The Temple of Sune

[Fuzziebunny]

The Temple grounds were a swirl of color and noise. Chime strolled among the refugee’s turned labors cheerfully. She could hear the women chattering to each other, small children racing about their feet as they started the day’s chores. Their rough voices weren’t exactly melodic, but there was a beauty in them all the same. A thread of hope that made her want to stop and smile at them, though she didn’t think they wouldn’t appreciate the interruption.

Chime passed stacks of supplies where a ruddy cheeked man called out instructions to a group organizing planks of wood. She saw a woman in a pale dress siring something in a large pot. Men in heavy boots and the rough fur garb of the north were lined up, moving heavy crates. They were all bustling around the small courtyard. Metal clanged in the distance as the blacksmiths hammer rang. It was finally happening.

She couldn’t help smiling as she exclaimed over bolts of colored cloth and smoothed her fingers over samples of stone. There was so much work to be done, it was only the beginning. But it was a beginning. The Temple of Sune would stand once more with in Aquor. Spring was coming.

[Fuzziebunny]

Chime sat on a barrel in the middle of the old library. She had been up with the workers since dawn, scrubbing down the thick oak book cases that lined the room. The wood had held up well over the years, but some of the shelves had been cracked. She wished she knew enough about wood work to know if they could be salvaged or not. They were beautiful pieces and a legacy from the original Temple. With luck they could be repaired and set back into place.

The Temple had changed hands twice since the last time it belonged to the Lady of Love, and this room seemed to reflect the change of custody more than any other. She had no idea what the lure of the library was. But it was clear that it had sustained more damage than any where else. What the Aurilites hadn’t destroyed, the Banites surely had. And it was a shame really. From what she could see of all that remained, the original carvings had been breath taking.

The young Heartwarder lifted hand to push a wisp of hair back under the kerchief covering her hair, then she levered herself up and off the barrel. She needed to find the carpenter and get an estimate on the damages. Then she needed to figure out what sort of wood had been allocated to the Temple by the Enclave. Maybe if she couldn't repair the shelves she could have new ones made that matched what was lost. With a little sigh she shook her head and brushed off her skirt. There was so much to be done and there seemed to be less and less time every day.

[Fuzziebunny]

Her soft, tired groan was louder than Chime intended it to be. She hadn’t meant to draw attention to herself but could feel the stares of the others in the room as she reached up high, arching her body in a long, back popping stretch. The young woman’s cheeks redden slightly and she hastily lowered her arms and straightened her worn dress.


This was the one room in the Temple that had always puzzled her. She was not quite sure exactly what it was supposed to be for. The room was in a state of disrepair, as was most of the temple, but the placement of a crystal in the middle of the floor seemed deliberate. She often wondered who had put it there. Was it from the original Temple?


Of course she had considered removing the crystal orb, but it was a thing of beauty. The surface of it shimmered and gleamed with soft colors, rather like oil on water. She didn't think it would harm anything for now. But she knew she needed to study it soon. It would never do to have something that could harm others resting in the heart of the Temple. Her bright green eyes lingered on the glowing stone for several long moments before she turned to the refuges in the room with her, and gestured for them to precede her out the door.


Clicking her tongues lightly, she slide a hand over her hip then strolled after the others. There would be time to figure it out later. For now there was far too much to do for her to stand here staring at pretty glass baubles. Her steps slowed at the door though, and she couldn’t seem to resist one final look at the orb. Resting her hand on the doorway, she turned once more, watching the colors play in the depths of the crystal. Then she shook her head, quietly and firmly shutting the door behind her.

[Fuzziebunny]

Chime slowly tilted the crystal from side to side, watching the light refract onto the stone in glowing rainbow.

“Flawless”, she breathed, as she watched the play of light.“ Not one single inclusion or blemish to hide your light. For you my beauty, the possibilities are endless.”

She was always thrilled with the opportunity a new gem presented her in its uncut state. In her minds eye, she saw all the possibilities flow and change. It could be a ring of gold set with an intricately cut gem, a glittering jeweled comb, the pommel of a weapon, a mages focus….

The young artiest pursed her lips and sighed, letting the uncut gem fall back down to the velvet covered work table.None of those shapes called to her. They didn’t seem to fit what she could feel as she looked into the heart of the diamond. Slowly she sat down at the small worktable. Then she let her cheek rest in the palm of her hand, propping her head up as she continued to stare down at the gem.

She had always loved the way jewels gleamed, the feel of smooth, polished stone as it warmed in the hand, the play of light in the depths of stone.It never managed to lose is wonder. Each stone brought a new challenge, its own personality. She laughed a little at her own thoughts.Personality….She wondered what the Thane would say about the personality of gems. The woman’s lips curved up into a slow smile and she let her fingers linger for a few more moments on diamond before she swept it up, dropping it into a soft leather bag.

It was a pity she has so little time for art lately.With all that had been going on in Sundren, it might have been comforting to spend a few days on the joy of shear creation.With a quiet promise to herself to make something lovely soon, Chime dropped the bag into one of the safe’s in the temple. Then she left the room, searching for one the refugee’s that worked in the temple.

[Fuzziebunny]

Chime stepped out of the Temple's thick, reinforced doors. It was still early; the small, homey sounds of a city waking up only just audible from the Temple's courtyard. The soft tread of boots on cobblestone, the muted thunk of hammers hitting wood, they were all familiar, comforting sounds.

She paused near one of the benches in the Temples courtyard; taking a slow, deep breath. Across the city, to the east, the sun was just cresting the banks of the Az'Gema lake. The first hints of rose, scarlet and gold; only now painting the dark waters with their light. For several long moments she watched color spill out over town. Her aunt had told her once that each dawn was unique, the colors and shadings of the light forming to make that one, perfect picture. It was beautiful and heartbreaking a symbol that never failed to remind her of what she so desperately wanted for Sundren.

The winter air turned her breath to mist as she lifted her voice and sang to the rising sun. She was no Dawnbringer, no daughter of the Sun Lord's house, but she sang with all the passion and wonder that any of those devoted to his service might feel. Her sweet, high voice rose as she sang of hope and new beginnings; of the promise that each new dawn brings. She closed her eyes, giving voice to all the tightly held longing that she so desperately wanted to become a reality. She sang and sang.....

Chime took another breath, as the sun finally took its place in the sky. Her throat was burning and chest ached as if she had run for miles in the cold. She knew if she didn't talk to a healer soon, she would probably be hoarse for days. A soft sigh left her lips and she swallowed painfully. No doubt the Legion Outpost would file a complaint on her. She was sure the Thayans had a noise ordinance somewhere. But, she hoped that someone at least felt the dawn's light as keenly as she did. It was a small thing, a song in the darkness, but maybe someone was listening.

[Fuzziebunny]

The young priestess's breath misted in the air as she stared up at the golden statue standing in the temple courtyard. It was wondrous creation of stone and alchemical gold; a glorious gift from the Pendraig Family to the priestess of Love and Beauty. They had commissioned it when Aquor was still untouched by the hand of war and this small town had been a haven for music and song. The Pendraig's had been patrons of the Temple of Sune then. It had been their craftsmen who had shaped the original Temple grounds, and their love of the Goddesses shining visage that had allowed the priestess of the Lady of Love to bring Her message here to Aquor. Of course that had all been long before the second sundering when fear of the Bloodmaim tribe ruled the hearts of many and the taint of the Black Lord upon the land was still a small thing.

Chime lifted a gloved hand, brushing away a dusting of snow from the golden statue's feet. The Pendraig Family were all gone now. They had disappeared into the chaos that surrounded the occupation of Aquor by the Aurlites. No one that she had spoken to had any clue at all to where they might be now. She knew that there were people searching for signs of the family; had even spoken briefly to scholars about the family herself. But as far as she could tell, nothing had ever been discovered about what had actually happened to them. It was as if the night had wrapped around the entire family like some great serpent and swallowed them whole.

She turned away from the statue. Her bright green gaze lingerd on Dalian's carefully tended flowers growing in a thick tangle around the courtyard. For a moment she wondered if the Temple itself held the answers to the mystery that surrounded the noble patrons that had once made Aquor a shining town of beauty and art. Slowly, she sighed, the soft cloud of her breath drifting away from her in the gentle breeze. Then shook her head; pushing the thought from her mind as she pulled the hood of her fur lined cloak over her silver hair. It was a mystery that would have to wait for now. There were other matters that had her attention at this moment and she couldn't afford to be distracted, no matter how worthy that distraction might be. After one last, lingering glance at the brilliant red flowers, the young priestess straightened her skirt and hurried off towards Aquor.

[Fuzziebunny]

The priestess picked up her tea cup, taking a long drink. Then she grimaced, swallowed and set it back down. The tea was cold. And she had little doubt it had been cold for hours. She sighed and lifted a hand, pushing it through her silver hair. Then she bent her head, frowned slightly as she studied the sketch spread out on the table before her.

The bold, black lines of the flute detailed a deceptively simple instrument. The design was classic, it had the basic, six holed frame that was popular among the fey of her homeland. Though she doubted any of her wild kin from the Yuirwood would have chosen the sort of wood she favored for such a creation. She brushed the edge of the quill against her lower lip, and then began adding notes to the margin of her sketch.

Icewind Fir - should be hard enough to hold mithral inlay if anchors are used sparingly and with care

Chime took a breath and blew gently on the wet ink. Then, with careful deliberation, she traced an elaborate orange blossom design along the length of the instrument; letting the blossoms trail over holes of the instrument in complicated whirls. Below the flute, she recreated the complete floral design, adding several notes about precise lengths and depths of the carvings. After she traced the final word out, she cast a careful eye over her work. Lightly she dusted sand over the parchment and then set her quill back into a silver holder near the ink well.

Of course she didn’t have the skill to make an instrument herself. But she thought Master Asperwind of the Chord of Delight might. He was one of the few pure blooded elves she knew that actually still lived in Aquor. He was also the current manager of the only music store still standing within the town. And that was something she desperately wanted to change. One of many things about Aquor’s current state she wanted to change.

She picked up the parchment, shaking the sand back into a bucket set by the table for just that purpose. Then rolled her design up and tucked it under her arm. She had been working on thank you letters and arranging small little gifts from the Temple to the various dignitaries who came to the Winter Festival or donated something for the Festival before she started this little project. She was tired and she knew she wasn’t fit to see anyone in such a state. With a little yawn, the young priestess drifted through the door at the rear of the library. She needed a bath and then her bed.

[Fuzziebunny]

Chime Mynick settled down onto the plush cushion of the chair, sighing. She had spent more time than she intended talking about her most recent excursion outside of Aquor. In her humble opinion, far too many people wanted to know about her trip with Lord Blackwell and the Governor. Honestly, avoiding all the questions she didn’t and wasn’t going to answer was becoming rather exhausting. Slowly she lifted a hand, brushing a bit of silver hair away from her cheek then took a careful look around the room. When she was sure she was alone, she leaned her head back, green eyes slowly drifting shut.

It had been several weeks since she, along with River and Bram, as well as a small handful of adventures, had returned from the icy roads and the mountains along the Spine. And she hadn’t even been back in town for an hour before the questions had begun. Some of them she could and did answer easily enough.

“Yes, she had gone for some time."

"Yes, she went out with a small party. "

"No, she wasn’t personal friends Lord Blackwell. "

"No, she wasn’t a member of the legion.”


There had been lots and lots of questions. And she had made a point of glossing over most of the details of her trip up the mountain. For the most part, individuals interested in getting the story out of her were usually deterred by a vague smile and a hint of confusion in her expression. There were others however, who were far more resilient. It was vexing but not truly surprising. Some people actually did pay attention to more than just the surface details of the people they consorted with.

She wasn’t really inclined to share her story with anyone, no matter how perceptive. For her, the journey had been personal. It had been one of atonement as much as a desire to help Sundren or sate her curiosity. She had felt that, in going with Lord Blackwell, she might finally loose the guilt she had felt at the loss of so many of the Triumvirate on the Day of Broken Blades. Logically of course, she knew that what the Triumvirate had done, the losses they suffered, had made a difference. If they hadn’t been there, the portal would never have fallen. She had told herself this many, many times. But guilt had never been logical. It had lingered with her. And she hadn’t even realized how much she felt the burden of the guilt until she had seen Lord Blackwell’s face at the Legion barracks. Maybe, he hadn’t known who she was, though, she though it more likely that he didn’t care who she was. He also hadn’t demanded that she help him. He hadn’t demanded that any of them help him. It had been a simple request, nothing more. And like her, no one in the group had felt the need to deny him.

The high, breathy notes of a flute drifted from the open door behind her, distracting her briefly from her thoughts. She wondered who the player was; idly she considered the various different people she knew could play the flute with that level of skill. It was a catchy tune, deceptively simply. Those trills were genius though. Perhaps later she would find musician and ask them to teach her the tune. Gently she tapped a finger on the arm of her chair, listening for a moment or two longer; allowing the song to lift her spirits. Music had always had that effect on her. Finally, she shifted in her seat and adjusted the position of her skirts; letting her mind drift back to past events.

[Fuzziebunny]

Chime Mynick settled down onto the plush cushion of the chair, sighing. She had spent more time than she intended talking about her most recent excursion outside of Aquor. In her humble opinion, far too many people wanted to know about her trip with Lord Blackwell and the Governor. Honestly, avoiding all the questions she didn’t and wasn’t going to answer was becoming rather exhausting. Slowly she lifted a hand, brushing a bit of silver hair away from her cheek then took a careful look around the room. When she was sure she was alone, she leaned her head back, green eyes slowly drifting shut.

It had been several weeks since she, along with River and Bram, as well as a small handful of adventures, had returned from the icy roads and the mountains along the Spine. And she hadn’t even been back in town for an hour before the questions had begun. Some of them she could and did answer easily enough.

“Yes, she had gone for some time."

"Yes, she went out with a small party. "

"No, she wasn’t personal friends Lord Blackwell. "

"No, she wasn’t a member of the legion.”


There had been lots and lots of questions. And she had made a point of glossing over most of the details of her trip up the mountain. For the most part, individuals interested in getting the story out of her were usually deterred by a vague smile and a hint of confusion in her expression. There were others however, who were far more resilient. It was vexing but not truly surprising. Some people actually did pay attention to more than just the surface details of the people they consorted with.

She hadn't really been inclined to share her story with anyone no matter how perceptive. For her, the journey had been personal. It had been a mission of atonement for her failings as much as a desire to help Sundren or sate her curiosity. She had felt that, in going with Lord Blackwell, she might finally loose the guilt she had felt at the loss of so many of the Triumvirate on the Day of Broken Blades. Logically of course, she knew that what the Triumvirate had done, the losses they suffered, had made a difference. If they hadn’t been there, the portal would never have fallen. She had told herself this many, many times. But guilt had never been logical. It had lingered with her. And she hadn’t even realized how much she felt the burden of the guilt until she had seen Lord Blackwell’s face at the Legion barracks. Maybe, he hadn’t known who she was, though, she though it more likely that he didn’t care who she was. He also hadn’t demanded that she help him. He hadn’t demanded that any of them help him. It had been a simple request, nothing more. And like her, no one in the group had felt the need to deny him.

The high, breathy notes of a flute drifted from the open door behind her, distracting her briefly from her thoughts. She wondered who the player was; idly she considered the various different people she knew could play the flute with that level of skill. It was a catchy tune, deceptively simply. Those trills were genius though. Perhaps later she would find musician and ask them to teach her the tune. Gently she tapped a finger on the arm of her chair, listening for a moment or two longer; allowing the song to lift her spirits. Music had always had that effect on her. Finally, she shifted in her seat and adjusted the position of her skirts; letting her mind drift back to past events.

[Fuzziebunny]

Chime Mynick settled down onto the plush cushion of the chair, sighing. She had spent more time than she intended talking about her most recent excursion outside of Aquor. In her humble opinion, far too many people wanted to know about her trip with Lord Blackwell and the Governor. Honestly, avoiding all the questions she didn’t and wasn’t going to answer was becoming rather exhausting. Slowly she lifted a hand, brushing a bit of silver hair away from her cheek then took a careful look around the room. When she was sure she was alone, she leaned her head back, green eyes slowly drifting shut.

It had been several weeks since she, along with River and Bram, as well as a small handful of adventures, had returned from the icy roads and the mountains along the Spine. And she hadn’t even been back in town for an hour before the questions had begun. Some of them she could and did answer easily enough.

“Yes, she had gone for some time."

"Yes, she went out with a small party. "

"No, she wasn’t personal friends Lord Blackwell. "

"No, she wasn’t a member of the legion.”


There had been lots and lots of questions. And she had made a point of glossing over most of the details of her trip up the mountain. For the most part, individuals interested in getting the story out of her were usually deterred by a vague smile and a hint of confusion in her expression. There were others however, who were far more resilient. It was vexing but not truly surprising. Some people actually did pay attention to more than just the surface details of the people they consorted with.

She hadn't really been inclined to share her story with anyone no matter how perceptive. For her, the journey had been personal. It had been a mission of atonement for her failings as much as a desire to help Sundren or sate her curiosity. She had felt that, in going with Lord Blackwell, she might finally loose the guilt she had felt at the loss of so many of the Triumvirate on the Day of Broken Blades. Logically of course, she knew that what the Triumvirate had done, the losses they suffered, had made a difference. If they hadn’t been there, the portal would never have fallen. She had told herself this many, many times. But guilt had never been logical. It had lingered with her, and she hadn’t even realized how much she felt the burden of the guilt until she had seen Lord Blackwell’s face at the Legion barracks. Maybe, he hadn’t known who she was, though, she though it more likely that he didn’t care who she was. He also hadn’t demanded that she help him. He hadn’t demanded that any of them help him. It had been a simple request, nothing more. And like her, no one in the group had felt the need to deny him.

The high, breathy notes of a flute drifted from the open door behind her, distracting her briefly from her thoughts. She wondered who the player was; idly she considered the various different people she knew could play the flute with that level of skill. It was a catchy tune, deceptively simply. Those trills were genius though. Perhaps later she would find musician and ask them to teach her the tune. Gently she tapped a finger on the arm of her chair, listening for a moment or two longer; allowing the song to lift her spirits. Music had always had that effect on her. Finally, she shifted in her seat and adjusted the position of her skirts; letting her mind drift back to past events.

[Fuzziebunny]

Chime Mynick settled down onto the plush cushion of the chair, sighing. She had spent more time than she intended talking about her most recent excursion outside of Aquor. In her humble opinion, far too many people wanted to know about her trip with Lord Blackwell and the Governor. Honestly, avoiding all the questions she didn’t and wasn’t going to answer was becoming rather exhausting. Slowly she lifted a hand, brushing a bit of silver hair away from her cheek then took a careful look around the room. When she was sure she was alone, she leaned her head back, green eyes slowly drifting shut.

It had been several weeks since she, along with River and Bram, as well as a small handful of adventures, had returned from the icy roads and the mountains along the Spine. And she hadn’t even been back in town for an hour before the questions had begun. Some of them she could and did answer easily enough.

“Yes, she had gone for some time."

"Yes, she went out with a small party. "

"No, she wasn’t personal friends Lord Blackwell. "

"No, she wasn’t a member of the legion.”


There had been lots and lots of questions. And she had made a point of glossing over most of the details of her trip up the mountain. For the most part, individuals interested in getting the story out of her were usually deterred by a vague smile and a hint of confusion in her expression. There were others however, who were far more resilient. It was vexing but not truly surprising. Some people actually did pay attention to more than just the surface details of the people they consorted with.

She hadn't really been inclined to share her story with anyone no matter how perceptive. For her, the journey had been personal. It had been a mission of atonement for her failings as much as a desire to help Sundren or sate her curiosity. She had felt that, in going with Lord Blackwell, she might finally loose the guilt she had felt at the loss of so many of the Triumvirate on the Day of Broken Blades. Logically of course, she knew that what the Triumvirate had done, the losses they suffered, had made a difference. If they hadn’t been there, the portal would never have fallen. She had told herself this many, many times. But guilt had never been logical. It had lingered with her, and she hadn’t even realized how much she felt the burden of the guilt until she had seen Lord Blackwell’s face at the Legion barracks. Maybe, he hadn’t known who she was, though, she though it more likely that he didn’t care who she was. He also hadn’t demanded that she help him. He hadn’t demanded that any of them help him. It had been a simple request, nothing more. And like her, no one in the group had felt the need to deny him.

The high, breathy notes of a flute drifted from the open door behind her, distracting her briefly from her thoughts. She wondered who the player was; idly she considered the various different people she knew could play the flute with that level of skill. It was a catchy tune, deceptively simply. Those trills were genius though. Perhaps later she would find musician and ask them to teach her the tune. Gently she tapped a finger on the arm of her chair, listening for a moment or two longer; allowing the song to lift her spirits. Music had always had that effect on her. Finally, she shifted in her seat and adjusted the position of her skirts; letting her mind drift back to past events.

[Fuzziebunny]

Chime Mynick settled down onto the plush cushion of the chair, sighing. She had spent more time than she intended talking about her most recent excursion outside of Aquor. In her humble opinion, far too many people wanted to know about her trip with Lord Blackwell and the Governor. Honestly, avoiding all the questions she didn’t and wasn’t going to answer was becoming rather exhausting. Slowly she lifted a hand, brushing a bit of silver hair away from her cheek then took a careful look around the room. When she was sure she was alone, she leaned her head back, green eyes slowly drifting shut.

It had been several weeks since she, along with River and Bram, as well as a small handful of adventures, had returned from the icy roads and the mountains along the Spine. And she hadn’t even been back in town for an hour before the questions had begun. Some of them she could and did answer easily enough.

“Yes, she had gone for some time."

"Yes, she went out with a small party. "

"No, she wasn’t personal friends Lord Blackwell. "

"No, she wasn’t a member of the legion.”


There had been lots and lots of questions. And she had made a point of glossing over most of the details of her trip up the mountain. For the most part, individuals interested in getting the story out of her were usually deterred by a vague smile and a hint of confusion in her expression. There were others however, who were far more resilient. It was vexing but not truly surprising. Some people actually did pay attention to more than just the surface details of the people they consorted with.

She hadn't really been inclined to share her story with anyone no matter how perceptive. For her, the journey had been personal. It had been a mission of atonement for her failings as much as a desire to help Sundren or sate her curiosity. She had felt that, in going with Lord Blackwell, she might finally loose the guilt she had felt at the loss of so many of the Triumvirate on the Day of Broken Blades. Logically of course, she knew that what the Triumvirate had done, the losses they suffered, had made a difference. If they hadn’t been there, the portal would never have fallen. She had told herself this many, many times. But guilt had never been logical. It had lingered with her, and she hadn’t even realized how much she felt the burden of the guilt until she had seen Lord Blackwell’s face at the Legion barracks. Maybe, he hadn’t known who she was, though, she though it more likely that he didn’t care who she was. He also hadn’t demanded that she help him. He hadn’t demanded that any of them help him. It had been a simple request, nothing more. And like her, no one in the group had felt the need to deny him.

The high, breathy notes of a flute drifted from the open door behind her, distracting her briefly from her thoughts. She wondered who the player was; idly she considered the various different people she knew could play the flute with that level of skill. It was a catchy tune, deceptively simply. Those trills were genius though. Perhaps later she would find musician and ask them to teach her the tune. Gently she tapped a finger on the arm of her chair, listening for a moment or two longer; allowing the song to lift her spirits. Music had always had that effect on her. Finally, she shifted in her seat and adjusted the position of her skirts; letting her mind drift back to past events.