Prodesse Dominicus, 22 of Chyril, late ET

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Fredric Abaddon
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Prodesse Dominicus, 22 of Chyril, late ET

Post by Fredric Abaddon »

Within the high city center at the middle of town, protected by the old walls that marked the town's limit countless generations ago, sat the Prodesse Dominicus. A great cathedral measuring over a thousand paces long, the cathedral was both a monument of architectural pride as well as religious. With it's high, narrow towers pointing regally into the sky and it's carved statues and pillars that decorated every face of the magnificent building, the citizens of the city spared no expense to express their deep spirituality to the One with such a magnificent construction.

No buildings were built within a hundred paces of the structure, and few were built that close, for the grounds surrounding the church were as austere as the building itself. Paths of carefully cut stone wound around fountains and gardens, each tended carefully by those that sought to earn the One's favor or blessings. Trees, a rare sight within the city itself, were planted and maintained, giving the grounds an almost lush appearance yet never blocking the view to the great cathedral's glory. The highest point of the city was at the top of one of the cathedral's high parapets, a point topped with the holy symbol of the religion.


On the fifth mark of eveningtide, Fredric stood in front of the great church. More accurately put, on the front steps of the church, he stood hunched over with his hands on his knees, breathing like a man just rescued from the depths of the Scillus. Sweat dripped from his head as he tried to catch his breath. It seemed that his usual work out regime, which consisted of long periods of sitting followed by short but intense periods of pastry eating with a smattering of jawboning thrown in to keep him limber, had not sufficiently prepared his body for the marathon that he had just finished.

The original plan for tonight did not include running like a madman through darkened city streets. No. As a life long Mouthie, he knew just how long it took to walk from ‘Fort Freedom’ to the Prodesse Dominicus. He had intended to meditate a little and then slowly stroll to his destination. Unfortunately, at some point his meditation degenerated into hibernation, which caused his planned contemplative walk to Dominicus’s house of worship to become a mad dash down the treacherous, uneven streets of the city. It was a miracle straight from Dominicus himself that Fredric arrived on time. It was only by the One’s own grace that he didn’t break his neck at some point during his blind sprint through the shadow filled streets.

The inexperienced insurrectionist truly felt the One’s hand guiding him tonight, even before this rigorous run. Once he had returned to his flat, he had eaten and attempted to study the priest’s books. “Attempted to study” being the appropriate description. While he did add to his knowledge regarding the book and ledger, the sum of his knowledge was still very nearly zero. While that pursuit did not work well, prayer did.

He had been troubled by something during his discussion with the pretty half-breed at the library. As a good Oneist, he brought his troubles to the god in prayer and it seemed as if he got an answer. Whether it was divine or not, at the very least, he had an epiphany. He gathered all his writings and quickly planned out a different presentation for the Archbishop. With that done he decided to meditate before setting out. That turned out not to be his best decision ever. However, in his defense, he was punctual, if a bit sweaty.

After checking that his backpack and its contents had survived his unscheduled scramble, Fredric entered the cathedral. Leaning on his walking stick, he paused just inside the vestibule to allow his eyes time to adjust. He then continued in search of Inquisitor Belvourne.
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Post by Morg »

At this mark, the cathedral was lit only by a multitude of pinprick flames. The Prodesse choir were lined up in the chancel at the far end of the building, their voices providing an aural background to the scene. Aside from the singers, however, the vast building was nearly deserted.

Inquisitor Belvourne was eventually to be found in a side chapel that was filled with carved and padded pews. The altar within the chapel was much smaller, and no great effigy of the One dominated this room. A line of coloured windows along one side of the chapel, telling the story of the Book Drakonum I, would have provided magnificent illumination at sunrise, but now were dark and near-indistinguishable from one another.

Belvourne was kneeling before the altar in prayer. At Fredric's approach he unfolded his long form and stood.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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Fredric Abaddon
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Post by Fredric Abaddon »

Fredric imagined an incorporeal Dominicus bending down to whisper in the faithful Inquisitor’s ear as he prayed. What would that voice sound like? What advice would He give the dedicated Oneist?
“Perhaps, the One is just passing along a new cookie recipe,” was the sarcastic thought that popped into the mind of the former monk-in-training. Fredric slapped that thought down, recognizing it for what it was --jealousy. Such pettiness had no place in the mind of a man dedicated to the freeing of World’s Mouth from the gilded grip of the Merchant Lords. He admired men who dedicated themselves to serving the One but he would not envy them. He had selected the secular path and refused to look back.

“Good Eveningtide, Inquisitor. A pleasure to see you again,” the young man said solemnly to the standing priest. He bowed in his most dignified manner. It was then that he noticed that his rush had left him worse for the wear. His shirt was half in and half out of his leggings while his prized red scarf was entirely missing. He quickly fixed the shirt and mourned the scarf but could not help but smile.

“So much for my grand entrance!” he said self-deprecatingly. “Well, if I can’t do dignified, I can ,at least, do competent,” he said and pulled the book and ledger from his backpack. With a flourish, he presented the borrowed books to the cleric. “Though I have to warn you, I think you will be disappointed.” He shook his head in mock disgust. “I’m pretty sure the scribe that copied your books was either blind drunk or mentally retarded or possibly both. Just at a glance, I did not see one good Human word spelled correctly. If you wish, I can lodge a complaint with the library, tomorrow.” He smiled and waited for Belvourne to reply. The overly curious non-cleric hoped his little joke would prompt an explanation of the mysterious foreign books.
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Post by Morg »

If Belvourne had picked up on the joke, he showed no sign of it. "That won't be necessary," he replied seriously as he accepted the two books. "They're written in Adhiel, and even many literate adhiel wouldn't be able to read this one." He hefted the large leather-bound volume. "Old Adhiel is quite different from the modern language. But, whatever else can be said about adhiel, they were always good chroniclers of information," he added. "By all accounts, they were writing books at a time when humans were still living in caves in the mountains. On the other hand, all of those accounts were written by them."

The Inquisitor slipped the book and the ledger into a leather bag. "In any case," he continued, "you'll have better things to do with your day than that, tomorrow. His Eminence has agreed to see you." After pausing to let this sink in, he went on. "You'll need to make your way to the Abbey of the Compassionate Heart, tomorrow morningtide. Find your way to the Upper Calefactory, and speak to the Archbishop's assistant, who will let you in to see the man himself, provided he is in good enough health." This piece of information delivered, he crossed his muscular arms and observed Fredric's response.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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Fredric Abaddon
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Post by Fredric Abaddon »

OOC: A bit long. Next post may be under 3 words to average it out.
“If Belvourne had picked up on the joke, he showed no sign of it.”

Noting the priest’s seriousness, Fredric changed tactics. Humor was out. --- A pity, really. He was sure that there was a hilarious anecdote somewhere in that whole Dominicus-cookie recipe-Divine cookie line of thought but humor was only a tool and not useful in and of itself. --- The conversational tool needed now was righteous anger and desire for justice.

In order project sincerity, he needed to change his mood, immediately. That was not a problem. Years ago, the monks had taught him a handy trick. Visualize a scene that kindles an emotion in your heart then ,as you speak, that emotion will be a flame upon your face and upon your words. In a similar situation, the revolutionary-in-training would bring up the foreboding image of Caer Doom and the good middle-class Mouthies unjustly imprisoned by the cutthroat Council but not today. Today, the crystal clear image that came to his mind was the Aveasian betrayal.

In his mind, he viewed that terrible and glorious flicker just before the Council’s betrayal when the Army of the One bravely faced the adhiel hordes. Every detail stood out in his mental image just as if he were there again. (Having immersed himself in this story all day, he momentarily forgot that he had not actually been there.)

The field upon which the Army of the One stood ready for battle was as green and flat and manicured as the lawn in the Shrine Garden. The soldiers of the One stood frozen in that flicker. All in full plate armor, polished so skillfully as to be nearly mirror-like, the men stood at attention listening to their paladin officers. Atop rearing white chargers, these paladins, their faces glowing with inner holiness, urged their men on to glory. The men’s faces were brave and uniformly Mouthie in shape and coloring. A small breeze fluttered the hundreds of colorful banners that stood amongst the holy army. Against the clear blue sky, a small cloud of purest white flew east in the breeze. Across the buffed surface of ten thousand suits of armor, its reflected brother retreated with it.

Behind the back of the One’s army, all the way to the town, there was not a soul visible. The Mouthie armies had already abandoned the field. Just inside the town, nine dark figures in necromantic black cowls stood evilly by as a misshapen minion, with a crooked troll body and Rosalie LoRuso’s face, shut the gate.

Opposite the holy army stood the pagan horde. In Fredric’s mind, the demon-touched adhiel were revealed as they really are. Their eyes were black as the nether itself. Their teeth were ivory daggers, carefully sharpened to tear into the innocent flesh of the Oneists. Their hands were claws ready to rend the throat from Mouthie family men. Some even drink the blood of human babies as part of some cruel pagan ritual to increase their already demonic sized blood lust.


A wave of righteous anger washed over the young man. It focused him. It energized him. "Justice! There must be justice for this dastardly act." (Knowing that working for this “Justice” would also lay the foundation for his insurrectionist activities, added to his enthusiasm.)
“His Eminence has agreed to see you”

“And there it is,” he thought. “A meeting! Does this not prove that the One is guiding me?”

With unblinking earnestness, he thanked the priest. “I will not disappoint you, sir. Those that have so badly treated Dominicus’s own church will be made to pay.” He paused for a flicker, looking down then spoke in a softer but no less confident voice. “I feel the One’s hand guiding me in this. Only success, of course, will prove if that is true but I feel it.”

From his backpack, he pulled a copy of ‘Profiles in Faith’ and handed it to the inquisitor. “This is an example of what I’ve written so far but writing is only a part of what I will propose. A book like this is impotent unless it is read. Even if the entire literate population read and loved the book, there wouldn’t be as big an impact as Justice demands. I, therefore, will also propose to his eminence a system to get this story and stories like it to the people quickly and regularly.”

He wanted to go on and drown the old cleric in details but instead stayed quiet, waiting on Belvourne.

OOC: See Journal for the gist of 'Profiles in Faith'.
Last edited by Fredric Abaddon on Thu Jul 19, 2007 1:09 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by Morg »

The Inquisitor accepted the pamphlet in a strong hand. His dark eyes were scanning its lines as he responded in a murmur. "Thank you for bringing me my books, but that wasn't why I chose to help you." After a flicker he added "Nor was the content of your proposal. Although we have many beliefs in common, I do not agree with all that you have written. No... I procured this audience for you because I felt that it was time that the Church saw that there are still real believers out there. Your idealism impressed me, and I hope that it will rekindle some of the zeal that His Eminence was until recently known for. I believe that for all three of us, one thing is paramount." He finally looked up from the text and straight at Fredric. "The worship of the One should never play second fiddle to secular ends."

The dark-haired Father Alvares at that moment stuck his head around the screen dividing the chapel from the rest of the cathedral, carrying a lantern, but withdrew quickly at a sharp glance from Belvourne. The well-built middle-aged man handed the copy of the pamphlet back to Fredric. "But tell me of this new system that you will be advocating. If, of course, it is not for the Archbishop's most reverend ears only."
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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Fredric Abaddon
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Post by Fredric Abaddon »

"The worship of the One should never play second fiddle to secular ends."


A blade in the gut would have been less painful. His decision not to take the holy vows had been an open wound on his conscience ever since he walked away from a monastic career. He had hoped that time would prove his choice to be the proper one. You cannot serve two gods – Dominicus and revolution. Could you?.......He stared at his feet shamefaced as his confidence bled out of him. “Dang, these monks. How come they always know just what to say?”

But tell me of this new system that you will be advocating. If, of course, it is not for the Archbishop's most reverend ears only."


The chance to crow a little bit about his idea lifted the conflicted non-cleric a bit, though not to his former heights of manufactured self-righteousness. “To call it my new system would put me in the place of the proud rooster, who, in the morning, calls out to the world that he has discovered the dawn. No. Dominicus causes the sun to chase away the night’s darkness. He, also, gives certain people a desire to pass along news, to tell stories, to…..to gossip. For example, most women, all bakers and the majority of coach drivers love to gossip. “

“If you tell a story to one of these chatterboxes, eventually, the whole city will hear it. Well… What would happen if you could tell that same story to all of the gossipers in the city at the same time? Give them a few hours, every man, woman, child, dog and large rat would have heard the story, at least twice. Think of the power of that. What if the story they were all telling was of how brave Inquisitor Belvourne slew an East End daemon yesterday, saving three innocent children ,who were about to be sacrificed? What if stories like that were continually on their lips? Would that not raise the image of the Purifacato with the people? Wouldn’t that make it more difficult for the Council to threaten your funding? I think so.”

“Better than any other organization, the church knows who the gossipers of this city are. I bet, if the Archbishop were to send a note to every local monk and parish priest in the city ,within a day, he would have a list of the names and contact information of the thousand most talkative blabbers in World’s Mouth. I am going to suggest to His Eminence that I create an organization to give, on a daily basis, select news and stories to these people and thus the whole city. “

“How? Like most things in my life, it comes down to doughnuts. Under the guise of pastry peddlers, I would send out ten or so “baby bards” – bards who are not yet ready for a bardic college. They would talk to these thousand babblers, passing along good news of the church or stories that promote our causes or interesting and helpful rumors. My people would also gather any rumors. We would investigate interesting rumors and shovel the results back onto this grapevine.”

“Done right, this could be a very useful tool.” He stopped talking, realizing that he had flooded the poor priest with words.
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Post by Morg »

Fortunately, Sarreth Belvourne was a patient man. He listened calmly, cocking a sharp eyebrow, as Fredric outlined his ideas. "Institutionalised gossiping," he summarised with a smile when the young would-be revolutionary had finished. "Well, it's not my field," he admitted. "I was never much good at the whole capturing-people's-hearts-and-minds thing. Nevertheless, it sounds like you have an angle... and His Eminence will likely respect that. He may be frail in body, but his mind is as strong as it ever was."

"Just..." The Inquisitor wheeled round, another piece of advice occurring to him. "For Heaven's sake, don't offer him food. He might think you're trying to poison him, especially after the incident with the pickled figs last yahren. No, he's a straightforward man, so keep it plain and simple when dealing with him."

Belvourne glanced down at the books. "Well, I'm keen to get reading," he stated, "so for now I think our dealings are at an end. No doubt I shall hear your name again, if your plans are successful. Unless you have anything else to discuss, I bid you Walk in the Light, signore." His hard, worn face opened into an easy smile once again, and he bowed his head by way of farewell.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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Post by Fredric Abaddon »

“May the One guide your way, thank you. If there is ever anything that I can do for you….” Fredric began to express his appreciation and wish the priest well. He then paused, for a thought had occurred to him.

Smiling apologetically, he continued. “Oh, I do have one more question. I don’t mean to hold you up with trivia but you are the wisest person I’m likely to meet between now and the morningtide and I want to be fully prepared…. Does the ‘Bardic Voice’ actually exist and is there a way to counter its effect? … I don’t expect the “baby bards” that I propose to hire would have such advanced skills. ...Still, if the archbishop asks I want to look as if I had considered that possibility.” Left unsaid but possibly implied was the question “ Since you spend your days dealing with lying, mind bending demons, do you know where I could get some training on how best to deal with lying, mind bending bards all day?”

Those weren’t the only questions to occur to him. “What could the priest find to disagree with in “Profiles in Faith?” ,“Why was the priest reading ancient adhiel?", "Why would anyone?" … However, the bardic question was the only one of import enough to enunciate.
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Post by Morg »

"The Bardic Voice certainly does exist," Belvourne responded crisply, his brow creased in thought. "It is a form of mindcraft magick - it uses energy drawn from the bard's self. And no, there is no easy way to protect against it. In theory a properly crafted warding item, such as an amulet, will render you immune to its effect, but..." He frowned. "Ninety out of every hundred such items you will encounter will be ineffective fakes, and nine of the remaining ten will be flawed in some way."

"The most straightforward solution is to be resolute of mind, although that probably wasn't the answer you wanted to hear." The Inquisitor drummed his fingers lazily along the spine of the book he held. "A well-phrased and pious appeal to the One is also a possibility. No bard would wish to enter a battle of wills with Dominicus himself."

The last part of the Purificatio officer's response was so long in coming that for several flickers Belvourne appeared to have been turned into a stone statue. When it came, however, it was delivered without any hesitation. "There are also techniques you can learn to defend your mind more actively against its threat, although such things are frowned upon by some in the Church, and so I do not wish to speak further of it. Suffice it to say that your friends at the Lycaeum might be able to help you further, if you go about it in the right way. Or of course you could try the Guild of Performing Arts to speak to the bards themselves."
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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Post by Fredric Abaddon »

“The Lycaeum? Hmmm. Or the Guild. Well, okay….I know that I am putting the cart before the horse but if -Dominicus willing- the archbishop should see merit in my ideas, then I want to have a plan ready to go.”

Having gone to the very edge of acceptable Oneist conversation, Fredric quickly backed away from the precipice and changed the subject. “One last, quick question… Can a member of the Purificatio tell if a man is a pagan even if he lies and claims to be a believer? By appearance or a short interview could you tell a true believer from a false one?” While seemingly trivial, the answer to the question would gain importance if the Archbishop showed interest in Fredric’s suggested enslavement of the remaining pagan Aveasian adhiel.

Expecting a short answer, he determined not to ask anymore of the busy priest. He prepared to express his appreciation again and wish the inquisitor a ”blessed night” just as soon as the conversation ended.
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Post by Morg »

"An experienced Inquisitor can tell any number of things about a man at a glance," Belvourne replied. "But it is no exact science. Not all the Confessors of the Purificatio are equally knowledgeable or perceptive, and a talented liar might be able to fool even the sharpest of us. The power of the One can help us in discovering such things, however."

The Inquisitor returned Fredric's parting words abstractedly, evidently eager to bury himself in his new reading material. After the young revolutionary had departed, he seated himself in a corner the Chapel of the Compassionate Heart and flipped open the cover of the larger book.

Soon I will catch up with you, fiend. Soon.

(OOC: Fin! Locked for skilling.)
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
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Post by Morg »

Skilled :)
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