The Church of Kelemvor RP

[None]

In the dark winter night that followed, Elisia, Gaven, and the Guardian of the Ilmater Shrine could be seen leaving the graveyard with a woman in shackles. Her hair was short and dark, adorned in a dark iron armor. The gauntlets of the woman were shackled and chained as they made their way to the Flaming Fist. While this woman appeared to be in their custody for that time, the three were patient with her. They stopped when needed, and treated her well. While they could not abide by any of her protests, it was clear this was not what one would expect of an enemy. The tired Kelemvorite's empty expression was heavier then. For all of those that glimpsed the woman being taken in by the Flaming Fist, something was clear. This was not a march of a prisoner, it was a farewell for now for a friend.

After the woman had entered Fist custody, the three of them went their separate ways, and the tired despondent young woman sat before the frozen fountain where the vendors and artist had gone home for the night. There in silence she stared off the ice, back to a time where she didn't carry a familiar feeling. As the night turned into day, the snow dripped from her hood and past her face where she did not move. She never went home that night.

[Afendaria]

12 Alturiak 1362 DR

Over the next few days after the declaration that the Church of Cyric and worship of the Black Sun had been outlawed in Baldur’s Gate, a tired and grim-appearing Priestess Afendaria could be seen shuffling her way between various taverns and temples, constantly meeting and speaking with all sorts of individuals. Often she would end up in these places longer than she normally would allow herself to stay, but whatever she was discussing or talking over, she was persistent, gathering information and taking down notes, as if she was hunting for or determined to find something.

She had also started visiting the Flaming Fist Headquarters and had been going down into the anti-magic block during visitation hours, joining Elisia LeGande and Korwin Vhoss, two close fellow members of her faith who had been visiting a friend staying there for a few days already. Whoever they were seeing, they took up the entirety of all the visiting time they could, right up until the last second, ensuring that the one they visited with could not speak to anyone else, other friends or strangers alike.

Meanwhile, the dead scattered about in the Undercity’s winding caverns and walkways outside the ruined temple of Bhaal were slowly being collected. With permission granted to Afendaria and the Church of Kelemvor from their Graces, the remains of the Underctiy's dead were being moved to the Ossuary in the Shrine of Suffering. In a combined effort, Kelemvorites, Ilmatari, and other adventurers wishing to assist had started moving and preparing the dead for proper, final rest. Despite the plethora of rats and vermin that attacked them down in the Undercity, the Kelemvorites, adventurers, and Ilmatari would take their time to identify those they could by magical or mundane means and inform any of the dead's still living family and relatives about the end of their loved ones. Clerics from both faiths also offered final rites and dignity to all the dead they could not identify. Many skeletal and petrified remains lacked whole pieces, but even the bodies and bones that had been shattered and dismembered were also cared for with the utmost respect.

Work would take time, and many trips back and forth into the Undercity would occur over the next while. There were many dead, but slowly more of the deceased would find proper rest, those involved aiming for the dead to be placed right there in the Ilmatari Ossuary, other chapels' gravesites, buried elsewhere, or end up cremated.

[None]

Another day passes in the Flaming Fist prison. The same Kelemvorite as the day before remained quiet outside of the former Mortarch's cell. For the hour they spend together, Elisia is either seen watching the old stone floor or reading a book just out of arm's reach. Today she said not a word to the woman behind the bars unless spoken to. She remained lingering like a ghost. Perhaps in time, the Mortarch would come to understand her presence was more than a simple inconvenience, but the only comfort her friend could offer.