Kothos (prime)
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Biography
Kothos Blud is a priest of Ivas who was until recently cloistered in Her Temple in Vipershroud Swamp. He is originally from Brisker's Cove in the county of Seareach. Rather than being the scion of an elf and human union, Kothos is descended from others of mixed heritage, and is unaware of the origins of his elven heritage. Not much is known of his life prior to his taking up Service in the Temple just east of Wehnimer's Landing, where he has been a fixture for nearly two decades.
Kothos is of the priest rank within his Order, and is responsible for receiving pilgrims when they arrive in the Temple, as well as training and teaching new converts. His newest disciple is Xanthium, a young dancer and performer who came under his wing in the summer of 5119. Through his close relationship with her, he was convinced to reemerge into the outer world, he has begun taking day trips to the Landing, and even further. While still feeling his way through these experiences, he has found himself more able to serve with the power he has gained, and to explore the mysteries of life with a passionate curiosity.
Appearance
- You see Lord Kothos Blud the Brother.
- He appears to be a Half-Elf.
- He is very tall and has a broad-shouldered slender frame. He appears to be in the spring of life. He has copper-ringed seaglass green eyes and sun-bronzed, coppery skin. He has long, voluminous raven black hair cascading into a lush tumult of violet-sheened curls. He has a graceful, oval-shaped face, an aquiline nose and a set of high cheekbones that are softened by the gentle contours of his jawline.
- He has a copper-traced leaf green viper languidly draped across his shoulders, its eyes half-lidded.
- He is wearing a carved jade medallion ringed in gold, a dark azure silk kimono patterned with silver-edged white blossoms, an orbicular wispy red glaes emblem, a silver-strewn celestial blue wrap-skirt, and some burnt umber sea silk sandals laced with thin copper chain.
Associations & Beliefs
Kothos is by nature a tolerant man, and makes it his practice to have all those who sojourn to Ivas' hall welcome and fulfilled, regardless of their gender, race, social status or religious leanings. His devotion to Ivas and his disciples is unwavering, and both bring him great joy. While not as accomplished a dancer as Xanthium, he incorporates movement and form into his religious rituals, and sometimes indulges in a little playacting with the other priests and acolytes as an enticement for the shyer Temple visitors to join them in a Dance for and in Her Grace.
Besides his protege, Kothos has taken to a number of new acquaintances since his return to society, fellow Ivasian Nola, the sylvan artist and healer Alvyara, former mayor Lylia Rashere (whom he had broken cloister twice before to vote for her), 5120 mayoral candidate Faerinn Greatsinger, and has a rather enjoyable rivalry and respect for the warrior rake Lazaryth.
He recently hosted a celebration of the Ivasian Rite of Summer, Hunger of the Pines, in the Temple, where Xanthium was promoted from acolyte to the rank of minister. He and Xanthium also performed a dance entitled Passion's Snare, set to honor a poem by Charna, for the Revelia Carnivale event, Brigatta in Flight.
Biographical Excerpts
Glamour
| Glamour |
"Glamour" A flash of foxfire-green light flickered into existence on the other side of the stone bridge, echoed by a softer, coral-hued flush just above it, and the two motes floated across the dark water; the rose orb turned into a deep, full red, and the viridian split into two lambent glows, revealing the eyes of the priest crossing the archway. Brother Blud had come home to his swamp. He gripped his glowbark staff, using its ruby light to navigate through the shadowed garden, avoiding Ysharra and Xanthium's newest plantings. The night always falls thick and close in the marshes, aided by the lush canopy overhead; creeping vines, boughs of flower-laden cypress and banyan. Even a short walk over familiar territory could be risky, from the spiders, the crocodiles who sometimes found their way into the courtyard- and the much worse possibility of stepping on the new favorite orchid of a certain ranger. He smiled for a moment at his internal jest, and then returned his thoughts to his primary concern, the news he had heard in the Landing just now, about the call for the younger Burdos' arrest. He nodded absently at the acolyte who greeted him at the door and his priestess, Sister Nock, asking them a few questions about their ward in the western hall of the Temple. Kothos pushed open the yellow pine door to his quarters, glancing once at the bed, which was sadly empty. He passed it by, focusing on the only other furniture in the small room, his writing desk. There, he unpacked some of his new purchases from the recent festival in Mist Harbor, and began to write. Master Burdos, My name is Brother Kothos Blud, we met at your return to the Landing outside the North Gate, some weeks ago. While my Service at the Temple does not often allow me time to come see after your mission, word still reaches me and the other residents about your losses, and your ongoing strife with the Landings' authorities. I know that you find me and my Mistress to be misguided, and I do not much care about that, my faith is my own, and I have it in abundance. However, you were kind and compassionate to my dear Alvyara when you healed what Vlashandra had done to her, and for the sake of that act, and the care I have for her, I write this missive to you. I repeat the offer I gave you that first night, that of the hospitality of the Temple and the Vipershroud. The territory here is vast, and secretive, filled with nooks and crannies where those who have traveled here with you or to see you may be able to avoid confrontation with Marshal Thadston's forces. Regardless of your feelings on Ivas, Her halls are manned by those who are versed in tolerance. I cannot guarantee safety, of course, as we ourselves had our temple and her icon burned by the Prelate's forces four years ago. However, save for that, the swamp is generally remote and out of mind, for the most part. Regardless of what you choose, I plan on extending this to the occupants of the tent city in Lower Dragonsclaw. My Order has a trove of experience in the care of those who suffer, and I would not see them butchered like the caravan simply for being hopeful of an end to their plight. Yours in Service, Brother Blud Kothos reached a hand down to stroke Rusalka's copper-flecked head as the large snake started to unwind from about his waist, extending his leg down to the floor to let her slither off. He watched the ribbon of dark green scales pool out the door while he sealed his writing, hoping his serpent had better luck finding companionship tonight than he was likely to. Tomorrow, after Service, he would hand this off to one of the blood-stained guards who were always about forest just outside the postern gate. Done with his task, he wondered if he now fit the definition of "cultist" and would no longer be welcome in the Landing. No doubt there were those who already agreed, based on his faith. And now he was reaching out to one who had managed to earn the ire of nearly every power faction in the frontier town. Still...his mind returned to Alvyara's healed face, her soft features returned to as they were prior to her betrayal by the Magister. He laced his fingers together in front of his lips, and uttered a few soft prayers under his breath, which were interrupted by the hushed noise of his door opening again. A sweet smile, long pale hair, graceful curves...Kothos grinned back at his nocturnal visitor, reaching up to coil his long fingers around her hip. Glory to Her. Ivas provides. Meridiem |
| Meridiem |
"Meridiem" The late morning in the swamp was constricted with thick bands of fog, and the steam was already carrying the full force of the days's heat. Brother Blud ran his fingers across the surface of his glowbark runestaff until a few scarlet-hued plumes of smoke spiraled toward the sky. He was waiting for his morning Service to finish dressing, so he could walk her back to the Landing. Within his mind, the peals of Dreaven's impending offerings sounded out, and he looked forward to joining the crowd at the inn table, as well as the divertment of hunting and exploring afterward. On top of those, he had some other mysteries to pursue, as well. He was in for a lush, full day. A flash of movement caught his eyes; the temple's door had begun to swing out into the courtyard. He grinned to himself, and stepped quickly over to the archway. He leaned against one of the stone columns, in the path of a blessedly timed beam of sunlight, and smoothed out the illuminated silk of his kimono across his chest. The pose worked, he nearly grinned again as the woman caught her breath upon seeing him. Instead, he stilled his face into a serene expression, letting the warmth of his smile grow as she approached him. Nessa had been coming to see him for a few months, now, and she still blushed rose pink in his presence. He gave her an admiring gaze as she reached out to take his extended hand and kissed her fingers before drawing her beside him on the flagstone path. Daylight was striving to spear through the mist, and as they walked he watched the dappled sun playing across the silver and steel in her hair, showing her beauty to him in little flickers. They spoke casually during the short hike; Nessa was an acolyte in Lady Winter's temple, and missed little, so the conversation was one of her perceptions. It was gossip, but all of it born from curiosity, rather than ill will, so he enjoyed it, pulling his fingertips across her careworn, lined hands as she spoke. Upon reaching the palisades, he asked permission to give her a parting kiss, and she received it with a heated whisper about what he'd do to her upon her next visit to the swamp. Kothos allowed himself one more moment of satisfaction at her responding flush, her pale blue eyes crossing his hair, his mouth. “And what about you, Brother?” She turned back from the postern gate long enough to catch his gaze again, halting her parting for her questions. He smiled back, careful to modulate it to simple appreciation. Surely it wasn’t too manipulative to make it seem like it was her idea to begin with. “You never ask for anything for yourself.” “That’s not true, Nessa. In fact, I’ve been wanting to ask you for something all morning…” A few minutes later, he turned from the gate and headed north, toward Wayside and the warmth that beckoned from the heavily-crowded common room. It was still so bizarre to him, how cold it became just a few miles away from Her Temple. He crossed his palms on his chest in a brief gesture as he walked, thanking Her for the many gifts he had received and given in turn. Nessa would carry word to Lorminstra’s disciples of the need on Mist Harbor. Kothos had many, many other pilgrims that owed him a great deal of grace and fulfillment. Loremaster Rohese would have ample stores for whatever crisis was brewing, and who knows, perhaps he could find another shade of blush on her sublime face, telling her just how he came to get it all. Brother Blud smiled. Glory to Ivas; She provides. More Than This |
| More Than This |
"More Than This" Restday must get its name from some reality as different from his own as fire is to water, Danell considered, as he gingerly navigated the narrow stairway from Ilstar Lane. Crowned above were his meager lodgings, one of the few residences scattered about the breweries and shops of the East Landing streets. Everything ached, thanks to the radiating migraine plodding about his skull to the rhythm of his labored footfalls. He stopped for a moment as a particularly dizzying pang traveled down from his brow to his throat. He moved his wrist-thick braid away from the sensitive spot, thinking it would be him to push so hard, that even his hair hurt. Despite his abject misery, Danell was pleased, the control had been much easier, today. The pain was lasting evidence of it, and thus the feeling of satisfaction accompanied the worst of the it. He had spent the better part of three hours in the so-called Reiver Village, marshalling the seismic energy below to erupt upon the armored brutes. The feedback from the earthen manipulation is what caused his current state, what he had worked so hard to practice. He was so engrossed in his review that his yellow pine door being open barely registered. The latch was rusted and no longer fitted snugly in the cradle, a good breeze could push it open. He kept little of worth here; it was the quiet part of town. Tonight, however, had another intruder besides the wind, just inside his tiny room's doorway, a man leaned upon his sole window, staring out at the Bay. Danell hadn't seen his brother in a few days, and he took a moment to reflect on how much Kothos had changed, from the other chapters of their shared lives. No one here in the Landing would recognize Kothos as the quiet, scrawny boy that Danell had raised, in the manor house's servant quarters back in Brisker's Cove. Though...there was more of the lad to him, today, than Danell had seen in decades. Kothos looked downright glum, his normally sumptuous garb hanging over his shoulders in a shapeless drape, the colors washed out by the waning light. Upon his bare chest was a mass of mottled bruises, painful-looking, but Danell doubted they were the source of the priest's distress. Kothos stared back at him, and crossed the small room, taking Danell's hand in his own. Danell gave him a hug, and started to ask what was wrong, when Kothos shuddered, and dropped to the floor, sitting down hard. He followed, stroking his brother's trembling shoulders, and waited. It was his old habit, in his memory he could see Kothos crouching in the manor house's stables, staying out of sight, or decades later, when Danell finally found him after decades of searching, hiding in a tent of a burlesque show, with paint on his face and a haunted look in his eyes. Since then, Kothos had found his calling and peace, both, but the latter was clearly rattled. Danell waited for him to soothe, and slowly, the priest took one breath after another, and finally told him about the day's events. The names meant little to Danell, he'd never been to the Harbor, but it mattered not, the story was an old one, of spies, betrayal, and cruelty. For not the first time, he wondered if Kothos wouldn't go back to cloister, perhaps it denied him experience, but at the cost of his hard-won serenity, and safety? He gave voice to those questions, and Kothos shook his head, long tangled curls dragging over his holy symbol. "Socius, as he started on her, told us all something. He said this was for us. To set an example of what would happen." Kothos took his brother's hand again, and Danell knew a flush of fraternal fear, clearly, the priest meant to return to the scene of this harrowing brutality. "But I kept thinking about what happened to Mother." Danell swallowed, nodding, seeing the bridle in his mind's eye. Despite both brothers being estranged from her, the manor lord had brought his younger brother out to watch, that day. Kothos had much in common with the woman's spirit, and they meant for him to learn otherwise. Kothos drew his long fingers across his bruises, and continued. "They made an example out of her, too. And I need them to know- those faces in our past, and Socius now- it won't work. It will never work. We may not stop them, but I'm not afraid of them. Of him." His brother shuddered again, and Danell absently watched the scented smoke curl about them both as Kothos settled sleepily against him. Just as he was wondering if he could get the priest over to his pallet, Kothos whispered one last, solemn affirmation. "No matter what they did, what they deserve. I can bear witness, for them." The Ivasian fell asleep on the floor, and Danell lost himself in his worry, and thoughts. And perhaps, a little bit of pride. The Stone Set in Your Eyes |
| The Stone Set in Your Eyes |
"The Stone Set in Your Eyes" Kothos shifted the slight figure in his arms across one shoulder, so he could more easily operate the transportation device on his wrist. Reynai’s bandana crinkled a little as her head turned toward his motion, then she collapsed against his cheek once more. She had every right to be exhausted, the priest thought. I will get her to a place she can sleep without fear, for once. He gave Kiyna and Vaemyr a nod farewell, and bent down to share a parting kiss with Delindra, wishing as he often did that they would have had more time, though he knew she understood. In his mind, he reached out with his thoughts, calling to his brother and one of the healers in the Temple’s Children ward, telling the latter he was bringing a new charge who would need her own space, isolated from the rest of the Temple’s activities. The mordant reply came a few moments later. “Brother Blud, of course I agree on offering hospitality for the little one. However…we are still near-full, with those who still suffer from the Blight or have run afoul of these krolvin invaders.” Sister Nock paused, Kothos could nearly hear her brow crease in consternation before she continued. “We have vathor victims here. I do not have a chamber to offer away from the other residents.” “She can have my bed, Sister. Xanthium and I can sleep by the fishpond. I will be there in moments.” A tap of his finger, and he stood in front of Moot Hall, searching the sky for his brother Danell’s falcon, and was rewarded by Redwing’s flutter of rust-hued wings swirling overhead. A column of storm-grey cloud followed the bird’s passage, and he stepped within it, neatly avoiding a trip over a boulder surrounded by vipers and panthers while carrying a slumbering ten-year-old. Several days later… Dawn in the Vipershroud is a gentle event. It takes the sunlight much effort to pierce through the fog and the foliage, by the time it pours over the water, the sun is well over the horizon, a soft glow absent of harsh glare. Kothos sat in the shelter of the courtyard’s banyan, just past him was a gap in the wall, giving him a view into the rising light across the cypress-strewn swamp. Golden rays stretched over him and his charge; Reynai clung to his arm, crouched in the grass next to him. Her other hand kept the yierka-hide blanket wrapped about her shoulders, despite the close heat of the bog in morning. Here and there her grip would falter and her fingers would hunt for and fiddle with the various little toys and figurines that Kothos and others had brought her over the past few days; a wooden raven, a clockwork knight with a little tin lance, a polished soapstone mammoth, and a cotton-stuffed rag doll that she seemed to like best, from the way she lovingly moved her fingertips across the doll’s silk-stitched face. Kothos appreciated the generosity of his friends and companions, each of the objects were easy for her to identify by feel, as she still refused any attempts to have her eyes healed and her sight restored. That troubled him, but he understood well enough what it was like to feel haunted. What worried him more than her physical injuries was the spiritual and mental trauma, and despite being away from the Harbor, she continued to be plagued at the very least by memories of what she had seen. She was reluctant to speak of her nightmares, and Brother Blud had chosen not to press her. She slept often; she had allowed Xanthium and Sister Nock to wash her and her clothes, though mornings like this in the swamp had restored the mud stains to their proper place upon her dress and trousers. “…and the boy gave the Empress her new name, and the lands were saved, the palace and plains restored, and all the fantastic beasts and brave heroes went back to their homes, to live happily ever after…” This had been their pattern, during Reynai’s waking hours. By now she’d heard every story from his childhood he could recall, and a few of Alosaka’s less depressing yarns. Just thinking about the young healer had him questioning his decision again. Despite his certainty days ago that Reynai would be safe here, he felt he had made little progress with her; perhaps she would have been better off with Guarrin, or Rohese. Still, at least there was a ghost of a smile with her now, and her face was turned toward the sun’s warmth. He felt another crush of frustration, of what had been done to her to make her afraid to gaze upon the golden rays spilling across her cheek, see the beauty of the spring blooms in the Vipershroud. It was an abomination, along with those who had brought this curse upon her. “Does the heat remind you of your home?” he asked, reaching down to stroke her scalp, tugging her ponytail out of her dress collar. “A little.” She whispered, leaning forward inquisitively. A moment later, she sniffed, and said, “It does smell different. Today it’s sweet.” He started to nod, and hissed at himself for forgetting, again, that she couldn’t see such an expression. “It’s the pitcher plants just past the wall in front of us. They have a lovely scent, don’t they?” She gave him another tremulous smile, and nodded again, though the smile vanished in seconds from the girl’s face. He understood. Lovely as it was, she wanted to know more than just the aroma. He patted her shoulder and rose, carefully extricating his cassock from the child’s grip. For a moment she clung even harder, and he picked up the doll from her lap and offered it in his place. “I’m not leaving, I’m just getting something to show you.” She relented, and Kothos padded over to Ysharra and Xanthium’s garden, carefully avoiding the newer plantings. Devoted ally to the Temple or not, if he damaged any of Ysharra’s botanical offspring he’d only be fit for Service to Gosaena. Gingerly he gathered a bouquet of the established specimens from around the garden’s border, and made his way back to sit by Reynai once more. He opened her palm and laid the first of the flowers upon it, letting the small, tight knot of frilled petals drag across her skin. “This is a marigold. It’s vibrant yellow, like a banana, with deep orange ‘round the edges. Where I come from, there’s a superstition that if a woman puts a marigold under her pillow, she’ll dream of her future husband.” Reynai lowered her head to the blossom, sniffing at the musky aroma, giving him another small smile, and he continued. “My friend Ysharra would be pleased, you’re giving me a chance to show that I paid attention to all her talk about these. In the old lore, flowers have a deeper meaning, a poetry. Marigolds mean jealousy, that would be why they found a home in this Temple. But that’s not all- they can mean grief, prophecy- and the sun.” He let the flower down upon her lap and brought out the next, a speartip-shaped cluster of tiny flowers. “Astilbe. These are one of my favorites…” He passed the bloom over her upturned fingertips. “It’s so soft!” she gasped, uttering the closest thing to a giggle he’d heard from her. “The color is a bright purple, bordering on magenta. It means strength, or this message: I will always remember you.” She drew the tuft up to her nose just as the last, the potent, jasmine-like scent drifting over them both while he brought out the last one. “This is an iris.” He led her hand across the bow of large, curved petals, each one nearly as wide as her palm. The mélange of apples and honey brought forth another smile. “Blue as the ocean, with a yellow and black throat. And it means “believe in me”.” She turned her head back toward his shoulder again, and he let her rest, tucking each of the flowers into the front pocket of her dress. “I can almost see them…almost…” “But you can, Reynai.” He reached down and twined his long fingers about both of her hands, his thumb caressing the crook of her palm. “This horrible event that has happened to you didn’t take what you already know. Feel the petals, breathe in their scent, let the color come to you from your memory and dreams. And there the flowers will be.” She nodded, making a tiny sobbing sound against his arm, and not for the first time he thought how cruel it was, in that her curse had taken her eyes, yet she could still cry. Regardless, it seemed to soothe her, this time. Brother Blud felt her fall into a drowsy sleep against him, and he resigned himself to serving as her pillow for the rest of the midmorning. Looking out across the mists, Kothos drew his hands away from the sleeping girl, stretching them out in front of him, reaching for the glade. He called out, in his thoughts and his heart, to the spirits of the Vipershroud. The rolling fog with its glimmer of storm grey over white, the rippling cool green of serpent scales pouring down into the murky depths, and the brilliant hues of the vines, tendrils and blooms swaying in the morning breeze, calling all of the swamp’s core to his charge. He muttered the ancient words of the Well of Life, and let all of that thriving green sink down into Reyna’s sleeping figure. The priest was glad of the banyan behind him, as the spell used him as a conduit, taking a portion of his life, along with what he channeled from the bog. He exhaled, waiting for his vision to clear- the girl slept on, but she looked far more peaceful now, the twitching and sobs gone. Soon, it would be time to take her back home, and confront those who had brought this horror to pass. But for now, at least, she would sleep, and heal. And he would have to think of some more stories… The sun climbed high above the mists, shining down upon the two sleeping figures, the girl and her guardian. The morning stretched on, the warmth coming back to the recovering priest and the child tucked under his arm, with flowers in her dress and toys cradled in her lap. |
| Images |
 Rusalka by Juspera Spintari |
