Private The Power of Prayer

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

Information

The Light of Ashla, Champion and Avatar of Ashla ​

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Objective: Talk to Michael
Location: Michael Barran's Apartment
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (weapons) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Michael Barran

Eina spent most of her time in the Netherworld, but when she needed to, she was always available in Realspace. Lately, there were no threats in Realspace that required her constant supervision and presence, so she kept herself busy with things at home. And in the Netherworld there was never a stop. She thought this world was the more dangerous of the two, even if for most it was just the afterlife. Still, it was filled with different races, though most were still somehow tied to death and passing. And here the predators were not after flesh, but souls and Force energies.

And it was her duty, as well as the duty of her people, to protect the defenceless souls and to help those who turn to the Valkyrja, or the Children of Ashla for guidance and protection. But she had been more than just one of these two species since the first great Tython attack, she was one of the Ashla Avatars, along with her husband Geiseric . True, this didn't change much about her character, she remained the same as before. She performed the same tasks as before. She helped others, taught them, healed their souls or physical injuries. And of course, there was one of the most important things of all, in a desolate corner of the Netherworld...

… the Dark Three. War, Death and Rebirth.

Although the three Avatars were quiet in their own territory these days, she and her people were always keeping an eye on them. Eina considered them among the most dangerous entities in the Netherworld. They were similar to Ashla or the Manda, only these were not Light Side or Neutral entities, but evil. They were evil entities of an evil religion, who merged souls into a non-common consciousness to further their wisdom and provide a new life for their followers. No, the Dark Three fed on the souls of their dead followers and those who were killed by their followers. They strengthened themselves with this and only released the mutilated, tortured souls back or kneaded them into various monsters.

In addition, she was watched and checked for anyone who might pray to her or want to contact her. Not everyone had a connection to the HPI communications network, although it was possible to communicate to the Netherworld with it. That left prayer. If someone prayed to Ashla, she knew about it, though she only bothered if Ashla herself asked her to. Otherwise, she only cared when she was prayed to specifically. It was still unusual for her to be treated as a Living Saint, but prayer as a calling word worked perfectly. Like this day, when she sensed Michael Barran 's call and prayer.

She didn't wait too long after that, but created a rift between Netherworld and Realspace, where Barran was, and stepped through it. And the rift closed a few moments later, as the fabric of reality healed itself. She stepped closer to him, though she kept her distance of several meters before speaking.

"I have heard your call... your prayer, Lord Barran. I am here, how can I help you? What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked him.

 

[Michael Barran]

"The Tattered Regent"

TAGS
Eina L'lerim-Vandiir

THE POWER OF PRAYER - 1

​

West Tower, The Hand of Thrawn,
New Carannia, Nirauan (902 ABY)

'Well- here goes nothin', I guess....'
​

With a small silver mask icon (little more than the size of a thimble) held in the palm of his hand, and a rosary between the thumb and index finger, the Lord Imperator was knelt on both knees, with head bowed, and all according to the practices of his Ashlan denomination. Normally the small icon would not be needed, as the vast majority of his prayers were uttered whilst wearing a real mask, among other mask-wearing devotees to Sedes Aurea, but Barran was home at the time, acting on a spur of the moment whim of the soul.

'In the name of Holy Ashla, and by the Will of Sedes Aurea, hear my prayer - hear the wayward.'
​

Only the wind and the rain could be heard outside, and though it's incessant rattle was beating against the windows at the time, there was something about it that relaxed the old Woad somehow, aiding his focused sincerity to near-meditative extreme. Lord Michael had known for a while that prayer differed to his usual brand of meditation, as Midichlorians seemed to behave differently whenever matters of Will became matters of Faith, and especially when devotees' emotions intertwined with the hope for salvation, and all this had intrigued Barran to the point of near-manic research into this phenomenon.

'Saint Eina, Guide of Souls - to intercede, to guide, to shelter lambs of Paradise.'
​

'I have heard your call... your prayer, Lord Barran. I am here, how can I help you? What did you want to talk to me about?'

​

In a confirmation of honour's merit, the necessity of the soul, and of the same faith he found in the voice of young Tancred, the last holdout of Fel Imperium found himself shedding tears of joy, though only after he nearly-jumped out of his skin from the jumpy shock of Eina's sudden arrival, chuckling through the tears as he finally turned to gaze upon the face of the Ashlan Avatar. Purpose was finding the Defiant once more, and at a point in the timeline when many in Barran's position would have given up, especially with the resurgent Dark Voice considered; realms were rising and falling like daily moon-tidal seas, the Galaxy's strongest powers were falling as Fel's Empire had, just twenty years before, and the strength Lord Michael needed had just materialized in the study of the Hand's habitation tower.

'I apologise for these joyful tears o' mine, I see you're still getting used to the reverence thing. But honestly, you should be shown the significant impact you have on corporeal souls.... Lady Eina, there is so much work to be done, so much insight and perspective to impart, and so much we have to discuss together from here.'

 

[Eina L'lerim-Vandiir]

Information

The Light of Ashla, Champion and Avatar of Ashla ​

"Galactic Common" | <"High Nelvaanian"> | ["Essonian"] | ~ telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >> ​

Objective: Talk to Michael
Location: Michael Barran's Apartment
Equipment: Sverð Fyrstr (weapons) | Ljósspjót (spear) | Skrúð Engill Fyrstr (armour) || Empyrean gland | OPBC-01m
Tags: Michael Barran

Lord Michael was not wrong when he said that Eina is not yet used to the effect and influence she has on humans and other beings in Realspace. It was something she really couldn't get used to, let alone being considered a saint. She had never been religious, she didn't believe in Ashla, but she acknowledged her existence. In this she was like her parents; she did not recognize any being or entity as a god or goddess. There were very powerful Force entities, or Force users, but that did not make them of divine origin. Neither Ashla. But by now Eina understood that mortals needed to believe in something.

She nodded quietly for that very reason. She wasn't used to this, but she was used to the fact that some people thought it strange and were surprised when her former Valkyrja spoke and sounded exactly like her own mother, Ingrid L'lerim. True, it was a little different, as the Eternal Empress' voice was cold, distant and emotionless, while the Light of Ashla's was kind and caring. One voice, but two extremes of tone.

"No, I'm not used to it, the living are still very strange to me." she told him.

She then drew her wings a little closer together to make sure she didn't knock anything down in the room. Meanwhile, she watched him all the time; Eina looked at Michael with interest as he continued to speak. It had been a long time since she had been approached with a request such as the one he was now outlining. She didn't really know what to say to that. What she did know was that people were usually confused by communication through emotions and thoughts, which was commonplace for her. It was clear and honest, while the living often expressed feelings other than what they thought or felt. This was disturbing for Eina and she did not like lying. That is why she was completely honest and to this day struggled to understand the different phrases and sayings.

"Oh?" she asked with genuine surprise, and it was evident on her face as well. "What subjects do you think I can help you with?" she asked him again."What are your plans Lord Michael?"

 

[Michael Barran]

"The Tattered Regent"

TAGS
Eina L'lerim-Vandiir

THE POWER OF PRAYER - 2

​

West Tower, The Hand of Thrawn,
New Carannia, Nirauan (902 ABY)

'Nirauan needs a Cathedral, a source of Defiant Light.... Let it serve as a shield for faithful souls.'
​

'An' I'm not even scraping the tip o' that iceberg, by the way.', the Lord Imperator then admitted, trailing off with the sudden urge to depart for Serenno, a nostalgic longing to return to that one Carannian Hookah den; even if only for a few hours to better brace himself against the memories, and those visions that still pained him greatly, catalysing a tiredness of the soul Lord Michael once saw in the eyes of his father. But when Barran's eyes lifted once more, looking up from his empty coffee-cup to gaze into the eyes of one he truly believed was a Saint of the Light, he knew he had made the right choice in praying, offering a kindly, sincere smile with a nod for the all good he knew would result of this encounter.

'I see visions of Bogan and Mawsworn menaces, gathering strength, devouring the very essence of life in this Galaxy. I am also given visions of murder, of sacrificial killing on a near-unprecedented scale, and on the ground where all this is inflicted, the influence of deconsecration spreads like a plague.... An' I desire now to wage war upon that blight, to cast it from the Galaxy - once an' for all.'

From a warm, kindly demeanour, the expressions in the old Woad's face would gradually turn more serious as he continued to tell of events from the Realspace Force-Users' perspectives, becoming a mask of righteousness, like the very pendant he was grasping in prayer just moments before. A look of which a certain Saint was likely to have seen before, expressed across the face of a certain Kellas, and perhaps even that on the face of a certain Stormchaser; though the Tattered Regent, the Wanderer of yesteryear, seemed to calm his soul at a much-quicker pace than the usual brand of Goidel.

'Let the cure, let the Light - grow once more.... Let us sway the Galaxy's hearts an' minds.'