#and yes I made my own dnd religion :3 I have an entire word doc on it and I'm V proud of it too :3

[vicit-vim-virtus]

OPEN STARTER // open to all

The bells chimed, bellowed, ultimately trying to lure passerby into the House of God, to school them, to cleanse them, to purify them — or whatever obnoxious rituals they conducted here to exonerate people. A cacophony of thundering bells and people murmuring incomprehensibly amongst themselves, resonated in the cavernous cathedral hall. The benches were filled with all sorts of people from all walks of life, though the majority were distinctly elven in mien and garment — not a surprise, since they were the dominant race in the capital city of Landoria. Finding himself amongst the commoners, albeit several meters above, all the way in the back, and on one of the balconies, he was struck by the peculiar sensation that he was being watched. The God they worshipped, no doubt. The presence of the allegedly omnipotent and ubiquitous Spirit, who could smell sins from leagues away — and he had sins in abundance. He disregarded the feeling. Not interested in ascertaining its origin. Besides, he hadn’t ventured to the centre of the metropolis to pray or confess, he’d travelled here to converse with his uncle, one of the high-ranked clerics and only relative, aside from his older brother, with whom he’d retained contact, although sporadic. There were some pressing matters to discuss, but unfortunately, he’d have to wait until after the service. It was a shame that not even an advisor of his stature was above some invisible, non-existent God...

Luran’s sapphire blue eyes skimmed the heads of the crowd below. Throughout the centuries, the Paragon had gained in popularity. Perhaps because it challenged the other major religion in Landoria, the one that corrupted rather than improved the demeanours of its acolytes and worshippers, and deliberately hampered the lives of all the peasants who were continuously subjected to its discriminatory directives. The Paragon protected and healed, where those worshipping the Goddess of the Sun stripped the poor of the little gold they had, and confiscated their possessions if they failed to cough up sufficient taxes or rent. It was the King’s religion. A dangerous and inequitable religion... When a familiar voice gently hushed the congregation and commenced with his usual opening, the advisor’s gaze rested on two young tiefling boys. Neither took a particular interest in listening to his uncle’s speech — not that he could blame them —, and instead, were flicking each others’ tapered ears. A symphony of mischievous chuckles was produced by them each time an elderly elf glanced over her shoulder and glared at them — evidently vexed by their lack of reverence. A small, wistful smile grazed Luran’s lips as he regarded the scene while it slowly escalated. In a way, the juveniles’ impish conduct reminded him of his own brother, who now lived two and a half day’s ride outside of the city...

A sigh escaped his lips while he peeled his eyes away from the puckish children and forced himself to focus on his uncle instead. The older elf was wearing, from what he could perceive, a blue velvet tunic, girdled with a brown leather belt. A dark cloak, with an intricate embroidery woven into the fabric, was draped over his broad, yet elegant shoulders. A holy symbol, the Paragon’s crest, a honeybee, hung around his neck, and his hands were neatly folded in front of his abdomen. Everything was so scrupulous, so ethical, so noble. Luran loathed it. Whatever purpose they were striving to obtain, they would never succeed. The King would never permit it. He’d whack them down, dispose of them — like he did all who inconvenienced him, who defied him —, and wipe the Paragon and all its disciples clean off of the face of this and any other plane of existence. Not a single vestige would persevere...

While his uncle enunciated a rhythmic hymn, the feeling of a pair of eyes piercing through the back of his skull, garnered his attention. Again. A shiver of uneasiness ran down his spine. Someone else was on the balcony with him. Someone he hadn’t noticed prior — or someone who’d slipped up here after him...

‘If you require something of me, cease skulking in the shadows and face me,’ he said softly, menacingly, to the person he’d heard shuffling behind him in one of the unlit recesses. ‘Whatever your plans are know that your every move is being watched by their almighty God,’ he added scornfully, glancing over his shoulder, awaiting the reveal of the mysterious figure lingering in the tenebrous depths of the cathedral.