Physicen of the Half-desert Beyond Turyth
Garden of the Prophet > Chantry of Medicia

You who have come, show yourselves, show yourselves! The dark is for sleep and the Void, not the strong of this realm. Come forth, come forth. I am but old, and this is but my home.

Peasants of the fortress, by my eyes, worn from sand upon the winds and come in search of medicia. Set down your charge, with care now, for this is the Vault of the Prophet's Footstep - yes, once a Holy of the Faith. In truth, it is a Holy yet, for the Prophet's touch upon the Red Realms will never fade. It can only be forgotten a while by Brethren who tend war-shrines and the Cathedral high upon Great Olimpan.

There is water here, and roots if you hunger. Those who brave the wild sand-winds of Awe and hunt thin serpents by night are my friends, and repay my care of this Holy with what little I require. But let us turn to your charge, and the reason for your pilgrimage from the forgen decks of Turyth.

See now, stench is thick about the pocks, and pus gathers fit to leap from his wound. He is heated as a Brother in battle, and such a battle he fights now! There are hearts given to dark whispers in Turyth when the Prophet's name in prayer cannot ward such ills from the least of the Faithful - but you have done well by his soul in your journey, whatever may come.

You have brought a gift well and generous for an old man, and the more so for your hearts in the giving of it. I will be as much in return, and may the Prophet guide your charge to his sense and duty once more. He shall spend this night atop the Prophet's mark in the least-vault below, anointed with amrith from far realms and prayer-pennon of the holy Brother Eryhan about his wound. We can do no more but pray with faith foremost in our hearts.

[ Posted by Reason on September 25, 2006 ]