Silverwoods Shrine - Dawn Rites

[Copper Dragon]

The Silverwoods Shrine
In the northwestern region of the Easting Reach lie the Silverwoods; mostly untouched by civilization. Mostly. In its outskirts rises an imposing rock which houses a shrine: built long ago in the name of Lathander, god of dawn and renewal. For the past half year increasingly greater attention has trickled towards this site, in the form of a Dawnbringer's words and actions. The blonde priestess has mentioned it repeatedly in her sermons at Sarshel's city square, and has been noted to travel to the shrine - which is a few days' travel away - regularly.

The shrine has slowly been cleaned of rubble, dust and years of muck. The statue within has been polished, the altar scrubbed pristine, and sometimes fresh flowers are brought to adorn it.

While it is from time to time tended to, however, there is no one stationed permanently at the shrine as of Alturiak in the year 1363 DR. If the words of the priestess can be believed, it likely will never become a great temple or hub of activity: no, it serves a different purpose.

The shrine is a place of solitude and lofty contemplation - of reborn vitality, wisdom and enlightenment. Those who seek it come for the blessing its location provides, for it is said that the view from the shrine's arched entrance is both breathtaking and awe inspiring; it fills one's soul with Light most pure. Looking out over the wilderness that stretches out around it for miles upon miles, it offers a grandeur untainted and unmarked by monsters or man. To travel to the shrine from the lowlands is to be blessed with vigour; to take the flight of steps is to be granted strength; and to take in the first rays of sunlight upon its top is to be bathed in wisdom.

[Copper Dragon]

On Alturiak 9th, 1363 DR, Dawnlord Artemis D'Assanthe and brother Westin Highridge visit the Silverwoods shrine. Here, in both privacy and proximity to the god Lathander, the two speak, and humbly but ceremoniously seek new strength from their chosen patron deity.

Two rites are performed that morning.
The priestess bestows the Morning God's blessings on the armour of Westin Highridge so that he may meet the darkness of evil undaunted and unbroken. The people that he must protect will rely on his steel.
The Dawnlord, being the alleged head of the Lathanderite church on the Easting Reach, also bestows a title unto Westin Highridge - no longer is he called a mere brother in faith. Although he has spoken his vows of paladinhood long before he'd come to Impiltur, Westin Highridge is no longer considered to be an aide or protégé, or errant knight, by the local branch of his patron church, but fully fledged in his duty for excellence and good. He has earned the title of Dawnguard; a militant arm of the sun-worshipping religion.

[Kilaana]

Alturiak 10th, 1363 DR

Sunrise - its golden fingers spread across the sky bringing a temporary respite to the season's heavy snowfall. It suffuses the lands of Impiltur for a fiveday with an intense, rose-red glow that begins as a dusky softness as the world awakens with the dawn, persisting long after the deeper colours of dusk arrive.

A few resident astronomers in Songhall have taken to the observance of this phenomenon, noting the brightest and reddest origin point seems to hang over the Silverwood shrine such that the image of a sunburst can be seen radiating from behind the structure regardless of which angle it is looked upon.

[Copper Dragon]

A place of solitude and lofty contemplation - of reborn vitality, wisdom and enlightenment.

In the recent days Artemis had invited attendants for the Song of Dawn to the shrine; spent time in and near the village of Vlasta, northwest; trudged back down the uneven roads to the lowlands and Sarshel to bring, among other things, a visit to a re-surfaced acquaintance at the Triadic infirmary. All this under the ever-falling snow.

She returned to the shrine again after all these. It started to feel like it was hers, now: for a good time the shrine seemed to belong to the sun-sister Jhasira, whose grave was near, and otherwise belong to an unknown quantity of Lathanderite forebears. The shadows of past clergymembers for the shadow of a ruined shrine. Somewhere along the way Artemis began to consider this locale not only as her expected responsibility but hers in ownership, in bond. It became her hushed haven - her heart's horizon.

The Amnian woman smiled at the thought and at the scene stretched out before her. The view was breathtaking, snowfall or no.

This was her place for prayer for today; special, sincere, steadfast.

She placed both hands on her pendant as she faced the eastern horizon - there where the sun would be rising behind the greys and whites of the clouds. She stood on top of the stairs of the Silverwoods shrine, on top of the world, where she felt most solitary yet closest to the Morninglord. The frigid wind from the altitude bit into her cheeks and cloak, making the former blush with chill and the latter flap angrily. She stood steadily and considered her words.

"Beloved Lathander, I thank you for this new day, filling as ever with Your light, Your love.

"The darkness does not fade, the cold perseveres; but life and warmth will find us all.

"And yet You have taught me that waiting to be found is not as virtuous as to seek and to act upon one's aims; and I aim to lift these snows - from the hearts at least, if not from the lands.

"Beloved Lathander, I am but one small voice; one frail host; one humble heart. Your reach is as far as the golden rays of your sun, Your perseverence as strong as the mountains your light crowns, and Your zest is without equal among mortal or immortal. By now the Earthmother's blossoms should have grown, and Your radiance should have shone down on this country. I pray that You will find Impiltur with your resplendence, and I pray I will gladden its people until You arrive in earnest. I pray that if this darkness and this chill is the work of foul rite and prayer, that mine will outstrip theirs. I pray that I will see where You need me to be, and bear the compassion, wisdom and decisiveness You have shown me, so that I'd display it to those who need my help."

The first Song of Dawn of the year had been beautiful, and the snow had ceased for a while. The sky had cleared, the Morninglord shone, if pale. But the Song did not seem to mark the end of the snow and the white continued to trickle from the clouds into Tarsakh - Tarsakh, of all things, without halt or willingness to abate. The people needed the warmth and the uplifting vibes of spring, this fundamental right, this primal part of the cycle. Some, she had to think of Noal and others, needed it to come to strength again. Where was spring? Was she impatient? Aryen had confided that such long winters were unusual; not so long ago there had been a strange, icy cold attack upon Sarshel's gates; and Artemis remembered how last Midsummer was dreary and rain-filled - a bad omen, that had been.

She prayed to her god that she could do her part, whichever form it would take.