Arinelle Illum
Divine Priestess Arinelle Illum
Arinelle has lived in Novandria her entire life. Raised by the Church of Loreali, the young aasimar was brought up in the Cathedral of Light rather than being sent to an orphanage. She can often be found in the Cathedral or at the Lady of Mercy Hospital, using her divine magic, as well as her traditional medical knowledge, to heal others.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Small and fit, Arinelle is used to working in a hospital where she often has to lift and move patients which has imparted a surprising strength for her size.
Identifying Characteristics
The fact that she is an aasimar is very clear to any who meet her. Her skin is a pale gold and slightly luminescent. Her eyes lack pupils and are a shining topaz in color. Her appearance can be striking, but she often wears a serious expression.
Special abilities
She is a cleric of Loreali, blessed with divine healing magic.
Apparel & Accessories
Arinelle always wears a pendant with the symbol of Loreali on it. When not in her healer's uniform, she tends toward dresses and skirts in light colors. Her clothing is well made but certainly not the height of fashion nor the highest quality of fabric.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Arinelle was left abandoned on the steps of the Cathedral of Light as an infant. The aasimar was raised in the church to dedicate herself to helping others, follow in the light of Loreali, and was taught that her celestial heritage meant she was destined to do great things.
Following her Rite of Majority, Arinelle chose to become a full Acolyte in service to the Church of Loreali, joining the Order of Life and Mercy. She was blessed by Loreali with the ability to heal others, further deepening her belief, and the belief of others, that she was on the path to a grand destiny.
With the granting of Loreali’s divine power, Arinelle was elevated to a Divine Priestess of the Order and spends her time healing others and assisting with church duties.
Gender Identity
Female (she/her)
Sexuality
Unknown
Education
She has had a standard education that all children in Eisen get, as well as additional education in medical knowledge.
Employment
She is a Divine Preistess of Loreali at the Cathedral of Light as well as working as a Healer at the Lady of Mercy Hospital.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
Arinelle is motivated by her desire to aide others and to live up to the destiny she's meant to fulfill. She's not sure what that destiny is yet, but is determined to be ready for it when it comes calling.
Hygiene
She is always well kept, with her long hair pulled up and dressed in clean, servicable clothing.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Arinelle is an orphan and her parentage is unknown, though it's fairly obvious that one parent was a Celestial being of some sort.
Within the Church, she has several mentors and friends, as well as a fairly close relationship with Benefic Muriel Farrow, the head of the Order of Life and Mercy.
Religious Views
Arinelle has pledged herself to Loreali as her cleric, she worships her primarily. However, she also gives thanks and worship to Elowyn and Athesne to a lesser degree.
Social Aptitude
She often wears a serious expression and, though she always has a kind word and gentle smile, she generally doesn't socalize much outside of church or hospital matters.
Speech
Arinelle speaks with a soft, cultured accent.
Wealth & Financial state
The church supplies everything she needs, putting her squarly in the middle class.
A cleric of Loreali, she was raised by the church in the Cathedral of Light in Novandria and believes she has a great destiny to fulfill in healing and aiding others. She is a kind, gentle soul but often far too serious.
Character Location
Honorary & Occupational Titles
Divine Preistess of Loreali, Order of Life and Mercy
Date of Birth
01/01/1854
Birthplace
Unknown
Children
Current Residence
Cathedral of Light
Gender
Female
Eyes
Topaz, Pupiless
Hair
Blonde
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Pale Golden
Height
5'2"
Weight
120 lbs
Belief/Deity
Ruled Locations
Be the Light
“I am Arinelle Illum, dedicated cleric of Loreali, and I will choose my own damn Destiny.”
The memory of her Truth echoed in her mind.
She was not a tool of Akmon. She was not a tool of the Church. She was Arinelle.
She briefly remembered the feel of absolute confidence her alternate timeline self felt. How she’d felt that way once herself, before the truth about her origin and the origin of her prophecy was revealed. Before she’d lost that strong sense of purpose, of Knowing. Before they’d stolen it from her with their lies and hidden agendas.
In the early pre-dawn hours, Arinelle quickly dressed herself and hurried from the manor. She apologetically woke a stablehand and had a horse saddled for her before riding toward town, taking the route she knew even with her eyes closed to the Cathedral of Light. Hitching the horse, she made her way inside with a quick, confident stride. She nodded to those she passed but did not stop as she made her way to one of the Dawn Rooms. Inside, she glanced around and took a breath before carefully closing and latching the door. The dawn had not yet peaked above the horizon, though some light was beginning to show.
The church leaders may have lied to her, but Loreali never had. Regardless of her origin, Loreali had chosen to bless her with divine power. Loreali had believed in her. She had no doubt that, even if Arinelle had not known where she came from, Loreali had–and had chosen her despite her connection to Akmon. She may have been created to be the Sword of the Morning, but she would use that power to defend the weak, aid the needy, and to strike down those who would destroy peace for their own cruel ends.
She began to set up a ritual circle, placing candles around the room, setting out silver goblets filled with pure, clear water. Under her jacket, she’d chosen to wear her most simple, pure white acolyte’s dress; no formal robes, no divine cleric gown. There was no pretense here, it was just her and Loreali.
“Loreali,” she murmured as she lit each of the candles, the light of dawn just beginning to spill across the land, “I know that you are listening. I may have been created by Akmon, however he is your brother and I choose to believe that I am thus also a part of You. I have seen visions of my life under His tutelage. I don’t remember much, but I know that it was lonely. That the harsh glare of the sun leaves little room for the gentle glow of love, kindness, and mercy. I have always felt myself blessed by your touch, by your strength, by the divine gifts that you have chosen to share with me.”
She completed lighting the circle of candles and began to take each goblet of water, carefully using them to rinse the hands and feet of the statue of Loreali that sat in the room, glowing in the candlelight and the rising dawn. “To aid others is to walk in Your Light. To defend against cruelty, to prevent tyranny from destroying peace, to give succor to those in need is to let my Light shine beside Yours. Not to drown out all other light under a single oppressive globe, but stand beside you and add my Light to your own, strengthening all and guiding those in the dark. If I am to be a weapon, let me be the Dawn Sword. Let me use my power to Defend the oppressed, not to be used against them for those in pursuit of power.”
Kneeling in front of the statue as the dawn fully broke, she spoke with quiet confidence, both hands clasping her amulet, head bowed, eyes closed. “I swear to Kindle the Light of hope in the world, beating back despair through my acts of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness. To Shelter the Light of others and to stand against the wickedness that would swallow it. To Preserve My Own Light for if I allow the light to die in my own heart, I cannot preserve it in the world. And to Be the Light, letting the light of my joy and courage shine forth in all of my deeds as a glorious beacon for all who live in despair. I once again pledge my devotion, my life, into your care for the rest of my days. May my Light kindle the Light in others until the world is awash in the soft glow of dawn.”
Made for This
I was made for this
Born in the wild
Formed in the fire
Built for the battle, oh
I was made for this
The mace smashed into the dummy, stuffing flying. The sun had long since set and sweat dripped from beneath her armor despite the cool weather of the autumn season. Two dummies sat in pieces, wood and metal and hay spread over the grounds of the training pit.
“I don't suppose you know which of the host is my parent?” "You have no parent. You were created."The words of the Celestial were still on repeat in her mind. She had no parents. She had been made. And not just made, but made of Akmon’s light. To be a weapon. His weapon. His sun blade. She flinched then straightened, teeth clenched together. Was having a parent so important? Someone who had wanted a child? Had wanted her? Clearly, even if she’d had a parent, they had abandoned her. She hadn’t ever expected some tear-filled reunion. But she’d at least thought that someone was out there, perhaps thinking of the child they had given up. But there was no such person. She had been forged and then cast into the world to be sharpened with no thought to her being a person worthy of love and caring, but to become a weapon for use. I don't give up, I won't back down Goodbye worries, no time to doubt I feel the power, I won't be afraid Fear won't stop me, I don't break I was made for this She still wasn’t certain how she’d ended up at Loreali’s temple, rather than Akmon’s, as an infant, but she supposed that wasn’t important. She needed to be prepared to defeat the darkness. A darkness that was beginning to touch the world, interfere in divine magic, resurrection, and perhaps even healing in future. She couldn’t do that on her own, but even with all of the adventurer’s in the Guild it would be impossible if she, the weapon, was not a sharp enough blade. Regardless of whom she was a weapon of, she could not let the darkness swallow the world. And so she would become stronger. Sharper. Prepared for when she would be needed. She turned, blasting a bright flash of radiant light at a dummy. It glowed with light as her mace came down on it hard, the head flying and hay spraying out across the ground. I'm a soul on a wire That's where I feel alive Open up the skies I'm a soul on a wire That's where I feel alive Open up the skies I am free to fly Looking for her next target, she realized she had no more dummies. Her eyes moved across the destruction she’d left behind, the pupiless topaz glowing slightly in the dim light of the pit, breath panting from her. Annoyed, she threw the mace at a nearby weapon rack, a loud clatter ringing out as it knocked into spears and swords. Her mind circled back to the Celestial’s words. A weapon. Forged, not birthed. Not wanted as a person, merely as a weapon. She pulled off her helm and threw it too, swiping at sweat and tears. What would happen to her, when she’d achieved this destiny? Would she still be herself? Would she remain here on this plane to live her life? A life she’d finally begun to truly embrace. A life with friends and loves and a future filled with potential for more than just the fulfillment of a prophecy. Or would she be cast aside, a weapon whose purpose had been served and was no longer needed? Her wings burst from her back, flaring with golden light. Akmon’s light, she realized. Not Loreali’s. Her magic, granted from Loreali, was the warm glow of candlelight. Her wings were the blazing light of the sun. She rocketed up, out of the temple grounds, across the sky, but didn’t get far before the magical flight faded out and she tumbled down. She crashed into some bushes in Central Park and grunted with pain but ignored it as she pulled herself upright and sat against a tree in the dark. Would she, like her wings, flare brightly for one dazzling moment and then fade into nothingness? She stared up at the stars, ignoring the scrapes, bruises, sweat, and tears and wondered: who would she be at the end of all of this? What would she become, and what would become of her? I was made for this I was made for this I was made for this
Confrontation
“Do they?”
The question echoed in her mind. It had since the moment Victor had asked it.
Did they truly have her best interests at heart? Or only their own?
They had told her she had a great and wonderful Destiny, all while never telling her what that Destiny was.
They had told her that she needed to be ready, all while never actually training her aside from the simplest of healing magics.
They had told her she was special, a chosen of Loreali.
They had lied.
They had been lying for her entire life.
They had kept her bound to this place, denying her the ability to grow and learn, never telling her that the prophecy, the Destiny they said was calling to her, was not for Loreali at all.
Had they been deliberately stunting her abilities by refusing to allow her to train? Had they hoped that, with limited magics, the Destiny she was prophesied to fulfill would be mitigated or even entirely prevented? Had they expected that she would continue to live blissfully unaware, healing the sick and injured, and never looking toward anything more, waiting for her Destiny to come?
Of course they had. They had spent nearly three decades building this fabrication. They had never intended to tell her. They had kept her blind to the truth and prayed she would stay that way.
They thought that she would betray them, betray her goddess, for whatever fate the prophecy had in store, and had never thought to give her a choice. Or the ability to make her own decisions.
Well, she was done. She would not be a pawn any longer. Her choices would be her own, and if they did not want them to be informed choices, that was on them.
And she was going to tell the Benefic that to her face.
Despite Victor’s statement that she should not kick down the door, Arinelle stopped pacing and left her room, her path taking her directly to the Benefic’s office. She would not be denied this meeting.
Who Am I?
Arinelle walked along the lane toward home, though she wasn’t truly watching where she was going. The Commander’s words echoed in her ears. The prophecy she’d been told about her entire life was about Akmon. Akmon! How was that possible? How had no one told her?
She reached up for her amulet, holding it so tightly the edges cut into her palm.
She’d been told since she was a child that she had a great Destiny. That she had a Responsibility. A Purpose. They’d never told her precisely what that was, but said she’d know it when it came calling. To be patient. Light knew, she’d tried. She’d waited and waited. But while she stayed safe in the halls of the Cathedral and within the walls of the hospital, the outside world had passed her by. Would it arrive at the doors of the Cathedral, like she had as an infant? Or was it out there, waiting for her?
Stay focused. Be patient. Your Destiny is coming.
But it was all a lie. A lie to keep her from fulfilling a prophecy for Akmon.
Tears gathered in her pupiless eyes, causing them to glimmer like gems in the lantern light. The amulet cut deeper into her palm, blood trickling through her fingers.
If her Destiny was truly to avoid having a Destiny at all, who was she? What was her Purpose? To be a healer, certainly. None could deny that is where her gifts lie. But was she truly intended to simply stay at the Cathedral for the rest of her days? To be tucked away where she could do no harm, should this prophecy actually refer to her?
“That’s not how that works,” she muttered, a passerby giving her an odd look and then hurrying on. If she did not follow the Call, the Call would find her. It could not be so easily avoided. Any at the church who thought otherwise were deluding themselves.
They should have told her. They should have warned her. Prepared her. How was she supposed to avoid something she wouldn’t recognize when it arrived? And did it need to be avoided? She didn’t know. Because they had refused to share this prophecy with her.
Regardless, she would not betray her goddess. She had given an Oath. She’d accepted Her blessing. No prophecy could change that. Certainly no Akmonite prophecy, of all things. How could they doubt her? After all this time? After raising her? Was her faith truly so questionable to them?
Arinelle shook her head. She felt adrift. Her entire sense of self floated like so much detritus around her. Everything she’d been raised to believe about herself was a fabrication. Should she even continue with this adventuring? Would it end up causing more harm than good? Would it lead to ruin? She could never live with that on her hands. Her shoulders bowed with the unending grip of responsibility pressing down upon her. She walked on silently.
The lights of the Cathedral came into view ahead and she took a breath. Her shoulders straightened. Her expression remained grim, however. She would not snuff her own Light but she would also not be the reason anything happened to the church. She would not abandon those in need, but she would step back. Allow others to make decisions.
Who am I, if my entire life was a lie?
She reached up for her amulet, holding it so tightly the edges cut into her palm.
She’d been told since she was a child that she had a great Destiny. That she had a Responsibility. A Purpose. They’d never told her precisely what that was, but said she’d know it when it came calling. To be patient. Light knew, she’d tried. She’d waited and waited. But while she stayed safe in the halls of the Cathedral and within the walls of the hospital, the outside world had passed her by. Would it arrive at the doors of the Cathedral, like she had as an infant? Or was it out there, waiting for her?
Stay focused. Be patient. Your Destiny is coming.
But it was all a lie. A lie to keep her from fulfilling a prophecy for Akmon.
Tears gathered in her pupiless eyes, causing them to glimmer like gems in the lantern light. The amulet cut deeper into her palm, blood trickling through her fingers.
If her Destiny was truly to avoid having a Destiny at all, who was she? What was her Purpose? To be a healer, certainly. None could deny that is where her gifts lie. But was she truly intended to simply stay at the Cathedral for the rest of her days? To be tucked away where she could do no harm, should this prophecy actually refer to her?
“That’s not how that works,” she muttered, a passerby giving her an odd look and then hurrying on. If she did not follow the Call, the Call would find her. It could not be so easily avoided. Any at the church who thought otherwise were deluding themselves.
They should have told her. They should have warned her. Prepared her. How was she supposed to avoid something she wouldn’t recognize when it arrived? And did it need to be avoided? She didn’t know. Because they had refused to share this prophecy with her.
Regardless, she would not betray her goddess. She had given an Oath. She’d accepted Her blessing. No prophecy could change that. Certainly no Akmonite prophecy, of all things. How could they doubt her? After all this time? After raising her? Was her faith truly so questionable to them?
Arinelle shook her head. She felt adrift. Her entire sense of self floated like so much detritus around her. Everything she’d been raised to believe about herself was a fabrication. Should she even continue with this adventuring? Would it end up causing more harm than good? Would it lead to ruin? She could never live with that on her hands. Her shoulders bowed with the unending grip of responsibility pressing down upon her. She walked on silently.
The lights of the Cathedral came into view ahead and she took a breath. Her shoulders straightened. Her expression remained grim, however. She would not snuff her own Light but she would also not be the reason anything happened to the church. She would not abandon those in need, but she would step back. Allow others to make decisions.
Who am I, if my entire life was a lie?
No Other Choice
Arinelle stalked through the grounds of the Cathedral toward the Rectory. The combination of her grim expression, rather than her usual pleasant smile, the torn, bloody, and grimy Priestess dress, and the slightly dented shield with the crest of Loreali had Acolytes skittering out of her way. She didn’t seem to notice.
She was annoyed. Mostly at herself, truth be told. She’d rushed in when she should have shown caution. The enemy had been much stronger than she’d anticipated and her armor had not been as effective as it usually was. She’d taken too many hits, fallen to the golems’ fists. She had been dispatched so quickly!
Entering her room, she tossed the dented shield onto the floor where it clanged against a chair and then began divesting herself of her ruined gown, the chainmail, and undergarments. The scrapes and bruises across her skin would heal quickly enough, she knew.
Perhaps this was not her path to walk? Healing she could do. She was skilled in it. But if these golems were the type of enemy the Adventurer’s Guild was expecting them to take on, she did not have the fortitude to take that amount of damage and her armor was ineffective against them.
Slipping on a robe, she headed to the shared bathroom down the hall and began to draw a bath, thankful for the indoor plumbing and elemental-heated water. She slid into the water and closed her eyes.
How could she protect them if she could not withstand the blows?
How could she meet her Destiny if she continued to fall in battle?
She had to work harder. Train harder. Focus. Discipline. Responsibility.
There was no other choice. She had to be Prepared.
She was annoyed. Mostly at herself, truth be told. She’d rushed in when she should have shown caution. The enemy had been much stronger than she’d anticipated and her armor had not been as effective as it usually was. She’d taken too many hits, fallen to the golems’ fists. She had been dispatched so quickly!
Entering her room, she tossed the dented shield onto the floor where it clanged against a chair and then began divesting herself of her ruined gown, the chainmail, and undergarments. The scrapes and bruises across her skin would heal quickly enough, she knew.
Perhaps this was not her path to walk? Healing she could do. She was skilled in it. But if these golems were the type of enemy the Adventurer’s Guild was expecting them to take on, she did not have the fortitude to take that amount of damage and her armor was ineffective against them.
Slipping on a robe, she headed to the shared bathroom down the hall and began to draw a bath, thankful for the indoor plumbing and elemental-heated water. She slid into the water and closed her eyes.
How could she protect them if she could not withstand the blows?
How could she meet her Destiny if she continued to fall in battle?
She had to work harder. Train harder. Focus. Discipline. Responsibility.
There was no other choice. She had to be Prepared.
The Weight of Disappointment
1st of February, 1883 ME
Sweat dripped from Arinelle’s brow, plastering tendrils of her blonde hair to her forehead and neck. The simple but artful braids and curls of her hairstyle had begun to come loose, but still she did not stop. Her mace slammed against the practice dummy, glancing off the side and she felt her frustration rise. She had to be better than this. This would keep no one safe. This would help no one. This would cause her to be a liability to her team.
The group of Acolytes and Priestesses had long since departed. The occasional Guardian would pause to observe her for a moment but left her to her task. She’d nearly completely annihilated one dummy before moving on to the next. Bits of straw and wood covered the dirt of the training ground and she, herself, was covered in dust, her white dress turning a dingy beige.
The mace slammed again, splintering wood. She shifted back, feet catching slightly with exhaustion, and she cursed herself softly.
“Perhaps a break is in order, Ama?” a voice asked.
She glanced behind herself to see Ser Thelen Morro leaning against a wall, watching her.
“Not yet,” she responded, perhaps a bit more tersely than she intended.
“You can barely hold that mace and shield up anymore,” he pointed out.
“An enemy will not wait for one to rest when a battle is long. One must learn to fight even when their arms tremble with fatigue.”
He made a non-committal sound.
“Have you anything of import to say or are you simply here to distract me, Ser Morro?” she asked, the question coming out breathless as she redoubled her efforts against the dummy.
“Imparting some wisdom,” he responded, a half-grin curling his lips.
“Your wisdom has been duly considered.” She bashed the dummy with her shield, hopped back.
“And clearly ignored,” he sighed. He watched her another moment longer but when she didn’t respond, he wandered away.
She had lost sight of her training in her eagerness to explore her newfound friendships and relationships. That was not acceptable. Her lack of dedication would do them more harm than good. Even if the Commander had not bid her to practice daily, she would have done so of her own accord.
She could still hear the muffled amusement of the Acolytes. The disappointment and doubt in the Commander’s gaze. The weight of expectation, of her own resolve, settled on her shoulders like a mantle.
She could do this.
She had to do better.
There was no other option.
The group of Acolytes and Priestesses had long since departed. The occasional Guardian would pause to observe her for a moment but left her to her task. She’d nearly completely annihilated one dummy before moving on to the next. Bits of straw and wood covered the dirt of the training ground and she, herself, was covered in dust, her white dress turning a dingy beige.
The mace slammed again, splintering wood. She shifted back, feet catching slightly with exhaustion, and she cursed herself softly.
“Perhaps a break is in order, Ama?” a voice asked.
She glanced behind herself to see Ser Thelen Morro leaning against a wall, watching her.
“Not yet,” she responded, perhaps a bit more tersely than she intended.
“You can barely hold that mace and shield up anymore,” he pointed out.
“An enemy will not wait for one to rest when a battle is long. One must learn to fight even when their arms tremble with fatigue.”
He made a non-committal sound.
“Have you anything of import to say or are you simply here to distract me, Ser Morro?” she asked, the question coming out breathless as she redoubled her efforts against the dummy.
“Imparting some wisdom,” he responded, a half-grin curling his lips.
“Your wisdom has been duly considered.” She bashed the dummy with her shield, hopped back.
“And clearly ignored,” he sighed. He watched her another moment longer but when she didn’t respond, he wandered away.
She had lost sight of her training in her eagerness to explore her newfound friendships and relationships. That was not acceptable. Her lack of dedication would do them more harm than good. Even if the Commander had not bid her to practice daily, she would have done so of her own accord.
She could still hear the muffled amusement of the Acolytes. The disappointment and doubt in the Commander’s gaze. The weight of expectation, of her own resolve, settled on her shoulders like a mantle.
She could do this.
She had to do better.
There was no other option.
Taking Flight
25th of November, 1882 ME
Arinelle dreamed of flying. Great, glorious wings of golden light sprouting from her back. The wind in her face. The cityscape of Novandria spread out beneath her, glittering in the dark.
She felt free! The weight of gravity no longer holding her down. The weight of expectation so far below her.
Duty. Responsibility. The destiny that called to her, though she wasn’t yet sure what it was.
She didn’t want to escape it. She didn’t seek to fly away from it. She merely sought a moment of respite. Of relaxation. Of nothing but this moment and the sky and the wind and the city lights in the darkness before dawn.
The sun began to rise, far in the distance. Arinelle watched it with wonder. The dawning of a new day never failed to take her breath away as color and light swept over the world once again. As the rays peeked over the horizon and lit the sky, her golden wings glittered, flashed, then vanished as she plummeted back toward the ground.
--
She woke with a start, looking around her dark room. She could hear the rectory beginning to stir and the pre-dawn light filtering through her curtains told her it was time to wake for the day. Rubbing her face, she took a deep breath and tossed back the covers. For a moment, she could have sworn the flash of a golden feather fell from the bedsheets. She hopped from the bed and shook out the covers, then looked beneath the bed, but, try as she might, she could not find a trace of it.
Shaking her head, she tidied her room and began to prepare for the day, though the feeling of flying was never far from her thoughts.
She felt free! The weight of gravity no longer holding her down. The weight of expectation so far below her.
Duty. Responsibility. The destiny that called to her, though she wasn’t yet sure what it was.
She didn’t want to escape it. She didn’t seek to fly away from it. She merely sought a moment of respite. Of relaxation. Of nothing but this moment and the sky and the wind and the city lights in the darkness before dawn.
The sun began to rise, far in the distance. Arinelle watched it with wonder. The dawning of a new day never failed to take her breath away as color and light swept over the world once again. As the rays peeked over the horizon and lit the sky, her golden wings glittered, flashed, then vanished as she plummeted back toward the ground.
--
She woke with a start, looking around her dark room. She could hear the rectory beginning to stir and the pre-dawn light filtering through her curtains told her it was time to wake for the day. Rubbing her face, she took a deep breath and tossed back the covers. For a moment, she could have sworn the flash of a golden feather fell from the bedsheets. She hopped from the bed and shook out the covers, then looked beneath the bed, but, try as she might, she could not find a trace of it.
Shaking her head, she tidied her room and began to prepare for the day, though the feeling of flying was never far from her thoughts.
Donning the Armor
8th of October, 1882 ME
Arinellle steeled her spine as she walked across the large lot where the Cathedral of Light and related buildings were. She was going to the barracks and training grounds of the Guardians of Light to request provisions from the armory.
"Then let the light draw the gaze while the shadows become darker,” she had told Nevermore the night she’d attempted to step in and assist him during a fight.
“You look ill equipped to draw that much attention, Loreilian,” he had responded.
And he had not been wrong. Her cloak and dress were not protection enough to prevent injury, and her little training in using such things gave just barely enough knowledge to wear it. And so, she would begin the process of learning, just as she’d done with healing.
She’d heard that the Darkling Way Tavern was offering free round trips this evening for those who wished to try their skill within the magical ruins beneath the Shattered Peaks. She intended to go. She was not sure who she would venture forth alongside, but hoped that there was a group who could use someone versed in healing arts.
A Guardian stood near the entrance, observing some Knights in their morning training.
“Ser Morro!” she greeted, bowing her head respectfully.
“Ama Illum,” he replied, a smile curling his lips. “How may I aid you this beautiful morning?”
“I am in need of armor, if you please,” she stated decisively.
A look of surprise flashed across his features. “Armor, Ama? Is there a service the Guardians can provide you?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you, Ser Morro. Well-fitted armor, a shield, and perhaps a weapon will be sufficient.”
He gaped at her a moment, unused to a Divine Priestess requesting such things. The Guardians had Paladins and Clerics of their own, those trained for combat as well as healing. The clerics of the Order of Life and Mercy tended to the sick in the hospitals and clinics, not in battle.
“This is a rather unusual request, Ama. We have no orders to send you to battle.”
Arinelle said a silent prayer of patience before responding. “I am not being sent to battle, Ser. I am planning to accept the invitation extended by the Darkling Way to venture into the ruins. I am ill equipped to do so.” She gestured to her white gown and cloak.
He blinked.
“Ser Morro? The armory?” Her serious topaz gaze stared up at him, very clearly setting the expectation that she would not be denied her request.
“Have you spoken to the Ankress about this?” he asked, hesitating.
“The Ankress and the Benefic have impressed upon me, throughout my years here, that I must be ready to meet my destiny when it comes calling,” she told him, her voice gaining a bit of an edge to it. “I have heard the beginning of its song and I wish to prepare myself. I cannot do so by staying securely within the walls of the hospital and Cathedral. Now, you will please provide me with the gear I have requested.”
Thelan Morro, Guardian of the Light, hesitated a moment more before he simply nodded and led the way to the armory. He would report this to the Ankress, but would not stand in the Ama’s way if she was determined to equip herself for battle.
In the armory, he attempted to provide her with simple, light armor but Arinelle insisted on the heaviest she could wear while still being able to move effectively. The chainmail settled over her, the weight of it feeling right. It was accompanied by a tabard, white with the edges lined in silver-gray thread and the symbol of Loreali prominent on front and back. A shield came next, also engraved with the symbol of Loreali, and a mace to hang from her weapons belt. At the end of the process, she looked far more like one of the Guardians’ clerics than one of the Order.
“My thanks, Ser Morro,” she said, offering an awkward bow, then turning and moving back out to the training grounds, the soft metallic clanking of the armor echoing behind her.
Playlist
Cleric of Loreali
Good Fight - Unspoken
Burn so Bright - Bella Thorne
Burn - Ellie Goulding
Speak Life - TobyMac
Living Up to My Destiny
I Am the Fire - Halestorm
Whatever It Takes - Imagine Dragons
The Greatest - Sia
Born Ready - Dove Cameron
This is My Time - Carrollton
Made for This - Carrollton
Untouchable - Carrollton
Vulnerable Moments
Surface Pressure - Jessica Darrow
Don’t Give up on Me - Andy Grammer
I Can’t Keep Up - Tourist
No Time for Childhood
Arinelle sat on the edge of her small bed, tiny legs swinging back and forth restlessly. Every once in a while, her skin would catch the light of a candle and glitter just a bit, like she’d crawled through gold dust.
“You mustn't run off like that, Arinelle,” a young woman admonished gently. She wore the white gown of an Acolyte of the Church of Loreali, marking her as part of the Order of Life and Mercy.
“By why?” her small, childish voice asked. “I just wanted to play with the other children.” Pupiless topaz eyes stared up earnestly at the woman.
“You’ve no time for play,” she responded. “Your training takes precedence.” Her tone implied that they had had this conversation before, yet it remained gentle even if slightly vexed. Attempting to impress the weight of responsibility upon a five year old often required repeated reminders.
“Not even on feast days?” she wheedled.
“Even on feast days, one must be prepared. Destiny does not wait, nor does it conform to our choice of rest days. Your calling may come at the most inopportune of moments and you must be ready to step forward and greet it.”
“It didn’t, though,” she pointed out reasonably, in her tiny voice.
“Not this time,” the woman conceded. “That does not mean that it may not during the next feast day, festival, or fair.”
“How will I know?” she asked softly, her hands fidgeting in the cloth of her dress.
“You’ll know,” was the response, firm with conviction.
“What must I do?” The little voice was beginning to sound frustrated and perhaps a bit tearful.
“In time, light will reveal all secrets that hide in shadow.” The woman lightly touched Arinelle’s head. “I know it is difficult to be patient. I know it is difficult to have duties when other children do not. You will play a great role in this world, Arinelle. You will do great things. Your Light will be a force of truth and healing. And so you must be prepared to walk this path, and to guide others along it. Your heritage shines brightly for all to see.”
The little aasimar dropped her eyes to her lap, thinking for a long moment, then she nodded and looked up at the woman. “I will, Gemma. I’ll be ready, I promise. I won’t let you, or anyone else, down. I will make my goddess proud, whatever her destiny is for me.”