Miro x Father Zantus

Miro leaves the Mayors office and makes his way to the Cathedral.  He stops below its beautiful archs and rests for a second taking in the magnificent splendor that humans can create.  There he marvels for abit and contemplates his next moves.  He knew he would require support of the entire councel only by combining them as a unified force could he hope to see his quest into fruition.  The next step was Zantous.  He would be a hard sell.  Miro's only hope is that his understanding of Desna would see him through.

Abstalar is speaking with a group of concerned citizens and acolytes in the middle of the aisle after a service. "I understand. I have been reading the texts myself and praying about this day and night." "As have I, but why must the gods test us so," replies a young mother, baby in her arm. "I've faithful to Desna my whole life and I feel..." She trails off biting her lip. Father Zantus puts a gentle hand on her arm. "The gods test us because it is in our worst times that we stray. If our faith is strong then we are not so easily shaken in the dark." The woman winces at the gentle admonishment.

Miro walks into the chapel and hears Zantus lay out his wisdoms to his flock.  Miro was glad of Zantus.  It was nice to have someone he could speak to who would understand and help him in the ebbs and flows of time.  Miro waits patiently for the lesson to end as he continues to marvel at the cathedral.   Then like a truck a thought hits Miro's conscious.  In what way could it possibly please nethys to intergrate the peoples of sandpoint......  A thought that leads his mind into athousand different trails.   Pushing these thoughts from he mind he quietly minds Zantus's lesson.

"I agree with Mirelle, Father. If this is a test then Desna must surely want us to show strength and force these usurpers out of our town," a few other men nod and give a "yes". "She must want us to show might and take back what's ours from the grips of Lamashtu!" A more enthusiastic "Yes!" from the crowd straightens the man's spine with courage. "Let us wipe out every goblin in the Hinterlands and strengthen the hold that humans have! "Huzzah!"  The father looks stern for a moment at this. "Let us not forget that the beasts were once Desna's domain. Should we slay what was once her flock for-" "They strayed!" The admonished woman interjects with renewed fervor. "They strayed and we stayed. Let us cast them out! I heard from the Women's Council that killed all those men that worked the glassworks and now there's not one but two living in the Rusty Dragon! The entire Kaijitsu family is working for Lamashtu!"

At this Miro's brow furrows.  He walks to the group and with a small spell requiring but a few words he amplifies his sounds.  He raises his staff shoulder level and then brings the brass tip down with a thunderious crack throughout the cathedral.  Miro pulls down his hood but does not remove the robes to show the horrors beneith.   "I will accept many a thing.  I will accept people looking down at me for my size.  I will accept people speaking ill of my brother Bobole.  But I will not tolerate besmudging my families name."  Miro looks over the crowd.  "And forshame to you.  Is it not true that Desna herself tells us that causing fear and spreading anger is strictly against her teachings and looked down on in the highest.  Further blasphmy in that when faced with a trying time it is the job of her flock to spread hope not dread!" Miro walks directly into the crowd towards Zantus his face stern as stone but a fire in his silver eyes that burns like an inferno. "Zantoos there are matters I need to discuss with you if this "Riotious Crowd" can seek their faith long enough to realize their folly and disperse before darkened nightmares plague their dreams."  Miro snaps his head back at the crowd awaiting challenge on his words.

The crack of thunder causes the crowd and Father Zantus to jump. At Miro’s approach, many take a step back, fearing further reproach. The Father holds out his hand as a barrier between Miro and the congregants, though who he’s protecting who from is not clear, neither by the action nor the placid expression on his face. A different woman, old, a bit portly and with a weather worn faced, rubs her hands. “Chosen One, we’d never shame your family. We’re certain that they're kindly folk but the worries of the desert are not those of the shore, you’ll admit. Lamashtu can poison our wells, turn the fish sour before our nets are pulled in! Babies will be born deformed or not at all! Be kind to us and our fears!” Abstalar furrows his brow at this but says nothing, his arm still a weak but effective barrier between the small halfing and the half dozen villagers. “I…” he starts then purses his lips, looking back at the crowd. “No, no. I’ll not get between this.” He drops his arm and sits in the nearest pew defiantly. “I have followed The Great Dreamer my entire life and for once I feel at a lost to understand what she desires.” This unsettles a few of the congregants. “On one hand we have been set upon, again, by the goblins of the Hinterlands. And yet two goblins exist in this town living amongst humans – not easily – yet no more violent than a town drunk, of which we have many we tolerate.“ He steeples his fingers. “I will have heard Miro and I wish him to give a variant of the brief sermon he gave to me to you.”

Miro's ire abates but only so much.  He walks to the crowd to sand before it.  His small size peering up to all those who would look to him and see. "It is true... Lamashtu's power is just as strong as many of the divine.  But I tell you it is not as if she herself would come down to drop some poison in your wells.  To be truth none of us are so significant to garner such personal attention from her.  And so it falls to her followers to see to it that the lives of the goodly people are disrupted.  That is what gives her pleasure.  Yet the goblins that live here now have done nothing if not help sand point.  Bobole for one has risked his life countless times to help us, and while his antics can sometimes outstretch even the laws acceptance of mistake none of them have been harmful, stupid... annoying... reckless... pa..... and many other things.  But never has Bobole once raised an agressive hand towards our people here in sandpoint.  Gildy is another example... her want to fit in here after being disclaimed as a goblin makes her strive every day to behave and act more like us.  Do any of you see the blessing in this?" "If there are goblins out there like gildy and bobole who are not interested hurting and harming us then why can't there be more?  And if there are, then by teaching them and helping them to see the light that Desna herself demands we spread, then does that not leave lamashtu without that specific pawn to poison us and cause us harm?  By showing just alittle kindness to those who seek it.  Do we not better ourselves in desna's eyes?  Do we not thin the populations of those goblin who seek us harm, and more than anything do we not hinder lamashtus machinations by removing some of her influance here on this plane?" "I have not onced lied to you friends.  I am a run away slave from Osirion.  And I tell you when I came here it was just to see this very cathedral.  To see what great works you people can accomplish in the name of Desna.  In her name I challenge you all to show the kindness and welcome you showed me.  Show them the light you showed me and they themselves deserve."   Miro stops and looks to Zantus, searching his countinance to see how he had done.

Abstalar keeps his gaze on his clasped hands and Miro speaks as if in silent prayer. The people of Sandpoint however are truly silent- each gazing to each other to the father and to Miro. There are muttered responses with no conviction either for or against Miro's words. Shifting uncomfortably, many bow to Miro and the Father as they pass, attempting to escape the wrath of the gods and their clerics. The old woman pat's Miro's shoulder as he passes and blesses his dreams with Desna's love, her gait a determined wobble, as it's revealed she's missing her leg from the middle of her thigh down, a crude wooden peg providing support. In time, the two men of the gods are left in a silent cathedral, save for the shift of robes from acolytes who are well practiced in making themselves silent and mostly invisible. With a deep inhale, Father Zantus lifts his head and looks at Miro. "I used to have nightmares about being swept away by goblins. My brother teased me with a game called "Goblin in the Garden" where he'd pop out from behind a bush and would chase me until I couldn't run anymore and then he'd punch me and say "Goblin bit ya, now I'm gonna hit ya." It was foolish but it really scared me." He leans back in the pew, hands still clasped in his lap. "Your words have touched me deeply and I realized that, in spite of all that I have seen, I'm not plagued by those nightmares. Even when Bobole visits me and I feel my heart nearly jump out from my chest, I don't dream of him stewing me in a pot... I would think that My Lady would warn me if accepting your goblinkind friends as ...people, was a step too far and yet she has not..." A small smile tugs at his lips. "I even heard Gildie sing...and found it pleasant, though I didn't understand. Thank you, Miro, for challenging an old man's faith."

Miro looks about the cathedral in silence.  He then turns his gaze to Zantus.  "I've been on this earth for more than 50 winters.  By your peoples time that is alot.  And while it doesn't grant me greater wisdom then you, being a slave since birth it has awarded me an understanding if but a small one." Miro walks down the asle towards the alter and stops.  He places his hand in the holy water basin and collects a drop.  He holds it up infront of him and then just as a true Desnite he traces a crude butterfly on his brow with the bead.   "You see its like building a cathedral I think.  You can not build beautiful archers and amazing painted dome ceilings until the walls are built.  You can not build those walls or pillars until the foundation is poured.  I think, life is like that.  We could never have gotten to where we are without where we were.  It was the danger the goblins possessed that instilled the fear needed to insure sandpoints stablilty.  A stability that is nessicary for what I seek to come to fruition.  I think your fear is founded and understood Zantus, without it you may not have made it to the age where you would meet me and my crazy dreams.  Had I not met you I don't think I would have found the courage to stand out in this town I call home and probably would have returned to my travels shortly after laying eyes on the cathedral." Miro turns back to Zantus and walks over.  "However there are other things I think we need to discuss.  If you can spare some time."

"Yes, what is it, son?" He hesitates. "Is something wrong?"

Miro looks back to Zantus. His head still awhirl with the thoughts of what Nethys wants with an integrated society.  Miro shakes his head a small bit and then motions towards Zantus's office.  Yet more talk best left unpublic.

The father frowns and seems to age before Miro's eyes as he uses the back of the bench in front of him to help him to his feet. He calls out to a young acolyte to bring some water and a tray of food to his office as he walks along the carpeted stone to his office. Acolytes rush past on slippered feet to clean, transcribe, or chant.  Once in his office, Father Zantus takes a seat heavily and again bows his head and clasps his hands in front of him on his desk. "Okay...I'm ready..."

Miro scrabbles up his seat much as he always has to.  One day he is going to have to commission a few chairs at his usual haunts designed for him.  For now though he grins and bears it as he takes a seat.  "There are many things but cheif amoung them has been handled in advertently by my speech.  So that is handled.  Let me rattle off my list of things to discuss with you and you can chose what road we travel first.. "Synovia threatened Myrtle ... something or another during a womans league visit today.  Myrtle is planning on challenging Devrons title as Mayor.  Also myself and Myrtle had a little clash but I don't think she is in the same league as myself and maybe Vrinn so her political sway doesn't concern me but what does concern me is her waggling tounge and the gaggle of geese that follow her.  Next as you know there is a much smaller host of goblins outside of sandpoint.  Devron has given me leave to begin the first steps towards a school on the outskirts of town.  Its a much larger group then the one on one I am used to but with Gildy I think I can keep things moving smoothly.  I told Devron that we should keep a school outside of town where those who seek to can learn without causing havoc in town.  Then once they pass some sort of criteria we can as a town hold a ceremony to welcome them into town as an actual citizen.  Also I am considering that one school may not be enough.  I was wanting to know about that area that used to house the light house.  I have notice a severe lack of casters here in sandpoint and I wish to open a small (for now)*under his breathe) school where I can apprentace a few who seek a more schooled form of magic.  Finally what do you think of this." Miro flashes the Rune "Burn" that sits on his neck.  A black twisted rune not like a tribal tattoo that curves and has grace, but a jagged blotch that almost seems like an iron Rune shapped tick burrowed into his skin.  Around it the skin is slightly reddened like a healing wound.  "They just appeared while I was in thistletop."

Miro quickly returns the hood to his neck.  It looked almost like Miro had tried to slip in a quick one on Zantus.  Like a teenager trying to hide a bit of bad news from his father by quickly mixing it in with many other bits of information.  Miro jumps from his seat and pulls his pack off his back.  "Also I think I am going to be doing a bit of studying soon, and by a bit I mean...."  Miro pulls the four books and tome he had pulled from Nualia's dungeon.  "Aswell as preparining to become a political assistant to Mayor Devron.  I was wondering if there was a office here not yet in use that I could use to gather my thoughts, and papers.  Plus my proximity to you would be appriciated.  You help me.... center my thoughts."

The father is silent for some moments as he tries to make sense of the markings. When Miro hides them again from view, Abstalar leans back and exhales slowly, his cheeks puffing out a bit. "Miro, I really...don't know what those are? Do they burn? Are they painful?"