Post by Deleted on Nov 11, 2016 8:03:01 GMT -6
 | PLAYED BY HEMATOS SEVENTY-FOUR (74) 08 APRIL (Eighth of April) | Male Cela Grandmaster Human |
| MASTER AVARNA | ||
✾ APPEARANCE
Avarna, far from being a frail old man, still retains much of his youthful appearance. Well, at least in spirit. One of the facets of Cela training is to be of both sound mind and body and Avarna upholds this tradition. Many styles of martial arts are taught at Cela, and mastery of a number of these grants one a single replacement bead, regardless of the number of additional styles one masters. A combination of mastery of acrobatics and strength has kept Avarna lean for his age and coupled with the diet of a monk, he has effectively retained much of the raw physical strength from his younger years.
One thing that age has not helped him with is his height. He was already short for a man, and the years of shrinking have resulted in a monk who stands at 4’6”. Yes, he is shorter than most the Acolytes. No, it doesn’t bother him. The only mild annoyance is when someone picks him up thinking he’s a child. The joke has gotten around at this point, and the Grandmaster has mostly accepted himself to this cruel machination of fate. He’s probably only got a few years left in him, right? Hopefully not, given some members of the council are super centurions, but he will have likely stepped down from his position by then.
Despite his short stature, it is difficult to confuse him for one of the child Acolytes from the front. His face has sunken with age, deep wrinkles etched from the corners of his eyes and mouth - indicators of much time spent smiling and laughing. He has a baby smooth face, that aside though; he never really grew too much of that facial hair stuff. Before he took his vows as a member of the Council, he held a bit looser onto some of the rules of Cela and had a rather sizable braid. In his life transition, he cut this hair to be completely clean shaven on the head, also finally accepting there had been a couple balding spots in there. Rounding out the features of his face, his eyes do not go unnoticed. Sitting below his thinning eyebrows and above some well earned bags, the two little eyeballs looking out don’t appear all that special aside from the little twinkle of knowledge and tranquility the dark hazel-green orbs exude.
Nothing in particular stands out about his clothing, aside from it looking a little older than most of the other monk get ups you see at Cela. With the hierarchical fashion of the robes, there are rumors that the dark orange of his robe pants he wears with the rest of his ensemble are the same ones he started with some 60 years ago. When washing his clothing, he does seem to take great care in it so the rumors are not entirely unfounded though in reality, his pants are probably only half that age. Likewise, the goldenrod mantle is simply an artifact of the once bright yellow one he received and replaced sometime around the time he did so with the pants.
The one artifact among his robes he carries with him is the sash/belt from what many report as his first set of vestments. Once a rich Orchid, it is now a deep Byzantium, almost brown on the ends. It is a symbolic item to him, and all know that aside from yanking people’s belts off as a prank, not taking his is one of the first lessons one learns playing this game. The ancient item is so tied to him that after his passing, it will likely end up being the item preserved from his lifetime in the hall of the Grandmasters.
Though he rarely wears more than this, he does still have the light, red scarf and brown mantle of the Council. Wearing these on some occasions in his 17 years as a member of the High Council, some might even recognize him in them, but do not bet on it. The only thing that is a flat giveaway to his everyday identify from afar is the bundle of mostly white prayer beads about his wrist. A white one for every one of the 108 disciplines of a monk, little color remains of the rainbow he once wore. When not serving the role of ceremonial head and Grandmaster of Cela, the darker than average clothes are seen darting about with the child Acolytes, at the Orphanage, or sitting at the foot of one of the great meditation trees littering the monastery.
This appearance carries to the outside world, and though it is a less traditional approach than other previous Grandmasters, it has earned him respect in some circles for not frequently wearing the often-times gaudy regalia associated with the position. If not traveling alone, he tends to take younger Acolytes in his journeys, the other Council members and more senior Masters having the opportunity to leave the Monastery more freely than the younger Monks. Rather than a security ensemble carrying him around like some of the other leaders, he often serves as the security force for those he takes around, seeking to serve them in a fashion.
✾ PERSONALITY
✾ HISTORY
Very rarely does memory supersede history in the world of Remnant. Very rarely does one live long enough to tell tales of history, for that matter. Rarer still are those individuals that not only can tell history as a memory, but have become a piece of history themselves. Avarna stands in one such position; as a Grandmaster of Cela, nearing ‘enlightenment,’ - the first in a long, long while - he has become a part of regional folklore before the time of his demise.
His story starts simply enough. He was born of an unnamed father and mother in the entertainment districts of Pinnacle. Here, he was a rambunctious child, overactive, and always finding a way to worm his way into trouble. What more could be expected of a child from the more illicit parts of the district? He shirked his education, and was both unable to read and write many years after most learn the skills. To describe his family dynamic as anything better than incredibly fractured would be to give it more credit than it deserved. So, somewhere in his early youth, he just did not come home one night.
Unfortunately, some 63 years ago, there was a moderate famine in Remnant, where food had grown in short supply. Those with some got by, but those with nothing found this time difficult. Having just left his family, Avarna fell into the latter group. Perhaps it would come as no surprise that during this time, Cela Monastery was also taking youth in and attempting to shelter them from this blight on Pinnacle. A testament to their serving the world around them, the monks descended on the city with goods and food that they could provide and cultivated great bounties from the nearby forests in the form of fruits and other items.
Along with the bounty they delivered to the people, the monks found children, orphans who were effectively too sickened to say otherwise, and took them to the Monastery for healing. Avarna’s recuperation took longer than most; he had grown accustomed to a life of a little more than nothing, so when nothingness came for those who already had nothing, he was in a more unmanageable spot than some other children he had come to know. A few weeks into the next rainy and harvest season, Avarna finally woke in the Monastery hospital. He had been out for nearly three months, his aura worked on by the best, fed mostly liquids and other things he could stomach in his state.
Nearing the age of ten by this point, he figured he would stay at the monastery before it was time for him to go to the mandatory years at Vytal. Perhaps that would have been a good option for him - if he were literate. The monks placed him in a group of orphans with similar issues, hoping to get him up to speed. The boy was a born reader. When not getting into hijinks with other orphans and causing trouble with the monks, he would read and write for hours, days at a time.
It was as though his eyes were truly opened for the first time. Through books, he could learn about history, accounts of great Huntsmen, and how the world functioned in general. He never really knew what semblances or dust were, and he read about them. He had only heard curses on other kingdoms in the red light districts, and he learned about them. He saw Faunus, and learned about them. He heard about Grimm, and read about them. He grew curious about the monks that had taken him in, and read about them. He always returned the books when he was finished, curious on the librarians removal and disposal of the ribbons the library used as bookmarks away.
He continued this trend, not really noticing the days go by, not really noticing who was bringing him books, either. There was simply too much to work through in one lifetime, but at this place, he would try. The pages fascinated him, and the anecdotes the recorders put down about particular small events or items kept him engaged. For example, one of the main causes of famine is when a particular type of fruit does not grow in Setek because of a colder than normal summer in Vytal limiting the number of butterflies that pupate there, and that these cold conditions regularly occur every ten to fifteen years, due to periodic ice breakups around the territory of Legion.
Sooner than he anticipated, his thirteenth birthday approached. He knew learning at Vytal was essential, but he did not see the appeal any longer. Here, he could be surrounded by more ancient lore than the entirety of the rest of the world combined. Here, he could achieve something and have mental peace. When the monks questioned him on his intents, he opted to stay at Cela, much to their interest. It was not often that an individual elected to stay and become an Acolyte, particularly someone from such an interesting background. It was expected that the boy would end up going to Vytal, then coming back to Pinnacle and becoming yet another part of the cog that turns the back alley ways.
He began his training, taking his first vestments as an Acolyte at the monastery. There were a number of vows he had to take in his first year to various disciplines and causes, of which included helping the weak and impoverished, respecting and helping the elderly, listening to those older, teaching those younger, disrespecting none, controlling anger, letting go of emotions, and a multitude of others. Many vows undertaken at Cela were and remain to this day optional - while some say them all, most are encouraged not to, as a respectable penance and fasting for breaking a vow is severe, though self-imposed. Some Acolytes even have children, not taking the vow of celibacy.
Of those, that was one such vow that Avarna did not undertake. A vow typically reserved for an older age anyway, a girl had caught his eyes shortly after she came to Cela. She wore the typical robes, had raven black hair, and tied it all up nicely with a small red ribbon. She was sharp and quick witted, easily besting Avarna with words and phrasings, despite his being more well read than her. They had a phenomenal friendship, attending lessons with one another, working through scrolls, and learning to weave together. Among the Acolytes at Cela, creative expression was a way of ‘letting go of the self,’ and the creative arts were highly encouraged.
The monks still did have rules however, and for the most part, the two were separate or slightly supervised. They were still children for the most part, and no one likes when things go poorly for teenagers. Male and female dorms and all that sort of thing were typical for the Acolytes, though there were larger rooms reserved for those couples that did have families. The two were nowhere near that age, standing, or maturity however, and still needed guidance on becoming full Acolytes and Monks of Cela.
Speaking of which, part of that training involved being out in the wilderness beyond the reaches of humanity, beyond the tribes, beyond most anything that could remotely show signs of humanity. These trips occur for Acolytes once a year between the ages of 14 and 20, during which time the ‘camping’ spot edges closer and closer to the borders of the Black Lands. It wouldn’t be until an Acolyte has taken their vows at 21 that they can take trips beyond the borders, but the trips served a threefold purpose.
The first purpose was to be away from humanity and to observe the natural world for what it is - to see wild creatures, landscapes, forests, and streams untouched by man. To see dust in its natural state, unrefined from the elements of the world. It is from these elements that an Acolyte learns to work with dust, not in a fashion to use it, but in a fashion to craft it. Here is where the Acolytes work to make their 108 beads. It is here where the Acolytes learn the first principles of the Enlightenment of World.
The second purpose, becomes more apparent as the Acolytes, is to begin learning to suppress their Auras. As they move closer to the Black Lands, Grimm become even more ever-present. This act does not push one to achieve Enlightenment of the World, but rather a useful tool to further work towards that enlightenment. It is also this stage of training, in which an Acolyte permanently refines their principle control and flow of Aura. Though by objective measures those that develop past these lessons mature more slowly than huntsmen, the refinement and control instilled in their use of Aura more than make up for this fact.
The third purpose, in the final two years, pushes one towards Enlightenment with the World. At this stage, an Acolyte has harnessed the ability to suppress their Aura and can move into the final camp near the Black Lands. Here, Grimm are ever present, but with suppression of one’s Aura from the previous lessons, one can move amongst them without being noticed. The final lesson is to not turn away from fear of the world and the unknown - to let it flow through oneself and pass over the consciousness. Grimm, being a principal component of a natural balance involving Man are a part of that world, and it is in accepting what they are and moving past that to learn about them that one can begin to truly work towards Enlightenment with the World.
In this process of these trips, Avarna mads his set of beads from a number of untouched Dust crystals of various colors - vibrant blues and greens, to violets and oranges and a multitude of mixed colors in between. The following year, the girl, who he had some to know as Lazulia was more selective with her beads, began forging them from primarily blue and off blue dust. Spending a large time with her that year’s trip, he finished his string, sapping it with a blue-violet bead. Most from that year were originally blue on his beads, and it still shows in the disproportionate number he has that are still in that color range.
In the following two years, as these month long trips moved deeper into the wilderness and closer to the Black Lands, he never had an issue suppressing his Aura, or really anything. The Council Members and Masters out at this time made note of it each year, as it almost seemed like rather than suppressing his aura, the boy had nothing to suppress. Even though he was still in some relative safety under the Monks, he would readily approach Grimm and in some fashion distract them from others, typically in the form of poking them repeatedly into annoyance and enticing them to chase after him instead.
In the last two years, he stayed with his group on the edge of the Black Lands, looking in. In the first year, he had his first experience around Void Dust, in its raw, crystalline form that littered the landscape. He found many actions of the Grimm curious, and would sit for hours at a time on the monolithic crystals, watching as Barghests and Krahe would come and go, as Argo would walk by and sniff inquisitively, as the occasional crystal seemed to gain sentience and walk about on its own accord.
In the second year, Lazulia’s group came to their first year at the Black Lands. Excited, Avarna wished to show her the location he had learned about the year prior. Taking her hand and feeling the warmth in this desolate place, they reached his meditation spire. As usual, there was a gathering of Grimm in the area, and his arrival did not seem to disturb them a great deal. They sat on top of the crystal uncaringly, holding hands with feet gently dangling off one of the sloped sides. Being away from one another for a great deal of time, and being in that age, and away from literally any eyes of the world, their hearts might have been beating a little faster than normal. After some hours, they simultaneously leaned towards each other. Their lips met.
The world swam for Avarna. He had been courting with this girl for many years, and here they were, in the Black Lands, finally in some form of intimate contact. Possibilities for life flashed through his mind. He would take his vows on returning from this trip, and she had one more year for her own. He had seen the young families and children running about, smiling and giggling in the Monastery. He liked that idea. When he looked at this mental landscape, he saw a woman with raven hair tied with a red ribbon lifting up a squealing child and twirling around during playtime, smiling. He heard his laugh.
Her hand clenched.
He felt her shift.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Their heads nodded downwards in unison. There, protruding from her chest, was a black lance of crystal. With her aura suppressed, there was one weakness any Acolyte opened themself to. There was no defense, no shield. And here, even the faintest flicker of aura spelled death. Her hand slipped, and she fell. Soft yellow and orange fabric flapped in slow motion. Raven hair unfurled. Facing him, he saw the teardrops slip through the sky in her path. Her lips moved but he could not hear anything but a ringing tone. He did not need to hear.
A sickening crack echoed in her landing. Sensing the light flicker, Grimm closed in. Avarna saw Gold. Past this point, all he remembers is what he was told. A figure shining above the Black Lands, a golden, luminous sun towards which even the sun itself paled in comparison to. A monolithic golden hand coming down, seemingly conjured from the heavens themselves. Grimm, Void Crystals, the very landscape itself was leveled. All that remained was a man who had just lost his Love, his vision for the future, and in his hands, an orchid sash.
That month, one of the Monks of the orphanage had volunteered to supervise. He revealed that Lazulia had also been an orphan of the famine, and that she had recovered more swiftly than any child he had ever encountered. Even after being released, the still visited the infirmary. A boy had caught her fancy, you see. He recovered slowly, fading into and out of consciousness when she was there. She read to him in his sleep. After the boy woke, she became shy, bringing books and scrolls to the boy as he learned to read - always with a small red ribbon to use as a mark.
At the end of the month, he returned to Cela, taking on the vows of a full Monk. He would work in the Library, he thought. He enjoyed reading, and he had had someone who believed in him enough to give him the keys to the world. He could fulfill part of his vows by returning that favor to present and future monks at the Monastery. While undergoing these vows, he went through to make two others.
“I, Avarna of Pinnacle vow to conduct no action, by will or intent, by accident or association, by demand or fealty, that brings harm to a life, human or otherwise. As a follower of the Great Architect, it is my duty and responsibility to preserve and protect. To this obligation, I vow henceforth.”
“I, Avarna of Pinnacle vow to remain in and of myself for my life. I will take no love for my own, and will bring forth none of my blood. As a follower of the Great Architect, my responsibility lies in the shelter, defense, and upbringing of others before myself. To this obligation, I vow henceforth.”
He came to work in the archives beneath and through the Monastery, learning where every scroll was kept, learning how they were maintained, learning and changing a rule on bookmarks when made of silk ribbon for books, learning how to handle sacred texts and more forbidden esoteric texts. During this time, his writing also began to see improvement, such to the point calligraphy became his means of expressing the Self.
Through the years, Avarna continued participating in trainings on Grimm, always volunteering to go forth on the same trips to the edge of the Black Lands. As one who had mastered no arts however, particularly those of Dust, the World, the Body, or Grimm, he was never considered for more than the few moments during which he spoke before the selecting council. In these appeals, it seemed his writing and lore had been slowly increasing, and to his surprise, he was awarded his first mastery bead not long after his twenty sixth birthday.
Still, he continued his meditations, readings, and works. In time, he was moved from the archives to somewhere with a little more fresh air - the Orphanage. Here, many children passed through his hands and under his care. He learned the art of fun from the children, and how to teach indirectly from them as well. He emphasized to them the will of personal expression, the acts of kindness one could find not simply in others, but in the very world around an individual. It was in this position that he stayed for another twelve years, being recognized for his actions and lessons with the exchange of other beads on his chain.
Nearing forty years of age, Avarna was gaining a touch of a reputation around Cela. He, in his short stature, was always recognizable, and in his frequent running through the halls with children on his heels, it was not unexpected that he became a bit of a character. What some others had realized that he himself had not was that his aura seemed to be changing. In his years at the orphanage, it had gone from something of a simple absence to something that complemented and enhanced the Souls of the children he worked with.
Noting these things, he was moved again, this time to the hospital of the Monastery. Though it was true that the hospital was more of a healing clinic, and most of the Masters had developed an ability to heal moderate injuries with Aura alone, it was still necessary to have a place in case of mishaps that necessitated a bit more care. Due to this very nature, it was a much more on-call position, and Avarna was capable of doing things more freely around the Monastery. It was time for him to complete the work he had set aside a number of years prior.
To see a middle aged monk in a combat class was something slightly out of the ordinary at Cela. Most often only came on occasion for refreshers and to maintain their skills, but Avarna went beyond this call. No matter the time, he was prepared for lessons, be they in fighting with the hands, or in utilizing the dust in the beads at his wrist. He was deft in combat training, after decades of reading and mimicry of what he read. Many consider witnessing his training with Dust to be one of the most painful experiences they had witnessed. Whatever his reason, he could not fully tap into the dust, and dust around him would often fall short of its desired effect.
By the time he was mastering the art of healing and mending, repairing both the body and the world around him, a call came forward for a trip to the Black Lands. The announcement mentioned that it would be led by the now Grandmaster, former overseer of the orphanage Master Neehala. Unlike in previous years, the back of the flier placed under his doorstep had vibrant blue ink scrawled on the back. “No need to apply this year.”
Slightly disheartened, Avarna continued on his work until the day the trip was to set off. As was custom, the whole of the Monastery, save a select few, were gathered to see off the Acolytes and their Monk Guides. It was at this gathering that Avarna was surprised by a gentle hand coming to rest on his head, giving a light tug to his braid. The embrace had been the norm since he had begun his years at the Orphanage oh so long ago. “Are you coming or not?”
This stood as a surprise, to say the least. He had come expecting to see the Acolytes and Masters off as he had every year. Yet here he was, with an old mentor, pulling him along. “You have three minutes before the bell.” With that, the Grandmaster walked from the tree through the gathered crowd to the Acolytes, and Avarna disappeared in a flash to his small hole in the wall room. It was true that he was regarded as a Master now, and had technically been one a long time; he looked down upon the bracelet on his wrist, noting that now slightly over half the beads had been traded over to white ones of Divine Dust. He simply did not care for the distinction implying his being above anyone.
This was not the time to reminisce. Acting swiftly, he threw the few items he needed into a small satchel not unlike those every one of the other Acolytes and Masters were carrying. A few small portions for rations was all he needed for the trip, along with a few seeds to germinate for more substantial food. Then he was off, locking the door to his dorm with the key hanging from a red ribbon around his neck. He met up with Master Neehala and learned that he would be traveling with her and the Black Lands group. A quarter century prior, some force had devastated a portion of the area they used and in the interim, they had been prospecting for new locations. It was time to check in on that location though, to see how it was repairing itself.
Arriving at the landscape, the Masters gathered the Acolytes and left them for a short while, inspecting the surrounding area for immediate threats to safety. The goal was not to terrify, and the occasional Grimm did need removing behind the scenes, as Avarna had learned on the way here. Some Acolytes did just decide to be a bit more daring, however. He thought back to his trips to the Black Lands and gave a shudder. So, his trips were not the norm.
Discerning the area was safe, the Acolytes were permitted their own time and space. It became time to inspect the healing of the land. He and Neehala traveled to the region, where maps had indicated there once stood several mountains. In their place was a sizable crater, fed by five ravines roughly gouged into the surrounding landscape. At its floor, there was a pool of liquid Void dust, something that Avarna had only read about. Where there was not liquid, there was what appeared to be a fine powder of the dust, though compressed into an almost glass-like, slick sheen.
“Do you know where we are?”
Avarna stood at the bottom of the crater, clueless on his location. There was an eerie feeling of familiarity in the back of his mind. He lightly shook his head. “This is what you did.” The rush of thoughts all came flowing back to him. A quarter century ago he had been here. He had been here with Lazulia. They shared an intimate moment together. She had fallen. Emotions he thought he had cast aside were now welling up inside. Not those to forsake love - his love for that woman would always remain.
A hand embraced his head. “You have felt this before. Breathe in, and let it flow.” Let it flow. He felt soothed for some reason. Yes. Terrible things had happened here, but also magical, wonderful, extraordinary things. He remembered those last words and took a breath in. More things would come to happen, to pass, and those things he would be unable to change after the fact. His eyes fluttered a little, remembering the spear. The sash. He brought a hand to the sash at his waist. We do not live in the shadow of those before us, but learn from them, add to what they have, and pass them onto those that come after us as to not shadow them.
He let out the breath he had been holding. In his lips, a whisper and affirmation of those he never heard, “I love you too.” With this breath came a small golden bit of mist, dancing and glowing in the dark lit sky. It lingered in the air and floated around him. It then sank, slipping over his wrist, his torso, waist, and legs, before slipping gently into the ground and out of sight. He felt the same, yet profoundly different. He had let go of nothing and gained something. It was an unusual feeling, as in the past, there was always something to give up for any gain to be had. He looked up to his mentor, confused by his situation.
“Interesting.” His inquisitive look twisted into one the children often used a ‘Really? Are you actually going to say anything that is useful?’ face, complete with sideways pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. A chuckle. “You may well be the youngest to have Awakened in all three respects.” His face returned to confusion. He did not necessarily feel any more enlightened than when he arrived, and he certainly was not among the wisest at Cela. As he opened his mouth to protest, Neehala reached down and touched a finger to his lips. “Shh. Sit and think.” She was speaking as a teacher, and was off before Avarna could offer any retort.
So, he sat and thought. His mind traced across his past, what he knew of it, and how he acted throughout. It was true that others always had difficulty feeling his aura unless he wished it, and it was very true that his first attempts to use Dust had been a struggle. Grimm rarely attacked him, and he was even a little surprised that he had not also met the same fate as Lazulia, despite unleashing his ire. He seemed in harmony with the World.
Continuing his thought, he passed over his time in the orphanage and his present position at the clinic. Again, it was true that his aura operated in a strange, compassionate fashion, even when that compassion needed to display anger. He could scold with reassurance or reassure through scolding with his aura complementing his words. It was something he had never noticed, because his care for other Souls just seemed to come as second nature to him.
Finally he thought directly of himself. He had never truly seen himself use his semblance, and he knew that all people possessed one. Yet, despite the lightning speed, incredible cunning, or miraculous healing others could accomplish, his always seemed so lackluster it went unnoticed by all around him. Perhaps the breath he had been holding onto all these years held it captive and that in releasing that breath, he had freed Himself of that captivity.
In time, Neehala returned, telling it was time to return to Cela. He had been sitting for thirty seven days, and the Council would like to have a word with him. He could not recall each individual day, only remembering the mostly perpetual twilight, and the light sloshing of the Void water on the shore in the palm of the crater. He noted that this was past the normal expedition time, and she had informed him that the group had returned to Cela, and she had briefly come back out to retrieve him.
Once back at the monastery, it was time for him to say no to a proposal. The High Council wished for him to join their rank. He felt unworthy of the title, and every year when he was called before the council, he responded with the same fashion as were the replies to all his years of appeals to accompany the Acolytes in their trips.
He continued his works for some time, though he was effectively given the free reign over all areas he wished in the Monastery. Some masters and Councilmen gave him light bows when he passed, and over time the behavior spread to most of Cela. Some not ‘in the loop’ took to steering out of his oncoming path, perhaps out of a particular fear or factor of intimidation. In those twelve years, Neehala had begun to grow to the point where her age was showing.
She met with Avarna, proposing he should assume the role of Grandmaster in her departure from the role. He declined the offer, and she instead requested he follow her about to learn. And so, he did. Somewhere along the lines, he somehow earned a number of beads, never truly feeling as though he had totally earned them . Yet words of encouragement continued to flow upon him.
Fifteen years ago, Neehala finally stepped down as both Grandmaster, two years after Avarna assumed her former seat on the High Council. In a close vote, Master Renault was selected from among the council to lead them forward. He was a young man who engaged more in the physical and mental pleasures, but it had never become a requirement one be free of them before becoming Grandmaster. Avarna himself continued to speak with Neehala, learning more in the ways of both being a master, and learning how retirement usually went here at Cela. She had gone back to the Orphanage, deciding it best to instill knowledge to those who have yet to foster it.
Coming as a shocking surprise to all at Cela, one morning news broke that Renault had been murdered. Coincidentally, it also happened to be the morning that the expeditions would be returning to the Monastery, this one the first lead by Avarna himself. He came back to a somber Cela, something rare in all his years. Knowing almost immediately what had happened from the distinct lack of cigar smoke in the court, he passed his bag off to one of the Acolytes from the expedition and went to his favored meditation place - in a semi-secret basement lined with roots below one of the several meditation tree circles throughout the Monastery. Here, he sat and meditated, letting his aura do the work.
Through the week, he knew the council would be meeting, and with the results of the previous round fifteen years prior, he would likely be selected to become the new Grandmaster of Cela. Not feeling he deserved the position was in his nature; it’s one of the reasons one of the first virtues he had been awarded a bead for was his Humility. He was not surprised when the High Council approached his meditation spot, and he knew when he left, he would be asked to assume the role as Grandmaster of Cela Monastery. After the week of mourning and celebration had passed, he spend another meditating on the position, letting the thought pass in and out of his mind, weaving responsibility to duty, over the policies of fun and enforcement on the Monastery grounds, and how he would change and maintain the traditions of Cela.
Setting his mental course of action, he slowly rose from his meditation spot to where the Regalia waited, the previous still living Grandmasters looking towards him. With a soft nod, and bow to his mentors and examples, he donned the Regalia for the first time as the thirty seventh Grandmaster of Cela Monastery.
Avarna, far from being a frail old man, still retains much of his youthful appearance. Well, at least in spirit. One of the facets of Cela training is to be of both sound mind and body and Avarna upholds this tradition. Many styles of martial arts are taught at Cela, and mastery of a number of these grants one a single replacement bead, regardless of the number of additional styles one masters. A combination of mastery of acrobatics and strength has kept Avarna lean for his age and coupled with the diet of a monk, he has effectively retained much of the raw physical strength from his younger years.
One thing that age has not helped him with is his height. He was already short for a man, and the years of shrinking have resulted in a monk who stands at 4’6”. Yes, he is shorter than most the Acolytes. No, it doesn’t bother him. The only mild annoyance is when someone picks him up thinking he’s a child. The joke has gotten around at this point, and the Grandmaster has mostly accepted himself to this cruel machination of fate. He’s probably only got a few years left in him, right? Hopefully not, given some members of the council are super centurions, but he will have likely stepped down from his position by then.
Despite his short stature, it is difficult to confuse him for one of the child Acolytes from the front. His face has sunken with age, deep wrinkles etched from the corners of his eyes and mouth - indicators of much time spent smiling and laughing. He has a baby smooth face, that aside though; he never really grew too much of that facial hair stuff. Before he took his vows as a member of the Council, he held a bit looser onto some of the rules of Cela and had a rather sizable braid. In his life transition, he cut this hair to be completely clean shaven on the head, also finally accepting there had been a couple balding spots in there. Rounding out the features of his face, his eyes do not go unnoticed. Sitting below his thinning eyebrows and above some well earned bags, the two little eyeballs looking out don’t appear all that special aside from the little twinkle of knowledge and tranquility the dark hazel-green orbs exude.
Nothing in particular stands out about his clothing, aside from it looking a little older than most of the other monk get ups you see at Cela. With the hierarchical fashion of the robes, there are rumors that the dark orange of his robe pants he wears with the rest of his ensemble are the same ones he started with some 60 years ago. When washing his clothing, he does seem to take great care in it so the rumors are not entirely unfounded though in reality, his pants are probably only half that age. Likewise, the goldenrod mantle is simply an artifact of the once bright yellow one he received and replaced sometime around the time he did so with the pants.
The one artifact among his robes he carries with him is the sash/belt from what many report as his first set of vestments. Once a rich Orchid, it is now a deep Byzantium, almost brown on the ends. It is a symbolic item to him, and all know that aside from yanking people’s belts off as a prank, not taking his is one of the first lessons one learns playing this game. The ancient item is so tied to him that after his passing, it will likely end up being the item preserved from his lifetime in the hall of the Grandmasters.
Though he rarely wears more than this, he does still have the light, red scarf and brown mantle of the Council. Wearing these on some occasions in his 17 years as a member of the High Council, some might even recognize him in them, but do not bet on it. The only thing that is a flat giveaway to his everyday identify from afar is the bundle of mostly white prayer beads about his wrist. A white one for every one of the 108 disciplines of a monk, little color remains of the rainbow he once wore. When not serving the role of ceremonial head and Grandmaster of Cela, the darker than average clothes are seen darting about with the child Acolytes, at the Orphanage, or sitting at the foot of one of the great meditation trees littering the monastery.
This appearance carries to the outside world, and though it is a less traditional approach than other previous Grandmasters, it has earned him respect in some circles for not frequently wearing the often-times gaudy regalia associated with the position. If not traveling alone, he tends to take younger Acolytes in his journeys, the other Council members and more senior Masters having the opportunity to leave the Monastery more freely than the younger Monks. Rather than a security ensemble carrying him around like some of the other leaders, he often serves as the security force for those he takes around, seeking to serve them in a fashion.
✾ PERSONALITY
POSITIVE - Captivating - Humble - Merry - Perceptive - Insightful | NEGATIVE - Passive - Arrogant - Shirk - Unconventional - Palliative |
✾ HISTORY
Very rarely does memory supersede history in the world of Remnant. Very rarely does one live long enough to tell tales of history, for that matter. Rarer still are those individuals that not only can tell history as a memory, but have become a piece of history themselves. Avarna stands in one such position; as a Grandmaster of Cela, nearing ‘enlightenment,’ - the first in a long, long while - he has become a part of regional folklore before the time of his demise.
His story starts simply enough. He was born of an unnamed father and mother in the entertainment districts of Pinnacle. Here, he was a rambunctious child, overactive, and always finding a way to worm his way into trouble. What more could be expected of a child from the more illicit parts of the district? He shirked his education, and was both unable to read and write many years after most learn the skills. To describe his family dynamic as anything better than incredibly fractured would be to give it more credit than it deserved. So, somewhere in his early youth, he just did not come home one night.
Unfortunately, some 63 years ago, there was a moderate famine in Remnant, where food had grown in short supply. Those with some got by, but those with nothing found this time difficult. Having just left his family, Avarna fell into the latter group. Perhaps it would come as no surprise that during this time, Cela Monastery was also taking youth in and attempting to shelter them from this blight on Pinnacle. A testament to their serving the world around them, the monks descended on the city with goods and food that they could provide and cultivated great bounties from the nearby forests in the form of fruits and other items.
Along with the bounty they delivered to the people, the monks found children, orphans who were effectively too sickened to say otherwise, and took them to the Monastery for healing. Avarna’s recuperation took longer than most; he had grown accustomed to a life of a little more than nothing, so when nothingness came for those who already had nothing, he was in a more unmanageable spot than some other children he had come to know. A few weeks into the next rainy and harvest season, Avarna finally woke in the Monastery hospital. He had been out for nearly three months, his aura worked on by the best, fed mostly liquids and other things he could stomach in his state.
Nearing the age of ten by this point, he figured he would stay at the monastery before it was time for him to go to the mandatory years at Vytal. Perhaps that would have been a good option for him - if he were literate. The monks placed him in a group of orphans with similar issues, hoping to get him up to speed. The boy was a born reader. When not getting into hijinks with other orphans and causing trouble with the monks, he would read and write for hours, days at a time.
It was as though his eyes were truly opened for the first time. Through books, he could learn about history, accounts of great Huntsmen, and how the world functioned in general. He never really knew what semblances or dust were, and he read about them. He had only heard curses on other kingdoms in the red light districts, and he learned about them. He saw Faunus, and learned about them. He heard about Grimm, and read about them. He grew curious about the monks that had taken him in, and read about them. He always returned the books when he was finished, curious on the librarians removal and disposal of the ribbons the library used as bookmarks away.
He continued this trend, not really noticing the days go by, not really noticing who was bringing him books, either. There was simply too much to work through in one lifetime, but at this place, he would try. The pages fascinated him, and the anecdotes the recorders put down about particular small events or items kept him engaged. For example, one of the main causes of famine is when a particular type of fruit does not grow in Setek because of a colder than normal summer in Vytal limiting the number of butterflies that pupate there, and that these cold conditions regularly occur every ten to fifteen years, due to periodic ice breakups around the territory of Legion.
Sooner than he anticipated, his thirteenth birthday approached. He knew learning at Vytal was essential, but he did not see the appeal any longer. Here, he could be surrounded by more ancient lore than the entirety of the rest of the world combined. Here, he could achieve something and have mental peace. When the monks questioned him on his intents, he opted to stay at Cela, much to their interest. It was not often that an individual elected to stay and become an Acolyte, particularly someone from such an interesting background. It was expected that the boy would end up going to Vytal, then coming back to Pinnacle and becoming yet another part of the cog that turns the back alley ways.
He began his training, taking his first vestments as an Acolyte at the monastery. There were a number of vows he had to take in his first year to various disciplines and causes, of which included helping the weak and impoverished, respecting and helping the elderly, listening to those older, teaching those younger, disrespecting none, controlling anger, letting go of emotions, and a multitude of others. Many vows undertaken at Cela were and remain to this day optional - while some say them all, most are encouraged not to, as a respectable penance and fasting for breaking a vow is severe, though self-imposed. Some Acolytes even have children, not taking the vow of celibacy.
Of those, that was one such vow that Avarna did not undertake. A vow typically reserved for an older age anyway, a girl had caught his eyes shortly after she came to Cela. She wore the typical robes, had raven black hair, and tied it all up nicely with a small red ribbon. She was sharp and quick witted, easily besting Avarna with words and phrasings, despite his being more well read than her. They had a phenomenal friendship, attending lessons with one another, working through scrolls, and learning to weave together. Among the Acolytes at Cela, creative expression was a way of ‘letting go of the self,’ and the creative arts were highly encouraged.
The monks still did have rules however, and for the most part, the two were separate or slightly supervised. They were still children for the most part, and no one likes when things go poorly for teenagers. Male and female dorms and all that sort of thing were typical for the Acolytes, though there were larger rooms reserved for those couples that did have families. The two were nowhere near that age, standing, or maturity however, and still needed guidance on becoming full Acolytes and Monks of Cela.
Speaking of which, part of that training involved being out in the wilderness beyond the reaches of humanity, beyond the tribes, beyond most anything that could remotely show signs of humanity. These trips occur for Acolytes once a year between the ages of 14 and 20, during which time the ‘camping’ spot edges closer and closer to the borders of the Black Lands. It wouldn’t be until an Acolyte has taken their vows at 21 that they can take trips beyond the borders, but the trips served a threefold purpose.
The first purpose was to be away from humanity and to observe the natural world for what it is - to see wild creatures, landscapes, forests, and streams untouched by man. To see dust in its natural state, unrefined from the elements of the world. It is from these elements that an Acolyte learns to work with dust, not in a fashion to use it, but in a fashion to craft it. Here is where the Acolytes work to make their 108 beads. It is here where the Acolytes learn the first principles of the Enlightenment of World.
The second purpose, becomes more apparent as the Acolytes, is to begin learning to suppress their Auras. As they move closer to the Black Lands, Grimm become even more ever-present. This act does not push one to achieve Enlightenment of the World, but rather a useful tool to further work towards that enlightenment. It is also this stage of training, in which an Acolyte permanently refines their principle control and flow of Aura. Though by objective measures those that develop past these lessons mature more slowly than huntsmen, the refinement and control instilled in their use of Aura more than make up for this fact.
The third purpose, in the final two years, pushes one towards Enlightenment with the World. At this stage, an Acolyte has harnessed the ability to suppress their Aura and can move into the final camp near the Black Lands. Here, Grimm are ever present, but with suppression of one’s Aura from the previous lessons, one can move amongst them without being noticed. The final lesson is to not turn away from fear of the world and the unknown - to let it flow through oneself and pass over the consciousness. Grimm, being a principal component of a natural balance involving Man are a part of that world, and it is in accepting what they are and moving past that to learn about them that one can begin to truly work towards Enlightenment with the World.
In this process of these trips, Avarna mads his set of beads from a number of untouched Dust crystals of various colors - vibrant blues and greens, to violets and oranges and a multitude of mixed colors in between. The following year, the girl, who he had some to know as Lazulia was more selective with her beads, began forging them from primarily blue and off blue dust. Spending a large time with her that year’s trip, he finished his string, sapping it with a blue-violet bead. Most from that year were originally blue on his beads, and it still shows in the disproportionate number he has that are still in that color range.
In the following two years, as these month long trips moved deeper into the wilderness and closer to the Black Lands, he never had an issue suppressing his Aura, or really anything. The Council Members and Masters out at this time made note of it each year, as it almost seemed like rather than suppressing his aura, the boy had nothing to suppress. Even though he was still in some relative safety under the Monks, he would readily approach Grimm and in some fashion distract them from others, typically in the form of poking them repeatedly into annoyance and enticing them to chase after him instead.
In the last two years, he stayed with his group on the edge of the Black Lands, looking in. In the first year, he had his first experience around Void Dust, in its raw, crystalline form that littered the landscape. He found many actions of the Grimm curious, and would sit for hours at a time on the monolithic crystals, watching as Barghests and Krahe would come and go, as Argo would walk by and sniff inquisitively, as the occasional crystal seemed to gain sentience and walk about on its own accord.
In the second year, Lazulia’s group came to their first year at the Black Lands. Excited, Avarna wished to show her the location he had learned about the year prior. Taking her hand and feeling the warmth in this desolate place, they reached his meditation spire. As usual, there was a gathering of Grimm in the area, and his arrival did not seem to disturb them a great deal. They sat on top of the crystal uncaringly, holding hands with feet gently dangling off one of the sloped sides. Being away from one another for a great deal of time, and being in that age, and away from literally any eyes of the world, their hearts might have been beating a little faster than normal. After some hours, they simultaneously leaned towards each other. Their lips met.
The world swam for Avarna. He had been courting with this girl for many years, and here they were, in the Black Lands, finally in some form of intimate contact. Possibilities for life flashed through his mind. He would take his vows on returning from this trip, and she had one more year for her own. He had seen the young families and children running about, smiling and giggling in the Monastery. He liked that idea. When he looked at this mental landscape, he saw a woman with raven hair tied with a red ribbon lifting up a squealing child and twirling around during playtime, smiling. He heard his laugh.
Her hand clenched.
He felt her shift.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Their heads nodded downwards in unison. There, protruding from her chest, was a black lance of crystal. With her aura suppressed, there was one weakness any Acolyte opened themself to. There was no defense, no shield. And here, even the faintest flicker of aura spelled death. Her hand slipped, and she fell. Soft yellow and orange fabric flapped in slow motion. Raven hair unfurled. Facing him, he saw the teardrops slip through the sky in her path. Her lips moved but he could not hear anything but a ringing tone. He did not need to hear.
A sickening crack echoed in her landing. Sensing the light flicker, Grimm closed in. Avarna saw Gold. Past this point, all he remembers is what he was told. A figure shining above the Black Lands, a golden, luminous sun towards which even the sun itself paled in comparison to. A monolithic golden hand coming down, seemingly conjured from the heavens themselves. Grimm, Void Crystals, the very landscape itself was leveled. All that remained was a man who had just lost his Love, his vision for the future, and in his hands, an orchid sash.
That month, one of the Monks of the orphanage had volunteered to supervise. He revealed that Lazulia had also been an orphan of the famine, and that she had recovered more swiftly than any child he had ever encountered. Even after being released, the still visited the infirmary. A boy had caught her fancy, you see. He recovered slowly, fading into and out of consciousness when she was there. She read to him in his sleep. After the boy woke, she became shy, bringing books and scrolls to the boy as he learned to read - always with a small red ribbon to use as a mark.
At the end of the month, he returned to Cela, taking on the vows of a full Monk. He would work in the Library, he thought. He enjoyed reading, and he had had someone who believed in him enough to give him the keys to the world. He could fulfill part of his vows by returning that favor to present and future monks at the Monastery. While undergoing these vows, he went through to make two others.
“I, Avarna of Pinnacle vow to conduct no action, by will or intent, by accident or association, by demand or fealty, that brings harm to a life, human or otherwise. As a follower of the Great Architect, it is my duty and responsibility to preserve and protect. To this obligation, I vow henceforth.”
“I, Avarna of Pinnacle vow to remain in and of myself for my life. I will take no love for my own, and will bring forth none of my blood. As a follower of the Great Architect, my responsibility lies in the shelter, defense, and upbringing of others before myself. To this obligation, I vow henceforth.”
He came to work in the archives beneath and through the Monastery, learning where every scroll was kept, learning how they were maintained, learning and changing a rule on bookmarks when made of silk ribbon for books, learning how to handle sacred texts and more forbidden esoteric texts. During this time, his writing also began to see improvement, such to the point calligraphy became his means of expressing the Self.
Through the years, Avarna continued participating in trainings on Grimm, always volunteering to go forth on the same trips to the edge of the Black Lands. As one who had mastered no arts however, particularly those of Dust, the World, the Body, or Grimm, he was never considered for more than the few moments during which he spoke before the selecting council. In these appeals, it seemed his writing and lore had been slowly increasing, and to his surprise, he was awarded his first mastery bead not long after his twenty sixth birthday.
Still, he continued his meditations, readings, and works. In time, he was moved from the archives to somewhere with a little more fresh air - the Orphanage. Here, many children passed through his hands and under his care. He learned the art of fun from the children, and how to teach indirectly from them as well. He emphasized to them the will of personal expression, the acts of kindness one could find not simply in others, but in the very world around an individual. It was in this position that he stayed for another twelve years, being recognized for his actions and lessons with the exchange of other beads on his chain.
Nearing forty years of age, Avarna was gaining a touch of a reputation around Cela. He, in his short stature, was always recognizable, and in his frequent running through the halls with children on his heels, it was not unexpected that he became a bit of a character. What some others had realized that he himself had not was that his aura seemed to be changing. In his years at the orphanage, it had gone from something of a simple absence to something that complemented and enhanced the Souls of the children he worked with.
Noting these things, he was moved again, this time to the hospital of the Monastery. Though it was true that the hospital was more of a healing clinic, and most of the Masters had developed an ability to heal moderate injuries with Aura alone, it was still necessary to have a place in case of mishaps that necessitated a bit more care. Due to this very nature, it was a much more on-call position, and Avarna was capable of doing things more freely around the Monastery. It was time for him to complete the work he had set aside a number of years prior.
To see a middle aged monk in a combat class was something slightly out of the ordinary at Cela. Most often only came on occasion for refreshers and to maintain their skills, but Avarna went beyond this call. No matter the time, he was prepared for lessons, be they in fighting with the hands, or in utilizing the dust in the beads at his wrist. He was deft in combat training, after decades of reading and mimicry of what he read. Many consider witnessing his training with Dust to be one of the most painful experiences they had witnessed. Whatever his reason, he could not fully tap into the dust, and dust around him would often fall short of its desired effect.
By the time he was mastering the art of healing and mending, repairing both the body and the world around him, a call came forward for a trip to the Black Lands. The announcement mentioned that it would be led by the now Grandmaster, former overseer of the orphanage Master Neehala. Unlike in previous years, the back of the flier placed under his doorstep had vibrant blue ink scrawled on the back. “No need to apply this year.”
Slightly disheartened, Avarna continued on his work until the day the trip was to set off. As was custom, the whole of the Monastery, save a select few, were gathered to see off the Acolytes and their Monk Guides. It was at this gathering that Avarna was surprised by a gentle hand coming to rest on his head, giving a light tug to his braid. The embrace had been the norm since he had begun his years at the Orphanage oh so long ago. “Are you coming or not?”
This stood as a surprise, to say the least. He had come expecting to see the Acolytes and Masters off as he had every year. Yet here he was, with an old mentor, pulling him along. “You have three minutes before the bell.” With that, the Grandmaster walked from the tree through the gathered crowd to the Acolytes, and Avarna disappeared in a flash to his small hole in the wall room. It was true that he was regarded as a Master now, and had technically been one a long time; he looked down upon the bracelet on his wrist, noting that now slightly over half the beads had been traded over to white ones of Divine Dust. He simply did not care for the distinction implying his being above anyone.
This was not the time to reminisce. Acting swiftly, he threw the few items he needed into a small satchel not unlike those every one of the other Acolytes and Masters were carrying. A few small portions for rations was all he needed for the trip, along with a few seeds to germinate for more substantial food. Then he was off, locking the door to his dorm with the key hanging from a red ribbon around his neck. He met up with Master Neehala and learned that he would be traveling with her and the Black Lands group. A quarter century prior, some force had devastated a portion of the area they used and in the interim, they had been prospecting for new locations. It was time to check in on that location though, to see how it was repairing itself.
Arriving at the landscape, the Masters gathered the Acolytes and left them for a short while, inspecting the surrounding area for immediate threats to safety. The goal was not to terrify, and the occasional Grimm did need removing behind the scenes, as Avarna had learned on the way here. Some Acolytes did just decide to be a bit more daring, however. He thought back to his trips to the Black Lands and gave a shudder. So, his trips were not the norm.
Discerning the area was safe, the Acolytes were permitted their own time and space. It became time to inspect the healing of the land. He and Neehala traveled to the region, where maps had indicated there once stood several mountains. In their place was a sizable crater, fed by five ravines roughly gouged into the surrounding landscape. At its floor, there was a pool of liquid Void dust, something that Avarna had only read about. Where there was not liquid, there was what appeared to be a fine powder of the dust, though compressed into an almost glass-like, slick sheen.
“Do you know where we are?”
Avarna stood at the bottom of the crater, clueless on his location. There was an eerie feeling of familiarity in the back of his mind. He lightly shook his head. “This is what you did.” The rush of thoughts all came flowing back to him. A quarter century ago he had been here. He had been here with Lazulia. They shared an intimate moment together. She had fallen. Emotions he thought he had cast aside were now welling up inside. Not those to forsake love - his love for that woman would always remain.
A hand embraced his head. “You have felt this before. Breathe in, and let it flow.” Let it flow. He felt soothed for some reason. Yes. Terrible things had happened here, but also magical, wonderful, extraordinary things. He remembered those last words and took a breath in. More things would come to happen, to pass, and those things he would be unable to change after the fact. His eyes fluttered a little, remembering the spear. The sash. He brought a hand to the sash at his waist. We do not live in the shadow of those before us, but learn from them, add to what they have, and pass them onto those that come after us as to not shadow them.
He let out the breath he had been holding. In his lips, a whisper and affirmation of those he never heard, “I love you too.” With this breath came a small golden bit of mist, dancing and glowing in the dark lit sky. It lingered in the air and floated around him. It then sank, slipping over his wrist, his torso, waist, and legs, before slipping gently into the ground and out of sight. He felt the same, yet profoundly different. He had let go of nothing and gained something. It was an unusual feeling, as in the past, there was always something to give up for any gain to be had. He looked up to his mentor, confused by his situation.
“Interesting.” His inquisitive look twisted into one the children often used a ‘Really? Are you actually going to say anything that is useful?’ face, complete with sideways pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. A chuckle. “You may well be the youngest to have Awakened in all three respects.” His face returned to confusion. He did not necessarily feel any more enlightened than when he arrived, and he certainly was not among the wisest at Cela. As he opened his mouth to protest, Neehala reached down and touched a finger to his lips. “Shh. Sit and think.” She was speaking as a teacher, and was off before Avarna could offer any retort.
So, he sat and thought. His mind traced across his past, what he knew of it, and how he acted throughout. It was true that others always had difficulty feeling his aura unless he wished it, and it was very true that his first attempts to use Dust had been a struggle. Grimm rarely attacked him, and he was even a little surprised that he had not also met the same fate as Lazulia, despite unleashing his ire. He seemed in harmony with the World.
Continuing his thought, he passed over his time in the orphanage and his present position at the clinic. Again, it was true that his aura operated in a strange, compassionate fashion, even when that compassion needed to display anger. He could scold with reassurance or reassure through scolding with his aura complementing his words. It was something he had never noticed, because his care for other Souls just seemed to come as second nature to him.
Finally he thought directly of himself. He had never truly seen himself use his semblance, and he knew that all people possessed one. Yet, despite the lightning speed, incredible cunning, or miraculous healing others could accomplish, his always seemed so lackluster it went unnoticed by all around him. Perhaps the breath he had been holding onto all these years held it captive and that in releasing that breath, he had freed Himself of that captivity.
In time, Neehala returned, telling it was time to return to Cela. He had been sitting for thirty seven days, and the Council would like to have a word with him. He could not recall each individual day, only remembering the mostly perpetual twilight, and the light sloshing of the Void water on the shore in the palm of the crater. He noted that this was past the normal expedition time, and she had informed him that the group had returned to Cela, and she had briefly come back out to retrieve him.
Once back at the monastery, it was time for him to say no to a proposal. The High Council wished for him to join their rank. He felt unworthy of the title, and every year when he was called before the council, he responded with the same fashion as were the replies to all his years of appeals to accompany the Acolytes in their trips.
He continued his works for some time, though he was effectively given the free reign over all areas he wished in the Monastery. Some masters and Councilmen gave him light bows when he passed, and over time the behavior spread to most of Cela. Some not ‘in the loop’ took to steering out of his oncoming path, perhaps out of a particular fear or factor of intimidation. In those twelve years, Neehala had begun to grow to the point where her age was showing.
She met with Avarna, proposing he should assume the role of Grandmaster in her departure from the role. He declined the offer, and she instead requested he follow her about to learn. And so, he did. Somewhere along the lines, he somehow earned a number of beads, never truly feeling as though he had totally earned them . Yet words of encouragement continued to flow upon him.
Fifteen years ago, Neehala finally stepped down as both Grandmaster, two years after Avarna assumed her former seat on the High Council. In a close vote, Master Renault was selected from among the council to lead them forward. He was a young man who engaged more in the physical and mental pleasures, but it had never become a requirement one be free of them before becoming Grandmaster. Avarna himself continued to speak with Neehala, learning more in the ways of both being a master, and learning how retirement usually went here at Cela. She had gone back to the Orphanage, deciding it best to instill knowledge to those who have yet to foster it.
Coming as a shocking surprise to all at Cela, one morning news broke that Renault had been murdered. Coincidentally, it also happened to be the morning that the expeditions would be returning to the Monastery, this one the first lead by Avarna himself. He came back to a somber Cela, something rare in all his years. Knowing almost immediately what had happened from the distinct lack of cigar smoke in the court, he passed his bag off to one of the Acolytes from the expedition and went to his favored meditation place - in a semi-secret basement lined with roots below one of the several meditation tree circles throughout the Monastery. Here, he sat and meditated, letting his aura do the work.
Through the week, he knew the council would be meeting, and with the results of the previous round fifteen years prior, he would likely be selected to become the new Grandmaster of Cela. Not feeling he deserved the position was in his nature; it’s one of the reasons one of the first virtues he had been awarded a bead for was his Humility. He was not surprised when the High Council approached his meditation spot, and he knew when he left, he would be asked to assume the role as Grandmaster of Cela Monastery. After the week of mourning and celebration had passed, he spend another meditating on the position, letting the thought pass in and out of his mind, weaving responsibility to duty, over the policies of fun and enforcement on the Monastery grounds, and how he would change and maintain the traditions of Cela.
Setting his mental course of action, he slowly rose from his meditation spot to where the Regalia waited, the previous still living Grandmasters looking towards him. With a soft nod, and bow to his mentors and examples, he donned the Regalia for the first time as the thirty seventh Grandmaster of Cela Monastery.
✾ COMBAT NOTES
WEAPONS
Master Avarna practices the Cela tradition of carrying no weapons, taking it to its logical end. While many members of the monastery carry with them staves, small daggers, or other various simple weapon implements, he has rid himself of all but the necessary. In this case, he carries no weapons as he feels them simply unnecessary. It would be a fool’s gambit to believe that he has no martial skill with such weapons. He is still the well-respected Grandmaster for a reason, and is demonstrably proficient in most of the simpler implements that Acolytes carry about.
His presence is often weapon enough to result in a disengagement. Due to both his proficiency in Aura and his Enlightenment, he is often called upon to act as a moderator during international bargaining, all sides knowing full well that this calm and collected man is fully capable of subduing most without so much as lifting a finger. To this end, he is highly reactive in his fighting, and as part of his vows to do no harm, never deploys offensive measures of his own. However, it’s not his fault if punching his defensively enhanced aura results in someone breaking their arm.
MISC.
Dust prayer beads are commonly found about Cela, many monks electing to carry small wrappings on their wrists or with larger beads as necklaces. As a supplementary income, some are even sold by a couple of the monks around the Monastery where devout visitors are more common. Their quality is obviously of a lesser grade than those used by the monks, however. Amongst the monks of Cela, these beads are a symbol of discipline and are painstakingly crafted in a fashion to be near flawless. It is said that upon recognizing a Acolyte as a Master in a discipline, one of their own beads is traded with an opalescent white bead - one crafted from Divine dust, etched with the symbol of that discipline. Avarna, in his younger years, fashioned his 108 beads from a variety of dust types, resulting in a rainbow of color to form around his wrist. Now aged and wizened, only a dozen or so of the beads hold their original color. He has kept some of their character, replacing the gold etching in his Mastery beads with the color of dust the bead replaced.
In addition to this strand of beads, the occasional ceremonial appearance or holy day requires Avarna don the full regalia of the Grandmaster of Cela. This full regalia is a pure white monks robe, composed of Divine Dust threads. Its stitches and hems are made with a black thread - Void Dust - as a symbolism that even the pure have negatives, that even masters have deficiencies, that even one of the greatest still has flaws, and that these flaws grow ever more apparent the more one gives them goodness to stand against. To accompany this is a set of large prayer beads to be worn about the neck, each also composed of Divine dust with the symbol of their art standing out in the same black found in the robe. Avarna has found he dislikes the attention that the entire regalia affords him, and runs a little loose with the rule of “wear the full regalia,” often wearing only the beads when the situation permits.
As the head of the Cela High Council, one would expect Avarna to have a more prominent Aura. This however, is not the case. In his many decades of discipline and focus, his Arua has seemingly lost its presence. Standing in his midst, the emotions of his aura should feel suffocating; yet he regularly talks with outsiders and works with children, all none the wiser to his enlightenment. This trait is not a flaw, and it serves as an example of what a monk of the Cela monastery aspires towards – complete dissolution of the self and removal of all worldly bonds.
To this end, his aura, its effects, and anything else accompanying it are entirely barren. Those who sense aura would not be capable of distinguishing him from a random bush in a forest. And though he has not left the monastery in decades, rumor persists that even Grimm do not engage him – perhaps out of fear, though more likely because he does not appear to possess that which they hunt. A principal effect of his Aura is an almost nullification of the emotional ties auras of others bring people around him. If one’s aura brings unnatural joy to those around them, while around him, they receive none of this.
His absolute mastery over his aura does not end at this point, however. He may elect for his aura to establish an emotional link, a visual cue, or color if he so wishes it. An example of this was evidenced in the passing of the previous monk of Cela. The week following, the air was filled with a thankful mirth, with a faint whiff of whiskey and cigar smoke on the breeze in celebration of his life, and recognition of his loss. Though believed to be incense placed throughout the temple – where would they get whiskey incense – this was by the doing of Avarna, who spent that week in silent meditation.
A master of aura, his capacity to use his to its fullest is exhibited in his use of his techniques. Like many warriors, he is capable of wielding the defensive and offensive aspects of aura. It is of particular note that the only events in which he seems to use these abilities to any extent for truly offensive purposes is for training with the younger monks. Should threats arise, he much more often relies on his offensive speed and defensive barriers to simply mitigate attacks directed his way without redirecting or countering them.
He possesses great proficiency in employing the Mending variant of Aura. Witnesses have observed him mend broken bones with the brush of a hand on an individual as he is passing by, and some more common folk claim he must be some sort of miracle worker. Though he does not directly deal in Miracles, it is true that his ability to heal is somewhat frightening, and it is rumored that he is one of those few learned and proficient enough to cure Corruption.
Illuminating the minds of others is Avarna’s primary role in the monastery, and illuminating the physical darkness is one means to this. He has refined control over the color of his light, as with hit aura itself, and can range his brightness from a mere candlelit finger to bathing his body in light bright enough to temporarily blind those in his immediate vicinity.
The other process that Avarna must undergo as a monk of Cela is to assist others in tapping into their own Auras. Though many will simply unlock the aura of an individual with a touch, he reserves this ability to a time after he has learned of the person, how they act, their goals and ambitions in life. Some common folk have even come to regard his awakening of their Auras as a blessing or a sign they will accomplish great things. Though this is not true, he cannot prevent the rumors, and if it assists on one’s journey, then all the better for them.
Costs:
Enhancement: 1-10 AP to increase AP damage/physical attribute in question of attack by 5x spent amount.
Healing: 1 AP for healing any minor injuries, 3 for more severe injuries, 5 for broken limbs. Healing takes seconds.
Illumination: Negligible cost for anything short of a torch. 1 AP for painful brightness, 10 for blindness from extended close observation.
ENLIGHTENED WAY
It was nearly three decades ago that Avarna ‘gave up’ his semblance. To be honest, he doesn’t even remember what it was at this point. He has surrendered himself to the void in order to release his tethers to the material self of this world. It would seem odd that his semblance is gone, but in parting with it, he has stepped onto a threefold path of enlightenment, embodying the self, the world, and the soul. Some other members of the High Council have released themselves from one or more of these domains, and may have traits similar to those possessed by Avarna in part or in whole for their enlightenment.
The Self
In the most basic form, knowing one’s self is releasing one’s self from one’s self. When individuality is removed, true spiritual enlightenment can occur. This enlightenment takes the form of an enhancement to one’s handling of their aura. With this step, enlightened individuals have released themselves from the characteristics of their semblance that make them unique. Their auras may still carry traits of the life they knew before enlightenment, but in holding onto the self, they cannot achieve awakening on this level.
On more practical terms, one must use aura every time they conduct an action using aura. At a basal level, this does nothing. However, spending any more than this small amount of aura will see a multiplicative increase in the strength of their techniques proportional to the amount spent. In this fashion, one is capable of transcending beyond the normal physical limitations the soul places on one’s self to achieve a far greater level of strength.
The World
In knowing one’s place in the world and accepting this role, one works towards enlightenment of the world. The world’s natural state is one in which all beings seem without Aura. As such, those who achieve this enlightenment feel as though they are without Aura. This absence of aura allows the individuals to interact with the world in its unaltered, natural state. Grimm may not pursue one with enlightenment to the world, as there is nothing off of the natural order for them to pursue.
Nature’s wrath – Dust is ineffective in the vicinity of those who have achieved enlightenment with the physical world. Charges will not discharge and already discharged effects will recrystallize into their base element when used within the influence of the aura of an enlightened individual. This aura of influence seems to be proportional to how much one exerts their aura on the environment around them, though some have noted that dust has been rendered completely ineffective on the whole of Cela during some exercises undertaken by the initiates.
The Soul
Though the self encompasses the soul of the individual, the Soul encompasses the self of others. Empathy, emulation, and modeling are representative of those enlightened to the souls of others, and the versatility of their own Aura stands to exhibit this. Those enlightened to the Soul find their own mutable, capable of matching, contrasting, or complimenting those around them. Emulation of others and production of Aura effects are the keystones of these individuals, though those not also enlightened to themselves fall short of becoming Aura doppelgangers, their imitations or creations carrying undertones of their own aura.
To match others, one must understand them and their abilities. Those awakened to the Soul cannot mimic the abilities of others, though they are capable of matching and nullifying them. Doing so results in the expenditure of their own Aura and offering recompense to that of the ability’s owner. Aura based abilities, including those of semblance origin can be matched in this fashion.
Mechanical effects:
The Self
Every time Aura is used, use 1 more:
For any N of Aura spent, the targeted effect has N times the effect.
Cost increase of 1 applies to all other Enlightened Ways, though amplification of other Ways is not possible with The Self.
The World
Constant drain of N Aura per minute:
Disable all dust activation and dust effects within N yards of the user (cosmetics such as shrapnel still exist).
The Soul
When targeted by an ability costing N Aura:
Spend N Aura to nullify technique, refund N/2 Aura to target.
The Soul is incapable of nullifying any of the other Enlightened Ways.
WEAPONS
Master Avarna practices the Cela tradition of carrying no weapons, taking it to its logical end. While many members of the monastery carry with them staves, small daggers, or other various simple weapon implements, he has rid himself of all but the necessary. In this case, he carries no weapons as he feels them simply unnecessary. It would be a fool’s gambit to believe that he has no martial skill with such weapons. He is still the well-respected Grandmaster for a reason, and is demonstrably proficient in most of the simpler implements that Acolytes carry about.
His presence is often weapon enough to result in a disengagement. Due to both his proficiency in Aura and his Enlightenment, he is often called upon to act as a moderator during international bargaining, all sides knowing full well that this calm and collected man is fully capable of subduing most without so much as lifting a finger. To this end, he is highly reactive in his fighting, and as part of his vows to do no harm, never deploys offensive measures of his own. However, it’s not his fault if punching his defensively enhanced aura results in someone breaking their arm.
MISC.
Dust prayer beads are commonly found about Cela, many monks electing to carry small wrappings on their wrists or with larger beads as necklaces. As a supplementary income, some are even sold by a couple of the monks around the Monastery where devout visitors are more common. Their quality is obviously of a lesser grade than those used by the monks, however. Amongst the monks of Cela, these beads are a symbol of discipline and are painstakingly crafted in a fashion to be near flawless. It is said that upon recognizing a Acolyte as a Master in a discipline, one of their own beads is traded with an opalescent white bead - one crafted from Divine dust, etched with the symbol of that discipline. Avarna, in his younger years, fashioned his 108 beads from a variety of dust types, resulting in a rainbow of color to form around his wrist. Now aged and wizened, only a dozen or so of the beads hold their original color. He has kept some of their character, replacing the gold etching in his Mastery beads with the color of dust the bead replaced.
In addition to this strand of beads, the occasional ceremonial appearance or holy day requires Avarna don the full regalia of the Grandmaster of Cela. This full regalia is a pure white monks robe, composed of Divine Dust threads. Its stitches and hems are made with a black thread - Void Dust - as a symbolism that even the pure have negatives, that even masters have deficiencies, that even one of the greatest still has flaws, and that these flaws grow ever more apparent the more one gives them goodness to stand against. To accompany this is a set of large prayer beads to be worn about the neck, each also composed of Divine dust with the symbol of their art standing out in the same black found in the robe. Avarna has found he dislikes the attention that the entire regalia affords him, and runs a little loose with the rule of “wear the full regalia,” often wearing only the beads when the situation permits.
AURA
As the head of the Cela High Council, one would expect Avarna to have a more prominent Aura. This however, is not the case. In his many decades of discipline and focus, his Arua has seemingly lost its presence. Standing in his midst, the emotions of his aura should feel suffocating; yet he regularly talks with outsiders and works with children, all none the wiser to his enlightenment. This trait is not a flaw, and it serves as an example of what a monk of the Cela monastery aspires towards – complete dissolution of the self and removal of all worldly bonds.
To this end, his aura, its effects, and anything else accompanying it are entirely barren. Those who sense aura would not be capable of distinguishing him from a random bush in a forest. And though he has not left the monastery in decades, rumor persists that even Grimm do not engage him – perhaps out of fear, though more likely because he does not appear to possess that which they hunt. A principal effect of his Aura is an almost nullification of the emotional ties auras of others bring people around him. If one’s aura brings unnatural joy to those around them, while around him, they receive none of this.
His absolute mastery over his aura does not end at this point, however. He may elect for his aura to establish an emotional link, a visual cue, or color if he so wishes it. An example of this was evidenced in the passing of the previous monk of Cela. The week following, the air was filled with a thankful mirth, with a faint whiff of whiskey and cigar smoke on the breeze in celebration of his life, and recognition of his loss. Though believed to be incense placed throughout the temple – where would they get whiskey incense – this was by the doing of Avarna, who spent that week in silent meditation.
A master of aura, his capacity to use his to its fullest is exhibited in his use of his techniques. Like many warriors, he is capable of wielding the defensive and offensive aspects of aura. It is of particular note that the only events in which he seems to use these abilities to any extent for truly offensive purposes is for training with the younger monks. Should threats arise, he much more often relies on his offensive speed and defensive barriers to simply mitigate attacks directed his way without redirecting or countering them.
He possesses great proficiency in employing the Mending variant of Aura. Witnesses have observed him mend broken bones with the brush of a hand on an individual as he is passing by, and some more common folk claim he must be some sort of miracle worker. Though he does not directly deal in Miracles, it is true that his ability to heal is somewhat frightening, and it is rumored that he is one of those few learned and proficient enough to cure Corruption.
Illuminating the minds of others is Avarna’s primary role in the monastery, and illuminating the physical darkness is one means to this. He has refined control over the color of his light, as with hit aura itself, and can range his brightness from a mere candlelit finger to bathing his body in light bright enough to temporarily blind those in his immediate vicinity.
The other process that Avarna must undergo as a monk of Cela is to assist others in tapping into their own Auras. Though many will simply unlock the aura of an individual with a touch, he reserves this ability to a time after he has learned of the person, how they act, their goals and ambitions in life. Some common folk have even come to regard his awakening of their Auras as a blessing or a sign they will accomplish great things. Though this is not true, he cannot prevent the rumors, and if it assists on one’s journey, then all the better for them.
Costs:
Enhancement: 1-10 AP to increase AP damage/physical attribute in question of attack by 5x spent amount.
Healing: 1 AP for healing any minor injuries, 3 for more severe injuries, 5 for broken limbs. Healing takes seconds.
Illumination: Negligible cost for anything short of a torch. 1 AP for painful brightness, 10 for blindness from extended close observation.
SEMBLANCE
ENLIGHTENED WAY
It was nearly three decades ago that Avarna ‘gave up’ his semblance. To be honest, he doesn’t even remember what it was at this point. He has surrendered himself to the void in order to release his tethers to the material self of this world. It would seem odd that his semblance is gone, but in parting with it, he has stepped onto a threefold path of enlightenment, embodying the self, the world, and the soul. Some other members of the High Council have released themselves from one or more of these domains, and may have traits similar to those possessed by Avarna in part or in whole for their enlightenment.
The Self
In the most basic form, knowing one’s self is releasing one’s self from one’s self. When individuality is removed, true spiritual enlightenment can occur. This enlightenment takes the form of an enhancement to one’s handling of their aura. With this step, enlightened individuals have released themselves from the characteristics of their semblance that make them unique. Their auras may still carry traits of the life they knew before enlightenment, but in holding onto the self, they cannot achieve awakening on this level.
On more practical terms, one must use aura every time they conduct an action using aura. At a basal level, this does nothing. However, spending any more than this small amount of aura will see a multiplicative increase in the strength of their techniques proportional to the amount spent. In this fashion, one is capable of transcending beyond the normal physical limitations the soul places on one’s self to achieve a far greater level of strength.
The World
In knowing one’s place in the world and accepting this role, one works towards enlightenment of the world. The world’s natural state is one in which all beings seem without Aura. As such, those who achieve this enlightenment feel as though they are without Aura. This absence of aura allows the individuals to interact with the world in its unaltered, natural state. Grimm may not pursue one with enlightenment to the world, as there is nothing off of the natural order for them to pursue.
Nature’s wrath – Dust is ineffective in the vicinity of those who have achieved enlightenment with the physical world. Charges will not discharge and already discharged effects will recrystallize into their base element when used within the influence of the aura of an enlightened individual. This aura of influence seems to be proportional to how much one exerts their aura on the environment around them, though some have noted that dust has been rendered completely ineffective on the whole of Cela during some exercises undertaken by the initiates.
The Soul
Though the self encompasses the soul of the individual, the Soul encompasses the self of others. Empathy, emulation, and modeling are representative of those enlightened to the souls of others, and the versatility of their own Aura stands to exhibit this. Those enlightened to the Soul find their own mutable, capable of matching, contrasting, or complimenting those around them. Emulation of others and production of Aura effects are the keystones of these individuals, though those not also enlightened to themselves fall short of becoming Aura doppelgangers, their imitations or creations carrying undertones of their own aura.
To match others, one must understand them and their abilities. Those awakened to the Soul cannot mimic the abilities of others, though they are capable of matching and nullifying them. Doing so results in the expenditure of their own Aura and offering recompense to that of the ability’s owner. Aura based abilities, including those of semblance origin can be matched in this fashion.
Mechanical effects:
The Self
Every time Aura is used, use 1 more:
For any N of Aura spent, the targeted effect has N times the effect.
Cost increase of 1 applies to all other Enlightened Ways, though amplification of other Ways is not possible with The Self.
The World
Constant drain of N Aura per minute:
Disable all dust activation and dust effects within N yards of the user (cosmetics such as shrapnel still exist).
The Soul
When targeted by an ability costing N Aura:
Spend N Aura to nullify technique, refund N/2 Aura to target.
The Soul is incapable of nullifying any of the other Enlightened Ways.
AURA POINTS: 2135
FACECLAIM SERIES, Hematos OC as Master Avarna PLAYED BY HEMATOS
coded by electric of gangnam style
