Journal Entry: 8 – 11 Haar’Kiev, 174 – Nyneva’s Prayer
by Nyneva
In prayer the cleric knelt after having taken up the body of her fallen friend. She had pulled her hair away from her face, revealing the lost ear and scar; the tale of which only few knew. Taking out the religious symbol she kept close to her heart she began to pray.
What Nyneva drew upon the ground.
“Oh Great Benyar, my god and deliverer. Praise be unto thee for the saving of this party less one, poor wretch. In your wisdom, we beseech thee to deliver Dumbarton Oakes into your hands and to his god so that he may once again favor us with his magic. While he did not worship you this tiny fairy’s death honors thee as it was brave, selfless, and favored a pointy object which you claim for thine. In his selflessness, he saved those which worship you or will… eventually. For they will see the right of your might as Sondra led them to honor you… If I could only convince her of that. Please continue to watch over us as is your will. Amen.”
Dusting the dirt from her tunic, she placed the holy symbol back under her tunic and looked upon the flayed body of Dumbarton Oakes. Hand flat to the earth she took a fistful. Blood, gore and dust covered her bare hand. As she spoke she drew upon the ground three grouped and intertwined triangles, “We are naught but dust if not for Benyar.” The cleric became quiet as she began her internal reflection.
Dead but not forgotten… Doakes, except by Sondra who has been singing about herself all damn day. Thanks to the Bard in her head… ‘warrior and beauty’ and a few other rhymes are tumbling from her mouth. Whilst she forgets, as usual, that she was only one of the party that ran up that hill. If not for her, Doakes, the beautiful, would be alive. Inevitably, she’ll find a bard in town and throw gold at it to sing of her honor. Hopefully, she’ll include me in it, I’m the cleric after all, I represent HER god and without Benyar she’d just be a hair-twirling-sword-flailing maniac. I’d like a bit of honor, too. Would it hurt to recognize that? Benyar himself took my arrow in hand and led it to the face of that disgusting and godless creature. By his hand, I was able to deliver that shot and more and than heal, heal by HIS great gifts. It was all for Benyar, all for him… and yet there she goes, prancing off and twirling her hair again – flapping gums. It is only because I trust you, Benyar, that I continue to be near her. She is, after all, guided by your hand. I won’t tell her, I promise.”
As the cleric glided in her thoughts through the next moments she heard a small voice from without, breaking into internal prayer, “Ninny… which part is the pixie and which is the fairie?”
“Benyar, give me strength.”
Very, very nice!