Faith runs deep in the Corners of Khorvaire.
Although I have visited the City of Towers briefly in the past, I have never had the opportunity to visit the varied and various sights of interest it has to offer. Since I found myself with the time, I descended into the Blackbones district in the Cogs of Sharn. The people here are focused and workaday, going about their business without the revelry of those who live in the towers above. One of the exceptions to this is the Temple of Onatar, a grand structure built from the hewn rubble of the cavern in which it sits. Situated over a flowing pool of lava, the temple is almost oppressively warm, but its primary feature offers a refreshing respite from the heat and soot. Nestled gently in the lava is a crystal clear fountain of water that is miraculously immune to the swelter that surrounds it. The Pool of Onatar's Tears.
As I contemplated the miracle before me, a group of about half-a-dozen 'Forged entered the temple not from the main entrance, but lead by a robed priest from the rectory. As I was the only other person present at that moment, the priest took notice of me and gave me a slight nod that somehow gave the impression of a warm smile.
The group spread themselves out and removed their threadbare robes, formed ranks, and began to execute what this humble writer can only describe as elegant battle dances. These were not the sweeping strikes of a sword or axe but precise strikes of fist and foot in blows that rained down upon their nonexistent opponents like rain in a storm. As the display of martial ballet unfolded, the priest came and sat beside me. "Blessings of Fire and Forge to you, Master Zil." he said, but I was too flabbergasted by his pupils to respond. He gave a small chuckle and raised his staff-like sledgehammer a few inches off the floor and thumped it with a resounding clang. The assembled 'Forged stopped and turned to him and bowed from the waist, clasping their fists in front of their chests. As they raised their heads, they paired off and began to practice by sparring with each other.
"A great battle is on the horizon for my people, Master Zil." he spoke as the 'Forged fought, stopping only to acknowledge a particularly skilled hit upon one another. "Here these brave ones train to prove themselves worthy to defend the peace and unity that we hope will lead our people, all our peoples, forward along the path that the Host has laid out for us."
He rose from the pew and thumped his sledgehammer again. "ENOUGH! Test yourselves."
As one, the Monks of the Pool turned and approached the lava surrounding the water of the tears. They each extended their arms and held their hands low and close over the flowing lava. I stood with a start but before I could speak, the priest turned and expressionlessly gave me a look that informed me that I shouldn't interfere. The heat from the lava began to warm the stone and metal of the 'Forged hands as the seconds drew out while I watched. One by one, a monk would pull their hands back from the lava and rush to a barrel of water at the side of the temple. They would then turn with embarrassment and bow to the priest before removing themselves to whatever meager accommodations they lived in.
When only one remained, the priest put his hand on their shoulder. "You have proven yourself. Come. Quench yourself and meet me in my room. We have much to speak about regarding your next steps."
The tested 'Forged approached the Pool and steam rose to the ceiling as they quenched their fists in the blessed waters. When they raised their fists, they appeared unharmed by the ordeal. Bowing reverently to the sigil of a hammer and tongs that hung over the altar, the victorious monk left the room.
I took my leave as well.
Blessings of Fire and Forge to all the Corners of Khorvaire.
Genbo Santor d'Sivis.
