Basilica Dominici
Set on its own pathway within the boulevard of temples in King's Court, stands the Basilica Dominici- the Temple of The One. Alabaster walls stand as testaments to the purity of the One True Faith. Surrounded on all sides by a tall and impressive wall, the church manages to avoid looking like a fortress- tall and elegant sculptures standing along the edges- pictures of saints and angels taken from Dominicus's dogma. An experienced clergyman might recognize the Chronicler Oren or the Cardinal Kern; Drakedoder and Berkeley. The present rain runs along the sculptures, giving them an appearance of sadness and woe, as if the saints themselves weep for the King's Court at present.
In the center of the wall there is a massive gate- ornately crafted in silver metal that is blessed to never rust, until the faith of all men within should fail. The ornate entrance is always held open- just as the arms of Dominicus himself are always open to new followers. Just within the gates is a splendid garden, lush in its greenery and vibrant in its flowers- tended by some of the most religiously devout monks to walk the face of Tazlure. Perhaps it is this devotion that allows this garden to remain pure and luminous despite the rain and cold- where all other gardens might fail. The main path leads directly forward, hedged in by the shrubs of the garden itself at waist height, leading directly toward the main chapel, the tallest building in the entire complex- smaller walkways branching off, to the less-important structures.
It is the main chapel that is most impressive, however, remarkable in its height and elegance- essentially a circular building, bound on all sides by columns and arches. There are other sculptures set in the alcoves and upon the roof, here, a tall spire stretching upward from the entire mass- spiraling into the heavens- capped in a gilded depiction of an eye, the symbol of The One. In all times, the chapel is doubtless inviting- but especially so in the current rain, seeming to beckon any approaching travellers forth, into the soothing warmth it provides- the entry chamber visible behind tall doors, partially open- a fire burning within, with deep and comfortable-looking couches set just within the oversized portals. All were welcome to enter freely, especially converts.
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Late Tradetide, Lyrday, 27th of Chyril, In the Year of our Lord, Dominicus, 1225 AD
If he could only swear, Tyrone would have been muttering colorful profanities right then and there. His meeting with the Headmaster of the Bardic College turned out to be so uninformative that it was so useless, as useless as his appendix. He hoped and prayed that Brother Anistis was having more luck in the Palace Scriptorium than he was. Right now, he was late with his meeting with the Bishop Lazos and the thought of his time spent pointlessly with the Headmaster sent another wave of irritation that he did start muttering invectives as he hastily moved himself silently along the corridors of the Basilica.
"Merda!" He muttered in a Mouthie accent. But remembering that he was in the House of Dominicus, he was suddenly mortified by what he was saying that he skidded to a halt and almost wept by the frustration of it all. "Il mio dio!" Tyrone groaned, realizing that he was sinking deeper into sin. "Peccato!" I shall confess myself as soon as possible and wash myself off this sin. The dark achadhiel vowed, moving once more forward, his footsteps light upon the marbled hallways of the Basilica. The Bishop Lazos was more important than his offense, since he had been born from sin, it was natural and easy for him to fall from God's grace.
Entering the Bishop Lazos' waiting room, the Jackal seated himself on one of the chairs and waited for the Bishop's secretary to notice him. "Buon pomeriggio, Brother. I have a meeting with the Bishop Lazos, I am Brother Tyrone from the Order of the Purificatio."
ooc: I just realized that Tyrone grew up in WM so I decided to give him a slight Mouthie accent. :p