up for. But this isn't a task of worthiness. This is one of penance, as far as the rat is concerned; one given to newly made Squires with some battle skill, rather than a Templar. The only reason he was going to do it was out of necessity!

"Mmm. Their place, hmm?" Falling silent, the rat lays his head into his arms, wincing. At this angle, Percival might be able to see what looks like a shrapnel wound.

"I would do neither, Squire." Starts the ratling.

"Your recent actions, and those of your past make this a risk. However, the Lady Priestess..." Head-tilt. "Mmm. Nay, you are perfect for this task. The one I place before you shall be dangerous. You shall have to be in utter control, unlike your display in the arena. An action of the past, and losing control in the battlefield? When it comes to such weighty matters, I must have proof in deed, a hallowed task. As of now, I cannot render a judgement. Either you shall reach Mullonde with the Lady Priestess alive, or she shall carry your ashes. Only then shall I render judgement."

This scene contained 7 poses. The players who were present were: Faruja Senra, Percival