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    1. Eirene 10 yrs ago

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Heinz and Bear

Heinz had mixed feelings about being back in Ft. Washington. Earlier this year, Bear had bolted in the middle of the village square, having been spooked by a shopkeeper's falling wares. Bear had upended the carts lining the streets, and provoked the tethered pack animals, creating a riotous scene. When he had arrived this morning, some had recognized him and voiced their lingering bitterness. Heinz had pulled up his hood in embarrassment and rushed through the main street towards the keep where they were to meet and was forced to lay low as they gathered supplies and negotiated with merchants.

As the group discussed their next step, Heinz initially hung back with Bear. The keep seemed to be a friendly establishment, though many of the locals seemed on edge in the presence of the group. Understandably, the keep had refused to board the horse in their stables and Heinz was forced to remain close by Bear's side. He noticed the others eying the horse with vague concern, and Heinz regretted that his first impression would be over-shadowed by the foul-tempered beast. Wary of his surroundings, he observed the others. During the long day, as the group gathered supplies in Ft. Washington, Heinz managed to get an impression of each of them, and was reluctantly optimistic about their journey. They were all fascinating people from a wide variety of backgrounds, and Heinz - eager to vicariously experience the lives of others - was already anticipating the tales each of the had to tell.

He had already begun to trust the man named Cormac. Though he had a grim and gruff countenance, and a blunt mannerism, he had inspected the pack Heinz had haphazardly constructed for Bear and suggested multiple improvements. He also seemed interested in improving the mule cart - complaining that it was poorly designed for rough travel and encouraging the purchase of spare parts for repair purposes. The alchemist, Amos, was taciturn and Heinz had shared only a few words with him - certainly not enough to get an impression of him. However, Heinz was mystified by the supplies the man had with him. He had a limited knowledge of alchemy and medicine and so they were akin to magic in his mind. Rhys, who seemed younger than himself, had been initially friendly towards him. Heinz had heard him whistling to himself as he took inventory of his supplies, and Heinz had been impressed by his musicality. He'd have to remember to ask him to teach him to whistle later on. The woman was silent, and the servant, Rory, spoke for her. Heinz had been hesitant to approach her and felt awkward in Rory's presence.

At this time, the group was considering the three paths to take. He understood each of their arguments. He was wary of the sea route, considering an old aversion towards water. He had never forgotten the floods that overtook the city in which he was born. As the population fell to disease, maintenance of the levees were forgotten. Soon, murky and poisonous water was lapping at the feet of people on the streets, trickling into their homes, and - during the rainy season - becoming deep enough to drown a person. No, the sea was not a viable route.

"I don't think the sea route is a safe option. I have heard from the sailors that there has been heightened pirate activity. I have also heard word that ship breakers are common on the coast, leading sailors into the rocky shore and pillaging the remains of the wreckage." Heinz said when it was his turn to speak. "The roads west would be a better choice because the path is straight. It's dangerous though, and we've lost many couriers in the past to marauders," Heinz paused, remembering an event that still saddened him to this day. Hoping no one had noticed, he went on. "I have travelled Northwards and I believe this is the best option. The forests provide much cover for travelers, as well as shelter in the night and fuel for fire. Hunting will be prosperous as well."
Hey! I'll work on my post, should have it done by tonight!
I'd be down for starting!
@BingTheWing

We don't have someone who specializes in flora and fauna - maybe a doctor, natural scientist or zoologist? Or maybe someone specializing in gastronomy? We don't have anyone to preserve the recipes of Rein...
Interested! May send a CS your way later today!
I'm interested!
On Binding the Seventh Soul




(Arcane/Religious History)

The Seven Souls, the heptalogy of scripture beloved to those who follow the way of the Gods and Goddesses, are scarce to be found outside of a temple or a convent. The wealth of materials needed to create the First to Sixth Soul are rare, and in short supply in Rein. However, the Seventh Soul, the book devoted to the teachings of Ignaes, Deity of Magic, is the most formidable to create of all, requiring immense resources and strength of body and spirit.

The Convent of the Seven Souls devotes their lives and resources to the creation of the The Seven Souls, devoting upwards of three years for the creation of the Seventh. A herd of 100 sheep and 25 spring calves are slaughtered over this period, to provide the vellum, parchment, and soft leather. The ink, a characteristic deep red, is made from the oak apples of the Many-Eyed Oaks, whose gnarls watch forest travelers as if possessing sentience. The second ink ingredient must be blood of a beast possessing magic - a sacrifice to Ignaes in return for his teachings. Earlier in history, the blood of Druids or Leprechauns were sought out for their potency, but the current Abbess of the Convent has had trouble stomaching the task. It has been twenty years since the last group of nuns have been sent to procure a sacrifice of this type and the art of the hunt is becoming lost. Now, the wisdom, litany and prayers to Ignaes are written with the blood of were-rabbits, a second-rate sacrifice that some believe have angered Ignaes.

The last step is the binding and the branding. The bound book is submerged in the Fountain of Light, a known source of Anomic Light deep in Sleeper's Spine Mountain Range, north of Rein. The Fountain of Light, said to be the tears of Ignaes himself, and thus both bitter and healing, cures the glue and sets the ink, yielding a nearly complete Seventh Soul. Historically, the Fountain of Light was forgone, especially during the rein of King Brogg the Clever, though the books produced during this period have faded and torn, while those created using the methods of old have withstood time. The last step is the branding process, necessary to mark the book as belonging to Ignaes. The same iron used to mark the wrists of Convent Initiates with the Sign of Igneas, is used on the cover of the Seventh Soul. The book, complete at last, is escorted to its final destination, which could be any temple or convent in Rein or the surrounding region.

The Binding the Seven Souls
by Sister Cordelle of Exeter


@SgtEasy

Wow, I didn't realize that! I might have to check it out - it takes a bit to get into an anime, but it's easy to get hooked after a few episodes. And I could definitely use some cooking tips! What else do you like?

@SgtEasy

I definitely had an anime phase as well! I was into stuff like Fruits Basket and Ouran High School Host Club - but I also liked Black Butler and the weird spinoff of Devil May Cry. I was definitely more into manga though. Not so much anymore, though I'll always re-read old favorites. What about you?
Sister Cordelle of Exeter - The Rebellious Nun

Cordelle was displeased with the summons that had led to her removal from the Convent of the Seven Souls - a humble but cozy stone structure located in the Forest of Exeter in Northern Rein. Though the convent itself was ramshackle, containing nought but the barest necessities for life and quiet meditation, the convent owned much of the surrounding lands and its bounty, and Cordelle missed the fresh air of the forest and the freedom to roam about. The Tower, though much richer in furnishings than the convent, with many a room to wander, was already creating a sense of claustrophobia within Cordelle. The Tower had a pervasive chill, perhaps from being located on an island, and she could feel the cold achingly in her joints. She recalled speaking with a man called Bremen, a finicky fellow who had shown her to her quarters within the Tower. He seemed high-strung, though it was clear why. Though Cordelle hadn't met the Mad King, she had heard much of him at the Convent. The Convent had a tenuous relationship with the crown, and in summation, they tended to leave each other well enough alone to avoid conflict. Cordelle was surprised when the Mad King sent word to convent requesting her scholarly services. The Convent was busy caring for travelers and refugees who were evacuating Rein. The Convent was busiest in troubled times, and she was hesitant to leave it.

There were three others who Cordelle had met in passing - Deles, Lupus and Charles. Interesting fellows, but all consumed with their work and hadn't been much company. Being alone, Cordelle pondered the task before her as she paced throughout the tower. The piles of quills and parchment were intimidating and she wasn't ready to begin. She whistled as she wandered, until a muffled voice yelled at her to keep it down. Retreating into her study, she surveyed the books, manuals and journals she had brought with her to aid her in completing the task. Her eyes settled on a set of books with well worn leather covers, emblazoned with the Flame of Ignaes. It was then that she decided what she was going to record first. Shaking off her cramped feelings and general misgivings, Cordelle sat at her desk to write. She grumbled as she realized the chair she sat in didn't allow her feet to touch the ground. She grumbled loudly, wishing more than ever that she had ignored her summons. The Cataclysm was no fun if one had to spend it cooped up in a tower. Watching the sun reach its zenith, she resigned herself to writing until it sunk into the god-forsaken lake that surrounded the tower that, if she was being realistic, could easily be her tomb as the Cataclysm descended upon Rein.

"Ignaes ignites," she murmured to herself - a type of reassurance that was becoming hollower and hollower as the day passes, "More like Ignaes ignoramus." If there was any time for irreverence, now was certainly justifiable.
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