Lyuin

Aldrik's fair features crease with amusement as he laughs softly. The blues of his eyes quickly skim over the information, duly noting several facts. "Seems I may have parchment work after-all...though Ivanus seems to have trouble keeping up with my chosen name. I'm proud of him for catching onto Lyuin but...in light of Tahariae's decision, I thought he might choose the more...recent name granted to me." Turning on the heel of his foot, he moves back into his halls. ((So is Tahariae Tom Jones?))

I feel Katari would be a good addition to the team. His RP is top notch and the man has a mature, patient attitude OOCly. I wish you good luck m'man, that's a +1 from me.

Well written actually. I'd recommend keeping it Dreadknight levels rare...as has been said. Besides, I'm quite happy for Lycans to exist. More stuff to purge. >: D

The command had started in an unusual fashion. Though one might argue that would be typical of a message of from a divine, it was on the rare occasion that Lyuin had been drinking in a tavern that the Patron had sent their message. The Stag’s message echoed in the confines of the Itharel’s mind as he left the tavern, the green-glass of an empty bottle abandoned in his wake. Slowly he made his ways along the winding roads, the road becoming lost under the flora surrounding the city of Cerulin. Lyuin confidently approached the gates of the city, his intricately-crafted divine plate armor shifting quietly and casting the light of the torches in many directions. Behind him, the white of his cloak billowed out, lifted by the bitter-cold of a winter-wind that Lyuin might have once described as ‘mildly unpleasant.’ He regarded the interior of the city quickly, noting the architecture and the sights before turning his attention back to the task currently at hand. In his hand were a small bundle of letters, stamped with a simple crimson wax-seal and hastily bound together with fraying string. Moving with brisk purpose and precise strides, he proceeded towards the shrine in which he might find the Grandmaster of The Clerical Order. With a grunt of effort, he pulled one of the letters from the stack and made an effort to slide it under the door. Failing that, he leapt at the edge of the balcony, striving to place it up on the balcony but never quite succeeding. For a moment, he attempted to retain his pride as the comical image of a golden-plated figure jumping up and down repeatedly with a letter branded itself into his mind. Then with a weary sigh he threw a handful of letters at the balcony, one of them finally spinning skywards and finding purchase in the Sohae residence. Lyuin allowed himself a smirk of satisfaction at the small victory murmuring “Thank Tahariae” as he bent to pick up the scattered letters. With the first of the letters posted, he marched off seeking the other members of The Clerical Order. In the following days, the various members of The Order (that Lyuin would know of) would find courier-birds of several varieties outside their residencies with rolls of parchment and letters tied to their feet. Upon opening it they would read: ~ “Clerics of Tahariae, brothers and sisters...friends and potatoes. (Or all of the above...though a potato Cleric is worrying.) Our glorious Patron has recently felt it appropriate to communicate with me to instruct that we once more seek the sons and daughters of Xan. I will leave it to your Grandmaster to choose the course of action you take as it is your Order...though I'll trust you won't act too hastily. I apologize for not being as ‘prominent’ in recent days as I once was, I intend to start tutoring in the more offensive arts of Tahariae’s gifts starting with the Grandmaster himself. Remain safe and may the light guide you. Aldrik"

Lyuin blinks twice, his vacant expression dissipating like whatever thought had been running through his head moments before. Slowly his eyes narrow with focus, his expression resembling a frown of contemplation. "If Hosper tolerated him, I believe...I can too. Besides...if our...cloaked associate truly can assist us with the names of the remaining Necromancers...then perhaps we have a chance of stemming the use of dark magic in the land...however, I should recommend staying vigilant, it'd be easy for us to come to trust someone who could presumably 'jump the fence' and stifle the flame of The Order." With that he glances to Ivanus "Your thoughts?"

Leaning back in his seat, Lyuin turns to face Skale, one hand resting on the top of the backrest as he twists his torso round. For a moment he looks Skale up and down as he speaks noting the change in tone, the stalwart statement and any changes in demeanour before finally raising an eyebrow, a wry smirk appearing on his fair features. Such an expression strongly indicating Lyuin's interest at Skale's bold statement.

Lyuin duly notes the notes scattered: whether on his way to the tavern or even between the cities, he soon decides they may not just be simple advertisements and decides to read one. His eyes narrow as he reads the title 'Dread Lord' at the bottom of the note. Somewhat consciously, he folds the note in a quarter-square before tucking it in his pocket. Seems evil had been stifled, not doused. ((Nice to see someone trying to get the Dreadknights back in action))

The abrupt and yet eerie applause caused Lyuin to flinch, a recoil of sorts causing his posture to visibly straighten as he notes the source of noise. Almost reluctant at first, the Itharel of Hope turns to face the ragged form in the corner of the room, his eyes shifting slightly as he takes in the sights of the man. The furrowing of his brow and the scowl in his eyes quickly becoming apparent in the half-light as he notes the bloodstains on the spoiled robes. With his features now set in a grimace, he utters in a low voice "And who might you be?"

~ Glances to Mia briefly listening to her final words before finally turning to the rest of the group. "Suppose that's my cue...liking the table thing we've got going." ​He carefully stands spreading out his hands to be more inclusive of the audience around him. Also for grandiose effect. "My name is Lyuin Avern. Though you probably worked it out due to the repeated use of it during the meeting and idle chit-chat. Regardless, whilst it may seem otherwise, my greatest boon was the training and guidance I received at my early adult-hood and the experiences life and the patron have gifted me. Men such as Saint Mandru shaped my mind, made me a mature and thoughtful being. Women such as Saint Lenia tempered me like metal...working me into I was less...obnoxious. Men such as Jakir and William reminding me of the moral compass and to enjoy the peaceful moments." He breathes out taking a moment to gather himself, idle fingers playing at strands of hair slightly out of place. "Though I was connected to the powers of War-Cleric by Ivanus, Itharel of Judgement...or my cousin...I still believe those around me made me a Cleric. Upon losing my wife, Lenia, my demeanour darkened...I became less naive and yet...cruel. I thought of men and women as utilities I could use to combat the darkness and to save others like the one I lost." He hesitates, as if stumbling with words before folding his arms and uttering: "Then men like Skale and women like Mia helped remind me of who I was and why I shouldn't lose hope. The outlooks of everyone around me helped guide me to understand that light-heartedness is not to be scorned but a serious nature on appropriate matters is required. One day, I will meet Lenia again...I guarantee that." He pauses as if not knowing how to continue, you hear him mumble "I also like kittens" before shaking his head and chuckling. He abruptly claps his hands together, a grin spreading on his features. "Aside from that...there's not much to me...aside from my dashing and exquisitely feminine good-looks and my competence I'm just Lyuin...ain't that right Skale..." His gaze falls upon Skale. "You, are not a tool." Then, in an act of mock-melodrama he says. "You are my lover!"

A wolfish grin splits Lyuin's features before he keels forward laughing softly before raising both his hands in mock surrender. "What can I say? You're irresistible Skale...besides I thought you loved me..." He continues laughing for a moment before straightening his posture, his demeanour once again becoming serious. "I shall consider that, though you do feed the rumours friend."

~ Lyuin Avern turns in a mechanical fashion to face Mia, his expression clearly uncomfortable. For a moment, he remains quiet as he simply wrings his hands before interlocking his fingers once more and going to speak. "As you weren't here when we discussed it, I'll sum it up as curtly as possible. You are being considered to partake in the trials required to study the art of Tahariae's more offensive gift and the boon to eradicate taint and corruption from our land with more than mortal device. You know it as the responsibility wielded by our War-Clerics and Paladins. So you know the risk before you reply I shall tell you what I have told everyone in this room already. The tasks and trials will be dangerous and potential fatal. Though you have likely fought the darkness before, you will be pushed for the mental fortitude, moral fibre and physical endurance required by the War-caster. You must consider the risks of such a choice as even the most experienced servant may fall during such training." With that he stands tentatively, his chair groaning slightly as it's pushed across the wooden floors of the tavern. With the now empty teacup in hand he gestures to the various figures in the room, except the spectral form of Mandru and the steel behemoth known as Jakir. "Though you may have weighed the possibility of death in your mind time and time again, there are other aspects that you must consider besides your mortal frailty. " He pauses for a brief moment, wringing his hands uncomfortably, his eyes averting from the gazes of those around him who'd happen to look his way. Finally he speaks, his words cold and grim. "You must consider the impact your death and undoing would have on those you love. Those who call you friend, those you know at the height of passion and those who've built a home with. These are the people left behind if you are to be struck down. You must also consider the Order. Your Order. As you all know the number of experienced Clerics you have at your disposal currently is limited. At this stage, losing an experienced member of the Order would be the same as losing a limb. Maiming and potentially ruinous. As a result I implore you: Do not make this choice with reckless zeal as such an act will only scar those you hold close. For it is the insatiable thirst for glory that leads to a man's annihilation, the true tool of demise is usually far more subtle than blade or bow." With that he glances around once more before waving a hand dismissively, sitting down and reaching for the tea. He pauses for the briefest moment as he stares at the empty chair nearest to him before proceeding with the task of acquiring a beverage. ((Aka at ghost Lenia.)) ~

Lyuin pauses, his tongue running over his teeth as if searching for grilse as he probes his own thoughts. Finally, he straightens his posture, his fingers interlocking with a soft creak of leather digit on leather digit. "This...matter is a tad...sensitive...whilst some believe Skale to one of our more worthy and useful Clerics for reasons both symbolic and iconic, some members of the ethereal elements disagree. However...I can...try to debate it." His expression appears melancholic as his eyes dart to Skale before returning to the surface of the table. With that Lyuin nods slowly, his fingers tapping against each other in quick succession as he shifts in his chair to stretch out his legs. "I can indeed do such a thing...though it depends on who you have in mind. Please note that the process of becoming a War-Cleric is not simple or short. It is...strenuous and potentially fatal. Those who I allow such an opportunity must accept that these acts could result in the obliteration of their mortal frailties...or simply put: death. However...Grandmaster, I believe you have not been tutored in the arts of a War-Cleric. Are you one such aspiring servant?"

Lazily, Lyuin directs a gloved left hand to the helmeted newcomer, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he murmurs in a half-serious tone: "And you are whose apprentice?" Though concealed by the table, his right hand subconsciously drifts to where the hilt of his sword would usually sit.

Lyuin glances to the various faces, mostly those he doesn't recognise duly noting their notable characteristics and demeanours. Then his gaze falls to Skale as he softly utters: "You may sit, if you wish...lest your legs ache." Carefully he'd go to take a cup of tea, his eyes searching for a pot of sugar and spoon.

The mortal form of Lyuin Avern or'Hope'steps out of the open-air roads and into the tavern. The pupils of his eyes quickly contracting to adjust to the interior-lighting of the inn. Carefully he makes his way to one of the empty chairs out of the proximity of the nearest Clerics before taking a moment to tug on the cuffs of his coat and slide into his seat. "It was good initiative calling us here...though I must duly note that you have chosen a location that is likely without the appropriate Clerical warding in it. If you want a history lesson on how Hosper was snatched by dark forces during a meeting because of such a fact I can remind you. Though if we remain vigilant I'm sure we'll be fine..." Tentatively he orients his torso subtly so he now faces Heshakomeu rather than a wall. "Regardless,I agree with your course of action thus far. Tis good to see you again."

Glorious, perhaps take a list of current mages? That way we can't have folk making new personas claiming to be mages before the lock?

Any actions the player-base needs to take? (Aside from not complaining.)

Didn't Iblees curse the Humans to short lives? Thus why would Mortem then be a separate entity for death? Still seems balanced...I can deal with it... +1

Lyuin mutters something under his breath as he slides both hands behind his back resting on the back of his belt. He sighs before murmuring "Was Daniel Baelish not a Mali who served in Oren and the Creator's name? A people and a Church whom could be associated to the death of hundreds..." He goes silent again before shaking his head and awaiting the judgement of those around him.

Lyuin Avern watches Skale move forward ignoring or dismissing the new arrivals and their false smiles. He glanced up where the Itharel's face would be if not hidden by hood. For a moment he remains still listening to his apprentice before hesitantly raising a hand and taking a step forward. "I-I must question such an action Iva--" He falters, allowing his hand to drop to his side. Slowly he glances around the room taking in the architecture for a moment before speaking once again: this time with more certainty. "Though I am bemused by the fact you wish to act against my apprentice despite previously making use of his services as well as not questioning his right to possess the gift in the past, I will say this..." He hesitates once more, his conscience screaming it's disapproval as he realises what he was about to say. "The Itharels have tolerated worse Clerics in the past. You've allowed Dreadsmiths and lust-driven Valah to gain access to the highest of Tahariae's gifts. I have seen far more 'clean' Clerics do less in Tahariae's name than this mali. He is pious and determined because he has been granted hope and a chance for redemption through enacting Tahariae's will. He requested harsher trials than any apprentice or Cleric I have ever known...few of us were perfect before finding purpose with Tahariae and even now we continue to find ourselves flawed. Thus if he truly to be punished..." He allows the words to sink in for a moment before straightening his posture and standing tall, a stern tone enforced by stoic expression. "Then as his teacher I must request penance for not only have I been misguided and misjudging Tahariae's will but giving him false hope in the first place."

Lyuin Avern wrung his gloved hands with a slow and oddly thoughtful motion. As if the action was simply something to occupy his idle body as he stood mulling the command over. The answer was simple: He had to ascend to the mountain. He smiled softly at the thought of visiting the place he once called home and potentially seeing his cousin again. A game of Chess would be well overdue. With that in mind, he turned on his heel and begun to make a mental checklist of provisions, their cost and travel time.

A wry smile forms on Lyuin's lips, the smile quivers slightly as it becomes afflicted by anxiety and bemusement. Soon the smile becomes a frown, his teal eyes showing suspicion as he narrows them. "Oh Jakir Axem, what have we done?" For a brief moment, silence ensues as he loses himself in thought, the bitter wind rippling through his blond locks, sending the corners of his blue overcoat upwards. Then with little more than a blink and a loss of vacancy, he continues down the cobblestone road.

I agree with this ^_^ Though I do wonder: I've seen situations where characters have actually tried to hunt their killer down because: 'Their friend told them they were killed by said person.' Is that a valid reason? I mean, even with the knowledge of monk revival, would many folk attempt such extreme revenge based on a few words?

I pray the glory of Tahariae descends upon the Mortals to act both apathetic towards his mortal subjects and yet zealous about the destruction of evil forces... *Sighs* "Gooood times."

Lyuin blinks twice behind his visor. A moment later, he remembers that his eyes may not be visible behind his helmet and thus he twists his head to face Mandru to infer that his attention has been caught. "If you feel that I am sufficiently equipped and my console adequate, I'd be most honored to take a place on the council. I was named a Master-Cleric previously so I suppose one could consider it 'fitting.' If you'll have me on the council, I stand ready."