Luna, the sweet, studious assistant arrives, following Carita.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Talwyn before departing.

Etienne has arrived to paint things, it said so right on the notice. Since there is no better outfit to paint thing in than his shiny shiny coat he has come completely prepared without any additional forethought. Stepping into the never quite done shrine he looks around for a suitable pile and some paints to start with. He takes a moment to admire the painting of the shrine's destruction including a reasonable depiction of what looks like man in a similar shiny coat, "See, there I am." Etienne says to Monique, escorting her into the shrine to join the festivities. "That hammer went six.. seven inches before it fell to the floor. Left a sizable dent, I did my part."

Sparte is standing near the center of the shrine, looking over a rock about the size of his hand while he waits for people to come in. Sizing it up, deciding what to with it. The stations are all through the area for people to come sit and take a hand at trying to paint or decorate the stones left around, and some have already been used to start to define the cobbled wall that will run around part of the shrine. Wilhelm comes to say something to Sparte, causing him to blink in surprise. "That time already? Well, uh... Welcome! Welcome to everyone who has come tonight not sure what they would find or do. I'll give you the whole spiel in just a minute, so please find a spot to sit comfortably."

Waldemai has joined the Artisans Nook.

Waldemai is an artisan, so he sits in the Artisans Nook. None of this cross media stuff for him!

Painting! One should hope even the royalty of House Valardin can wield a brush somehow. Enthusiasm may be a proper substitute for actual skill. Having removed his coat and handed that off to his assistant, Talwyn rolls up the sleeves of his immaculate peacock-blue shirt, exposing his forearms. Gone are the usual limited assortment of cufflinks or rings a bard as he might wear, handed over in turn to her. Quick, abduct Zephirine for an excellent haul. That said, he enters the shrine grounds proper. Enough is going on, a rather lively display, to suggest staking a place out while the staking is good.

Alarissa makes her way in - retinue dispersing to do thier thing - and looks around the shrine with a smile. Especially that wall of rocks. But when Sparte beckons, she's moving in to take a seat so that instruction can be laid out for those not in the know, a glance to see who else familiar has come round.

Carita certainly /looks/ the artisitic sort, though if she is or not only time will tell. She arrives with a warm smile for Sparte, the first familiar face, and a little wiggle of her fingers as she turns her eyes on her surroundings to take it all in. With instructions being to find a place to sit, blue eyes survey her choices.

Alarissa has joined the worship benches.

Monique arrives with Etienne, and she's looking at that painting he points out like she might steal it. She's wearing silk, which was probably a bad decision, but what else is new? Her eyes trail to the Archlector of Gild and her laughter is soft. "Yes, I'm sure it went at least that far. Maybe even further. Perhaps you missed your calling, Etienne? Maybe you ought to have been a smith."

"Perhaps I was in a past life" Etienne comments, finding a nice place to sit and prepare for the intricate work of painting rocks. He looks around for a brief moment, "Is there wine?" he asks, what painter can express himself sober.

Etienne has joined the Painters Alcove.

Monique has joined the Painters Alcove.

As people get settled, Sparte rubs his hands together and looks around the room. "Right. So... Right. Okay, a bit of background on what we're doing. Each year the Craftsmen and Disciples of Jayus build this shrine, then take it down. This year something new is being tried out, a wall dedicated to being built by tokens given unique voice by the rest of us. We're calling it the Wall of Prayer Stones." Sparte gestures to the wall for emphasis.

"Don't worry, trained craftsmen will make sure the wall is stable. What we're here to do is not to build the wall, but to find a stone that feels right to you. To paint it, decorate it, or leave it plain. Leave the marks on the stone that you feel are right for you, there are no wrong answers. Some have been painted in praise to gods, others to respect family houses, it doesn't matter what so long as it comes from the heart. Then I encourage you to say a prayer to the gods, or just Jayus if you prefer, over your stone with the words that feel right to you." Sparte rubs his hands together. "So, short version, make rock pretty, say pretty things to rock, and we will do the rest."

Carita has joined the worship benches.

Talwyn has joined the worship benches.

The safest place shall be among others of his tribe, in that tribe might be artistically inclined. Talwyn smiles at Alarissa, a bit faint. He listens as Sparte gives them directions, the better not to be distracted from instructions being shared.

Waldemai starts sorting through the various rocks, looking for an especially Isenhu-ish rock. He hefts each carefully and holds a few up to the light for closer examination.

'So I shall just throw them up in the air, let them fall and if one cracks just how I like it, thus I am done." Alarissa looks to Carita and Talwn. "I like this already." She jests. A glance over her shoulder, she see's Waldemai the ever present. "Master WAldemai, would you care to join us? WE are discussing tactics. I think Talwyn may croon to his."

Waldemai has left the Artisans Nook.

Waldemai has joined the worship benches.

Monique gives a wave to Carita and a smile in return and then turns back to Etienne. "I'm sure there must be. If not, I've a flask secreted away somewhere." She leans in to murmur something, and then grins widely, leaning back. "What will you paint?"

Etienne nods, "I hope there has been some hidden away" he stands and goes to a pile of rocks, squatting down to pick up a few and pile them in the crook of his arm. Returning to the bench with an assortment along with a small collection of paints he sets them down lightly to avoid damaging them. "I think we would find some here worthy of our marks." he says cheerfully and sits back down to work.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Etienne before departing.

Carita's laughter lifts, "Oh, is that how the experts do it?" she asks Alarissa, amusement dancing in her eyes as she glances Talwyn's way. Then to Monique she lifts a hand to wave, "Oh me? I don't know... what would be appropriate for House Darkwater, do you think?" She tilts her head at the rock piles as she seems to be choosing her rock from afar, "Just .. black?" She laughing softly now.

Waldemai holds yet another rock up. He examines it from all sides, then turns it upside down and looks it all around again. "That'll do," he says. He puts it on the ground and takes his hammer from his belt. "You might want to stand back," he warns.

"If that is how you feel, then one should do that." Alarissa encourages, getting up to fish through the rocks, laughing at the image of shattered rocks. 'Can you get that high pitched Prince Talwyn? Have you met Princess' Sorrel, Tikva and Baroness-regent Lucita? If you indeed sing like such." Wait. Waldemai's going for it and Alarissa takes up an odd shaped rock and puts a barrel between her and the commoner. "I am prepared!" She warns.

Monique picks up a choice rock from Etienne's pile and examines in from all angles, with a truly critical eye. She sets it down again, picks up another. "Do you think you can find rocks that match personalities?" she asks no one in particular, though laughs softly at Carita's quip. "That would be cheating, I think."

Talwyn is prone generally to quiet for a bit, listening quite easily. He follows after Carita and Alarissa in their pursuits, Waldemai their guide in all things stony and rocky. "Try to capture shades and swirls of darkness, but not in black. Greys, greens of the deep tidal pools. Add a dip of brown to hint at the peat, then the wet stone. A few flecks of white, pale, full of hope," he throws out the ideas easily enough. A nod to Alarissa: "I do, in fact. Baroness-Regent Lucita and I have been friends for quite some time. Remarkable woman, and she speaks very highly of you."

Waldemai checked dexterity + smithing at difficulty 40, rolling 8 higher.

"I don't see why not" Etienne remarks, watching the other group with some interest while he waits for his turn to pick a stone. He seems to spend a great deal of time examining some of the rocks. Before finally selecting one and opening some of the paints.

Waldemai gives his chosen rock one good whack with his hammer, and by some miracle it splits neatly. "There we go," he mutters, picking up the halves and polishing them on his leather apron. "Now, a lick of paint, maybe..."

"Oh, uh, there is... Well, one other thing people can think about. While you design your stones."

Sparte is pacing around, watching people work now. "There are people all throughout the compact who can't easily travel to the shrine of Jayus, where we are today. The old or infirm. There are children, who often struggle with ways to grow closer to their faith. Prodigals too, who may learn to speak of it but never have a chance to put a shape to it."

Sparte pauses, still a moment as he tries to find the right words. "If any here would want to see this wall grow tall, not just for your contribution? Become a Stone Tender. It is a honorary title, it isn't a discipleship or anything like that. It just means you want to spread this little effort beyond the stone wall being raised by it. Um, just... You know. Let me know." A nervous chuckle to end it.

"Gods above you did it." She's impressed too, that clean cleaving. Alarissa looks to Carita a lift of her shoulders but smiles at that verbal rendering that Talwyn offers up. "That sounds like a very lovely stone Prince Talwyn. If the Lady can manage such?" Sparte's request though has her weighing the stone in her hand and nodding. "Could you see to a barrel brought to Thrax? That in thier off time, the servants and thralls may be able to do such?"

Monique finally finds a stone worthy of her 'art'. It's long and flat, full of knicks and dents. Paint next, in green and black and gold, if they have it. Her paint brush makes sure strokes that don't seem to be in any particular pattern at all. Someone has no artistic eye to speak of, but seems happy enough with the chaos of randomly painting blobs. She looks up when Sparte speaks, but her hand keeps on painting blindly. "Hm. Will you, Blessed Etienne? That seems a very 'Gild' thing to do."

Waldemai looks up as Sparte speaks. "I wouldn't mind bringing things to people who can't get in on their own. It'd get me away from the forge for a bit, at least."

Carita's rich, feminine laughter kicks up at Monique's comment on her cheating, her laughter calming as she shakes her head, "And we wouldn't want that." Her brows then lift for Talwyn, "I assure you, when I try such a thing it will be a mess of paint that looks nothing like your beautiful description, but thank you. I... could certainly try?" She sounds utterly helpless, but offers her hand Talwyn's way, palm down, "Lady Carita Darkwater, I ... don't recall meeting you before? Or not formally." She rises to select a rock, "Has anyone ever fixed a precious stone of some sort to their rock?" she asks Sparte when he passes her, a smile over her shoulder for him.

A swirl of colors are chosen for Etienne's fat round rock, though there are many colors the primary one are white and a color most resembling gold. The swirl extends to the rocks edge, and he holds it with two fingers trying to cover the entire surface without getting himself painted. He realizes he has been asked a question. "Oh? Well, if that's what it is. Then I would certainly." he agrees, it's not entirely sure if he knows what he is agreeing to. He sets the rock down, a flask has appeared and he avails himself of it.

"Oh, Lady Carita. Meet Prince Talwyn Valardin. Cousin by marriage through my first dear departed husband. Prince Talwyn, this is the Lady Carita Darkwater. You may know her as the woman who has played a significant part in ressurecting Darkwater and it's redoubt." There's a glance to her stone and then she's taking a seat, littel pots of paint near as she takes up a paintbrush and starts to set about to making a very beautiful -A- on the rock. "What are you doing with yours Master Waldemai."

Oh, a question. Sparte turns to Alarissa, smiling and giving her a nod. "Of course, I'll see to it." Another question. Sparte looks to Carita, blinking a few times before glancing at the wall. "I, uh, I don't know. I don't think so. I look at the wall pretty regularly, havn't seen a stone like that added to it yet."

Someone whacking a rock makes loud noises. A hammer on a rock makes substantially noisier sounds. Talwyn winces slightly at Waldemai's precise enthusiasm. He doesn't really complain. Rather he nods thoughtfully to Sparte as he takes up a brush. Two in fact, one for the pale shades, and one for the darker. Mixing them does not seem totally surprising. "If you can manage Lady Darkwater, I will be glad to praise it." His preference for a stone is something more oblong, pear-shaped perhaps, or given another whimsical feature. A dip, a rare seam of mica and quartz, that sort of eye-catching effect. In the end it doesn't matter.


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One bright spring morning a carriage and wagon departed from the city of Arx, a party comprising of Inquisitor Faye Ruger, Inquisitor Mercedes Valardin, Inquisitor Neb Stepwright, and an unknown individual who was shrouded with a travel cloak. Leaving the Fortress City behind they ventured north into the Crownlands to a small farming village known as Inslmith. Only a few hundred citizens of the Compact called this village home, but in the last few months a rash of disappearances had plagued the small village. Villagers disappeared. Live stock disappeared. Local bandits. Work hounds and family pets. Soon the village was reduced to a fraction of its original population and the party of mainly Inquisitors set out to find out what had happened.

They returned several days later, rain trailing them from the village that had been reduced to a near ghost town. Behind them a wagon train of refugees. The mystery was uncovered; a dark cultist working dark tidings was responsible for the disappearances. Many of the survivors were in a state of shock, some horror having been worked on them that will take years to recover from. Many speak of wicked intentions of some blood crazed cultists, raving about his silent master and demanding answers to questions he wrote in blood and sacrifice. But, they also speak to how the Inquisitors launched into action, scouring the town for clues and information before finding the lair of the cultist and confronting him to a bloody end.
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Waldemai looks around when the princess addresses him. "Oh, your highness, I wanted to paint the split faces in complementary colors, so they would be symmetric, right?" He holds the split stone up with the fresh fractured faces out so they are mirror images of each other.

Monique casts a wolfish grin Carita's way before focusing her gaze back upon her rock. It's a beautiful mess of color with no art to it at all. She leans over and smears a streak of black paint down the bridge of Etienne's regal nose and then looks eminently satisfied.

Cartia dips her head respectfully Talwyn's way, from her spot by the rocks as she lifts an odd shaped rock, at Alarissa's introduction, her laughter soft, "...the woman who played a significant part in rebuilding Darkwater, but is completely flummoxed at the idea of painting a rock.." For Talwyn she adds, "A pleasure, Prince Talwyn. I only wish Princess Denica were here, no doubt she would have ideas of her own on how to paint this rock." She then smiles Sparte's way. "Well then, I get to be unique. I've a broken earring in my pocket that might do /just/ the trick. Do you think it woudl stay with the help of paint?"

Etienne's eyes cross and he attempts to stare at his new decoration, "Why thank you Lady Monique." he says, his own rock drying on the floor. Rubbing his nose only makes it worse as his hand is now stained with it, he gives up and looks to select another rock, a glowering expression springs back to life each time he casts a glance in Monique's direction.

"Why be so worried about doing it right? Try it. If it doesn't look good, try another." Talwyn speaks more conversationally to Carita than bossing anyone around. He dips his own brushes in a deeper violet shade and applies a thick band to one end of the stone. The fanned bristles spread over the curves of his chosen chunk of stone, and he isn't past using his fingers to distribute the paint. Better to use that brush, though, more dry-brushing as a technique than splatter art. The next color he adds afterwards, bleeding into one another.

"You look just like Arn when you make that face," Monique tells Etienne officiously, but with obvious warmth. She accepts the flask from the Blessed of Gild for a happy swig. "Oh, Princess Denica was just in the Gilded Page last evening. Remarkable woman. You're right, Lady Carita. She would be a good addition to this party." A streak of green goes down Etienne's cheek when he's not looking.

Waldemai picks out a couple of paint pots in complementary colors. He paints carefully, with his tongue stuck partly out.

Alarissa's been concentrating very hard, making sure that there's no paint getting on that dress of hers. Or her jewelry. Or her day jacket. Slippers. Okay, not a speck of paint on her at all. But there's a lovely A that is forming on her rock. "Thsi is precisely, her sort of thing to do." Alarissa agree's with Monica.

Make note of that. They agreed.

Sparte considers Carita's question for a little while, then just sort of parts his hands. "I suppose... Maybe a bit of the putty they use to hold the wall together? I think, leave a note with it for the craftsmen. They'll, uh, make sure it is anchored together better than I would be able." Another look around. "I think everyone has the general idea of it, though, so I'm just going to mosey around and be nosey for a while to see what everyone made."

Etienne is an Archlector of Gild, a man of the Faith and not prone to petty acts of retribution. Gild, who prizes charity and generosity near the top of her ideals would brook no quarter for juvenile displays, so he lets the comment about his Uncle slide past and continues to paint his rock. "That rock looks a lot like the one you picked before" he says to Monique , pointing at one at the extreme edge of the pile, his thumb and fore finger seem to be laden with paint and an eye firmly waiting for an opportunity to paint an turned ear.

"Mm, you're right." Carita agrees with Talwyn, "The perfectionist side of me often wars with the free-spirited side, I admit. I shall force the latter to take over." She grins his way, then gasps as she notices the painting Monique is doing of Etienne. She dips her head to hide a smile, selects two more rocks, and makes her way back to her seat to get started. "Green looks lovely on you, Archlector Etienne," is said in a very innocent way, her attention on the rock now that she has paints and her brushes at the ready.

Talwyn's work is something more of a mess when he starts trying to work within those borders. It isn't particularly a pretty sight with the sharp margins too clearly laid out, but that's what a thumb is for -- something he can busily blur a bit.

"See? You look lovely," Monique replies to Etienne, echoing Carita's sentiment with obvious amusement. But she does turn because that rock does look like hers and the possessive Minx is possessive. "That's my next one-- oh!" Whatever lovely color her ear is now, she can't see but she can certainly feel it.