The Griffin Sword Saga (storyline)/2003-04-23 - The Pale Priest (log)

History is written by those who decide it. The pale priest of Solhaven's hidden Temple of Luukos speaks to Alisaire, at yet another time when she doubts her own actions. While the Dark Alliance has been very successful thus far, obtaining three of the Griffin Sword's four shards, it will not risk losing those who have proven to be its more valuable assets. The pale priest is a surprisingly astute individual with a particular interest in philosophy, and he would regularly engage in fascinating conversations throughout the war and beyond.

This log is from Alisaire's perspective. It has been lightly edited.

[Hall of Lies, Oratory]
The silken rug and the swaths adorning the ceiling both end abruptly here, their ends frayed and torn.  The bare stone walls have a deeply pitted, almost melted look to them, as if an intense fire raged through the room.  An ivory altar stands silently to the north, draped with a deep red cloth and chased with fine tracery along its base.  A bas-relief looms behind the altar, its depiction one of pure grief.
Obvious exits: south

You sigh.
You come out of hiding.
You sit down.
You attempt to blend with the surroundings and feel confident that no one has noticed your doing so.
You gaze thoughtfully at the ivory altar.

>look altar
The surface of the altar has been finely polished and gives off a deep lustrous shine.  Sinuous, looping tracery runs the length of the object, and meticulous care has been taken with the designs bordering the mantel.  Many tapered candles have been placed atop it, illuminating its glossy surface.

>look on altar
On the ivory altar you see a collection of candles and an open book.

You softly say in Elven, "I think I recall now..aye.  'twas from his words, three nights ago."
You ponder quietly uninterrupted, since no one can see you.

>look book
The book is the same pristine white color as the altar, its pages open to a certain passage.  The cover appears to be made of ivory, though tiny streaks of yellow occasionally break the bright white hue.
There appears to be something written on it.

>read book
In the Common language, it reads:
"There's no harm in a little white lie... to save face, for one's own gain.  One little lie... so many conveniences...."

You quietly ask, "Written by those who decide it, su'a?"
You quietly say, "And no where.. proof.. of Ascension.  Merely..  Merely fables, the lot of it."
You sigh.
You chuckle.
You quietly say, ".. maybe he was right after all."
You think to yourself, "The Way.. a lie."
You gaze thoughtfully at the ivory altar.

You come out of hiding.
You shiver.
You rub your violet eyes in an effort to refresh them.

(Alisaire warily eyes the altar as if it were sentient.)

You think to yourself, "And still.. one cannot live both the Way and that of .. of.."  She wavers, then pushes herself to finish the thought.  "Of servitude."
You clench your fist.
You breathe as quietly as you can.
You chuckle to yourself.
You quietly ask, "It does make sense, though.  A mutt cannot expect to be seen the equal of a Dhe'nar; why should... kin.. be seen as equal to an arkati..?"

(Alisaire lets her gaze drop to the floor, a melancholy expression on her face.)

You think to yourself, "To believe otherwise.. that.. that would be the Lie."
You close your eyes for a moment.
You think to yourself, "That would be the Way."
You shiver.
You fold your arms over your chest.

(Alisaire hunches down on herself, somberly observing the altar from the center of the chamber's floor.)

You sigh shakily.
You shake your head, totally at a loss.
You softly say, "I-I think.. maybe another sandfire."
You close your eyes for a moment.
You shiver.

(Alisaire slowly pushes herself to an upright position, then more quickly rises to her feet.)

You stand back up.
You shift your weight.
You take a few steps back.

A voice says, "Funny, isn't it?"

You narrow your eyes.
You quietly ask, ".. What is?"
You think to yourself, ".. Who was watching?  The priest?"

A pale priest quietly steps into view from one of the columns.

(Alisaire's gaze falls quickly on the figure as she takes another half step backwards.)

A pale priest says, "That a lie can be pretty."

A pale priest says, "They're always painted as... ugly things... something to be avoided..."

You quietly say, ".. That is what makes them so tempting.  The.. prettiness in them."

A pale priest says, "Yet, they've saved a civilization from death."

You glance at a white ivory altar.
You dubiously say, ".. Perhaps."

A pale priest says, "And bring sorrow to even the greatest of all beings."

You glance at a pale priest.

A pale priest smiles, his eyes making a quick glance toward the bas-relief.

(Alisaire follows his gaze with her own, watching the bas-relief almost as if expecting it to come alive.)

>look bas-relief
Smoother than the warped walls which surround it, the relief depicts a female elf on her knees over the corpse of a young man, her fists balled helplessly as her grief-stricken face gazes down at the love she's lost.  The towering trees of a forest glade surround the woman, and a serpent coils around one of them, watching the scene unfold with a cold reptilian smile.  An immense sword has been tossed carelessly aside, its blade incised with the word "Soulingen."  A small plaque rests below the sculpture.

>read plaque
In the Common language, it reads:
"Even Immortals Fall Prey To His Power."

You think to yourself, ".. but he's right, isn't he?"
You furrow your brow, probably adding a wrinkle or two in the process.

A pale priest asks, "Do you seek to forget?  To have the truth hidden to your eyes once again?"

You tilt your head down.
You hesitantly say, "The lie.. is easier to endure."
You quietly say, "Even if it is precisely that."

A pale priest asks, "You would rather live in a lie?"

A pale priest cocks his head.

You ponder the meaning of life, the universe, and everything.

A pale priest says, "And yet... you despise the Painlord so.  How ironic."

You glance at a pale priest.
You carefully say, "I have my reasons for my opinions of *that* one."

You glance at a bas-relief.
You quietly say, "As for the lie.. I am not certain if it would be better off seeing it for what it is, or enjoying it for what it would have me see."
You shake your head, totally at a loss.

A pale priest asks, "A circle of deception shall be your life, then?"

You think to yourself, "No.. no, I do not want to hold the lies."
You close your eyes for a moment.
You shake your head, totally at a loss.
You quietly say, ".. I need time to think."

A pale priest says, "I see truth.  But not in the Way."

You glance at a pale priest.

A pale priest reaches out and taps your talisman with a slender finger.

You tilt your head down.
You stare at the shadowy crystal talisman intently, the core of the dark jewel suddenly becoming alive in a veritable explosion of movement.  Black tendrils of shadow writhe within the heart of the talisman, their subtle undulations seemingly beckoning you toward them.  Faint, almost intangible whispers suddenly fill your mind, the sounds so very familiar to you as you lose yourself in the expansive darkness.  You find yourself drifting upon currents spawned from within an endless void, alone and yet wrapped within the very tapestry of living shadow itself for a few brief moments of perfect and utter harmony.  And then the vision fades, giving way to the brightness of the world around you as the talisman's core slowly solidifies again.

A pale priest says, "The Way was built... so that the few who sit atop it and ruling could have the tiniest, fraction of a chance of what you have now."

A pale priest says, "Great empires... are built upon the backs of slaves."

You shift your weight.
You quietly say, "Eii.. 'tis those of the Way who .. who saught my end the most fervently when they knew."
You glance at a silver-bound shadowy crystal talisman.

You furrow your brow, probably adding a wrinkle or two in the process.
You think to yourself, "Except Mnar.  He hasn't tried anything yet."

A pale priest says, "They are threatened... because you did not achieve it through their ideals... through their system.  You do not validate them.  You invalidate them."

You glance at a pale priest.
You tilt your head up.
You gaze thoughtfully at the bas-relief.

You say, "I remember Morvule once saying that he saw the fires as they consumed Sharath.  All that now remain among my kin are the stories.. like the stories of ascension, of fulfilling the Way."
You shake your head.

A pale priest says, "And so the circle of lies continues throughout the ages.  But I owe them a boon, perhaps, in some small fashion.  For they have done much for the Serpent Lord."

You quietly say, "All tales, but none who truly know whether or not they are anything more than that."

You glance at a pale priest.
You glance at a white ivory altar.
(Alisaire laughs suddenly, bitterly.)

You quietly ask, "Eii, the greatest of Lies, su'a?  In the Way?"

A pale priest says, "Ahh yes... the High Priest is quite the ancient one."

You ponder.
You think to yourself, "I wonder if he ever saw anything like those Ascensions spoken of.  Noi'sho'rah, Shtaq."

A pale priest says, "Quite.  Power is attractive, and they have, if nothing else, used that to their advantage."

(Alisaire slowly nods.)
You quietly say, ".. Eii."

A pale priest says, "The thought of becoming an equal to those the many serve now is sweet to those who know they will have it not."

You give a half-hearted grin.
You quietly say, ".. I suppose so.  It is comforting, in many respects, that ignorance.  Even when 'tis self-imposed."
You think to yourself, "Too comforting."

A pale priest says, "When the world is cast in the color of scarlet, it is rarely unenjoyable to the one who wears the spectacles."

You chuckle to yourself.
You quietly ask, "Is that all it is in the end?  Is that all the Way is--a pair of fancy glasses, conveniently fitted with blinders?"

A pale priest says, "It is such for most things in this world."

You breathe as quietly as you can.
You quietly say, "Mm.. ..perhaps it is."

A pale priest says, "The masses avert their eyes from those of Lornon because they are the most truthful of all, harsh as their paths may be."

You give a half-hearted grin.

A pale priest says, "The others... simply try and clad the world in silks and fantasy, hoping that ignoring the darker aspects of life will make them cease to exist."

You softly say, "And in turn.. continue to live that lie they desire."
You think to yourself, "Just like the Way.."

A pale priest says, "Quite so."

(Alisaire shifts her gaze to the priest almost warily.)
You quietly ask, "How long were you watching me?"

A pale priest asks, "There are eyes everywhere in this temple.  What day would you like me to recount?"

A pale priest smiles.

(Alisaire starts slightly, hesitating.)
You clear your throat.
You glance at a white ivory altar.
You shake your head.

You quietly say, ".. Nevermind."
You think to yourself, "Enough, no doubt."

A pale priest says, "But I will leave you to your thoughts.  Let us hope the next time I see you, the spectacles are off."

You tilt your head down.

A pale priest gives a slight, polite bow, smiling all the while, then turns and steps south.

(Alisaire nods slightly, murmuring, "Eve to you.")
You sigh.
You glance at a white ivory altar.

You softly say, ".. perhaps.. perhaps 'tis time after all."
You think to yourself, "It certainly would be better than living a lie, su'a..?"
You close your eyes for a moment.

You think to yourself, "Even if it means that everything was wrong, that it all was.. for naught.  Eii.. perhaps.. perhaps it is time."
You glance at a white ivory altar.
You shake your head and turn away.