The Scholar of Fenghai, Bai Suzhen almost cringed visibly as the doors of the Throne Hall closed behind her with a dull boom, the sound amplified by the silence within the spacious room in which she now stood. This was her first official appearance at the headquarters of the light guild Dies Irae, and she was practically a rack of nerves. Everything about the guild spoke of grandeur, and even though Suzhen was not unfamiliar with grandeur, there was something about being exposed to something one was not used to. The grandeur of Dies Irae was different from anything she was familiar with. Dongxia, her home nation, had its own measures of grandeur, and could be breathtaking in its colorful displays of splendor. This here was different. It had its own type of splendor, except that Dies Irae's seemed to be a cold and dismal majesty, one that had the potential to strike a mixture of fear and wonder into the heart, what with its stark grey stone walls and its myriad of flying banners. Its location on Amber Island meant that it was generally situated away from the rest of the world, and it would be quite unexpected to see the building towering high on the once deserted island, if one were not expecting to see it.
Yet for all its stark splendor, the fact that a thriving town, Port Amber, could be situated here, thanks to being protected by the shadow of the guild, was the major reason Suzhen had found herself here. In retrospect, she felt she was a coward; most people joined guilds because they either identified with the guild's ideals, or they wanted something and the guild was a way to get their desire. Suzhen, for her part, had only been interested in the guild in another land, possibly another time, with death and madness all around her. A dying soldier had whispered the lines of an ancient verse, and Suzhen had heard it. While she knew not to whom this hymn was written, she could not forget the words, and after blood, death and sacrifice had ensured that she was free once more to walk under the sun that shone on living men, the Dongxian scholar had ardently researched the lines she had heard. Eventually, she could not identify the original birthplace of the poem, but she discovered excerpts from a missive that bore the exact words. And the missive was from Dies Irae.
After doing all the necessary research on the guild, Suzhen felt she could get behind the guild's ideologies, even if some people said they were a band of crazed murderers sitting under the flag of righteousness. What appealed to Suzhen, so she felt, was the guild's commitment to discipline, self-betterment, and the protection of the populace. She could run under such a flag. What she did not want to think was that the probable reason she was joining this guild was because she sought to escape the Night Unending. And she felt like a hypocrite for this reason, because her personal code was to not burden others with her own problems. So she just hoped that she would never again have to face the Endless Night, and that her motivations for joining Dies Irae were selfless.
The reception hall seemed empty. Suzhen walked in slowly, her heels announcing her presence with every step. She felt she looked very out-of-place here; aside the fact that she looked nothing like a warrior, she was sure her nervousness was obvious on her face. She felt pathetic. Oh, not to mention that she felt very uncomfortable. She'd been issued standard Dies Irae uniform, and sadly, whoever had measured her had not done much in the way of allowance as far as her bust was concerned. She prayed for the umpteenth time that buttons wouldn't pop. And that the presentation of herself to the guild would be pleasant.
First impressions, they say, last the longest, after all.
WC: 662
Yet for all its stark splendor, the fact that a thriving town, Port Amber, could be situated here, thanks to being protected by the shadow of the guild, was the major reason Suzhen had found herself here. In retrospect, she felt she was a coward; most people joined guilds because they either identified with the guild's ideals, or they wanted something and the guild was a way to get their desire. Suzhen, for her part, had only been interested in the guild in another land, possibly another time, with death and madness all around her. A dying soldier had whispered the lines of an ancient verse, and Suzhen had heard it. While she knew not to whom this hymn was written, she could not forget the words, and after blood, death and sacrifice had ensured that she was free once more to walk under the sun that shone on living men, the Dongxian scholar had ardently researched the lines she had heard. Eventually, she could not identify the original birthplace of the poem, but she discovered excerpts from a missive that bore the exact words. And the missive was from Dies Irae.
After doing all the necessary research on the guild, Suzhen felt she could get behind the guild's ideologies, even if some people said they were a band of crazed murderers sitting under the flag of righteousness. What appealed to Suzhen, so she felt, was the guild's commitment to discipline, self-betterment, and the protection of the populace. She could run under such a flag. What she did not want to think was that the probable reason she was joining this guild was because she sought to escape the Night Unending. And she felt like a hypocrite for this reason, because her personal code was to not burden others with her own problems. So she just hoped that she would never again have to face the Endless Night, and that her motivations for joining Dies Irae were selfless.
The reception hall seemed empty. Suzhen walked in slowly, her heels announcing her presence with every step. She felt she looked very out-of-place here; aside the fact that she looked nothing like a warrior, she was sure her nervousness was obvious on her face. She felt pathetic. Oh, not to mention that she felt very uncomfortable. She'd been issued standard Dies Irae uniform, and sadly, whoever had measured her had not done much in the way of allowance as far as her bust was concerned. She prayed for the umpteenth time that buttons wouldn't pop. And that the presentation of herself to the guild would be pleasant.
First impressions, they say, last the longest, after all.
WC: 662