Sorahn
07-15-08, 08:28 PM
The stone face of Ronah looked down with a strong gaze which peered straight into Sorahn's soul, even though it was only a statue. The noble figure stood proudly in the center of the temple, with his wings spread wide and mighty spear in hand. Sorahn knelt directly in front of the statue, near the pool which surrounded it. He marveled at the detail of the statue, as well as the likeness. Being probably the only Ranoan still living who had seen Ronah in person, he was overwhelmed by the accuracy of the depiction, as memories of his personal encounter came rushing back. The ancients must have had direct contact with him. It's the only way they could know what he looked like. If only he would present himself that way now...
Quickly he lost himself gazing into the carved face of his god. His thoughts drifted to his pledged devotion to Ronah, as his chosen warrior. His gaze fell, as a feeling of inadequacy rushed over him. He was charged with the duty of carrying the banner of Ronah, a great honor, and he felt undeserving. Not only because of his relative insignificance in the grand scheme of Ranoan history, but also because so far he felt as though he wasn't doing a good job of it. He sighed heavily, wishing he knew what to do.
Looking down a little further, he saw his own reflection in the crystal clear waters of the pool. He looked foreign even to himself. Then he saw the words etched into the stone at the edge of the water. He slid his knee out of the way to read the High Ranoan writing. It simply read “Ronah mahnethas.”, “Ronah provides.” The waters of the pool were fed by an underground spring, ensuring it was forever full of fresh, cool water, symbolizing how Ronah cared for the needs of his people and provided for them.
Grinning slightly, he scooped the water up in his hands and drank it, feeling the cold, refreshing water rush down his throat. Instantly he felt revived, reveling in what had to be the best water he had ever tasted. Looking back up to the face of Ronah, he felt better; with renewed confidence that Ronah would provide for him in time.
In the meantime, however, there was work to be done. As a warrior he was pledged to the continuous advancement of his art, and it was his duty to practice as often as possible to ensure he remained in his top form. A challenger approached even now, seeking to claim his title by defeating him in battle. No... not today...
He stood, waiting patiently for his opponent. His tail swished idly as he surveyed the temple. Centuries of dormancy had taken its toll, and the great hall was falling to ruin. The roof had caved in, leaving rubble in scattered areas around the room. The great pillars which once supported it crumbled, and now stood at fractions of their former height. Only a small portion of the temple retained its roof and pillars, standing proudly as a testament to what the others had looked like. Each was covered with intricate carvings and patterns, and were massive at four feet in diameter. All along the hall ornate moldings covered the walls and ceiling, as well as large arches which still spanned between the taller columns. Even in dilapidated state, the room was massive: standing about 100 yards across and 100 feet high, only the smallest of the pillars didn't tower above his head.
Sorahn looked up above the 70 foot tall statue to see a starry night sky, framed by frayed edges of the former ceiling. Though it was night out, torches mounted on ornate sconces were affixed to every pillar, providing a warm glow to the room. Amazingly, these torches only burned at night, though there was no one to light them or extinguish them, and they never burned out.
Sorahn turned his gaze to the huge and very heavy wooden doors directly opposite the statue. This was where his opponent would enter, and where their battle would begin.
Quickly he lost himself gazing into the carved face of his god. His thoughts drifted to his pledged devotion to Ronah, as his chosen warrior. His gaze fell, as a feeling of inadequacy rushed over him. He was charged with the duty of carrying the banner of Ronah, a great honor, and he felt undeserving. Not only because of his relative insignificance in the grand scheme of Ranoan history, but also because so far he felt as though he wasn't doing a good job of it. He sighed heavily, wishing he knew what to do.
Looking down a little further, he saw his own reflection in the crystal clear waters of the pool. He looked foreign even to himself. Then he saw the words etched into the stone at the edge of the water. He slid his knee out of the way to read the High Ranoan writing. It simply read “Ronah mahnethas.”, “Ronah provides.” The waters of the pool were fed by an underground spring, ensuring it was forever full of fresh, cool water, symbolizing how Ronah cared for the needs of his people and provided for them.
Grinning slightly, he scooped the water up in his hands and drank it, feeling the cold, refreshing water rush down his throat. Instantly he felt revived, reveling in what had to be the best water he had ever tasted. Looking back up to the face of Ronah, he felt better; with renewed confidence that Ronah would provide for him in time.
In the meantime, however, there was work to be done. As a warrior he was pledged to the continuous advancement of his art, and it was his duty to practice as often as possible to ensure he remained in his top form. A challenger approached even now, seeking to claim his title by defeating him in battle. No... not today...
He stood, waiting patiently for his opponent. His tail swished idly as he surveyed the temple. Centuries of dormancy had taken its toll, and the great hall was falling to ruin. The roof had caved in, leaving rubble in scattered areas around the room. The great pillars which once supported it crumbled, and now stood at fractions of their former height. Only a small portion of the temple retained its roof and pillars, standing proudly as a testament to what the others had looked like. Each was covered with intricate carvings and patterns, and were massive at four feet in diameter. All along the hall ornate moldings covered the walls and ceiling, as well as large arches which still spanned between the taller columns. Even in dilapidated state, the room was massive: standing about 100 yards across and 100 feet high, only the smallest of the pillars didn't tower above his head.
Sorahn looked up above the 70 foot tall statue to see a starry night sky, framed by frayed edges of the former ceiling. Though it was night out, torches mounted on ornate sconces were affixed to every pillar, providing a warm glow to the room. Amazingly, these torches only burned at night, though there was no one to light them or extinguish them, and they never burned out.
Sorahn turned his gaze to the huge and very heavy wooden doors directly opposite the statue. This was where his opponent would enter, and where their battle would begin.