#sandpoint cathedral

[thawte-wills]

Memories of Faith (After the Siege of Sandpoint)

"...Sister Faith?"

The blackened debris surrounded her like jagged spires growing from the ground. The still fresh, acrid smell of burning scorched her heart; though all the embers had long petered out.

Faith Dy'S—Ravenswood stared out at the structure that had raised her, as much as she did it. Her first true creation at the side of her fellow sisters and brothers of the faith. And, the ones who led her to follow in Desna's footsteps, Father Tobyn, and now, Father Zantus. One died in a fire when it was a chapel, and the other died in a fire set by a red dragon on the newly constructed cathedral.

It seemed like a cruel gift of fate that not only did Zantus fall in the same fashion the previous high priest did; but Faith was 'blessed' with a vision of his death. Though the Sandpoint Cathedral lay in ruins; she still saw it all so clearly, as if the fire was closing in again.

Then again, she could also remember walking into the chapel it was before its first fire; but it looked so big to her at that age, even if it truly wasn't. Her eyes peered down to see the burnt remains of the murals that hung around the prayer garden, and a tinge of hope sparked for her that maybe, just maybe, there was a small image of any of the gods worshipped there that had survived. Her covered feet ambled through the charred, jagged wood with ease; a sign of her growing skill, yet the farthest thing from her mind was how powerful she had grown.

"...Sister.... Faith?"

The seven stones still stood strong in the middle of the ruins, unbeaten by fire for a second time; the only thing standing for a second time. It was almost enough to stop her heart from feeling dour. Almost. Choking back a sob, she laid against one of the stones, its ash rubbing off on her 'adventuring vestments' she'd made for herself. Whatever. She'd clean it later.

Blinking back tears that were winning the fight and burning against her eyes, she searched for the hope she was looking for: a star off of Desna's mural, a single background decoration of a gold piece of Abadar's, a piece of a ray of light from Sarenrae's brilliance, the beauty of even the smallest illustrated part of Shelyn, a hint of the waves or storms of Gozreh, or even the smallest part of an antler or arrow of Erastil; something to help her hold onto hope.

But nothing but the scorched stones and discolored pine and eucalyptus seemed to be recognizable through the multitude of ash. "Father Tobyn... Father Zantus... Desna... What should I do?" Her own words were the final nail in the coffin, as her soft sobs were finally rung out of her.

"....."

For a moment, the wind picked up, rushing the ashes past her and out of Sandpoint on a breeze; and with a soft hiccup she was able to clear her eyes for a moment. And on the singular stone surrounded by the seven others she saw her old carving of a star, back when she was first learning of Desna.

The small, roughly carved star was a foolish whim she'd taken upon herself when she first learned of the Desnan clergy's penchant for leaving 'Found Marks' in difficult to reach places. Once it had caught the attention of Father Tobyn what she was doing, she feared she'd be admonished when she simply wanted to leave her own mark somewhere. Thankfully, Father Zantus (Brother, at the time) had intercepted the older priest, and had somehow convinced him that this was the true meaning of the middle stone. A place for those who worshipped to leave their own mark, no matter who they worshipped; the start of the Shrine Wall writings in the Sandpoint Cathedral.

This star had somehow caught ash in its rough ruts, and almost out of instinct, Faith looked out in the direction it pointed. Past the damaged town and homes, even from the other side of the town, she could still see it.

A large flaming meteor surrounded by massive white fangs glowing with the power of some unknown creature's magic, plastered to the side of The Old Light. But she knew the symbol wasn't what it was pointing toward; it was pointing toward Zephyr. Her draconic protector. Her magical colleague. Her close friend. And maybe... maybe more. Even though dull and misshapen, like the Stair of Stars it seemed to point directly to her own North Star. "Thank you. I hope.... I hope I can make you all proud."

Faith stood, feeling a bit stronger emotionally and more set in her faith while wiping away some tears. As she brushed off the ash on her clothing, she finally heard the voices calling for her.

"Sister Faith! Are you alright in there?"

Taken aback by the voices, she'd almost forgotten she was one acolyte of a remaining five; her being the youngest, and yet the most devoted. As hastily as she could, she cautiously made her way through the remnants of the cathedral back to the front, her eyes set on returning to her draconic mage in his time of need and unbridled fury. Once her feet found purchase on the unburnt grass slightly outside of the remains she saw the four in front of her, all of them focused strongly on her. At first, their patient but quizzical stares only drew questions from her; but quickly she realized they were looking to her the same way she had with Father Tobyn, and Father Zantus. Like a leader, or a-"High-Priestess, what should we do?"

The sudden title surprised Faith, and she was sure the look was obvious on her face, even after doing her best to try to hide it afterward.

"Please Torthiel, right now, its too soon to say that much." The old fear of never being able to travel and explore like a real child of Desna loomed over her emotions once more, but she wasn't the same girl she had been when she first volunteered herself to the adventurers that would help her to become one of the Stormbringers.

"We will rebuild again. We were all here to set the structure of the Cathedral, and we will be here for it again; like it has always been here for us. Look, the seven stones still stand strong, both a testament to Desna's power, as well as Abadar, Sarenrae, Shelyn, Gozreh, and Erastil. Father Tobyn and Zantus have guided us the best they could. Now it is time for us to walk the path.

"Torthiel, Lasslin, Sargiel, Naerbera. For now, we will help the town; and in time, the town will help us. We were all there when the blueprints of the Cathedral were drawn up, and we will remake it in its previous glory. Help those you can. Heal those in need. And when you are done, rest. There has been much pain here, but Desna will bless us all with peaceful dreams for our hard work." With that, she lightly hugged each of her fellow siblings of the cloth, simply glad they were able to see another day.

"But Faith..." Lasslin whimpered softly, "Are you to leave again? And if so, who will lead us?"

"Desna has her plans for me, sister. Save for these last few months, I have only spent my time on Golarion within these walls. I don't plan to leave immediately; but for right now, I cannot be the High Priestess just yet. I promise you all, I will return after Desna has shown me what she needs to. But until that day, I will never be too far away. You all have your own paths with your gods you must follow. And just like this church and its gods, you will lead together, as my Deacons of the Faith." A smirk played on Faith's lips as she continued,

"But you better believe I'm not leaving the foundation of the construction to you fools." The five acolytes held together then in a group hug, all smiles and tears at their melancholy situation, yet hopeful for the future.

After they had all released their hold, they dispersed around town to help the citizens still reeling from the attack.

And Faith? She had her dragon to console.

[thawte-wills]

Memories of Faith (the beginning)

"You can't just leave!"

An outspoken little girl stood on the front steps of the Sandpoint Chapel while yelling at an older man. She stood on one of the highest steps, just to look him in his eye (Or at least as close as possible). Beside her, another little girl was holding onto her hand while bawling her eyes out.

Periodically people of all types would come out of the house of worship; more than most being people of the cloth peeking out of the front doors at the two 'new acolytes'.

"We're just kids! You're our dad, you can't just leave us here!"

A soft shushing sound reverberated from the door as it opened to show a bald man with a white beard cooing lightly. The outspoken little girl turned with fury on her face, angered that an adult dare speak to her like a child; but ignored it when she realized the soft words were for her crying little sister.

As she continued to yell at her father; the bald man spoke to the little girl crying. "Hello there, little one. Things seem to be quite loud out here, would you want to see some of the pretty drawings in this chapel?" Doing her best to choke back tears and wipe them away, the little girl looked to her sister for a second, and the louder of the two nodded back to her as they loosened their grips.

The old man scooped the girl in his arms, getting a thankful look from the dejected father as the priest cradled the girl and walked inside. "My name is Ezakien Tobyn. You may call me Father Tobyn. What is your name?"

"F-Fay-'Ith." The little girl replied, making sure to split her name in half like her father taught her, as she wiped away the last of her tears. "You're a father?" The man seemed to walk with a purpose, yet whenever the girl paid attention to his steps it seemed like he was doing little more than wandering

"I'm a father to everyone of any religion. But I do have a little one of my own, about your age. I'm sure you'll be the best of friends. Her name is Nualia." "That's a pretty name." "So is yours, Faith." With a few less sniffles, she corrected him, "Fay-'Ith Father Tobyn" "Ah, right, right. Here we are now"

As the little girl looked away from the dark amber eyes of Father Tobyn, she looked to see multiple murals drawn decorating many different figures.

A taldan man decked in golden armor with multiple gold keys at his side, coins and scales decorating the empty space with a golden key behind him; An elven woman clothed in a delicate and translucent gown with butterfly wings, with stars and butterflies decorating around her; An ulfen man with elk horns with a branch-like bow, with decorations of the wild around him; A mwangi pair connected, a weathered old man with a long white beard and a young and beautiful woman with wild green hair, framed by clouds and waves; A bronze angelic beauty with golden hair composed of flowing flame with light filling the space around her; and an amazingly beautifully drawn woman with bright eyes of a blueish silver with a long glaive.

"Of these, do you see one you like?" "The beautiful woman looks nice.. and I like the angel girl! But the butterfly woman is the prettiest to me. I like her wings" "I like her too. Her name is Desna, she's one of many gods. All of them are good gods to follow, but maybe you'll end up walking a path like mine as a part of her flutter." The little girl's eyes would light up as she turned to look at the old man in surprise. "You're a butterfly person?! I wanna be one too!"

"My my, sounds like you've made a disciple out of her already, Father. Soon we'll have our own personal kaleidoscope, no?" "Ah, Brother Zantus; This is Fai—" The wise priest caught the eye of the little girl making a face at him, "Fay'Ith. She seems to favor Desna, just like both of us!" "Well little Fay'Ith, if you ever want to know any of her stories, don't hesitate to ask me. But Religion is hard work. Things always work out if you try your hardest. You just gotta have faith."

The little girl frowned at the acolyte's sour joke and shook her head at the bad pun. "I suppose I was testing my luck with that one, then." Brother Zantus gave a chuckle and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly at his jest. "Well, back to the studies then, gotta stock up on stories in case our new butterfly ever gets curious!"

As he'd walk away, Faith would say quietly to Tobyn, "He's silly. I like him though." "He's also one of my favorites. When its time for me to step down, I think I may make him the Head Priest after me." "And what about after him?" "After he's an old man and ready to step down too? Who knows, maybe even you, little Fay'Ith." "I don't know if I could be a Head Priest." Father Tobyn would chuckle to himself, "Well, I guess you've gotta have faith."

Hearing the pun again, Faith would stick her tongue out at the Priest playfully.

[dmtbelle87]

The Welcoming Speeches

Sabacen rises early, per usual, to focus on his connection with Gorum, eat breakfast, and join Aesrick for the day’s work. Today, he and Aesrick pull a loaded cart through the empty streets of town as the sun rises over the Hinterlands. Aesrick is always good-natured and jovial, but is giddy today as they begin to unload the cart at Junker’s Edge; he has built a small, wooden catapult for his Old Light game at today’s Festival. “I may be able to sell this to a collector and wealthy enthusiast, and it’s been quite fun to build.” He smiles lovingly at it while Sabacen helps to unload a few crates; Aesrick begins to set up the tables and stacked blocks resembling the Old Light. One of the crates is opened, reveling miniature wooden catapults -- “Perfect toys for the winners, eh?”

Soon, the sun gleams off the harbor, and Sabacen sees Zevran and Drux leave Brodert’s home. He excuses himself and walks with them to Cathedral Square for the welcoming speeches, meeting Tansy and Snubs at the back of the Square. Mayor Deverin stands at the center of the stage, short auburn hair styled neatly, commanding the attention of the crowd. Behind her, three men sit along the stage: Sheriff Hemlock’s keen eyes scan the crowd, while Cyrdak Drokkus chats with Father Zantus. A fourth chair sits empty, presumably the Mayor’s seat.

She raises her hands, causing the crowd to fall silent. She welcomes the crowd to the city and the Swallowtail Festival, making a joke before handing the stage over to Sheriff Hemlock. She claps politely as he moves forward, clearing his throat to speak. He asks the crowd for a moment of silence to remember the fire that claimed the previous chapel, before advising the crowd to observe caution. He gives a half-smile, urging the crowd to still enjoy themselves, and introduces the third speaker, Cyrdak Drokkus.

Cyrdak gives a wink to the crowd as he begins his speech, joking about the cost of the new Cathedral in a borderline-sacrilegious way. Sabacen had not met him before, and was not a fan of performers in general, but found himself slightly disgusted at his commentary. Good men and women have worked day and night to build this; the clerics have been healing and serving without a home or temple for five years. Without thought, his hands begin clenching at his sides.

After Cyrdak introduces Father Zantus, the crowd erupts in applause and cheers; he is obviously stunned at the response, calming the slight rage in Sabacen’s heart. He takes a moment to clear his throat, raising his hands to quiet the group down. He smiles, eventually speaking, thanking the crowd and declaring the Swallowtail Festival underway, twisting a large blue stone which rumbles with thunder.

The crowd begins to scatter to the newly opened shows and booths, and Sabacen turns to the rest of the group: “So, let’s get started.”

[dmtbelle87]

Back to Balenar

Zevran slips the potions into his robes, following the group again toward the entry hall of the Cathedral, catching just the end of Sabacen’s statement: “..I am not going back there. They are too happy and…weird.”

“Can we send Snubs there?” Zevran laughs to himself, “You could just stay there…forever.”

Sabacen turns to the group, “Well, someone else needs to go talk to Balenar; I’ll meet you outside.” With that he moves towards the entrance, Drux following behind him, saying, “I don’t know Balenar, so I don’t need to go either, I guess.”

“Well, I guess we go down this way,” as Zevran heads down the final hallway to the West, noting the strange glasswork along the ceiling of the hall – dozens of shapes in orange, pink, and purple. As they approach the final two double doors, the glasswork begin turning to more blues and purples and even whites before one doorway (very light wooden doors, almost as if made of driftwood), while oranges, yellows, and pinks lead to a birch doorway with iron hinges.

“Sabacen said this is the right one,” Tansy states as she enters the birch doorway. Zevran and Snubs follow her into the church. Pink glass chandeliers hang along the ceiling, orange floating lights rest along the walls, and plush burgundy carpet covers the floor. Towards the back of the room, white curtains cordon off the area. A tall, blonde elf steps out from the curtained area, gliding towards the group (as only elves can do), greeting the group with a small bow. If anything could put Zevran off of church entirely, this might be it.

“I am Father Yagan; how may I assist you?” His voice is cultured, soft, and neutral. Zevran, never passing a chance to stir things up, addresses him, “We’re hear to see Bal the bard? Singing, dancing guy?”

“Yes, he had another friend visit earlier. He must be very popular.” Neither warmth nor frustration colored his response, and his face remained as etched stone as he extended his arm towards the curtained area. “He is through here.”

Snubs moves first, pulling back the curtain. Before them sits Balenar in a small bed, eating and looking the picture of health. “Oh, hey guys! This is the BEST place! I love it here! They woke me up all night and just kept feeding me. That elf guy kept bring me, like, leaves and berries, but my mom came, and she got me this awesome sandwich.”

Zevran continued to talk to Balenar, assuring him that Cyrdak was contacted and that they got tickets for the show. He continued talking, just enough to try to make him feel comfortable, before asking him about the troglodyte sacrifice.

From what Balenar could remember, it was clear that the troglodytes were afraid of entering the Temple of Nethys; Balenar was to be sacrificed to the troglodyte god, of which there is not a Varisian equivalent. His sacrifice would bring forth their god, who would fill them with power and strength to defeat the goblins who ran them out of their home.

As soon as Zevran could extricate himself graciously, he walks as quickly as possible towards the entry and out into the open air. Hopefully he won’t need to go back in there anytime soon.

Meanwhile, Sabacen and Drux compare recent battles and Drux’s travel to Sandpoint. As the group exits the Cathedral, they split up for the day, agreeing to meet at Risa’s for dinner that evening.

[dmtbelle87]

The Sandpoint Cathedral

After a quick trip to Savah’s Armory (to trade, sell, and buy weapons), they group made their way to the Cathedral. Tansy’s upbringing placed her in the large Church of Erastil on many occasions, like Planter’s Week, Archer’s Day, and the Harvest Feast, but they did not prepare her for entering the massive domed structure.

The vaulted, stained-glass ceiling hung at least two hundred feet overhead, while the darkwood paneling and lush tapestries gave the room a touch of warmth. Cut flagstone lay beneath their feet, causing her boots to clack and echo in the nearly vacant foyer. A young cleric stood at attention behind a circular desk; Sabacen spoke with her quietly before leading them down the Eastern, sunlit hallway.

The hallway was wide, but not very long, and quickly they arrived in front of two sets of double doors, standing sixty feet tall and half as wide. Tansy recognized the carved symbol of Desna, a Swallowtail Butterfly in flight, but followed Sabacen to a small alcove barred with an old, cracked wooden door -- clearly not part of this new construction.

Father Zantus greeted them, deducing correctly that they came to speak with him about the fallen tower once more, leading them to a meeting area within the Temple of Desna. Zevran began to unfurl the cloak containing the jade statue as the group gathered around Father Zantus, taking seats where they could.

“Erastil! This is an ancient depiction, though not surprising considering how old the tower is thought to be. This...this could be worth quite a lot of money; though, I am sure the church would be very grateful for this relic. Are you familiar with Mother Sheeda Kazi at the Church of Erastil? She just came down from Turtleback Ferry a few weeks ago to run the Church of Erastil here in Sandpoint.” Father Zantus spoke quickly and decisively, seemingly more practical than many other clerics Tansy had known. He gave directions to the group quickly, sending them on their way with a word of blessing.

Following Sabacen again through the Eastern wing, they re-enter the foyer before turning down the central Southern hallway, finding more wood and carvings along the hall, stained-glass pictures of animals in the forest and the city of Sandpoint, and a stone inscription to the four noble houses of Sandpoint, thanking them for their founding and support. Another set of wooden doors lay before them, mirroring the doors of the Eastern wing, but light wood with iron workings. Sabacen slides the door open, allowing the group to enter before him.

The familiarity hits Tansy, giving her a sense of peace. Simple design, framed, clear glass windows overlooking the town, though a stronger presence of nature here as trees grow into the room, branches and leaves blanketing the ceiling above. Near the plain altar, a half-even woman turns to face them, smiling and gracefully moving towards them. “Hello, I am Mother Kazi; how can I help you?”

“Father Zantus sent us to speak with you...is there somewhere more private we can speak?” Sabacen spoke quietly and almost gently; for the first time his profession as a cleric became apparent in Tansy’s mind.

“Yes, I have a study we can speak in. Is this of a serious nature?” Though her voice sounded full of concern and worry, Mother Kazi’s face remained passive as she looked over the group. Sabacen seemed to explain well enough to her, that she led them through the Temple into her study -- large, carpeted, leather chairs, hide/fur blankets and coverings, warm and welcoming.

For what seemed like the hundredth time today, Sabacen explained their journey to the tower and a synopsis of what they had found. Tansy found herself starting to zone out a bit, fully taking in her surroundings, when Sabacen’s gruff voice broke through, “...statue of Erastil that we found there.” He motioned to Zevran, who then pulled the statue from the cloak once more.

Mother Kazi looks over the statue carefully, pointing out details here and there, finally connecting the dots between the current symbol (a drawn bow) and this jade piece of three faces. She finally looks up at the group, “And you say you found this nearby? I’ve never seen a depiction in jade. We normally worship through more natural means...”

Zevran steps up to explain the tower’s age and how they found it tucked in a corner, and how they had it appraised, being priced at 500 gold. At this point, Tansy speaks up, “You may want to be careful with it. The town and the church have had some problems in the past. We don’t want this to cause any other problems for you.”

“Perhaps...perhaps I will tuck this away until after the Festival.” Mother Kazi reaches behind her desk, pulling on an empty drawer and depositing the statue carefully inside. “Thank you for recovering this.”

Zevran steps forward again, “It was quite dangerous, so if you ever need any help, you know who to call.” She hesitates a moment before offering a gift for their trouble (2 potions of cure light wounds), which Zevran snatches up quickly as the group departs her office.