Skaldia glances over to her sister with a soft smile, and after hearing the whisper, she whispers back, her expression reassuring.

Caine Arnasis, a foul-mouthed assistant arrives, following Mihaly.

The Faith have set up their camp, and opposite it the monstrosities of the Horned God have concentrated - perhaps to read the various signs that have popped up on the contravallation. Preston has decided to take a break from staring at them in a disapproving fashion to come to the main camp. There is a rattle of his armour as he walks, but he seems quite calm and happy - smiling as he strolls along the siege lines.

Ian sits by the fire, talking in low tones with Jan. He stirs a little bit, though, when it looks like something formal is about to start. He might not have been paying attention to the announcement of the event whenever that happened, because he looks inquisitive.

Jan looks up when the camp begins to stir.

Blinking out of her revery, Macda turns where she sits to face the preacher, her petite silhouette backlit by the fire.

Lucita comes out of the medic's tent with her lute in hand. A casual strumming of the strings checks to make sure it is in tuned properly. A respectful bow is given those gathered as she steps up toward the Altar of the Sentinel where she stands quietly and watches as more and more approach.

Edris might have been already present at camp, around the fire, with Alis--but when the time for the sermon draws hear, the Prince-Consort offers a hand up to draw Alis to her feet, and his arm in escort as they move towards the altar of the Sentinel, after a softly spoken word of farewell to those they'd been speaking with off and on.

The kind that prefers to worship in his own time on his own terms, Mihaly is going to at least make an appearence for a benediction, especially now that his conversation with Mia has ended. Standing on the periphery, he watches on, waiting for whatever is going to start, do so.

Sabella has been here long enough to have spent a night at camp! And she looks little effected by it, if her bubbly smile and sweet, encouraging comments are any indication. Is she dressed for war? Honestly, she's not even dressed for something as simple as a picnic, but the princess is... Who she is as a person. That's okay! As the service time nears, she extracts herself from a conversation with a few soldiers who were telling her about their farms back home in order to find a spot to sit near the platform. She can't help but smile over her handy work (Avary put her to use decorating it).

2 Armed Confessors, Angwyn the otter, Mordred, Abner, Capt'n Waddles the small cock with a bell, 2 Rivenshari Clan Guardsman, 2 Redrain Guards arrive, following Ann.

Raymesin inclines his head to Avary as he arrives in her general vicinity, then gives her a questioning look.

Macda clicks her tongue in disapproval as she realizes she has to get up. Springing to her feet with an unprecedented liveliness, she approaches the altar and claims a place near Lucita. "Baroness!" she whispers and flashes her a quick, toothy smile.

Sen'azala is here, though easily missed, as, while she hasn't actually traded her steelsilk for the sort of brown-gray leathers one might find on one of the army's scouts - a very close look might see a bit of a silk collar poking up beneath the leather one - she's certainly made an effort for it to appear that way. Her alaricite sword is sheathed in a simple, unassuming scabbard, her bow isn't present, and the only thing that would ordinarily stand out about her is the gold and copper wolf talisman hanging free around her neck.

You know, if it weren't for the fact that Sen's gone and painted her face, with a black streak across her golden eyes, and a pattern of white and black that traces along her old, deliberate scars rather than the newer, messier ones that partly obscure them. That's not...very Faith appropriate, probably. But she makes her way to the gathering regardless.

Paint-splatted and wearing all the colours, princess Denica sits by the fire with a gentle expression on her face. The young woman's fingers are curls around a mug of hot coffee, undoubtedly spiked by something stronger. When it's time for the sermon, the young woman stands up like many others begins to head towards the altar area. There's a quick attempt to smooth hair back and adjust armour, but mostly she's just focused on what is happening, the sights of everyone, the sounds of conversation and over all energy that comes with these types of things. There's always a warm smile for those she is familiar with and even more so, for those she is not. There's a curious glint in her eyes as she waits for the sermon to begin.

Ian gathers his feet under him and snags his cane. "I'm going to take a walk," he comments to Jan, before using his cane to help force himself to his feet.

Jan nods, "Enjoy your walk, cousin."

Avary emerges from the Altar of the Sentinel but does not ascend the platform. She lingers alongside the Templars standing watch, and Raymesin. Putting her hand on the shoulder of the latter, she murmurs something.

Once that little message is imparted to the Queen's Blade she casts her eyes upon Lucita and gives her a nod.

Once given a cue by Avary, Lucita begins. "This is a long song but in this upcoming battle, feel it appropriate as we think about all of our Gods. It is the sung-prayer used before the Battle at Setarco in 1008 with a few minor tweaks to wording." And she starts singing:

Gods of Arvum, we sing this prayer
Of thanks and give respect you're due.
And then our simple hopes we'll share
And humbly ask a blessing of you.

Aion whose complex dream we live
We strive to keep your dream strong.
We thank you for the world you give
And hope that we will do no wrong.

Gild, sweet Gild, caring and true
You watch over Mercies each day
Keep them alive, get supplies thru
To help us fend the enemies away.

Gloria, when the battle draws near
Let us not view the enemy in dismay
But to meet the enemy without fear
And honor you when we fight today.

Jayus you inspire to greater heights
For smiths to forge deadly beauty.
Those weapons and armor for coming fights
Will help soldiers perform their duty.

Lagoma, Lagoma, our Lady of Change
Battles reshape from start to end.
And as far and wide they'll range
Help our tactics change to defend.

Limerance our God of vows and trust,
We honor the words that were spoken,
'To seek to counter the enemy's thrust',
We'll fight to keep our words unbroken.

Mangata, Strong Lady of Water and Wind
Your brave struggle we take to heart
We pray that your blessing you'll send.
That we endure, hold fast as battles start.



Lucita continues singing: continues:

Petrichor, it is on your beaches and land
That these men pray they'll be brave.
Here our soldiers gather to make a stand
To face our foe so he'll not enslave.

Queen of Endings, it is a comfort to know
You'll be there if an ally's cycle may end.
And that a return to life you might bestow.
To let those brave hero's new story begin.

Sentinel, you see, judge and don't forget
It is the righteous that you favor
When we face a dreaded enemy threat.
It is your justice that we shall savor.

Skald, God of sweet freedoms and choice
An end to freedom enemies seek to bring.
Thus did we decide to raise our voice
It's freedom and hope to which we cling.

Tehom, helps us understand and face
Our inner self, who we've come to be.
Overcoming our flaws with good grace
To withstand an enemy, not bend a knee.

Vellichor, God of knowledge and histories
Without you we would all become lost
You have facts to help solve mysteries
So our battles are fought with less cost.

To all the Gods we pray today
Please guide us along our path
Bless our efforts along the way
To withstand our enemy's wrath.


Lucita bows respectfully to those listening and steps back so Avary is now the central focus.

Raymesin leans down - quite a way down - so that Avary can murmur something into his ear; he looks a little odd among the Templars, a crow in a crowd of white, but he doesn't seem to care.

Calyana looks around the crowd, briefly at the Archlector, before her attention fixes on Cufre. She moves toward her, expression warming for some reason, though her movements are cautious.

A profound silence descends upon the stage after Lucita's song with the arrival of Archlector Avary. Graceful and composed, she ascends the raised platform before the altar of the Sentinel.

Rather than militaryesque garb or robes of the Faith, she wears a gown that is a masterful creation of aeterna. It drapes over her form in a perfect balance of austerity and elegance that pays homage to the classic Crownland style. At her side, sheathed and unobtrusive, rests a sword. Its presence is as understated as it is undeniable. It serves as a subtle symbol of her unwavering commitment to Truth and Justice. The blade, devoid of ornamentation, is yet formidable in its simplicity. It hangs on her hip with a dignified nonchalance. Avary makes no motions to it, doesn't touch it, or even seem to be aware of it. It just is there.

Avary's presence commands the space with an air of regal perfection. Her hair, pulled back to reveal the fullness of her features, frames a face marked by inscrutable calm. As she stands before the altar of the Sentinel, there is an almost otherworldly stillness about her and a sense of immovable conviction. (The towering display of the Sentinel's gaze looming as a large backdrop staring across the assembled helps.)

Her eyes are sharp and focused. They do not sweep over the congregation. Rather, they hone in on sections and individuals with intent. She might even have made eye contact with you - yes, you! There is nothing ethereal about her. Rather, her direct gaze might feel heavy and bring with it a deep sense of being appraised.

In this moment, Avary is not just a priestess before her flock; she is the living embodiment of the Sentinel's watchful gaze, a beacon of unshakeable faith and divine order.

(That is very clearly the attempt being made - at least. Impact may vary!)

And she is still. Incredibly still. There is nothing overbearing or harsh about it - that is not what it is that commands or intimidates. It's just that she is so still and unflinching. And she waits for attention.

Once acquired, she starts with a clear ice breaker - directed at the more militant factions in attendance, spoken with a sort of knowing lilt. When she speaks, her voice is clear and resonant. Each word is enunciated with a crisp precision that leaves no room for misinterpretation.

"I have made a judgment!," she announces with a sense of impending victory behind it. "Would you like to hear the verdict?"

It's provocative! It gets the people going!

Skaldia has frowned at something Cufre whispered to her, and then she gets a very stubborn look on her head as she whispers back, rather fiercely. Then she huffs out a little frustrated sigh, and turns her attention to Lucita to hear her song. As she listens, some of her tension seems to melt away, and she glances down, bowing her head, and drawing a deep cleansing breath. She glances up then, sharply, when she sees Calyana approaching Cufre, and the younger Harrow bites down on her bottom lip as she studies the elf warily.

Ann finds a place near the back as if to not disrupt what is going on here. Small nods of acknowledgement for those she may know but her attention to Lucita when she sings and for Avary and all the other important people.

Preston tenses for a moment as he spots Calyana - memories of feathery water fowl and pecking coming unbidden - but he forces himself to relax and he unclenches his hand. His eyes look towards the singing, and he claps politely for Lucita at the conclusion of her song. Preston and the other Templars, with the songs done, prepare for prayer - Crusader is drawn from its scabbard and Gloria's blade is placed point down as Preston kneels to listen to Avary's blessings.

Sen'azala's eyebrows arch, but the paint makes it hard to read whether or not there's really any expression to her beyond that.

Triton watches the proceedings with half an eye, the rest of his attention on the surroundings as he toys with a claw on his caestus.

2 Telmarine Guards, Squall arrive, following Tesha.

Family in arms! We gather on the eve of an offensive that will decide the future of generations until the end of history. For behind that growth of blight and in those halls of corruption a wretched foe - herald of the dark reflection of Skald - threatens to awaken Destiny and bind the free will of all living to a nightmare design of his own making.

As we stand on the brink of this war, let the might of our spirits echo through the annals of history.

When the Silence laid siege to Arx - you stood firm and would not yield our capital to their might. When the Gyre came for Setarco and Stormwall, you beat them back with dauntless defiance and resolve." A touch more somber, "And then, we rebuilt Stormwall as a testament to our unbreakable will and resilience. ...

Edris remains quiet and still through the song, though not unmoved--his eyes close briefly and the fingers of his free hand touch over his heart. But once Avary speaks, his eyes are open and attentive, watching the Sentinel's beacon raptly. If her eyes meet his, he does not turn away. Instead he stands silently beside the Valardin highlord, solemn and reverant.

Cufre has her eyes closed by the end of the sung prayer, her head bowed, so when she looks up to see Calyana approaching, her expression comes unguarded, cold, and she looks away, her whisper to her sister harsh before she rises and walks through those gathered, through the camp.

Raymesin, among the Templars, with the slightly-guilty air of a man who doesn't really go to many services of the Sentinel and is following the movements of the people around him rather than the cues that he thinks everyone else is aware of, follows Preston to one knee with a blade drawn. The rubicund dagger with the lightning bolt down the blade isn't Crusader, but he holds it with reverent care all the same.

Skaldia frowns, glancing at Calyana again, then she stands up, and hurries after Cufre.

Cufre has joined the Altar of the Queen of Endings.

Skaldia has joined the Altar of the Queen of Endings.

Avary continues. Rather than the usual impassive calm of her voice, it is stentorian and well intonated - stressing words that need to be stressed, and growing softer as fitting to the context, "Valor is the roaring fire that burns in the heart of every warrior of Arvum. It is the unshakable resolve in the face of the abyssal storm. With the strength of conviction, you wield an impenetrable will to confront the evil that imperils us.

Tomorrow, you march forward not just as soldiers for your House and liege, but as champions of the Pantheon and all the people of Arvum. You will carry Their divine essence in every stride. With every swing of the blade and with every arrow, Justice will be served to each enemy that dares stand before you.

Riveted by the words she hears, Denica listens quietly, she absorbs everything and finds inspiration in it. It's enough that the woman decides to get up quietly, so to go put that to good use. Bowing her head as she wanders off, still listening to everything.

3 Thrax Guards, Sivas, an artsy ostentatious curator, 1 Thrax Elite Guards, Lady Snow, 1 Ulbran Thug, Stojan, a cleverly reserved assistant, Cato, a stealthy non-descript man leave, following Denica.

Calyana tilts her head quizzically when Cufre cools and walks off to the Shrine. She turns to look at Raymesin, as if hoping to find answers there. She may not be entirely aware that she killed the woman's sister going by her confusion so that'll be a fun realisation.

Sen'azala pulls her gaze away from Avary and looks to the side, studying the other attendees rather than the one giving a rousing speech. Calyana isn't exactly miss-able, even in this crowd, and the woman clearly doesn't miss. Her attention settles on the Sylv'alfar, openly studying her, before following her glance toward Raymesin.

Alis remains silent and solemn throughout both Lucita's song, and Avary's prayer. For the latter, in fact, once she's met the woman's gaze she then dips her head in more fervent prayer, lips moving as if to underscore the words of the sermon.

Tesha had arrived at some point with Telmar's army. The one eyed woman was wearing her armor and standing quietly at the back of those that are listening to Avary speak. She clasps her hands in front of her as she gives a soft nod of greeting to those that she knows, but she doesn't make to talk to anyone just yet.

Sabella's smile remains, oh maybe a touch dampened under Avary's intensity, but not so much that the princess looks anything other than pleasant as she listens. In fact, her attention is fixed upon the archlector, her posture such that she's leaning in. Just a little.

"Many of you are just now awakening to the true nature of our world. You will see things beyond this hedge that will shake you to your bones. Stand firm! You will encounter dark magic that will challenge your very notion of reality. Stand firm!

Your enemies, dear warriors, will not just come with spears and blade. They will encroach upon your passions, desires, and thoughts. They will attempt to incite great rage and deep hunger within you - to render you mad and insatiable in the heat of battle. May Sentinel grant you Clarity, and you stand. Firm."...

Mihaly moves forward slightly, but Sen'azala is spied. A brow is raise and he moves towards the woman. "Excuse me." he says after a moment. "Don't mean to intrude, and I don't know if you know me but, were you acquaintance's with my niece? You appear familiar."

Raymesin slants a look at Avary from among the Templars; a few moments later he's pulling his hood up, casting his face in shadow.

Sen'azala turns raised eyebrows on Mihaly now, distracted from her study. She says something that doesn't carry.

"Strange. My memory of Stormwall was death and retreat - unbreakable might be poetic." Preston murmers to himself. "Though, only shame in dishonour, not in defeat." He reasons but his eye flick to Calyana again as Avary talks of he enemy misusing emotions. Though it is more thoughtful than angry.

Cufre's circuit ends at Death's Shrine. Sort of. She's pacing the space, one arm crossing her while the hand of the other is pressed to her forehead. Somewhere in the pacing, she pauses to speak with Skaldia, then withdraws further from sight of the main of the camp.

There is a look given from Ann to Preston when she hears Stormwall. But her attention goes right back to Avary.

While many of the soldiers of the Crownlands in the camp are still at their posts, stretching for miles around Harrow Hall as it does, thousands have nonetheless been assembled here to listen to Avary. Those at the back might be a little too far removed to quite hear everything, but nonetheless, others will later relay the same words to them. With them is Liara, attired for war. She listens quietly, gaze intermittently turning to take in the soldiers.

Mihaly is only partially paying attention to the benediction as he pauses, exchanging a series of words with Sen, while also appearing slightly apologetic.

The Sentinel's Archlector continues, "Do not forget that which binds you as kin in arms on this eve of battle! It is the fortitude of Gild. We have among us unlikely allies. They /are/ allies. And the spirit of Civilization brings them. Break bread with them. Count them among your family. Fight with them against our common foe!

Do not forget - knightly orders of the Faith, the Crown, and the Compact complete - do not forget! Your cause is righteous. Your cause is just. May your blades and arrows find purchase in the belly of those beasts who threaten an onslaught upon your very humanity. May your Justice be swift. May you not be swayed by misguided notions of mercy for these fiends - for they will have none for you!

In the heat of battle, let Gloria's might and spirit guide your swords. Fight with honor. Fight with courage. Let Valor be your war cry! And may Sentinel guard you - the righteous - as you make your stand."..

Calyana shakes her head as if to dispel whatever thoughts may be rattling around in her head and she switches direction to Preston of all people. She kneels beside him in a single graceful movement and says something quietly.

Sen'azala looks frontward again, with a sudden sharpness at something Avary says, though she returns the murmur to Mihaly.

Triton perks a little at the mention of fighting and looks around, but then subsides again as the camp bustle continues without alarm.

Mihaly pauses in what he's saying, perhaps slightly unsure of what his gut was telling him. Again, his attention is partially distracted. Upon Sen's response, he replies again, stoicism and apologetic making an interesting combination.

Avary's posture shifts. It is still poised and straight, but it carries now a certain finality with it. One of decisions made and final, as she wraps up the sermon, "Cowering within the keep behind this thicket is the one known as the Metallic Traitor. Centuries ago, he made a pact with the other side of the mirror. He betrayed his friends. He betrayed his people. He is a kinslayer - more times than we can count. He sheds the blood of innocents. He enslaves and binds and sacrifices to fuel selfish desires and selfish ends. But he is not himself free. He is a slave to the nature of what he serves and he will not yield until all this land bends before him.

This enemy is powerful, yes. But /you/ are the Justice that will temper his power. In the name of the Sentinel, we sentence him to perish beneath your swords, hearing your songs, and with the prayers of your Faith reverberating through those halls and ringing in his ears until he is deafened by them. Until he is blinded by them. Until the only channel of perception that remains is overwhelmed by the sting of your steel piercing his flesh, and pain that the warmth of his blood cannot soothe. Beneath your united might and valor, he will fall, and Justice will be done.

Today we lay claim to our lives, our future, and the Dream. Tomorrow we decree and write with the blood of our enemies this everlasting pact: we will not yield our will. We will not bend to any Destiny. Our lives. Our choice."

The sermon thus concludes and scholars move about the encampment passing out prayer books and candles for the benedictions to follow.

Preston visibly winces at the mention of misguided mercy, but he is quickly distracted by the murmerings of the elf in his ear and he whispers something back to Calyana.

Skaldia takes Cufre's hand in hers, and she remains steady and resolute as she hears what her sister has to say. She glances back over toward the main camp, toward Avary giving her sermon, toward Calyana kneeling and talking with Preston. Then she follows Cufre deeper into the shrine, into the shadows.

Sen'azala clears her throat, loudly, and raises her hand, as if she were in school, rather than a sermon.

Mihaly looks somewhat startled, the usually stoic face the man tends to wear change into a look of something he said being confirmed. Or denied. Whatever Sen's response was, he looks like he's about to reply in kind, but her raising her hand. Appearing to having something more open to say. So he says nothing, instead deciding to nod.

Avary folds her hands in front of her and looks toward the raised hand. She thinks a moment and finally nods. The scholars are in the process of preparing the benedictions, there's time. "Yes, Sen'azala."

When the prayer concludes, Edris murmurs affirmation with some around him, though his expression has slipped back into his formal reserve. It is broken, however briefly, by his turn towards Alis and a quiet word with her as well.

Whatever Preston has said to Calyana has her in shock and she loses any and all balance, falling back as she continues to stare at him in fear and wonder.

Sen'azala takes a step forward - though she's in the crowd, this doesn't really do much - and lets her hand drop as she raises her voice enough to carry. "Only this." She looks over those gathered again. "Orichalcum is no slave. He's made his choices, and he makes them now. Everything he's done, he's done because he decided to do it. He doesn't intend to give up *his* choice, only take away all of ours. But..." Her lips thin. "The rest of them *are* slaves. Most, I don't think they can be saved. Maybe all. And they *can't* give us mercy so long as he holds their leash. But...if that leash snaps..." A pause. "Remember that they are slaves, and even if death is the only thing that can free them, then they need *freeing*. Nothing they've done while he's chained their minds has been their doing. They're his eyes, his hands, his swords. ...Any one of us could have been any one of them. Every one of us *will* be every one of them, if the Horned God wins. Justice, yes." her teeth show a little. "*Justice*. But we go to break *every last one* of that butcher's chains." Then she tips her head, indicating she's finished.

Edris nods firmly to Sen'azala's words, especially of the grim but important duty of breaking every one of those remaining chains. Though there's a certain ache in his eyes that suggests he might know the pain that might involve for some.

Avary stands with unrelenting poise as Sen'azala speaks. The correction - the clarification - welcome and understood. Her features remain impassive, yes, but soft. There is no ill felt to being interrupted, or corrected even, in this very public setting. Indeed, it appears she may have even anticipated it as possible. "Thank you, Sen'azala. Your words ring True. An important distinction."

She looks back across the congregation and, seeing everything prepared, continues with the benedictions:

"May Gloria bestow upon you the valor of the righteous warrior. In every swing of your blade, find honor; in every act of bravery, find glory. Stand tall and unflinching, as champions of Justice and defenders of the Compact.

Through Vellichor’s wisdom, may your mind be as sharp as your sword. In chaos, find clarity and strategy, understanding that knowledge is as powerful a weapon as steel.

The Sentinel’s unyielding gaze guides your path. May you find Truth in your cause, Justice in your actions, and unwavering resolve in the face of adversity. May It guard your righteousness."...

Sabella's hands have clasped together and been pulled close to her heart as she listens. When Sen'azala steps forward to speak, the princess' gaze seeks her out. A gentle head tilt - the smile now having faded into a contemplative expression - is given. She shakes off a small shiver but turning back to listen to Avary's response.

With a gentle cough, Preston also lifts his voice "Yes, just to echo the Prima Sen'azala. Mercy is a command of the Gods - they cannot grant it, but we are not them. Just as it was with the slaves of the Eurusi. We kill those before us because we must, but if they will surrender then we will grant them that mercy. Some of those, well. They were trapped. In fealty to a bad king, with a little prince who still seeks approval. I cannot feel anything but sadness for that." Preston nods though at Avary's words, and smiles at the mention of Gloria.

Sen'azala brings a fist to her heart, briefly, as Avary responds, and then she merely listens again, eyes narrowing faintly in thought.

Cufre has left the Altar of the Queen of Endings.

Sen'azala's words seem to bring tears to Calyana's eyes, as if her emotion can no longer be kept down. She reaches out to -touch- Preston's face gently. Like one would inspect a doll statue perhaps.

Raymesin clears his throat, then murmurs something to Preston.

Skaldia steps out of the shadows a little, glancing to the fallen elf and Preston. Then her gaze turns toward Avary as she begins the benediction. Following Cufre, the younger Harrow sister's jaw is set in quiet determination.

Skaldia has left the Altar of the Queen of Endings.

"Let Gild's spirit of unity bind you to your allies and forge unbreakable bonds of camaraderie. In the fellowship of arms, find strength, support, and shared purpose.

Embrace the passion and dedication of Limerance. Let your love for Arvum and its people drive you forward to defend the bonds that unite us all.

In the flames of Lagoma, find renewal and adaptability. May you flow with the shifting change of battle, emerging stronger and more resilient." ...

Mihaly says little of Sen's testament, beyond the old knight simply nodding. "Well said." he states simply. Not much the eldest Riven needs to say on the matter.

Raymesin, his few words said, then watches Calyana and Preston with a flicker of a smile.

"Jayus blesses you with Creativity and Innovation. In the art of war, find ways to overcome and outmaneuver.

Stand firm like the steadfast forests under Petrichor's watch. May your resolve be as enduring as the ancient trees, and your spirit as free as the wilds. Do not let blight and corruption dissuade you. Nature is beautiful. Remember it, and let it be your anchor.

Mangata’s tides surge within you. In her endless flow, find the rhythm of battle, the grace of movement, and the strength of the relentless sea.

Under Aion’s eternal gaze, remember the legacy you create. May your deeds echo through time as a testament to the bravery and sacrifice of this day." ...

Cufre has emerged from the Queen's Shrine far less rattled than she'd entered it. She remains at the edge of those gathered, bowing her head as she catches what remains of the benediction.

Preston checks mana and theology at easy. Preston is successful.

"In Death's embrace, find solace and resolve. May she guide those who fall to peaceful rest, and the dead among us to fight their righteous battle." (Yes, we have an army of the dead and it's awesome.)

"Finally, Skald’s spirit of freedom empowers you. It is your birthright. Break the chains of fear and doubt, fighting not just for victory, but for the liberty of every soul in Arvum."

"Archlector Giada of the Thirteenth is available to bless your weapons in the name of the Thirteenth, to imbue them with greater effect against abyssal flesh. Seek her out, warriors. And may the Pantheon light your path."

Thus concludes the benedictions.

Avary turns and descends the platform. Almost so quickly, she withdraws into herself which isn't new or unusual. It's her normal. She gives muted, thankful nods to the Templars that stood watch - and Raymesin - and makes for her makeshift office within the space of the altar.

Skaldia lowers to one knee like the Templars, holding the butt of her recurve bow on the ground, head bowed, for the rest of the benediction. She's late to the party, but she had a distraught sister to soothe. She's not a templar, nor even a knight, but she is devout in her service as a disciple.

Preston gently lays his own hand on Calyana's and gives the elf an understanding smile "All that was is in the past. The paths ahead of you are yours to take." He says quietly before he looks across at the front and wrinkles his nose at something Avary says. Like she just suggested dipping lovely sweet fruit into mayonaise and calling it a dessert.

3 House Riven Soldiers, 1 Greenwood Tribe Blood Warriors, Lianna, 1 Bisland pride guards, Feydin, a white-tailed eagle, Vigilance, a juvenile female Oakhaven Bloodhound, Berthold, Tinsel arrive, following Mia.

Lucita sets her lute aside and moves from her spot in the back of the stage to mingle a moment in the crowd. Her expression is somber, thoughtful.

Calyana looks down at the hand on hers and the sobbing pauses. She looks up at him and tension seems to leave her body. She squeezes his hand, as the tears stop falling all together. "Thank you."

Skaldia rises to her feet once the benediction is done, slinging her bow across her back again. She looks to Cufre wordlessly, her gaze steady.

When Mia arrives, it's from somewhere deeper within the encampment, tucked within a circle of tents that have the twin herons of House Riven hanging from the banners posted near them. There's a tight expression on her normally impassive face, no doubt an attempt to keep anything more than that from breaking through the surface. She ducks through the assembled crowd, taking care to ensure the sheath of her blade doesn't knock into anyone's legs.

Sen'azala exhales through her teeth. She doesn't kneel, but then, she's not a templar either, and she's not gathered with the Faith. Her attention shifts, briefly, back toward Calyana, though nothing changes in that expression of hers. There's a hardness that's settled in, the rest either not visible or well disguised under the face paint.