1-10 “Ziegfried”

We get through the city quickly, even though Stanton still seems to be having trouble keeping a good pace.

The Temple of the sun is relatively unchanged from when the city was just a village, it just looks like a larger version of the small church it used to be. It's a simple enough building, several rows of seating laid out in front of an altar and around a pillar in the center of the room. The roof is a glass pavilion over the main room, and the placement of the pillar's shadow cast from the sunlight above is a good way to tell the time. A small donation box sits by the door, it doesn't have a lock.

People come and go regularly. Its a fair bit after noon now, though, so the place is probably empty except for Ziegfried. Common times of worship are Sunrise Sunset and Zenith. Sure enough, as we head in the place is empty. Ziegfried pops out of a room in the back upon hearing the door open and close.

He's an older gentleman, neatly trimmed white beard and hair. White robes displaying the signature orange and yellow sun knot. He is a man that enjoys simplicity, I've heard that many of the priests in larger cities use gold instead of plain colors. He see's Stanton behind me and his face changes from kindly welcoming to concerned, he knows the only reason I come here with other people.

“Greetings, do you have time to care for two watchmen injured in the line of duty?”

“Come forward, Nivar, and who is this you have brought with you?” Ziegrfied waves us over toward the altar.

“This is tracker Stanton.”

“Ah, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Ziegfried makes a hand gesture, one of many I've seen him use in greeting to another. I've asked him what they meant, but I can't manage to remember all that he said.

Stanton looks somewhat uncomfortable. Perhaps he's had a bad encounter with clergy in others towns. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

If Ziegfried noticed it, he leaves the subject be, “What has happened?”

I give him a quick description of the creature we fought, and the unusual pain lingering in my arm. Stanton describes his lasting fatigue and disorientation. He has us take off our upper armor to get a look at the wounds. He chants something, and places his hand over each in turn. Each pass his hand glows softly. “It looks like these will take a bit more power,” He grabs a silver sun knot off of the altar and holds it close to his face as he chants once again, this time louder and more rhythmically. His hand grows bright as he places it over the cut on my arm and then the graze on my shoulder. The cut closes and the pain subsides. Soon, there is nothing left to even show that I had been injured in the first place. “I don't know what those teeth had on them, but they caused some sort of residual corruption. That wasn't a clean wound.” He turns to Stanton, “I suppose I should ask you, do you want a scar or would you like it healed properly?”

He'd taken to asking this almost as a joke ever since one of the men had been disappointed that he had nothing to show off after being healed. It, surprisingly, actually seems to take more work for him to heal in a way that leaves one. He knows I don't want them, they worry my wife.

“Whichever is easier for you, I suppose,” Stanton may have just taken the record for most apathetic look.

“You should lay down, healing the wound should be easy enough, but the thing took some of your very life force, not much though. I think I can fix you up quickly enough. The restoration ritual takes a little while, less, if you hold still.”

Stanton rests on one of the long seats while Ziegfried tends to him. I go and drop what spare money I have on me in the donation box. After some time, much more than a little while, Ziegfried is done. Stanton gets up and looks much better off.

“Also, while we were fighting my bow was broken, do you think you could repair it as well as you repaired us?” Stanton doesn't look hopeful, and holds the two sections of his bow out.

“Certainly, that won't be hard. Just press the broken ends together.”

Stanton does, looking skeptical, and Ziegfried chants something different. I haven't come here for worship much, but I have heard almost all of his healing chants before, or at least I've heard a lot of them. A glow surrounds the bow, and when he stops chanting, it looks even better than it did before. Stanton bends it and strings it. He pulls at the string and his face shows how happy he is. He hugs the old man, “Thank you!”

“You're welcome, I enjoy helping those that help keep the city safe. Please though, don't go telling everyone what I did here. I do better work in a small city than I would if I was pulled off to the capital to be a high priest. May the sun light your way.”

As we leave, Stanton drops what must have been all the money on him into the donation box. As we walk towards the guard house he can't stop talking about how the old man isn't like any of the other priests he had run into in the cities he'd been in before. From the way he talks it would seem that he's had enough preaching for a lifetime, and all he was expecting was a long sermon.

To change the subject while out in public, I remind him that we still have a case to work on and that we still don't know what that thing was or here it came from. We'll have to ask the commander or assistant commander what to do next.