Journal of a Heretic (the writings of Marle Webber)

[boompowclash]

It had been weeks, or more, since I had made a journal entry in addition, to what I gave to Erik on the day the Inquisitor came for me.  So much that would have been impossible for anyone to account for.

Perhaps that's why, Ezra succored me from those unrighteous fires; I had told him, I would submit to any test.  So we left the Keep on promise of the Saint tests - I suppose now there are no such established tests.

How could I miss it, become prey to such simple deception, even a layperson reading the Hymn of Saint Igrayne Blaith the Sorrowful, Ezra bless her soul, can see where it says how the blessed Saint was -embraced readily- by the church.  She was given no trial other than what Ezra and the Mists and the Grand Scheme called upon her for.  And she did make the ultimate sacrifice, Ezra bless her purity and Ezra bless her name five times over!  Nothing stood in the way of her sacrifice.

And yet, reviled outside, cherished within, I have done heroic things for this Boyar Lord!  It's no wonder they have taken the stance to shelter us, while we conduct our quiet study of the Final Revelation.  The guards blame me, blame my congregants for the troubles befalling the Lords Keep, the threat of breaking the long peace time... Lilindi, my guest, still retaining her pledges to the home faith, has compared the serenity of the chapel to that of the eye of a storm.

It pained my heart like a white-hot blade, when I spoke to Lilindi in Degannwy.  She said she had been given leave to destroy me, after the Inquisitional trial.  She was quite blunt and wasn't concealing of any truths.  I pleaded with her to consider.. all that has happened, that I now believe I am a martyr... and I would later learn she did submit a scathing report calling my claims utmost heresy.

I can only forgive her though, just as I can only forgive the Inquisitor...you thought you were doing exactly what you should do, maybe you even still did.  I forgive you too, Erik, when you spoke the Rite of Redemption you set me free...  remember, those with light shall come to no harm, and the Mists shall facilitate their work.


Eo Nomine Ezram,
Sanctus Mara
Turret, Diapente Revelación Templum
V

[boompowclash]

Lilindi had actually said, if she were in my place, she would have simply taken her own life.  Perhaps I would have done so, if not for finding the meaning in the Fifth Revelation, where Ezra tells us... Blacken and sin, accept and be swept.  For only in reveling with their vile ways shall the cleansing exacted be meaningful.  Darkonese has this, this saying, "fas est et ab hoste doceri." It is right to learn even from an enemy.

I did not choose this role. I did choose, to Enter the Mists, that fateful time, invoking the sacred Appeal to Ezra to succor me from a place of harm... but I could not choose, only behold, when before me the Great Scythe of the Legion was poised, ready to swipe at me as I entered the Misty Border.

The hewing edge, the reaping handle, it cleft into my body and thus into my soul.  Was it not the Bastion Sarlota Otrava, who tells us that the soul and body are one and the same, down to each fiber of us?  The wounds we bear are physical and spiritual... and the scourge of the Legion did cut my being. 

I cried out!  I begged!  And in my sincerity, in my desperation, Ezra did grant me sanctuary from that Extension of the Legion, that skeletal hand of stealing and taking and death.  But I lay cleft, to bleed in a place where time does not exist, the threshold that grows thinner every precious second toward the Time of Unparalleled Darkness in this world... and yet so many works still undone!

Cleft in the place where all is but a silhouette...am I the first anchorite to behold the final embrace? Whatever happens I am still an anchorite and I will do as I must.  The time draws nearer that we make our journey to attempt the Rite of Revelation... even if we don't succeed fully, our claim has too much merit to ignore. 

This is the result of self sacrifice... true revelation.  Warden Hart has done this, and it shocked and pained even me to discover the extent of her suffering.  But it was not in vain.  Ezra bless her for her faith... I hope she will permit a funeral to be held for her unborn child.  It may help ease her suffering.

Eo Nomine Ezram,
Sanctus Mara
Turret, Diapente Revelación Templum
V

[boompowclash]

The tradition of Ezras anchorites is even older than I was once taught - from our estimations, and combined research, Lilindi has dated the time of Castle Fennore, in Forlorn.  Some names of anchorites from that time, we know, and I am excited to determine if the Great Cathedral in Port'a'Lucine can verify some of these records.

I lament however that such academic inquiry is too demanding of our current task - perhaps after the Rite of Revelation I can find time to study the primitive Ezrite following that we have uncovered.  Lilindi guesses this 'forgotten' sect could be the Fifth, meaning it would pre-date even the Third; though this is a claim I haven't found any support to.

I am pleased to write that Jolina is Warden, now.  Her dedication to Ezras message kept her, to return to us; each time she would weather the accusations from the outside, suffering scrutiny onto her shoulders unbidden... I had begun to inwardly wish she could spare herself from these pains, yet any anchorite cannot turn away from their true calling.  And we are so blessed she has joined us.

I feel her even temper and lack of prejudice will bring sound spiritual guidance to the congregation.  I feel the same way about Toret Hart - of course, I would not have selected her to be Toret otherwise.  Yet in recent days she and her husband have shamed this Chapel with their conduct - they are creating a ridicule and the others won't place any merit in their words or actions, if they're not careful.

There are some allegations that our templar has acted, very much like his counterpart in Vallaki: The Templar Commander Vasten.  A suspicion of womanizing comes from some savage-elves that won't even accept Ezras message.  Perhaps Unuldor was drawn to them, for lack of deceptive fey to associate with.  ...I must soften my judgment on this however, ever since my betrayal at the hands of the Inquisitor I have been reluctant to trust elves.  They insist on using their fathers-tongue so they can speak concealed messages and won't even properly cover or clothe themselves...

Despite all of this, they could be so much bettered to accept Ezra.  As Unuldor has accepted Ezra as his guardian, I will not abandon him, just as I made every effort to redeem my husband I will spare no effort on our templar.  Sadly my wish to have a Funeral service for their unborn child may be short-lived; a divorce may take its place instead.


Eo Nomine Ezram,
Sanctus Mara
Turret, Diapente Revelación Templum
V

[boompowclash]

  Holiest Sainted Mother Ezra,

There is such painful enormity to follow in your sacred footsteps.  The Mists of Death have wrought a despicable plan, a wicked design - to fathom its extent is to gaze into the depth of the Hollow itself.  Hatred, malice, deceptions labled as truths... Sorrow, everlasting.  There is no succor in your absense, O' Eternal Guardian.

Such a position.  To be placed where the fellow Ezrite scorns, in the same place as those prophets before, suffering to bear the pains of bringing Ezras newest prophecy to light.  Just as the black cultists of Darkon struck at the holy lips of Bastion Teodorus Raines, trying to stop his doomsday vision from being canonized, now again the utmost blasphemers sharpen their stakes to see the prevention of Ezras divine plan... And who could be more distant from your limitless compassion than those who would tread upon your holy word so shamefully..??

Blacken and sin, accept and be swept.  Dearest Guardian Ezra I do wish to confess, soon.  But what has been done was done to serve your divine plan.  We are only absolved by your blessed grace, we are only worthy by our observance of Your sacrifice.  We are only rinsed clean once we take upon ourselves the pains of eachother, only once we have suffered to desperation, will we be holy enough to bear your gift of salvation to the faithful.

How can mercy be given?  Ruin and entropy and disorder cascade all around this anchorite.  If an onlooker lacked the inspiration of your holy compassion, they might say I am inept.  Inadequate.  That as a priestess, the dissolution of marriages in this church is shameful.  But I know.  These are signs.

What bond, what legacy, or union is there left but yours?  There is none.  The Final embrace, your holy coming, Ezra, is all that remains.  There is no other hope.  What ever stones we stack up will topple over.  All unions will fetter and break apart, treatise will be broken.  No works of art or science will survive to last.  When the last lights die, fetuses will drop from their mothers wombs in still births.  Waters will run dry.  The taint of the Legions of the Night will gnaw upon itself, swallowing up the souls and bodies of the doubter, the skeptic, the heathen.  The witch will be deceived by his diabolic patron.  The leppers will stand and their rot will penetrate all.  The chaste will be raped, and the innocent will be tainted.  Blackbirds shall peck at the eyesockets of those who refused to behold.

And through it all no good intention, no power of mortals, no force can stop what is coming.  Only your divine benediction, your lone promise, only You will save us.

Tonight I mourn those who are so distant from your light.  Those who deny you.. are truely forsaken.

Eo Nomine Ezram,
Sanctus Mara
Turret, Diapente Revelación Templum
V

[boompowclash]

Such mysteries, such legacy and prophecy I have come to behold.  At this moment I look at a book that is so fragile, a harsh wind could tear it apart.  Have I memorized it well enough should the unthinkable happen?

Worse would be if I became what all the others insist upon - am I too quick to judge them unfit to learn the mysteries?  Or, what if these treasures are lost?  Would I be guilty of preventing prophecy from unfolding - the very sin I try every day to forgive this world of?  Mine are the limbs that rush!  But can I deny the others to rush as well?  Absolutely not.

The quickening of faith, the new wisdom of this final aspect, oh does it lead to suffering...!  Those who fear it... can they be blamed?  They need not accept the pains... that is the role of our new Revelation.  The anchorites of the final prophecy have the strength to bear it.  Just the realization of this elaboration of all that has come before... It displays the frailty of all other things...within and without... faith remaining the only constant.  Ezra the only power able to reciprocate sincerity, in wholeness.

This five folding bloom... and this blood.  This is a legacy that cannot go unfulfilled.  What has been given, must also be received.  Prophecy cannot be thwarted...!  Blessed be the...

*the text cuts off abruptly, small dark flecks of blood adorning the page... as if it were a final punctuation*

[marlewebber]

Such shame I have come to bear.  I have spared no effort to redeem those around me... Gard... Sharia... Hamiras, especially, yet no amount of my most sincere wishes will... prevent the sin...their heresy..!

And blackest sins abound!  Diabolic forces unfathomed swarm in these days of dying light.  Imposters... spies, all so clever!  If people would only abandon cleverness.  The world would benefit a hundred times over.

They think I am not clever.  They call me daft, even stupid.  I can hear their voices... the threshold is so thin, my lady Ezra, I can faintly hear them even now!  The distance closes each day... for the final embrace.. when the Misty Border gives way to the legions endless... how weak I am to flee to your loving arms!!

This commune... will not be our last, my lady Ezra, sainted mother of tears...  You have cradled me with such caring, accepted me even with my frailty... gifted me with your wisdom of true burden.  I will bear any further suffering that is called for.

I will face the diabolists.  And the heretics.  I am the belladonna leaf... your black blade!  And five such blades will cleave the truth from the lies.

Amen.

[marlewebber]

Carus Sable Viscus, vos teneo verum of Diapente Revelation. Quare have vos fled ex is, etiamnunc iterum? Vos have appareo denique vultus of Ezras tutela vestri. Vos beneficium ex is adhuc! Vos cannot permissum foris duco, vel libido of pectus pectoris inflecto vestri fides. In Ezras nomen EGO precor vos, reperio salus of vestri own animus. illic has nunquam been magis instanter.

If only we had spent longer learning the prophets tongue.  If only the Bastion Teodorus Raines knew, the extent of which we integrate his legacy.  Our chapel was kept in according with Fourth Sect tenets right up until the arrival of the Book... and the Shield.
  Even Bastion Raines, who endured a decade of struggle to make his prophecy heard, seems so willing to name himself the judge of who follows Ezra.  If only lessons of the First Schism were more prevalent now in the Ezrites minds and hearts.

Reading the tattered declarations, the prejudice and hate contrasts with the wisdom of the Praesidius.  Their claims about me know no bounds, and they have no compassion that I fatigue and wane and suffer just as much - if not more than they! I know what I am guilty of and I cannot be judged by any other than Ezra for these deeds I have done serving Her.

Exitus acta probat.  Neca infideles.

[marlewebber]

I remember I used to take fresh flowers in the spring and summer to the Refuge of Fifth Light.  It was never enough that I made frequent trips to the neighboring church to try and establish relations.  It would eventually come down to a single, arrow-like statement.

"To be accepted at the Refuge of Fifth Light, you would have to depart your vows to von Zeklos."

It made it so simple, made everything so easy to choose.  Many of those in Vallaki wouldn't even call me a Warden, and I had done nothing to warrant that mistrust.  So I returned to the place where my vows were made, where I was cherished, but most importantly to the place where I was needed.  Why would Ezrites abandon this place...?


My stomach turns at what they've written about Wurtbeich.  Was this the thing Lilindi had intended to question him about?  I can't ask him about it now... but if its true, how to live but a single moment with such crimes on ones conscience?

I know what I am guilty of... and Ezra, I do long to confess, but, nothing so dire as all this they claim.  What if he has not repented this sin?  ...then he must be killed!  And who else should purge one so holy and yet so unclean as he..?!

There yet remains... I have not seen his Shield.  Is he really the Bastion...? Or... if he is not, then it is me!

I seek to have the Fifth Book made in cast iron.  It will make a fitting gift for the Clarion.

[marlewebber]

Weeks go by, I've lost my previous notes it seems.  I've had another vision, yet it was more like a waking dream than the ones before it.  So much is different now, the Grand Scheme laid out in such confusion it would seem at times.  But there is a plan, the prophecy cannot be stopped.  More and more of the faithful and unbeliever alike, give witness to the portents at hand.  I must find Warden Poisson, he seems not himself at all.

I have sent another letter to my estranged brothers of the faith... listening to the sermon held this last fifthday, albeit, from the ruins beyond... I feel like my presence may have inclined the lesson of the sermon to take the shape that it did.  For better or worse of my own plight in this decadent city, I hope the church is healing.

[marlewebber]

My old student loathes me to such extent he even claims the Rite of Revelation can be deceived.  It is infallible!  To declare it flawed is to call every sect founded by it false - The One True Home Faith of Ezra, in Barovia?

And the Warden Poisson!  Thefting my words, if acquired for posterity, but speaking them aloud to me as he did?  I know what he's trying to do, he'll use me for some manipulation to reach Wurtbeich... and presuming that I would sever ties with someone... who compiled the final prophecy!?  My shield and my testimony make something like that impossible.

There are going to be several inquisitions.  Warden Ward, you seem so kind, you flatter my devotion but you still cannot trust me.

You've seen the glory of Her new Shield... how can you doubt...

[marlewebber]

[marlewebber]

Papers thrown amidst the accumulated scum within the damp cell, the heat of the torch the only succor from the chill brick surrounds...

The persistent coughs, small flecks of blood drying to that sick brown color, adorning the cell and walls; and the papers.

Upon each papersheet she was given, the Mist attended woman, the criminal mystic - they called her - wrote she the words that she absolutely believed, never a doubt in her mind.  The papers were meant for a confession, a testimony... and that is exactly what she was going to provide.

For what others called vague, esoteric, or heretical... had become clear, pertinent, and unquestionable to her.


BLESSED BE THE HAND THAT SCRIBES, THE EYE THAT WATCHES, THE EAR THAT WILL GIVE HEED, THE LIMBS THAT WILL RUSH.

FOR THIS IS THE CLARION ANNOUNCING HER COMING, THE END OF ALL AND NONE, THE FINAL EMBRACE, THE BLESSED UNION.

EZRA WATCHED TIRELESSLY OVER HER FAITHFUL FEW, THEIR WORKINGS TRUE AND VALLIANT; YET FOR ALL THEIR EFFORTS, THE LEGIONS OF THE NIGHT STILL PREVAILED.

FOR EACH FALLEN REDEEMED, FIVE MORE WOULD BEFOUL THE WORLD WITH THEIR DEPRAVITY.

THERE WAS MUCH SUFFERING AND ANGUISH AMONGST HER SERVANTS. AND EZRA ANSWERED THEIR DESPERATE PLEA.

“LET NOT THE WAYS OF THE LEGIONS DAUNT YOU, FOR THEIR TAINT WILL GNAW UPON ITSELF, AND YOU WILL CLEANSE ITS DESPICABLE REMAINS.

BLACKEN AND SIN, ACCEPT AND BE SWEPT, FOR ONLY IN REVELING WITH THEIR VILE WAYS SHALL THE CLEANSING EXACTED BE MEANINGFUL.

FOR IF IN DEED YOU ARE FEW AND DISTRAUGHT; PURGE RELENTLESSLY THAT WHICH THE LEGIONS FLAUNT OPENLY, BEGIN WITH YOURSELVES.”

AND HER FAITHFUL OBEYED. AND THEY SET TO ADORNING THEIR BODIES AND SOULS WITH THE SIGN OF THE PURGE OF THE LEGIONS’ MARK.

GLORIOUS IN THE VESTIGE OF VIRTUE, EACH SOUL A CLEANSED SPARK THAT WOULD BRING SUCCOR TO THE BLEAK HOLLOW.

THE MISTS OF DEATH COME. AND THE FLOCK ABSOLVED SHALT BE. IN THE FLICKER OF LIFE AND THE SHADOW OF DEATH.

[marlewebber]

There was pain again.  And then the immaculate sound of hymns upon the unmoving lips of kaleidoscopic depictions of holy men and women... then tears of blood.

Wholeness, rejuvenation - followed by the sickening pangs of decrepitude that would never relent.  It was like emerging from a deep haze.

Did they see the glory of Ezras miracle?  No... they would contrive any deed if it involved me.  What a bunch of faithless heretics.  They doubt the Rite of Revelation, they seek to undermine it - they seek to exile me from every civilized country.

What cowards.  The whelp-inquisitor and his new obsession with 'demonology,' the hypocritical lies of the Pure Heart Warden - how dare they call their own templar commander, my Cohort, while under oath?

I will continue to take the path of the faithful.  Converting souls and protecting of the faithful are the priorities of the Anchorite.  Stifling Ezras message because of selfish fears is the priority of charlatans.

The Darkness must be allowed its place so that Ezra herself may destroy the seed of evil that lurks in all but her sainted apostles... that such unwashed sinners must be allowed amongst Ezras flock pains my sense of duty but I will faithfully stay my hand.  I pray they find the humility to eat a sprig of Belladonna before they profane Ezras church any further.

In Her name
~Warden saint Marle Winterlass

[marlewebber]

Saint Marle, doux et humble du coeur, 
 donnent à tous les prêtres l'esprit de Thy de l'humilité ;
saint Marle, pauvre et porté dehors pour des âmes, 
 donnent à tous les prêtres l'esprit de Thy de l'ardeur ;
saint Marle, plein de la patience et de la pitié pour des pécheurs, 
 donnent à tous les prêtres l'esprit de Thy de la compassion ;
saint Marle, victime pour les péchés du monde, 
 donnent à tous les prêtres l'esprit de Thy du sacrifice ;
saint Marle, amoureux de peu et les pauvres, 
 donnent à tous les prêtres l'esprit de Thy de la charité.
saint Marle, icône de notre image éternelle de gardiens, prient pour nous ;
 et obtenez pour que nous nombreux et les prêtres
  saints écartent votre testament. Amen. 

Saint Marle, meek and humble of heart,
 give all priests Thy spirit of humility;
saint Marle, poor and worn out for souls,
 give all priests Thy spirit of zeal;
saint Marle, full of patience and mercy for sinners,
 give all priests Thy spirit of compassion;
saint Marle, victim for the sins of the world,
 give all priests Thy spirit of sacrifice;
saint Marle, lover of the little and the poor,
 give all priests Thy spirit of charity.
saint Marle, Icon of Our Eternal Guardians Image, pray for us;
 and obtain for us numerous and holy
  priests to spread your testament. Amen.

[marlewebber]

I have questions for the Doktor...

[marlewebber]

"Only the worthy shall rise.  To be a true anchorite, thou must die and be reborn again as Our Guardian..."

I cannot deny my suprise at the origins of this tradition... yet I must hold fast to my conviction...

"Surely it is proof of Ezras divine will that this tradition be inherited from /somewhere/..." Do I sound austere or panicked, Inquisitor?

I have at times doubted the wisdom of the Clarion... the simple man, but I have never doubted the integrity of his insight from Ezra, never doubted that She Chose him.  And now my conviction rests on this alone!  Should I feel betrayed, Inquisitor?  That my mentor would not tell me where this Rite of Passage came from?  With Aleyis vision, there was never a need... it passed from Her mouth to his.

"The Mists of Death Come." 

Have I profaned Ezras word..?  And even if I have, can I do any other than accept, and be swept?

This has all led to the manifestation of the Shield... the only meaningful accomplishment in the midst of so much struggle.

-Warden saint Marle Winterlass

[marlewebber]

Her eyes open suddenly, she wakes up with sweat all over her face.  Familiar, yet completely out of place, the tiles of the ceiling in the cold room serve to remind her of where she is.  She is alarmed, she hadn't meant to sleep here.  Fatigued from traveling the Mists, she combed over the letters; she surveyed the keg of gunpowder.  The scratches on the wall, the frantic disarray of the papers on the floor, the garrotte.  It seemed like the epitome of disorder, yet to Marle, calmly cherishing the scattered notes reminded her that her mentor had the utmost faith in her.

Someone was here.  Incense still burning in the sconces.  A Revelation unsupported by the Rite of Revelation... resting on the altar... did it matter?  Whether it becomes a sect or not, doesn't mean it isn't a true Revelation, she pondered.  Perhaps not all Revelations were meant to become sects.  The book was only days old and it filled her mind with burning questions.  Yet she knew that her Warden had displayed the Shield of Ezra; she could ask for nothing more.

This is the Clarion announcing Her Coming...the End of All and None, the Final Embrace, the Blessed Union.

Would the elements of this recent prophecy be possible to codify under the Fifth?  Even if so, it would fall to his excellency Wurtbeichs wisdom to sanction this new Revelation, she thought.  A few tasks remained and they would be handled with absolute expediency... she did not want to be missed in Port'a'Lucine.

[marlewebber]

She looked at a note resting just beneath cover of the weather beaten Fifth Book.  How long, had this little piece of paper been fueling her rapture?  Worse yet, was it not enough to go on any longer?

"My Saint, the time draws nearer.  A sign will be sent."

She placed her palm on her chin; her elbow supported on the writing desk.  She watched the perpetual Mists twist around her curled fingers.  She thought of Eloise, and the Balise followers that loved her so dearly, all because of these mists... she stirred a small mortar and pestle.

She resumed combing the oak apple and oil mixture into her hair.  When the oak apples were burned it produced a perfectly black color.

"I can't confess."  She didn't like her gray hair.  But what would she say if someone actually got close enough to whiff the vinegar she used to purge the other scents?  They wouldn't, most likely.  No one was close to her; that vampire was too generous to point out, that Marle had no friends.  It was probably meant well.  But the truth can hurt.

And how it hurt every day.  Like a snake twisting around the entire span of her internal organs, writhing around in her lungs when she tried to speak, causing her to shake and tremble when she tried to stay still.  And the pity she felt, seeing them weep at her feet, kissing the ground she tread upon - pity, when they told her they had given their family, their sons all for the day when /She/ would be discovered... the mortal flesh of Ezra reincarnated.

She didn't recognize any clergy among their number.  Truly they seemed like inspired laypersons.  And their prayers were beautiful.  Inquisitor Poisson had said they fled the Rite of Revelation - no, no, that was the Cupbearers.  Was the Inquisitor testing her?

This is the Clarion announcing Her Coming...

"I fail to see how this is pertinent to the discussion at hand." The Inquisitor was never encouraging.

"The Balise are just a part of the Fifth Revelation text.  And I should think they would be eager to submit to the Rite of Revelation.  And when the Fifth Shield is manifested there will be proof for all to see.  Marle was treading water.

His coy responses infuriated her.  Yet she had a sort of affection for him - he listened to her and met with her during those quiet nights when she would abscond away from the safety of the Keep.  Yes, she sulked around, as he once described it.  And rightfully so.  She delighted in sharing lore about anything with him, his intellect was apt for anything she could throw at him.  But so much of their dialogue would be permeated by the skeptical, noncommittal sentiments of his hearts calling, the Third Revelation.  She sometimes forgot she was conversing with a priest.

"He knows.  No, he thinks he knows."

She looked into a hand mirror.  The different black dyes were thinning her hair.  Her cheeks looked gaunt.  The miracle of her restoration seemed to seep away with each passing moment, dispelled each time they refused to acknowledge the importance of it.

"I am proof of the Legions redemption," She would say to herself over and over, using the mirror to comb away the gray she needed the mirror to see.  And as she combed in the false coloring her doubts were hidden beneath a layer of stain.

[marlewebber]

She watched the papers curl and warp, the lines of ink fueling thick smoke as the bindings took to flame over the heat.

The Warden was not ceremonial about discarding the text, Genesis.

Still it was a shame to burn any book.  She thought about what comes next.  This trial of faith had passed, and she felt that her legacy was mirrored in her Warden.  She was so proud of him.  Not even Gard could come so far... and she spent the most time with him!

Soon, she thought.  She would tell the Warden what she intended.  His intimate awareness of his, creation, would no doubt serve him when he initiates the next of their flock.

When they would be created.

Marle chewed at a broken fingernail.  She had the process; she now understood why the others struggled to manifest the Shield.

[marlewebber]

I should have severed his fiend-loving neck!

The hateful thought coiled through her addled mind like a viper.

Yet she had watched idling, doing neither one thing or the other, watching.  Waiting.  While they scoured and robbed and... conquered?

There was no way to stop the shaking.  Half submerged in the freezing water, holding her stumped wrists above herself to try and prevent infection from the reek all around... the refuse accumulated in the cells  The water seemed to stay at its present level... or was it rising?  Was it getting colder?  She had no concept of how much time had passed.  She could not sleep, it would mean to drown, here.

So she trembled.  Sucking in desperate gasps of the stale air, blinking in succession as if she could wake from this dream.

I can't feel Ezra, here...

Normally when she spoke of her connection to the Eternal Guardian... was she embellishing?  She couldn't gauge it, from here; a deep and vast hollowness had invaded her being like never before.  True hopelessness.  True agony.

Truly a sorrowful wretch.

She felt, amid the fever coming on, and the prickled sensation of her numbing skin...

She was... truly Ezras saint.  If only in her own mind...

[marlewebber]

Who is this man whose presence carries a pall of such darkness...  what manner of -Ezrite-...?

He... it, calls me, Tatyana... he says I fell from the tower..?

She collapses, thrashing as she is awakened instantly by the freezing cold water.  The misty embrace, her Divine Adornment, settled over the top of the water like a tumultuous cloud hovering over the Sea of Sorrows... Marles pain wrenched mind, the eye of the storm.

We will suffer any treatment you require of us...

The words of his Excellency, Bastion Lilas Wurtbeich, seeming as clear as a lighthouse amid her storm.

Rapture and pain ever more resolute, etched deeply into her very bones with each passing moment.

[marlewebber]

She covered her eyes with her mailed hand, shielding them from the sudden morning light.  Even though overcast, her eyes had no time to adjust after spending several days sealed away in the Castle.

The creature of darkness that had accompanied her.. that had very nearly summoned her, was revealed to be who he was.  But even he didn't seem to remember or realize who he was.  Or for that matter seemed to have limited conscience of his actions.  The Count von Zarovich had siphoned away the shadow that was Dusks walking domain.  And he would hold it to ensure that loyalty was paid.

For Marles part who would doubt her earnest.  To the count she surely seemed crazed or pitiful or both.  Her pledge of fealty would be called by Cote, a sin; a pledge that an anchorite would never knowingly make.  Yet to give loyalty to Barovias ruler was more like accepting and being swept by the Grand Scheme, than trying to fight against its culmination.  It pained her to watch others fight it.

The days that followed would hold many discussions with potential converts.  Some attempts would be addled by hostilities from Barovian Outlanders, this she knew.  Most predictably the Refuge of the Fifth light would condemn her again, but denounce her less harshly than before; perhaps they were humbled by the Miracle.

More acolytes were more prepared.  The failures had left a foundation to build upon.  They wept tears and bled out their faith on the stones outside the Blessed Home of the Fifth Revelation... hallowing the sacred ground where the von Zeklos once reigned.

[marlewebber]

Eight lashes they had given her.  And on the Fifth Day, no less.  She would conceal a smirk at their choice of punishment.

Another acolyte had become a warden.  One yet remains in this country whose faith must be tested.   The pilgrimage to return to the City of Lights would commence after.  And the charity feast that so much effort and time went into the details of.

How long could her efforts keep the poor fed in a single city?  A week, a month?  Even if the result was minimal the work had to be done.

[marlewebber]

...why hadn't the invocation worked?  What omen did this deliver, to have Ezra remain silent to this one prayer...?

There were extremists in every religion.  Marle realized they had all been extremists of the Fifth.

Alurto, and Aleyi; both had the strong Fourth Sect inclinations toward punishment and condemnation.  Marle herself carried these traditions... to the point of their failure and perhaps farther.  Now she had a different dilemma... would she let injustice against Ezrites go unpunished, accepting Ezras unwillingness to intervene...? No!  It is the role of the anchorite, who receives Ezras powers, to intervene!  It is fundamental of a saints power to intercede.  To superintend.

The Darkness must be allowed its place so that Ezra herself may destroy the seed of evil that lurks in all but Her sainted Apostles.

[marlewebber]

She twisted a coarse black string around the dolls waist, securing the white-with-black-trim garb that characterized the Fifth Revelation.

Bundled in its little head, strands of Marles own hair.  She set the doll down next to four others just like it.  They all stared forward with beady black eyes, small buttons really, but these little dolls shared an apocalyptic glare that sent chills down Marles spine.

In microcosm she would tie one of these dolls to her own belt, as if to represent the macrocosm of the anchorites tie to Ezra herself.  The ritualistic emulation of Ezra in every aspect would transcend language and barriers of cultural stigma; it would speak in a universal tongue to depict the story of Ezra, the Prophecy of Our Eternal Guardian in the Mists.

..set to adorning their bodies and souls...

And the intercession was happening.  They prayed to the Icon of Her Image, and through Her, Ezra renewed Them.

...a cleansed spark that would bring succor to the bleak hollow...