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[Aria Jenneth]

This thread is for the in-character portion of this project. Amarrian roleplayers are welcome to help worldbuild this holiest of cities; others are asked to please limit themselves to listening quietly. The coordinating portion of this project may be found here; participants may use that area to brainstorm and bounce ideas around without Aria's OOC knowledge.

----

The dropship plunges into planetary atmosphere, compressing the air ahead of it into a wave front of plasma.

On board, one small passenger bounces about in her harness, eyes serenely closed as the turbulence repeatedly tries to throw her at the ceiling, though her pallid features are even paler than usual.

In much of New Eden, she'd be peculiar traveler, what with the long, loose skirts and voluminous shawl. The garments are plain at a glance: a simple, black dress and pleated skirt paired with a wrap of black wool long enough to virtually be a cloak, a band of black enamel around the left wrist her only jewelry. Closer examination, however, reveals intricate lace panels and embroidery hidden in the skirt pleats, all black on black, and the knotwork around the shawl fringe is enormously, pointlessly elaborate. The more attention is paid, the clearer it becomes that this is masterwork tailoring masquerading as peasant garb.

The ship gives a particularly strong jostle, and her eyes flash wide, serenity snuffed in an instant as she struggles to maintain her composure.

"I-- I'm okay," she reassures her companion, though her voice is shaking as much as the ship. "It's not my first drop."

Here, it's less the garb and more those almond-shaped eyes the silver-black hue of polished hematite, the faintly golden cast of her features, and her birdlike fragility that are unusual, marks of an ethnicity that's rare anywhere outside the Okkamon constellation in the Caldari State. The Achura are a hermit people, as reclusive as it's possible for a bloodline to be and still play a role in New Eden's family of interstellar civilizations.

She closes her eyes once more.

"It's my third," she admits as the mask of serenity drops back into place.

Her breathing eases along with the turbulence as the dropship descends towards Dam-Torsad, but she doesn't open her eyes again until the ship is on the ground.

The ship still, the airlock hissing, she detaches herself from her harness, hikes her shawl up over the top of her head, takes a slow, deep breath, and steps towards the hatch, black little eyes peering from beneath a dark forelock for a first glimpse of the city beyond.

[Arkon Sarain]

Arkon stood on the platform dressed much as he always in a blue robe which suited him splendidly. There was a light breeze this early morning in Dam-Torsad and it gathered the hem of his robes causing them to billow slightly. The sun was just beginning to truly rise above the horizon; Arkon felt its rays on the back of his neck – a comfortable and caressing warmth.

He was flanked by two officers of the Ministry of Internal Order; their golden uniforms looking like fine sand against the blue of Arkon’s blue robes. He had personally requested their presence to ensure a safe and comfortable visit, though of course even if he hadn’t the MIO would have assigned them anyway.

As the sound of prayers began to weave their way between buildings and lifting a hundred thousand voices to the very heavens themselves Arkon could only murmur.

“O Dam-Torsad. My country. City of my soul.”

A warm and wide smile found his face as the thought of the city in which he stood, how often had he visited here? And never once had he found the city wanting, all images of the city did it no justice, they give only imperfect ideas of the unsullied beauty of Dam-Torsad. He sighed warmly only in Dam-Torsad was it possible to understand Dam-Torsad.

One of the MIO fellows pointed out a shuttle looming into view; Arkon nodded and set about straightening his robes a little. The shuttle touched down and once the door and ramp lowered to revel the figure dressed in elegant black Arkon smiled and bowed deeply.

“Ms. Jenneth, a pleasure…” The MIO men also bowed, and as Arkon rose an arm swept out to reveal the vista, “… Welcome to Dam-Torsad, the Imperial City.”

Arkon new better than most, he was a frequent visitor to Dam-Torsad, that a single vista of that most ancient and glorious city contained more beauty and more history than anywhere else in New Eden.

[Aria Jenneth]

Aria's eyes widened a little at the first sight of the city, but turned almost at once to Arkon and the gathered escort. She returned the bow-- very much the gesture of a foreigner still picking up the niceties, albeit one who'd been getting some practice.

"Mr. Sarain. Thank you again for this opportunity."

Her eyes flicked over the MIO officers one by one, but quickly returned to the dawn-touched vista. She stepped forward for a better view.

[Lunarisse Aspenstar]

Mean while in the central Torsad district, the golden spires of the myriad cathedrals and Imperial offices gleamed in the morning sun.  The streets far below, bustled with activity as pedestrians and assorted ground cars moved to and thro with the morning commute.  Air cars hovered between the towers, like a condor hanging on a morning breeze.  The sprawl of Dam-Torsad extends in all directions.

Shifting our point of view further down towards the ground level, at the edge of Torsad , is a large square with finely cut grass and criss-crossed with paths of gold .  A long procession of sisters clad in robes in Sarumite colors are proceeding eastwards from the forbidding cloistered walls of the Abbey of the Little Sisters of the Most Blessed Sword to the frescoed walls of the Chapel of the Most Blessed Sword.  To the side of the Chapel is a building tower labeled “offices” where guests and outsiders could visit with the Sisters.

Slaves and their handlers and commoners part as the women proceed through the large space.  The air is filled with their song.  The song blends with the carillon bells calling the faithful in the square area to morning prayer.  At the end of the procession, an open sedan chair is being lifted by four slaves.  A closer view reveals its occupant:

The Lady Abbess Benedicta Secheh, Holder, Mother Superior of the Order of the Little Sisters of the Most Blessed Sword and the Prioress of their Mother House on Sarum Prime III.

Oblivious to the stateliness of the procession, she was busily signing papers and handing them without ceremony to several sisters who were panting trying to keep up with the chair. 

After the morning’s business was done and the procession made its way to the entrance of the Cathedral, the stolid 60 something woman disembarked from the chair.  Gazing without expression, the golden antlers of her ceremonial headdress and necklace with a religious symbol caught the morning sun.  Her high-necked dress in Sarumite colors extended to her feet which, somewhat anachronically, was clad by a pair of sturdy, sensible shoes.

Stating a firm “Ave” to those with her, she huffed as she steadily and slowly climbed the stairs and proceeded to enter into the Cathedral and for the first time, her voice rose in song.   The procession continued through a crowd of standing worshipers who kept their focus intently on the altar, daring not to converse or seem distracted.  Light filtered into through the windows illuminating the glitter, mosaic strewn walls of the Chapel.  Several security officers at the back of the Cathedral could be seen, clad in brown robes concealing the accoutrements of their trade. 

Concluding the procession, the sisters filed into a choir loft on either side of the Altar, with the Abbess joining the Prelate, where, the two of them faced the Altar and cried as one when the song of prayer ended “Deus vult!”  The assembled crowd fell as one to prostrate themselves on their hands and knees.

[Arkon Sarain]

“The honour is all mine, Ms. Jenneth.”

Arkon steps aside to allow Aria a better view of the most modern vista of Dam-Torsad, golden spires connected by mag-rail links, prayer drones zooming through the air amplifying the great number of choirs and private prayers into a seemingly limitless chorus, and like a constant heartbeat the peel of bells echoes throughout.

“I trust you shan’t take offence at our companions for the journey, Dam-Torsad is not simply any city it is the birthplace of everything sacred to Amarr – it was here that Dano Gheinok lead the Amarr over 15,000 years ago, and here that Amash-Akura begun our great empire.”

Arkon’s voice quiet and reverential but still there are tones of a man who is proud to show a stranger the greatest treasure of his people and faith. He gives her a few moments of silence to enjoy the view, and then with an outstretched arm indicates for them to descend the steps away from the landing pad.

“I thought we might begin by visiting the Chapel of the Most Blessed Sword, it is by no means the greatest of sights in Dam-Torsad. But the sisters there are dutiful and it is nearby, and with morning services beginning I thought you might like to view the processions and ceremony here.”

He gracefully descends the stairs and reaching the streets he smiles at the noise and bustle. The crowd conversing loudly, occasionally conversation would cease as someone of import would walk by necessitating that those lower than them bow and show deference, but otherwise there was a constant noise of feet, prayers, and general conversation. Going almost unnoticed of course were the slaves in the crowd, some still collared.

“To be honest Ms. Jenneth I didn’t plan out a tour exactly, as I imagined you to be someone who appreciates a more organic experience, I do hope that is okay?”

He gives a look of genuine concern, and mentally begins to prepare a more traditional route.

“There are of course must see sights that I wouldn’t deprive you of, oh and I know this absolutely astounding restaurant that does the best Ni-Kunni cuisine off of Mishi that we must have lunch at.”

Arkon smiles and seems to have a lightness and jollity in his step – he is looking forward to showing someone around the city he adores beyond all others.

[Aria Jenneth]

"No offense."

The small Achur straightened from a short flutter of interaction with an interface only she could see, a private holographic window containing a zoomed and view of the procession below (complete with ID labels and interpretive notes from various sources) winking closed. Other processes began preliminary examination of the local datasphere-- and the MIO operatives themselves.

She watched a prayer drone pass by.

"There's ... certainly a lot to take in. Faith seems to be a very public matter, here."

As she turned back to Arkon, another pair of figures exited the ship. Aria nodded to indicate her companions. "Kamieras," she explained apologetically. "PIE believes I may be in some danger. I trust this won't be an issue?" She glanced at the MIO operatives. "I prefer a more ... organic experience very much, yes. I would like to see these ceremonies a bit closer up, though-- if that won't cause trouble?"

[Arkon Sarain]

"Some danger? Of course bring whatever security you need, though I assure you in Dam-Torsad none would dare - or be allowed - to spill blood."

He gives a confident smile, and turns back to the Kameiras giving a polite nod of his head studying them closely. But turning back to his companion on the tour he leads the way forward.

Arkon nods at her observation about the public display of faith, explaining with his hands as he lead them through the crowd.

"Faith is not simply a private conversation between an individual and God, it is a social undertaking, a constant struggle to show that the whole of society is worthy."

The MIO officials make the crowd give the two of them a wide berth. However Arkon spots someone off in the distance approaching.

"A Holder is coming, it is polite to bow as they pass."

The languid progress of the Holder meant it took them a little while to reach where Arkon and Aria walked, and their arrival was announced by the displays of deference. Arkon gave a small polite bow and the Holder passed by without noticing either his or Aria's behaviour.

"But yes it is not enough to live a righteous life, one must also ensure that society itself is righteous - this informs the very public nature of our faith."

As they near the base of the steps into the chapel Arkon nods.

"We can head up to one of the private viewing areas, near the back, out of sight of the rest of the congregation."

[Aria Jenneth]

"It's not Dam-Torsad they're worried about."

The Kameiras are ethnically Matari, and are dressed in the Praetoriate uniforms that mark them as soldiers (and property) of PIE. They're subtly armored and not quite so subtly armed. If they're astounded at where their duties have landed them, they're doing a good job of hiding it.

"I'm used to thinking of culture and faith as intertwined, but I've never seen them so ... indistinguishable, even on the Emperor Family Station."

She bows actually quite deeply as the Holder passes.

"The public nature of faith in your society seems especially pronounced, here."

She nods acknowledgement of his suggestion.

"... Well, if you think that best. I certainly don't wish to cause any disruption, but I would like to see."

[Arkon Sarain]

As they ascend the steps into the chapel Arkon leads them to the door on the left, slightly away from main entrance to the chapel.

"Of course we will be able view the whole ceremony quite easily." He smiles and indicates for Aria to enter first. "I can even ask to meet one of the sisters if you wish to have any questions about the ceremony answered by those involved."

He steps in after her and the way forward is fairly obvious. They are in a small slightly raised and closed off area at the back of the chapel, obscured by curtains and intricately worked stone and wood from the rest of congregation. However their own vision is not hampered and they can easily make out of the proceedings below.

Arkon takes a seat on one of the pews.

"You are most welcome to stand if you wish a better view."

[Lunarisse Aspenstar]

Meanwhile, below the private observation area, the service continued.

The crowd was now standing.  Closer observation of its composition revealed stratification, that towards the front of the crowd, resplendent in finery, were Holders, Imperial Officials and Officers of the Imperial Forces .  Behind them, were their assistants and wealthy commoners.  And last, slaves and their handlers and other assorted persons in the Empire.

Incense rose from Acoyltes swinging censers and further above the vast open space above the assembly from hovering drones.  As the Prelate took his seat, the Abbess slowly proceeded to a raised platform on the side of the main altar, her hands folded and her face a carefully composed mask of piety.  A drone slid upwards along sides a wall of the Chapel until it among the various scrolls and datacubes that stretched upwards in innumerable numbers, it selected an old scroll, continued to move, and then selected a data cube.  Thereafter, the drone dropped down to a hooded Acolyte who took it in his hands.  The crowd remained intent in focus, again daring not to make noise or to seem inattentive as the robed security officers carefully surveyed the crowd.

Amidst a cloud of incense, the scroll and the datacube was then delivered to the Abbess.  She first carefully unrolled the scroll and began to read:

A reading from the Scriptures, Book II 2:1

Our Lord visited his flock and saw that all was not good.
Blasphemy and heresy ruled the land.
The Lord punished the sinners and drowned them in their own blood.
But the people of Amarr lived righteously and in fear of God.
Thus they were saved and became God's chosen."

She glances at the crowd and they intoned “By his Light and his Will.”

After a suitable interval, the Abbess re-rolled the scroll and inserted the datacube into a reader at her podium, and began to read again.

A reading from The Scriptures, Book of Reclaiming 3.19 - 3.21:

And the Lord spake, and said, Lo, my people,
 Witness, for I have made the worlds of Heaven;
 And these worlds I give to you, My Chosen,
 So Amarr shall rule the worlds of the Heavens.

 None shall stand higher than you save the Sefrim,
 Who serve Me as others shall serve you,
 For all things under Me serve one higher;
 So Amarr shall rule the worlds of the Heavens.

 As Garrulor rules the skies; as Frisceas rules the sea;
 As Emperor rules Holder; as Holder rules Serf;
 Yet all under Heaven serve Me;
 So shall Amarr rule the worlds of the Heavens.

She glances at the crowd and they again intoned “By his Light and his Will.”

[Aria Jenneth]

Aria speaks quietly.

"On its face, that's a very feudal and strongly True Amarr-supremacist outlook she's preaching. A hierarchy of being: God, Sefrim, Amarr, everybody else. But ... don't some of the other ethnicities have a House, now? With potential to produce an Heir? Or do I remember that wrong?"

[Arkon Sarain]

Quietly murmurs along with the rest of the congregation, but for the most part he watches Aria for her reaction to it. At her soft question he smiles, and answers in hushed tones.

"The Tash-Murkons are of Udorian descent, though Udorians are now indistinguishable from the True Amarr - culturally and physically - only an examination of familial descent could show it."

Straightening his robes a little he then continues.

"The chapel here and its Abbess are Sarumites, I thought it might be edifying to see that what is often imagined to be a monolithic and unshifting entity - the Amarr Faith - is in fact not so monolithic or unshifting. Our faith is a conversation, and so it does shift and change - the Theology Council administers what becomes new scripture, the Pax Amarria is under consideration presently - but even within the present theology there are wide and differing views."

He leans back in the pew a little more.

"We were the first to take to the stars, and it was our faith that drove us, and yet people imagine that our faith is somehow a cause for stagnation not revelation."

[Lunarisse Aspenstar]

As the Abbess concludes the readings, three  Acolytes come before the Abbess.  The first is swinging a censer with aromatic incense, the other two retrieve the scroll and the datacube, respectively.  They process up the main aisle of the nave.  The Abbess from her place at the lecturn, and the Prelate from his chair, return to the central of the Altar.

“Behold the Holy Scriptures!  Behold the Word of God made Manifest for the Faithful!”

As the three Acolytes proceed up the Nave, the assembled fall to their knees as they process past.

The Abbess speaks:

“The first verse of today’s Scripture Readings teach that we – the Amarr -- are God’s Chosen”
“The Rulers and the Light of the Heavens.”
“The Amarr were Chosen because they lived righteously and in fear of God.”
“So too must we continue to live righteously and in fear of God."

She pauses.

“The second verse of today’s Scripture Readings teach us that –
“As the Heavens are Ordered by God, so are we as a Chosen People.”
 “But even the Chosen, however high their respective selves may be in our Order,"
"They are slaves to God and answerable to God.”
“God is our master, all under Heaven serve God.”
“The Empress is his mouthpiece to us, the Chosen people.”

The Prelate calls out “Let us affirm the Word of the Scriptures!”

The crowd cries out “By his Light and his Will!”
Some strike their chests with their hands.  Others stamp their feet.

As the Acolytes conclude their procession, a prayer drone retrieves the scroll and datacube and returns them to the vast library on the walls of the Chapel.

[Aria Jenneth]

"Those drones seem to have a lot of tasks to perform."

Aria doesn't quite seem to feel the need to join in with the crowd motion for motion-- at least as long as she's out of general sight.

"What ... is their function, exactly? I don't think I've seen anything quite like them."

[Arkon Sarain]

"They record chants to re-play, they retrieve things (as you saw), they can project images from holy artworks or words to a particular chant." Arkon folds one leg over and continues. "Much as in any other society the roles can be as diverse as the technology allows."

He stands as the service begins to wrap up, muttering a quiet 'By His light and His will.'

"Of course many services do not use technology to such an extent - indeed the services I attend tend be rather more musical and active then these." He smiles warmly and gestures at the doorway, "Would you like to talk to one of the sisters? Or shall we continue our walk?"