The office he had been in with Na’at disappeared in a brief but bzing fsh of white light and a hard, unfortable tugging at his core like he was being yanked around by an angry parent or something.He felt cold as well, shivering as he felt exposed, goosebumps everywhere. Below him was something smooth; it was cold too, but that was a more focused cold to the feelings that ran over his body. His ears rang with that annoying high-pitched tinny whine, his mouth felt dry and cracked and the light hurt his eyes. His head ounding.

  Oh. This sucks…He was vaguely aware of people, and movement, around him. The shuffling of soft-soled shoes on… tile?… filled his clearing ears.He coughed, groaning.

  “—othes!” A stern, older male voice sounded. Authoritative, but not domineering that called out again, “Get some clothes, by the Goddess!”Whoever it was did not seem upset or, thankfully, disgusted but surprised, maybe? His head was swimming and he could not dis things well at the moment.

  “How vulgar…” A nasally, medium-pitched voice was heard , sneering at him.A female voiswered him, in a sarcastid lilting tohe ime I uh oddess I’ll ask her to send the spirit to be made her Champion dressed fa then, Elbert.”

  “Watch your tone.” Elbert chided, sneering more as he attempted to loom over the woman but all that happened was he ended up on his toe-tips and barely an eve with her.

  “Both of you, quiet.” The authoritative spoke again, before a quieter ‘thank you’ that preceded the tig sensation of a soft fabric being id over his back, followed by a gentle, almost grandfatherly tohere you go, d.”

  “Th-than…” The simple phrase was lost on his tongue as it came out raspy and ended with him coughing.

  “Ah, wonderful.” Elbert sneered again, “Our champion, delivered.”

  “Silence.” Snapped a sharp-edged voice; another older male and the and was apanied by a sharp *snap* of fingers, then as if an after-thought added, “Do get him a cup of water, would you?” A pause, “No no, Swordbearer. He do it.”

  Elbert stammered indignantly but hissed a “Yes, Shepherd ?d’Zaier…” which was followed by rapidly retreating footsteps.

  “Easy as you go, d.” The authoritative voice spoke again, softer, and closer to his ear now. Strong, calloused hands gently embraced his shoulders, “Lean on me if you o, but we’re getting you to your feet.”

  He nodded in aowledgment, coughing. The person who was helping him was, indeed, an older maood about five and a half feet tall, balding save for a strip of hair around the back of his hair from ear-to-ear with long sideburns braided and decorated with colored beads and a little gold csp. He wore round gsses that hooked over his ears with thin wire arms. While his body was clothed in a robe of light blue, with a medium green tabard over that, and over that urple stole trimmed with a dark red; the ends of a stole had a symbil that he did nnize. Wait…He squinted, leaning against the older man who had a surprisingly firm grip and did not seem to think of the taller, younger d leaning against him as anything of a nuisance; iigating the symbol further he noticed it yramid shape, point at the top, and had a singur line of white leading into the base with the sides of the pyramid spying out seven colors in two dires.The symbol oole rism, more-so it rism in the process of refrag light. Reminds me of an album cover, but ged just enough to not get in trouble…

  “Something the matter, d?” The old man helping him stand asked, nothing the pause. “Not from where I’m standing.” The feminine voice with the sarcastie and lilt to it spoke; though the snark was lower this time. “selor!” A sed feminine voice, younger, gave a startled yelp for some reason aghast at the first woman’s ent.The other male voice, the sharp-edged one, seemed to give an exasperated sigh before speaking, “You would do well, young man, to perhaps close your robe before these poor dies swoon into uselessness…” “I wouldn’t say uselessness…” the lilting-toned woman gave an airy giggle.

  A sound of disgust made him look up and stumble back a step as something was thrust into his face, “It’s water.” The nasally voitoned, making a mog motion to mime drinking something himself, “Wa~ter.”

  Jack~Ass.He took the cup and looked at it, then to the nasally-voiced man; the sharp, pointed nose was tilted in such a way that those gring eyes looked down at him. They were focused, fierce, as if daring him to say or do something. Hasn’t even gotten to know me and already thinks down of me…Standing up he found himself taller than the nasally man, and the older, authoritative-sounding man who had been helping him. He was not a giant but stood a good head above either of them.Theiced three others, the dies, and he found his cheeks warm as the words of the sharp-edged-voiced male rang in his ears and he quickly bundled his robe shut.“Thank you.” His voice was rough, but lower sounding than he remembered, not by much but it was enough for him. The water was cool, not cold, and helped ease the rawness of his throat — sidering his body is all of minutes old at best it made seo him that his vocal chords were not ready yet. He drank slowly, but steadily, finishing it swiftly, “May I…” He coughed, “May I have some more, please.”

  There was a snapping of fingers from the taller of the two older men, nodding to the sharp-nosed, nasally-voiced man.In turn, the cup was grabbed from his grasp and the nasally-voiced man disappeared, grumbling while the taller of the two older men stepped up as he fiddled with the belt on his robe to keep it shut. “I am Shepherd Santis d’Zaier of the Church Luminous, of the Goddess of Light.” He spoke, his sharp tone affeg an ‘as you know’-sort of tone. Shepherd d’Zaier stood stiffly, one hand out, palm down, showing off a ring of silver embzoned with the same symbol as the shorter and stouter man had on his stole. To that end, he was also dressed in the same garments, sharing the same colors. So that told him they were the same station or rank — as far as he could see.

  “I am—“ He paused, realizing he had a choice here.He could use the name he had iher world. The oached to his old life, his old Self but the words of Na’at filtered bato his mind through the haze of haywire sehat were finally settling down.He was a ‘clipping’ — a part of a soul taken and made to grow as its own being. He was, in truth, a pletely different person. Not a copy, not a e. A shared iainly, but he was as Na’at said: A bnk ste, save for the keeping of memories of his inal self, out of respect for his beliefs on Self and Identity.He could name himself anything he wao now, in all holy. Having a new body, a new life, a new identity — though he was having a bit of trouble reg that with having a whole life’s worth of memories already.

  “You are…” Shepherd d’Zaier repeated, in a tohat left little to those listening that he wondered, briefly, if there was something wrong with the person they summoned.

  “Sorry.” He cleared his throat, rubbing at it — it was as true as not so if it was a good excuse, go with it, “I am Peter Karl.”

  "Peayter Karrol?" Shepherd d’Zaier repeated.He winced, shaking his head, "No. Peter. Peter. Karl." "Peatyr Kurrl." Now it was the shorter and stockier one who spoke; ‘Peter’, as he dubbed himself, figured he was some sort of priest.‘Peter’ tried not to smirk, “Peter Karl.” “Peytr Kharl”He looked up at who spoke: one of the dies present. Not the oh half-lidded eyes and a tired, calm expression that was smirking at him as she leaned against a long staff casually which let him notice the bracelet and rings that were ected to an oval that y across the back of her hand. Her full, shapely figure was swathed in a pair of knee-high boots of a dark, soft leather, white stogs that disappeared uhe hem of a short red dress with a bck cloth belt; a tabard of bck over the dress with the prism-and-light sigil, a mantle of bder the tabard but over her dress. She wore no head c, though, a her long, dark hair flow free in the gehick waves, bung around her shoulders.He had a feeling this was the oh the lilting, snarky to was not the younger dy either, who stood there looking at him, and trying not to, blushing brightly. She wore boots and a simir dress to the other dy, one of yellow that e her knees, and a white cloth belt — though he could not tell with the older of the two, the younger’s was off-the-shoulder and her hands were fingerless gloves.

  No, the one who spoke, in a clear, strong, and warm voice, was a woman that seemed to be iweeher two in age. Slightly older than the blushing one, but not as old as the one holding the staff (who, he noticed, was currently idly stroking a hand aloaff as she looked at him). She had short neck-length hair that was a bit messy. A diadem of steel protected her forehead, a round emblem in the middle with the prism-rainbow sigil. Her face was soft, eyes clear and blue and bright. Her armor inly decorated mix of leather with steel ptes to bance flexibility and prote. She wore thick leather and cloth pants with calf-high boots with knee armor as well as leather-aal gaus. A sword at her hip and a shield shed to one arm told him she was a soldier.

  "… Close enough." ‘Peter’ chuckled, nodding to her with a gentle smile.

  “Your water, Champion.” The nasally-voiced maurned, nearly shoving, and almost spilling the water, it into his face.

  Taking it, ‘Peter’ sipped it slowly, nodding, “Thank you, again.” He gave the simple, genuine, gratitude as he drank. ‘Peter’ also noticed that Shepherd d’Zaier had been holding his hand out for the whole while but, with a not-so-quiet huff lowered it, interg his fingers behind his back with his other hand. Seems I’m battin’ a’thousand. Good going…

  “e on d.” The stouter of the older men smiled and pat ‘Peter’’s shoulder, “Let’s get you some actual clothes.” He o the blushing girl, “Traya, dear, you’ll apany us.”Traya squeaked, nodding, “Yes, of course, Shepherd Vaunn.”

  “Now, just a moment, Vaunn.” Shepherd d’Zaier spoke.Vaunn cut him off before he could tinue, “Santis, the d is obviously overwhelmed and likely cold. We o get him some actual clothes and give him a ce to sort himself out. That way he pay better attention to whatever you have to say to him. Don’t you think?” “Nh.” There was a soft shat curled Shepherd d’Zaier’s lip but he gave a sharp nod, looking to Traya, “Remember your irl. And do as Shepherd Vaunn instructs.” “Y-Yes, Shepherd.” She bowed and quickly moved to Vaunn’s other side as he started to move with ‘Peter’.

  It was only ohey were out of the tiled room and away from the others did ‘Peter’ speak up again. “Cheery fellow.” He muttered.The young woman, Traya, let out a gasp of shock while Vaunn looked him in the eye. “And just who do you mean?” He asked in a grandfatherly, warning sort of tone, “Shepherd d’Zaier, or Swordbearer Havengard?” He paused, “Ah, the one who nearly gave you a bath instead of a drink.”Nodding, ‘Peter’ could not help but smirk, just a little, before answering, “Yes.”Again Traya gave a sharp inhale of indignation, “Shepherd d’Zaier…” She started, as if to defend the older man with his sharp, dangerous gaze but was interrupted by a hearty ugh from Vaunn and a sharp smack to his babsp; “Watch those two.” He warned, “They don’t take slights to their authority. Actual or Perceived.” “I’ll keep that in mind, Thank you… Shepherd Vaunn, was it?”The old man nodded, “Correct. And this is Traya. She is to be your aide, helping you navigate your new life here.” “Ah.” ‘Peter’ turo the younger girl and he gave a polite nod, “I am in your hands, Miss. I apologize in advance for any trouble I actally cause you.”Traya blushed, nodding back, “You’re wele.”

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