Ilyana Sylventia the Everfull Heart, Justiciar of Thera

Role

Chapter 13

So where are we now? Ilyana, while not conventionally a frothing-in-your-mouth zealot, is definitely a zealot and idealist of a different order of magnitude. Her blood accordingly burns with the uncommon zeal of Zealot's Fervor.

While, as recounted in role chapter 1, her initial (pre-Tribunal) decade of crusading had soured her on the senseless bloodshed wreaked by conventional zealots, she has also since evolved into - oxymoronically - an anti-zealot zealot.

Her recent bout of literal self-flagellation (role chapter 12) is but one outward manifestation of her inner zeal and passion for Order and the Laws, her vision for a Spire that presents an alternative to Maran genocide of 'dark' races.

That she has converted her experiences to Extra Training should come as no surprise given her careful, diligent nature. Speak softly but carry a big stick, better safe than sorry, be prepared - all maxims that resonate with her.

Flows on from how she was a Late Bloomer who started her adventuring later than others. Role chapter 1, "Long past the time that most apprentices would have graduated and said their goodbyes... she yet remained at her mentors' feet by choice."

Of late, Ilyana has found herself also graced with communes that are difficult to dispel. This Fortified Faith she attributes to the strength of her faith in the inherent goodness of others, also in the righteousness of her unconventional path.

Last among her current edges of course, and perhaps unsurprising for any magistrate, is the fact that Ilyana is considered an Upstanding Citizen who is accordingly able to draw upon the benefits of life in civilization.

Role

Chapter 12

Ilyana flinched as she lashed her bare back for the hundredth time this eve - one hundred lashes, one for each of the hundred gold coins paid to fund Zanitjah's ascension to Dread Lord. Torso wet with blood, face pale, she yet managed a smile.

With Togun's passing, the Spire had lost a friendly face on the Imperial Council. Friendly faces were crucial, if at all the Spire was to avoid a return to the dark days of when War with the Palace had seemed almost inevitable.

And so it was that she had swiftly reached out to the young mage, "'Greetings, Zanitjah, and my condolences on Togun's passing. If you do not mind my asking, what are your thoughts regarding the Spire, and Palace-Spire relations?"

His reply, "It is very much up to the Spire, attacks from the lightwalkers such as yourself disrupt our partnership." Partnership: she saw value in him already. And those attacks he spoke of would most likely have come from Grasdraal.

Resolving to keep trying to impress upon her brother Provincial the importance of focusing exclusively on the Watch, she continued to probe this promising prospective Councillor. Rational, composed, tactful and respectful of the Laws.

Yes, he should do. Having satisfied herself then of his commitment to Order and respect for Laws, of his friendly disposition towards the Spire, she had parted company with one hundred gold - political funding provided in clear terms.

He, "When empire can join with dark ones of the Spire and raid the tree, it is productive to the relationship." She, "I see in the Laws a platform for diverse peoples to co-exist and co-operate. The alternative... can only lead to genocide..."

He, "When Rizdyn becomes Nightreaver, that will be very annoying, we should work together against that one." She, "We should indeed. Do you have your eye on the mantle of Dread Lord then?"

He, "Of course." She, "Excellent - I am always in touch with the Council, trying to maintain and enhance our cooperation in the interest of Law and Order. Please allow me to make a small contribution to your... political funding."

The terms upon which given, "This is not coin to be spent on death and destruction, mind. Only towards your attaining that seat of power which is deservedly yours." His promise, "I shall donate this exact amount to the coffers."

"Your craft is vile indeed, but I have faith still in the good in you. And hope for the good that can come out of continued collaboration between Spire and Palace." Well, her coin had helped purchase his seat on the Council.

Shivering as she draped a bloodied robe over her torn back, Ilyana resolved to keep a close eye on this one going forward. She had placed her trust in him - what now remains to be done is to ensure that trust is not misplaced.

Role

Chapter 11

Honeyed milk - it had gone cold in the mug, but still it soothed her. Ilyana smiled wistfully as she stared out the window at the waxing moon - Screlpth, Provost. She liked him, even if he never smiled, and it was an outcome she could abide.

He would do well for the Spire, even if he might not lead it in the direction she strove towards. Not right away anyhow, but she would keep trying. Perhaps over time his heart might be softened, and those big eyes opened...

She closed her eyes as she took another sip, holding the smooth liquid in her mouth - relishing the moment. At least it was not Grasdraal - she was fond of that doughty son of Akan and devout of her Lady but...

A shamanic Provost summoning Imperial victims out of the Palace could only mean war. And the Spire has no business waging war against any but their true enemy - the Criminal, and criminality. Yes, she was determined to keep the peace.

She would persist for however long it took, and if she was reluctant to assume the mantle of Justiciar as Screlpth had politely suggested, it was only because Provincial afforded her the only means by which to continue safeguarding the Spire.

The power to induct, the authority to advice - these things were key. Actively seek out and bring in like-minded Magistrates - honest, diligent folk who would put the Spire first, not personal ambition, greed nor some 'inner Maran'.

Also whatever gentle nudge and steer a Provincial might provide - in the direction of peace and peaceability, tact and empathy, for as long as the Provost might not decree against... Yes, there was hope still for what she stands for.

Calmly setting aside the by now empty mug, she quietly pinned on her badge and returned to the bustling streets by a night market. The road might be long, but it is never about the destination - only the journey.

Role

Chapter 10

Ilyana hummed to herself as she practised her martial forms alone in a clearing in the woods. The morning air was crisp, and a bluebird perched on a branch joined her in song. Her motions were fluid and without aggression: almost a dance really.

The memory of her conversation with the Awakened Ancient still loomed large in her head. Such kindness in his voice as she had dared hope but never expect. She had conveyed her heartfelt respect for his creed, his Tree and those who watch it.

The discussion which followed validated her thoughts and inclinations formed over many conversations with the likes of Sunwarden Ischer, Warden Stren, Harbinger Elandarn, Sentinels Zsorilya, Flimmy and Thebor.

Whatever her father had done to mother, it was not representative of these branches of the Tree: the Wardens and Sentinels who comprise the vast majority of Outlanders - they are good and decent people. They share her love of Life and Liberty.

While Lord Strienat had cautioned her that Harbinger and Sunwarden cannot agree peace for the Tree, not without consensus of the Nightreaver, that Tree and Spire have values in common was manifestly clear to her...

She felt vindicated as such in her efforts and resolve to someday bring lasting peace between Tree and Spire. If the sacred charge of leading the Spire were ever to fall upon her shoulders, her first decree would be a unilateral moratorium.

A moratorium on Magistrates seizing the Outlander Fetish, or even indeed the Entropic Equation, for both good conscience and strategic thinking had ever driven her towards such decisive action. The Spire must rise above petty bickering.

Our one true enemy is the Criminal, and we should not be distracted from this by pursuing instead vile campaigns of extermination against Thar-Eris's free-spirited children, or the learned magi who call themselves Chaos Barons.

Yes, even the Recruiter Gilversplitz had spoken rationally with her - wisdom enough to reciprocate courtesy, to understand that her colleagues' recent assaults on his Tower was not necessarily reflective of the Spire in its entirety.

There can be peace, there will be peace. Even if that dreamt of moratorium is not immediately reciprocated, it surely would be - gradually, over time. For Ilyana has faith in the seed of goodness that is in all Creation.

Faith also in the strength of the Spire to turn the other cheek and endure, and hold fast - for however long it is needed. The Spire and our Laws are indeed the hope of many, and hold the promise of a better future for all Therans.

With a sigh, Ilyana moved to complete her graceful dance of fluid and gentle motions. Ending with an unrelenting flurry of impossibly light punches directed at a huge boulder, she felt satisfaction as it disintegrated under minimal force.

Compassion, love, respect and empathy - these were her punches. Words to end wars, and always the courage to dream, to act.

Role

Chapter 9

Ilyana smiled warmly as she took her leave of Karvesh, it had been a good conversation - the Curator had been right. The Provost was a good man and one open to exchanging ideas, discussing matters and adopting new positions where appropriate.

Tensions between Spire and Palace had been on the rise - their genesis: some Imperials' misapprehension that the Provost had quietly been stalking them from within city limits, only to strike outside, the Maran company he tended to keep.

Following on from there, an ambush on him at sea - by two Blades while he was en route to the Outlander Tree no less. Then an ill-timed attack by him on an Imperial bardess, which happened to coincide with her fighting the Sun Warden.

The situation had devolved to Imperials harrying younger Magistrates out learning, but fortunately things now appeared to be on the mend. Karvesh had just promised not to be the one to strike first, only in self-defence.

He had expressed his support for giving diplomacy a chance, and accordingly Ilyana had his blessings to continue her dialogue with the Council and newly anointed Empress. Indeed much of the recent troubles was attributable to an empty Throne.

And yet, and yet... Ilyana sighed as she read again the volume "The Imperial War Machine" in the Eternal Library. Taken together with "Exegesis of the Blood Oath", it spoke loudly as to the heart of what was wrong with the Palace.

Such emphasis on War and subjugation, such dependence on blind loyalty - unthinking. Could they not see that, over the long term, War can only ever be a destroyer of accumulated Knowledge? That blind loyalty is anathema to the creed?

Yet perhaps in Servielln's "Bellum" did she see some some glimmer of hope for the Imperials' salvation. While the author of that dark volume decried unfettered Collaboration as Charity, at least he then also acknowledged the former's necessity.

Indeed that had been ever Ilyana's vision and conviction, that the Laws provide a platform for peaceful co-existence and cooperation (or in Servielln's words, 'collaboration') between people who might otherwise be at each others' throats.

And perhaps if they co-exist, cooperate or collaborate long enough, under the Aegis and upon the stable Foundation of Laws, then that 'unfettered collaboration' might lead to the beginnings of charity among such.

Imagine, if you will, a charitable Palace, a charitable Empire - down this path surely may someday lie that holy grail of a Hegemony of Light. And so still she keeps Faith, trusts in the seed of good that is in every person.

Even so, the recent tensions with the Palace had also reminded her that it cannot truly be perceived as an ally to the Spire. Candidates for redemption, yes, but little more. The Spire must be strong on its own!

Role

Chapter 8

Have faith, she mumbled, lost - keep faith. That was her vision - the Laws offered the only hope for Light and Dark peoples to co-exist peaceably, and she was confident that a Lawful existence would overtime redeem and rehabilitate all.

But how was Kerubiel to know this? How could he, that one-time friend and bard of Battle who had crusaded with her and Gapri in Corte. She had hurried to the Chieftain's aid, heard out his complaint that the bard had assailed him.

In Galadon, the heart city - fighting back revulsion, she had laid hands upon him, salved his wounds even as she initiated investigations. Investigations which would give offense, kill a friendship - and so she was immortalised in song.

Kerubiel had wit, she gave him that - so biting, so hurtful, and yet strangely beautiful - his little song, his poem. Carried upon the four winds - let the Marans heap scorn, let the self-righteous laugh, no matter.

To be a magistrate is to be a magistrate first. Elf, drow, dwarf, duergar no longer. Crusader, rogue, warrior, mage no longer. A magistrate before all else - the person does not inhabit the office, the office inhabits the person.

Commit to this, trusting that it is the right thing to do. Commit to this, having faith that the Laws are the only hope for peaceful co-operation between disparate races, that at the end of the Spire's journey lies the redemption of every soul.

"Keep the faith!" she cried out, waking with a start, her face wet with tears, her back wet with dew upon the grass where she had spent the night - so suddenly had sleep taken her. Yes, it had been a day of many conflicts.

But it was all worth it, to raise this second shield of Light - the enduring Aegis that is the Spire and its Laws. For was it not on that self-same day of conflicts that she had also rescued Elithranduil from Elanshemor?

Perhaps earned the trust of a Chieftain of the orcs, and begun to know the character of Ediije the Shadow Lord? Unsavory characters both, but deserving of a second chance - also leaders in a position to make a difference for the better.

It was a start, she told herself. Suddenly re-energised, she broke into a slow jog down a hill, then started to sprint up the next - in the direction of the rising sun.

Role

Chapter 7

Ilya stared blankly through the trees, in the direction of the setting sun. Perched on a fallen tree trunk, she swatted absently at a passing mosquito - not aiming, acting out of reflex, without intent to kill.

What a day, a day of many conflicts, and it had all been going so well - immediately before, yesterday, the week just past. It still took her breath away, the memory of that bolt of light which had come out of nowhere...

It had struck her square in her bosom, painless, painful - she could not remember which. Only that in that instant, knowledge had poured into her, like water bursting from a dam. In its aftermath, new power, new strength - sweet Temperance.

And then just yesterday, she had stood witness to Karvesh inducting a young dwarf, a shaman - he had got to him early, got to him young. Yet another welcome addition to our cause, a new brother magistrate to arrest our dwindling numbers.

But today? How quickly the weather changes, how swiftly the tide turns. It was dark out already, not a safe spot out in the woods for a lone magistrate, not so close to the Prosimy - but she was lost in recollecting.

First the sight of Wilice, dear sweet Wilice, bearing a fugitive's mark - wanted by the Laws. She could not bring herself to speak with him then, but she steeled her heart to do the needful if he crossed her path...

Not long after, as she paced agitated in her quarters - that scroll upon her desk, its seal intact. Moments later, her vision blurred from tears - Karvesh, he had felled some arial she had never met, much less heard of - a Kiaw?

He had erred and they knew it, he knew it - with trembling hand she put quill to parchment and spoke out. A letter acknowledging the wrong, and the blood price required to cleanse it - how her heart ached. She felt his pain, she understood.

The lies, the deceit, the hypocrisy. The Laws and lawkeepers manipulated - honest folks whose confessions were answered with death. And yet, and yet: this was the price they had to pay, this was their cross to bear...

Every servant of the Light, the Provost and herself included, who knowingly chooses to dedicate herself to a life of service, of upholding the Laws. Trust in the Laws, have Faith in the Laws, we must, we must... She mumbled to herself.

Even before she had a chance to conclude her letter though, a cry for help - from the Chieftain Fugmada. A vile and reprehensible creature, but she strove daily to look past, into that spark of good which she knows must exist in every soul.

For what was the alternative, what was the Maran way? Genocide? Of whole peoples - men, women and children of dark-elf, duergar, goblin, orc, fire and frost giant blood. No, that cannot be the answer: the Laws, they are our only hope.

Role

Chapter 6

Ilyana saluted the Seantryn guardsmen, smiling warmly as she invoked the pillar for her return journey to Galadon. For many moons she had stood watch over fair Voralian, and for her earnest care she had recently been appointed Provincial.

It was a solemn undertaking, this - as Provincial her jurisdiction now covered all the Four Cities. One of her first acts was to re-visit Galadon, then Hamsah, then Seantryn - to introduce herself to, and familiarise herself with, the locals.

The Tribunal's numbers also did not compare favourably with the large packs of Outlander wilders arrayed against them. She resolved to work closely with Provost Karvesh and Provincial Sindevarin to redress the situation...

She did not doubt that theirs was a righteous undertaking, the Tribunal's guardianship of the Four Cities. Nevermind the skeptical looks which Screlpth had ascribed to some of the Fortress number. Together we will raise this Second Shield!

Role

Chapter 5

Ilyana trembled as she gazed upon her faintly glowing hands - the Curator had generously assented to a loan of power. In return, Ilyana had agreed to submit one or more treatises on the Code, the Laws and (or?) the Spire's smooth running.

All things which held great interest for her, and which she had already intended... Indeed her heart was lighter now, buoyed by the Lady's blessings, and the research to follow would provide welcome respite and diversion...

For too long recently Ilyana had brooded - Ignoah's betrayal, Gaprizal's passing. Dark happenings, a dark period of her life from which she was now swiftly emerging. Hopefully better and stronger in service of Light, Learning and the Laws!

Role

Chapter 4

Ilyana sat ruminating, chewing on her lower lip as she stared unseeing out the window where rain fell heavily. The occasional flash of lightning did not cause her to flinch - she was buried deep in unhappy thoughts...

The Fortress of Light, that erstwhile bastion and bulwark of the Light - was the hour truly so late? Did the pretender Ignoah still mock the templar's Code from atop its high walls? Was he only an aberration, or a symptom of greater malaise?

Gaprizal, alongside whom she had crusaded long years - he was the epitome of a paladin. Fair of speech and conduct, bold but never brash except when it came to safeguarding the lives and wellbeing of innocents.

Wilice, who alone faced down the legions of Empire. Overmatched in numbers but not in spirit - prevailed against the odds defending the Watcher. It pained Ilyana still that she had not been able to join him, but the Spire serves a greater good.

In the twain she saw the very best of what the Fortress is - or once was, and could yet become again. But in the here and now... Another flash of lightning, outlining the silhouette of a dead or dying tree on the horizon.

Merelith disappoints - as Captain, where is she now in all this? Her silence, the silence from the Fortress in the long days since Ilyana wrote them - it continued to roar in her ears, like the loud silence in the deep places of the Underdark.

And where was the Marshall, the Cardinal, the Elder Prophet of the Light in all of this? Are they complicit through their silence, does the Code mean nothing to them, where is respect for the Laws...?

The candle burned out, and Ilyana had fallen asleep at her desk - troubled slumber, a fever dream. Imperials, Cultists, Reavers, wild-eyed orcs - so much blood. The laughing face of a storm giant, twisted, cruel - the Code ripped to shreds...

She awoke with a start, the rain had passed and it was bright outside. A knock on the door, more knocking - is that what roused her? Wilice! Ill news, Gapri was no more - tears, more tears. She had seen in them both the Fortress's future.

Now one stood bleeding before her, and he had just related to her the other's passing. Numbly she laid her healing hand upon him, if only she could as easily heal the ache in her heart. Gapri alongside whom she had fought long years, gone.

Grim determination suddenly replaced sorrow, catching her unawares. Gaprizal had stood for something, he was everything Ignoah is not. Ilyana resolved then to re-double her efforts - she would help set the Fortress straight, in honour of Gapri.

But if they refused to be helped, then she would press on and do the necessary. Lord Avderlain was right, red and gold - they do not tell the full story. If the Acolytes are failing in safeguarding the souls of the Marans...

Then let any who would serve the Light hitherto rally to the Spire - this new Fortress - instead. Let this second, greater shield of Light be raised high!

Role

Chapter 3

Ilyana paled visibly, trembling with outrage as she heard the storm giant templar speak the evasive, taunting works of a duergar. In the solitude of her guildhall, she slammed a fist into the hard rock of a nearby wall - the pain was a salve.

Through tears of shame and sorrow for the Code betrayed, she stared numbly for long minutes at her knuckles now bloodied and bruised. Ignoah the so-called Champion of Virtues, what manner of paladin was this, had the Dark overtaken his soul?

It had all begun innocently enough, casual conversation with the Provost Karvesh - a good person who also held the Light dear to his heart. At some point they came to talking about the Fortress of Light and whether they respect the Laws.

Naively, Ilyana had protested when told that not all Marans could necessarily be trusted to confess their crimes when asked. They are the Fortress of Light, she exclaimed. The Code compels Integrity - I know they will surely answer truthfully.

It was not long after that the opportunity arose to put her naive presumptions to the test - the Provost requested that she assist with an unfinished investigation involving Ignoah and an Imperial fallen in Galadon town...

His words, those leering words that caught her by surprise and left her shaken: "Where did this take place?" "Where in Galadon" "Well that is something to think about huh... good place to hunt evil folks" "ooo I did not realize I was evasive"

Long days passed and still she felt tainted, dirtied by that interaction. While she had reported his conduct to the Fortress, a wall of silence was the only response she received. Was the hour so late, had they become the very evil they fight?

As had become her habit of late, she found solace in the Eternal Library - the books, so many books: welcome diversions, perhaps she might even come across something there which could help shed light on the ignominous Ignoah...?

Enter 'The Code', by Thalamanion al'Dinien. In it he first concedes that "Respect the laws of the land and those who seek to enforce them" is in the Code, but then alleges that this respect need not extend to actually obeying the Laws...

Ilyana slammed the volume shut after re-reading it twice. "But the Laws are an instrument for good!", she exclaimed to herself, pacing the Library - agitated. "Deny the Laws and you betray the Light... Light! The Light forgive them..."

Had Ignoah responded from the first with a dignified silence, she might have accepted that even if she did not agree with it. But for him to have hemmed and hawed, delayed, deflected and those final mocking words...

"Respect the laws of the land and those who seek to enforce them" He had disrespected both through his conduct. "Do not become like those you fight. Respect, Integrity, Valor." Where were those traits in him?

Ilya bowed her head in silent reflection, ignoring the solitary tear which ran down her cheek. Her eyes were closed but are now open.

Role

Chapter 2

It was not long after she had pledged her services to the Spire that Ilyana received word of the late Provost's demise. Luciaquos had served for many centuries - frost giant or not, this was something she could respect and certainly aspire to.

By then she had already spoken with Karvesh (the future Provost, albeit unknown to either of them at the time) and later Screlpth. It was Screlpth who broke to her the news of Luciaquos's demise, and on his advice she sought the Lady Curator.

The Lady, when she finally met her in the Eternal Library, was all Ilyana had expected and more. And the manner of her arrival in the Eternal Library was quite astounding - in a loud flurry of swirling pages - apt.

Though Ilyana had long followed Ishuli and her teachings, this was still her first time before an Asgardian. It was fortunate she had instinctively bent knee upon the Lady's arrival as such, else she might surely have fallen flat upon her face.

What followed was a delightful, stimulating exchange regarding trying situations a magistrate might face, and Ilyana was surprised - though she should not have been - that in giving answers she was in fact receiving answers.

The Lady Curator does not tell her devouts WHAT to think, she teaches them HOW to think. Trusting that through careful thought in context of right knowledge, every soul - be they mortal or otherwise - can reach similarly appropriate conclusions.

This first audience in the Eternal Library was almost a reaffirmation of beliefs as such. Ilyana was reminded of the many things her mother had taught her regarding the Curator, her patience - but only where merited, and love for knowledge.

That audience ended with Ilyana being inducted to the Tribunal by the Lady Curator. Thus began her dreamt of life as a magistrate, heart singing with joy and inappropriately youthful exuberance as she strode into the Spire for the first time...

Role

Chapter 1

Born to a Tribunal guardswoman and the wood-elf Sentinel who raped her, Ilyana grew up mistrusting the so-called Refuge and respecting the Spire. While she never knew her father, her mother was at once nurturing at home and dedicated at work.

Quite early in life, therefore, Ilyana had set her mind on someday serving as a Tribunal magistrate. That it had been led by a frost giant for as long as she could remember was no deterrent - if anything, this only increased her resolve.

A martial monk by training, and a devout of Ishuli as was her mother, she promised herself that she would train hard, safeguard the Four Cities with diligence, and one day be the first paladin in a long time to assume the mantle of Provost.

The years passed quickly for her as such, decades spent studying and preparing with dedication. Long past the time that most apprentices would have graduated and said their goodbyes as such, she yet remained at her mentors' feet by choice.

For "act in haste, repent at leisure" became a maxim she embraced, and to her mind there was no such thing as too much knowledge. Single-minded and convinced of the purity of her path, she soldiered on as ostensibly an apprentice until her 60s.

Then, and only then with her mother's blessings, did she finally answer the crusader's call. And so a decade of purifying violence ensued, uncounted red auras dimmed and too many dead bodies left in her wake...

But by the end of it all her heart was left more scarred than her tireless fists. It had turned out to be a dark period in her life, and served only to remind her of why it is the Spire and not the Maran way that she unswervingly aspires to.

Thus did it finally come to be that, at the ripe 'old' age of 72, Ilyana has returned to Galadon and formally pledged herself to a life of service as a Magistrate of the Blood Tribunal...

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