Who: Irie and OPEN
Where: Brent, near Neasden Temple.
When: Tuesday, afternoon.


Irie was drawn to the temple in a way few others would have been. The simple connection the building presented to her home left her longing, weary of her life among the mortal. In truth she felt worse for wear, her weapons left home and her heart no longer truly feeling up to the 'good fight' anymore.

This was the results of a champion long from home. The comforts of her life dragged at her, and the mundane existence that humans led was...taxing. Still, she had comrades here. It was a small comfort to be near her kind, but yet she still felt empty. A deep void that drove a wedge between the loyal and the wavering.

If you hear me, she wondered softly, starting up the steps to the magnificent building, give me the strength...

She needed to focus on her duties, not on the one creature she loathed...and yet was almost afraid to kill. That was what it was, wasn't it? Why her blade never could fall on him? Fear? An intangible, unmistakable taint on her heart that made so little sense it frightened her more.

And to top it off, an angel was found just the other night, badly injured and dying. She'd taken the scroll, if only for safe keeping, but there was little she could do with it. The script was ancient, a text she had never learned, and scholars of the mortal realm posed a pressing problem. How did one address the questions they might, assuming they could read it, come up with?

And what was so important about the scroll that Knights of Order would lash out at one of their God's heavenly messengers? It all left such a better taste on her lips.