[SunnMonastery] Quick, Pull My Finger! (Ronan Stoutfoot)

[Amarillo]

 

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TRAINING THD: L1 Mysticism - Ronan Stoutfoot

It was a typical winter brightening for this part of Lauryl; enough coolness in the air to be uncomfortable for most of the Kemish population, but enough sunshine to make the heart smile in remembrance that Spring would once again make Her presence felt among the rolling hills surrounding the City of Song.

Amid the quiet, a light, breeze brought a lingering “Hei’yitss!” For those that heard the now-familiar cry had just walked past a newly built wall of stone and marble that stood high on the northern hills, keeping out most of the prying eyes that sought a curious glance or look of the recently built monastery within a new Zinn’Sunn.

A well-crafted and scrolled iron gate that was locked against the peak of the night’s moon and unlocked before the first rays of the new day’s sun rose, now stood open and inviting. When entering the main grounds it was like entering a whole new world. One of peace and harmony could with the balance of man and nature. Lawns that were well maintained lay at the feet of magnificently groomed trees such as cypress, oak, cheery blossom, and weeping willows. Broken shards of crystalline streams flowed to and from wondrous fountains of carved marble, centered in small ponds filled with colorful koi.

Off to one side of the main path, summer's warmth would reveal another, smaller trail that weaves into a beautiful garden filled with lush plants and exotic flowers. Small, secluded benches rest here and there along the trail - even in winter - each sitting creating a view of enchanting delight.

“Hei’yitss!”

Came the shouting cry of several crimson-clad students mimicking the fluid movements of their instructor out in a fair-sized open field opposite of the gardens. They all moved in sync with one another while performing some complex but graceful maneuver that their crimson and gold instructor guided them through. “Hei’yitss!” came another explosion of breath and sound from the students as they all moved as one, oblivious to all.

The main building itself looked much like early Kemite construction – a fact that was deceptive given its recent date of building. Large stone walls began from the foundation but melded with gleaming dark wood to a tiered roof made of red-clay tiles. Though only a single level in height, its size was massive, made even more so by the outstretched patio of that same dark wood that completely surrounds the structure. Several, smaller buildings, perhaps bungalows built in the same fashion, sit unobtrusively in the back, behind the main building.

Inside, through great double doors carved in the likeness of both dragon and griffin on either side, comes a peace and harmony that matches the monastery’s outer lawns. Within the lobby its walls and floors glow almost golden from the oiling and polishing of exotic woods such as teak and mahogany. Decorative statues of mythical creatures in rearing or aggressive postures line the walls gracefully. Each statue has been carved from the purest jade available, and sit on pillars of silver-veined marble of the purest black. Large paintings done with eloquent brush strokes hang counter to the statues, each representing Zinn’Sunn during more ancient times. More powerful times.

Centered at the rear of the entry hall stands a large, cherrywood table. Behind it sits a beautiful elfess. She seems to be reading something about five interlocking rings. Behind her there was no wall and yet only the muffled sounds of two people sparring could be heard, as if some sort of glass covered the wall so as to display the artistry of the monks in training.

OOC: Ronan, please timestamp your opening post. It is your FT, after all!

[Ronan Stoutfoot]

The Month of Mid-Immanis, in the Season of Winter, Era I of the Celestine Mandate, Era XV Post Fractum.

The happy cether moved around the enclosed area without a care. He was finally finding his way amongst the taller folk that filled the city, and the monastery. He felt as if he was truly becoming one with the ideals that Torek required of the Monks of Sunn Monastery. Ronan was not as serious, nor as strict in following his duties. But he did perform them with a zeal of happiness once he got started. As usually there was something that would draw his attention away, and require one of the younger monks to find him and remind him of the tasks of the brightening.

The golden tufts of hair on the Cethers feet moved through the rich grasses of the manicured lawns. These were the simple pleasures that the Cether enjoyed, it was through these mundane things that he found the the ability to center himself. He often practiced the meditation skills he learned here, on various stone benches that were found throughout the gardens. It was an idyllic existence for the Cether, much more than he could have asked for in the Burrows of the shire he called home as a child. There he worked fields, her he worked his body and mind. Forging himself into a weapon of Torek, a creation of the Sunn Monastery. Or so he envisioned himself...

Ronan walked through the doors that served more as decoration than actually baring one way. The main gates of the complex did that, plus the scores of monks that were found milling about the grounds. Ronan was ready to take the next step in his progress as a monk, he was ready to learn the Arcane art of Mysticism. The chosen arcane craft that the monks of the monastery mastered. Ronan had to become proficient to at least the adept level to become a SunnSon, the journeyman level for monks. He had trained in mediation upon his arrival, as the SunnFathers hoped his would calm his hyper mink. Then he trained his body in the Zinn'Ka art of ATAA, the unarmed form of combat that was most favored by the monks here. And finally he received his apprentice level in healing, so he could serve the people of Zinn'Sunn through the monastery's hospice.

'Serale SunnDaughter, I wish to inquire about the next portion of training. I was told that I would need to learn about the Arcane art, though I am not sure if I have to actually perform them. Maybe just know a lot about it...

I have not heard of many Cether that actually practice. But if that is what the SunnFathers require, then I will follow their instruction' He bowed his head in reverence to the will of his elder monk, and the direction that the Eldest monks held for him. The curly locks fell in front of his large gray eyes as he looked up a bit earlier than was custom for those fully trained in the arts of being a true monk.

[Amarillo]

For the twenty-sixth brightening in the month of Immanis - in the snow-shrouded depths of a Lauryllian winter - the Monastery’s population was amazingly mobile. Perhaps it was the warmth that radiated from each individual’s smile as he or she greeted other students and instructors; perhaps it was the benevolence of Torek and Prensia that ultimately pervaded the atmosphere. Whatever the reason, the Cether was but one more figure (albeit a very small figure!) in the cast of dozens traveling on foot within the Monastery’s bounds.

Inside the main hallway, things were more subdued as the noise and movement so prevalent outside was somewhat diminished by the large doorway through which Ronan passed. It was almost as if the structure resonated with the spiritual nature of those who came seeking enlightenment. For most, that was a good thing … it kept conversations low and interactions polite. Occasionally one entered that did not have the same interaction with the building and its contents; at such times the staff simply did the best they could with the material Torek had seen fit to provide.

Lilieth, the elfess seated at the table near the back wall of the entryway, looked up from her book as one of the newest recruits stopped before her. She knew of the Cether – who among the monks and staff did not? – but could not immediately put a name to the happy countenance. Her shoulders lifted in an infinitesimal shrug; it mattered not since the youngster would have to eventually inscribe his mark on the register if he was partaking of training from one of the resident Masters. At being addressed as SunnDaughter, a peal of laughter as clear as a mountain stream burst unexpectedly from her lips, followed by a brilliant smile that showed off her even white teeth to best advantage. As she listened to the rest of the Cether’s statement the laughter tapered off to absolute quiet, and – although the welcoming smile remained fixed upon him – a hint of concern darkened the gaze she directed at him.

“To be honest, I haven’t noted many Cether who have successfully completed sufficient training to be able to handle the rigors inherent in dealings with the Essence of Thought. On the other hand, you are correct – it would seem that the Sunnfathers in their wisdom have seen fit to put it forth as a required course of study. Thus it may be that you become the very first Cether practitioner of the Mystic art.”

She laid her hands flat upon the table and allowed an earnest tone to color the timbre of her Elven lilt. “Make no mistake, young man. The intent is to have those trained in the Art fully competent and able to practice what they have learned. In truth, it is like most other things; lack of practice will eventually mean losing the skills and knowledge gained.”

“Tell me …” she paused, trying in vain to come up with his name before covering her lack of knowledge by playing with the tip of her silvered hair “… what do you know of the magic of the Spheres? And why would you attempt something that might cause you to lose your mind? Or perhaps get you killed? I don’t want to hear that it is ‘because it is required for the monk’s path’ either … I want your own feelings and thoughts.”

"It is my responsibility to match students with the appropriate instructor, you see. Anything you can give me to work with would be much appreciated."