ITEM NON-BLESSABLE ITEM ALREADY BLESSED
Locklear handed over the item.
While the priest scurried off with the [Item], he looked over the tapestries of the Temple's inner sanctum. Several of them looked to be hundreds of years old, their religious themes fraying or threadbare, patched in humble earnest by weavers far less accomplished than the original makers.
"I regret that your petition has been refused." Startled, Locklear turned to find that the priest had returned, a frown etched on his face. "It may not be blessed. For whatever reason, it has been deemed... inappropriate."
Locklear presented the [Item] to a priest.
Running his hand over the metal, the young man frowned, then glanced up at Locklear. "This has already been favored by the gods. If you wish, I may remove the enchantment upon it, but you should know the potency of an enchantment varies between temples. It may be that our blessing would be less effective."
"How so?" Locklear asked.
"It has to do with the nature of the gods. The deities who are counted as more forceful have the strongest enchantments; these would be Lims-Kragma, Kahooli, Dala and Tith. After them come the moderate gods; Killian, Silban, Ruthia, Banath and Astalon. The rest of the gods and goddesses seem to be more passive when it comes to human affairs and their blessings tend to be less effective. While I cannot be sure which of the temples have placed their blessing on this weapon, I still may remove its enchantment. Do you wish for me to do so?"
SPECIFIC DIALOGUES
TEMPLE OF KILLIAN
[ZONE 1] [TOP]
They were shown to a chamber.
Here, there were no flagstones or chipped tiles underneath their feet, but instead a thick carpet of grass jeweled with dew. At the far end of the room, a pair of yew trees overarched a throne of woven reed, upon which was seated a striking looking woman, her shoulder length black hair bound behind her back with a green cord.
"I am the High Priestess of this Temple," she said musically. "Killian welcomes you to her domain. Come. Be seated."
Listening with keen interest to the stories told by Locklear, the priestess remained as motionless as a statue. At last, she folded her hands in her lap and sighed heavily.
"That was most entertaining," she said. "I particularly liked the part about the drunk. But I would advise you in the future to keep an eye on the food you eat. You shouldn't simply gulp down the first thing you find without taking a look at it first."
Properly chastened, Locklear shrugged his shoulders and promised he would be more careful in the future. Cheered, he didn't mind when the High Priestess escorted them from the room.
TEMPLE OF ISHAP (Loriel)
[ZONE 1] [TOP]
Acolytes escorted them.
After passing through a maddening series of arches, they finally were let into a large chamber upon whose floor a seven rayed star was formed in mosaic by dark blue tiles. A small priest stood in the symbol's center, his back turned towards them.
"We are looking for the high priest of this Temple," Locklear said. "Would you know where we could find him?"
"I am he." As the man half-turned, Locklear suppressed a gasp at the priest's hideous visage. Stuck to the left side of his face was a dark brown strip of cloth, a ragged hole torn in it to allow a pinkish looking eye to peer out at them.
"What is it that you want?" he wheezed, his frame shuddering with each breath. "Are you new acolytes?"
"No." Locklear swallowed with some difficulty. "We are...travellers."
"As all under the heavens are," the man said, making a feeble gesture at the vaulted ceiling above them. All travellers. Please, let us talk a while."
When at last many of the candles in the chamber had burned low, the priest nodded his head. "I have enjoyed this," he said quietly.
"As have we," Locklear replied graciously, rising to leave. "Oh, before I forget, where was the interesting statue again that you mentioned?"
"The oracle? In the hills to the east of Malac's Cross," the priest replied. "Perhaps your journeys will take you there soon."
TEMPLE OF ISHAP (Sarth)
[SARTH] [TOP]
The abbot came quickly.
A man of advancing years, his hair and beard seemed like a snow drift, starkly in contrast to his dark skin which was wrinkled like carefully crafted mahogany. Shaking Locklear's hand, he greeted them as if he had known them all their lives. "Welcome to Ishap's Abbey, travellers. I am Father John. How may we be of assistance to you?"
"We thought while we were passing through that we would come and visit the famous Abbey of Ishap at Sarth," Locklear said. "You've done impressive things here."
The abbot's eyes crinkled as he gave them a prideful glance. "We hope to do more. We've only begun our work here, but thanks to Brother Anthony and Brother Marc, we have come a long way."
Locklear bit his lip, hesitant to ask his question. "Could we impose on your hospitality a bit? We have a few questions..."
"I would love to, though alas, I have services to attend at the moment. But if you have questions, Sarth is the place to come. We have books on many things, and if you seek out Brother Marc, he can help you with a good many other questions. Good day to you!"