Iori McKenzie
iori has one i
Primus Gaudeo.
He knew this place. The heart of the Heartlands. The capital of Centripax. Yet despite having journeyed half the Empire - from his humble beginnings in Jaedaxia to the fate he was sealed with in Diana (now Sacrum), from the rival city Holy City of Aslangrad to the Fire Isles, then all the way down to Medonia and Ziel Aerca - he had never set foot within those walls.
Hooves clip-clopped across unfamiliar cobbled streets. Victoriam was the horse's given name, a black gelding with a white blaze and socks on four hooves. Though not the finest, he was a very well mannered horse, raised from the fabled stables of the Church of Faith, steadfast and loyal. To this day he still accompanied his charge from the time before the young priest was even ordained. But he has aged now, no longer having the stamina and speed to sustain long travels. Still they had made it from the Lotus Temple, and was now navigating the narrow but colorful streets thronged with people of all species and from all walks of life. Onwards he plodded, despite not knowing the way. Such was the trust and bond between horse and rider. Sad, the same cannot be said between the rider and the people in his life...
Iori McKenzie held the reins in a relaxed grip, guiding his trusty mount with purpose. He may not know the place, and the long journey demanded his worn body to seek the nearest inn for food and rest. But that was not to be his destination. He knew exactly what he was looking for, having arrived for a very specific reason. Entry into the city and the directions he needed were carefully negotiated at the gates. Nothing a Mystic of his prowess could not handle. Yet from afar he could already see the tall spires, the dome and the bell tower lording over the rooftops. Perhaps even without directions, to find the location of the cathedral, one only needed to look up and seek out the style of grandiose architecture the Church lavishly spent their wealth on.
Victoriam was soon within its compounds, and unless there was a reason or the night has gone too deep, the entryway would be open to the public for those wishing to attend mass, or seek blessings, sacraments, penitence, counsel and the various other services the Church provides be it spiritual or even of a non-spiritual nature, such as politics or business. Again, not his goal. He was not here as a mere layman reaching out for the Church. Instead he came as one of them.
Sliding off the saddle, the young priest led his horse towards the stables. He would seek the stable hands first, get Victoriam settled in, before requesting an audience with a ranked member of the clergy managing this cathedral. He doubt they would dare deny him. Not when he came from Sacrum, on official duty. The white robes cascade from his shoulders, the Golden Triance shimmered at the back, with the heraldry of the Church proudly emblazoned on the left breast. Underneath he wore the cassock, buttoned only at the upper half. Solemn black trousers accompanied the vestments, completed with the cincture around his waist, and tied with the celibacy knots portraying his oaths. A longsword was visible, its scabbard slung from his left hip.
Truly, it has been so long since he last held a sword, and wore those very clothes, having spent years locked away in the dungeons of a Temple overseen by a Champion of Alithea. It was startling how different he looked when clad back in the holy vestments, with his straightened back and upright shoulders. There was the air of piety and reverence, and his posture commanded both authority and eminence, as befitting his station as a Priest of the Church of Faith. From Sacrum no less. A far cry it was as compared to when he had been stripped, put in chains, and made to kneel or submit. With the way he presented himself now, nobody could have guessed the kind of depraved acts he had committed or been subjected to throughout all these years he had gone missing from the Church.
He knew this place. The heart of the Heartlands. The capital of Centripax. Yet despite having journeyed half the Empire - from his humble beginnings in Jaedaxia to the fate he was sealed with in Diana (now Sacrum), from the rival city Holy City of Aslangrad to the Fire Isles, then all the way down to Medonia and Ziel Aerca - he had never set foot within those walls.
Hooves clip-clopped across unfamiliar cobbled streets. Victoriam was the horse's given name, a black gelding with a white blaze and socks on four hooves. Though not the finest, he was a very well mannered horse, raised from the fabled stables of the Church of Faith, steadfast and loyal. To this day he still accompanied his charge from the time before the young priest was even ordained. But he has aged now, no longer having the stamina and speed to sustain long travels. Still they had made it from the Lotus Temple, and was now navigating the narrow but colorful streets thronged with people of all species and from all walks of life. Onwards he plodded, despite not knowing the way. Such was the trust and bond between horse and rider. Sad, the same cannot be said between the rider and the people in his life...
Iori McKenzie held the reins in a relaxed grip, guiding his trusty mount with purpose. He may not know the place, and the long journey demanded his worn body to seek the nearest inn for food and rest. But that was not to be his destination. He knew exactly what he was looking for, having arrived for a very specific reason. Entry into the city and the directions he needed were carefully negotiated at the gates. Nothing a Mystic of his prowess could not handle. Yet from afar he could already see the tall spires, the dome and the bell tower lording over the rooftops. Perhaps even without directions, to find the location of the cathedral, one only needed to look up and seek out the style of grandiose architecture the Church lavishly spent their wealth on.
Victoriam was soon within its compounds, and unless there was a reason or the night has gone too deep, the entryway would be open to the public for those wishing to attend mass, or seek blessings, sacraments, penitence, counsel and the various other services the Church provides be it spiritual or even of a non-spiritual nature, such as politics or business. Again, not his goal. He was not here as a mere layman reaching out for the Church. Instead he came as one of them.
Sliding off the saddle, the young priest led his horse towards the stables. He would seek the stable hands first, get Victoriam settled in, before requesting an audience with a ranked member of the clergy managing this cathedral. He doubt they would dare deny him. Not when he came from Sacrum, on official duty. The white robes cascade from his shoulders, the Golden Triance shimmered at the back, with the heraldry of the Church proudly emblazoned on the left breast. Underneath he wore the cassock, buttoned only at the upper half. Solemn black trousers accompanied the vestments, completed with the cincture around his waist, and tied with the celibacy knots portraying his oaths. A longsword was visible, its scabbard slung from his left hip.
Truly, it has been so long since he last held a sword, and wore those very clothes, having spent years locked away in the dungeons of a Temple overseen by a Champion of Alithea. It was startling how different he looked when clad back in the holy vestments, with his straightened back and upright shoulders. There was the air of piety and reverence, and his posture commanded both authority and eminence, as befitting his station as a Priest of the Church of Faith. From Sacrum no less. A far cry it was as compared to when he had been stripped, put in chains, and made to kneel or submit. With the way he presented himself now, nobody could have guessed the kind of depraved acts he had committed or been subjected to throughout all these years he had gone missing from the Church.