An Open Letter to the Council (Highpriest RP)
Dec 4, 2013 17:10:52 GMT -5
Lady Frost and blackarrow like this
Post by Thrym on Dec 4, 2013 17:10:52 GMT -5
//made a new thread so no one gets confused, seeing as the other was back and forth between Zodika and Tasha.
In the early hours of the day, the bright white figure of Unproven Tasha, out of place as usual among the drab gray walls of Valkur’s Roar, can be seen making her way towards the homes of the various council members, handing letters to servants or putting them into letterboxes as appropriate before wandering through the city to put up a few more copies in prominent spots around town.
In the early hours of the day, the bright white figure of Unproven Tasha, out of place as usual among the drab gray walls of Valkur’s Roar, can be seen making her way towards the homes of the various council members, handing letters to servants or putting them into letterboxes as appropriate before wandering through the city to put up a few more copies in prominent spots around town.
An Open Letter to Lord Crownsilver and the Council
Salutations, Lord Crownsilver and most honoured council members.
Valkur’s Roar stands on the brink of change.
The brink, you might wonder? “We have a new lord! We already assigned most positions of authority in the city! For good or ill, all is on course already!”, you might say.
But the position of High Priest is not one that should be filled lightly. Where rulers and people might be seen as the mind and body of a city, we should never overlook what its clergy represents – it represents its soul. When you look at a cities temples, when you listen to the hymns that echo over it at times of mass, when you witness to whom the people of a city cry out in their times of need, you can learn much of them, often more then they themselves might think.
The choice of High Priest is much more than simply picking another fellow councilmember. It is a choice that tells both ourselves and others much about us. In the end, for all the debates my fellow priests and I like to have, the gods are not beings whose general agenda is hidden, even when their clergy tries its utmost to beautify the truth. Their will is known, and everyone in all but the most remote winkles of Toril can learn of it, and draw conclusions about the places in which the divine ones are worshipped.
When you hear that Suzail houses temples to Lady Firehair, the Triad, Tempus, Tymora, Deneir, Llira, the Red Knight and even the Beastlord, what picture does it paint? It paints the picture of a devout city, a city of strong traditions, a city of honorable, daring and passionate folk that life live to its fullest, a picture of a place that is both civilized and yet retains a certain ferocity where appropriate.
With but one glance at the temples in the capital, you can tell much about the soul of all Cormyr.
What then do we want foe and friend alike to see when their gaze falls upon Valkur’s Roar?
Do we want them to see a city that embraces economic prosperity, one that can pick itself back up and stand on its own two feet no matter what came before? Do we want them to see a city that can see the beauty in life, again, no matter what came before? One that after all it endured seeks justice, to turn the tides that so long have not favoured it? One that even in the darkest of nights can see the light of hope shining in the skies above them?
Or do we want them to see a city that broke under its burden, that gave in to fear and deceit, one that embraced the darkness that tormented it so long?
You may think this heavy handed.
You may think this preachy.
You may say I overdramatize.
You may call me biased.
But regardless of what you think of me, there is one thing you should consider:
This is not just how outsiders will see you.
This will be the soul of your city.
Some of these clerics are rich.
Some of them wield great personal power.
Some possess the gift of words.
But in the end, choosing a High Priest means more than choosing a person. In the short term, a rich and powerful priest may be a boon to this city, no matter their patron. But what if we look beyond immediate benefits? Faith is not a mantle one can simply shed. In these times of change, a new High Priest will mold the soul of this city, and it will influence not just you, but more than anyone those who come after you.
Like the strangers, they will look at your temples. They will listen to the hymns that echo across your city. They will see who to whom this city turned in its time of need, and it will influence their decisions like those of our fathers influence ours.
Valkur’s Roar stands on the brink of change. The pathways of destiny are a twisted mess that only Savras himself or the Prophet of the Pearly Heaven could hope to untwine. In these times, you must not ignore what you know to be true within your hearts.
Upon the councilmen of this city I call: In these uncertain times, remember not simply the struggles of today and yesterday, and do not just think of tomorrow.
Remember the Cormyr, the Valkur’s Roar your forefathers lived and died to protect, remember the proud nation that has stood for thousand years as a beacon for all Faerun. Think of the Cormyr, of the Valkur’s Roar you want to leave to not only to your children, but their children. Think of the Valkur’s Roar that you want people to remember.
Will it be a shining beacon for all Cormyr, a symbol of your strength and ability to overcome all fate throws at you without compromising what made this country great?
Or will history remember it as the place where, after a thousand years, the corruption of the dark gods finally found a chink in the armor of a great nation’s soul to latch upon?
You stand on the precipice of destiny.
You decide the fate of this cities soul.
May the gods grant you the wisdom to see through false promises and past the illusions that those who seek to further only their own dark desires would weave to guide you astray.
Faithfully,
Unproven Tasha of Torm, Devotee of Saint Erathaol
Salutations, Lord Crownsilver and most honoured council members.
Valkur’s Roar stands on the brink of change.
The brink, you might wonder? “We have a new lord! We already assigned most positions of authority in the city! For good or ill, all is on course already!”, you might say.
But the position of High Priest is not one that should be filled lightly. Where rulers and people might be seen as the mind and body of a city, we should never overlook what its clergy represents – it represents its soul. When you look at a cities temples, when you listen to the hymns that echo over it at times of mass, when you witness to whom the people of a city cry out in their times of need, you can learn much of them, often more then they themselves might think.
The choice of High Priest is much more than simply picking another fellow councilmember. It is a choice that tells both ourselves and others much about us. In the end, for all the debates my fellow priests and I like to have, the gods are not beings whose general agenda is hidden, even when their clergy tries its utmost to beautify the truth. Their will is known, and everyone in all but the most remote winkles of Toril can learn of it, and draw conclusions about the places in which the divine ones are worshipped.
When you hear that Suzail houses temples to Lady Firehair, the Triad, Tempus, Tymora, Deneir, Llira, the Red Knight and even the Beastlord, what picture does it paint? It paints the picture of a devout city, a city of strong traditions, a city of honorable, daring and passionate folk that life live to its fullest, a picture of a place that is both civilized and yet retains a certain ferocity where appropriate.
With but one glance at the temples in the capital, you can tell much about the soul of all Cormyr.
What then do we want foe and friend alike to see when their gaze falls upon Valkur’s Roar?
Do we want them to see a city that embraces economic prosperity, one that can pick itself back up and stand on its own two feet no matter what came before? Do we want them to see a city that can see the beauty in life, again, no matter what came before? One that after all it endured seeks justice, to turn the tides that so long have not favoured it? One that even in the darkest of nights can see the light of hope shining in the skies above them?
Or do we want them to see a city that broke under its burden, that gave in to fear and deceit, one that embraced the darkness that tormented it so long?
You may think this heavy handed.
You may think this preachy.
You may say I overdramatize.
You may call me biased.
But regardless of what you think of me, there is one thing you should consider:
This is not just how outsiders will see you.
This will be the soul of your city.
Some of these clerics are rich.
Some of them wield great personal power.
Some possess the gift of words.
But in the end, choosing a High Priest means more than choosing a person. In the short term, a rich and powerful priest may be a boon to this city, no matter their patron. But what if we look beyond immediate benefits? Faith is not a mantle one can simply shed. In these times of change, a new High Priest will mold the soul of this city, and it will influence not just you, but more than anyone those who come after you.
Like the strangers, they will look at your temples. They will listen to the hymns that echo across your city. They will see who to whom this city turned in its time of need, and it will influence their decisions like those of our fathers influence ours.
Valkur’s Roar stands on the brink of change. The pathways of destiny are a twisted mess that only Savras himself or the Prophet of the Pearly Heaven could hope to untwine. In these times, you must not ignore what you know to be true within your hearts.
Upon the councilmen of this city I call: In these uncertain times, remember not simply the struggles of today and yesterday, and do not just think of tomorrow.
Remember the Cormyr, the Valkur’s Roar your forefathers lived and died to protect, remember the proud nation that has stood for thousand years as a beacon for all Faerun. Think of the Cormyr, of the Valkur’s Roar you want to leave to not only to your children, but their children. Think of the Valkur’s Roar that you want people to remember.
Will it be a shining beacon for all Cormyr, a symbol of your strength and ability to overcome all fate throws at you without compromising what made this country great?
Or will history remember it as the place where, after a thousand years, the corruption of the dark gods finally found a chink in the armor of a great nation’s soul to latch upon?
You stand on the precipice of destiny.
You decide the fate of this cities soul.
May the gods grant you the wisdom to see through false promises and past the illusions that those who seek to further only their own dark desires would weave to guide you astray.
Faithfully,
Unproven Tasha of Torm, Devotee of Saint Erathaol