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Post by Lavandul on May 11, 2022 20:39:53 GMT
The order and knighthood under the martyr of St. Isaac had some prominence in the city as a tolerated oddity that had withstood investigations of heresy over the century. The church specifically venerated a long dead apostle of the Empress that had sacrificed himself to ensure the survival of heroes under the waves of encroaching undead. No declared devotion to a secular organization or glory to an empire — just a pure dedication to the vigil against corruption and the protection of others. They had in fact, petitioned more than once that the clerical order Isaac's actions had inspired drew power from Isaac himself, and thus deserved the right of deification to legitimize their practice and recruit a more powerful foothold in armed forces against evil.
There wasn't any argument that the monastic organization did more good than most, and operated largely outside the thumb of House Avallar's political agenda. Anyone who was paying attention noted that House Duomo was a large source of tithe to support foreign incursions when recovering artifacts in lost temples and rotting pockets of aged settlements. Perhaps there were even some quiet bidding wars when it came to securing contracts with so many overlapping interests. The current Knight Commander walked a tightrope of keeping to the precepts of the city's officiates and gentry, and the rebellious streak had been part of the charm of flocking adherents (even a few Secondborn and rumored bastards of the elite among their ranks). There was a flippant pride in their operations, but they never pushed the envelope far enough to demand more than surprise visits from their betters, and the occasional papal bull nailed to their door.
Gulls dotted the steps as they hungrily watched the traffic of mid-week service. The monastery opened its doors to allow non-adherents and all walks of life to assist and partake in communal eating. Some families were networked with others or given jobs by the better off that they met during mealtime, and children weren't shamed for shoveling food into their pockets and packs to bring back to ailing parents or younger siblings; the rule was that they had to eat first and get past the hesitation that they needed to go without. It also allowed the monks to track who was missing, and tag housing that would need a doctor to pop in.
Effigies of the Empress glittered with donations and hand-sewn offerings, and many struggling parents were catching up as clergy watched their rampaging children by organizing games. A rare noble would pop in, dedicating the day as their visible presence with the church while speaking with the knights about their latest incursions or adopting a new handmaid for their estate. Places to sit were largely what people brought, the steps, or blankets rolled out to eat under the ocean spray. The atmosphere was busy and messy, but quite sociable and welcoming.
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Post by Vecchio on May 24, 2022 15:04:27 GMT
A few gulls flew off the steps as a little tiefling child chased them, laughing with joyful glee as he tried to catch one. After a few minutes, the boy stopped to catch his breath and looked out to the water. Like gems, the water sparkled beautifully in the sunlight. Then a haze began to overtake and the color of the water went from blue and green to silver and grey. The boy watch as a giant silvery wave formed over him. Before the wave came crashing down, the boy was gone and Vecchio stood in his place. Unable to move, he closes his eyes and prepares for what seems like his end... then nothing.
The tiefling opened his eyes and the water was normal again and the monastery behind him continued its day. He took a deep breath and shook his head, "Yeah. It's been a while since I was here."
As a child, it was a lot more difficult to live off the streets. Saint Isaac was the place to go to if you couldn't scrounge up enough to survive the week. Vecchio came here a lot as a boy and seeing the children running around gave him a feeling of nostalgia. It nearly brought a smile to his face until he remembered what happens if you're able to make it past childhood. These kids need to hold on that joy. Hopefully, the coin in Vecchio's purse can assist with that.
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Post by Lavandul on May 26, 2022 0:57:24 GMT
Dominé Lavandul had the foresight to put their recent coin with a bank. Initially they were moving on the Winter instinct of preparation and temperance, but now it was the simple reality that they likely would have spent it all. Fickle with feyblood, the normally icy elf had a lighter step to the heavy plate that scraped the pavement. Their head turned to address clergy in a soft and higher pitch than before, with stray goldleaf finding its way through the armour and dancing to the floor as they spoke in an open fashion.
The unease that followed the cleric like a mantle of danger had shifted season, attracting the eye and quelling spirits. It forced Lavandul to be more social, and their nattering shyness was buffered with the mystical effects of the Feywild. Eventually volunteering for every task and not being used to managing children weighed on the aging elf, and by the time a monk shoved soup and bread in their hands they had instinctively handed it off to one of the more impatient visitors that asked to skip the line.
They nearly bumped into the tiefling in their backpedaling to wordlessly redirect a woman asking if they were a doctor. It was hard to reject the approach, but it wasn't like they were carrying any prepped medicines and the ash was too low to offer Twilight respite.
"Oh, goodness!" They weaved and bent back to avoid the horns. "I did not see you there."
Despite Vecchio's consistent visits, his face was of a sea of many that they had vaguely experienced over the centuries of popping into civilization.
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Post by Humble Chris on Jun 3, 2022 1:02:12 GMT
In the swirling chaos of the day, Sister Charmaine found herself in the thick of things; managing the clerics, meeting with the attendees, and charging into the kitchen on more than one occasion to make sure the food was going out on time. Days like this were some of the most wonderful for the Knights of St. Isaac, but they were also the most busy. The modest monastery that the city had granted the order less than a few decades ago was a fine establishment most of the time, but these mid-week services were truly enough to test the capacity and capabilities of the monks and hospitaliers who ensured things ran smoothly.
At the moment, Sister Charmaine was on the hunt for the Knight Commander. She had seen her come out to greet the crowds, but had lost sight of the woman in the growing throng. Flustered and exhausted, Sister Charmaine was about to turn around and retreat back to the kitchen when she caught sight of a familiar face.
"Domine!" Sister Charmaine called out as she advanced upon Lavandul. At first, her expression was one of concern, but as she approached the cleric, it shifted to one of confusion. "Are you quite all right?"
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