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Post by Septon Martyn on Apr 13, 2015 13:58:54 GMT -5
Martyn paused for a time. He had long considered those brothers and sisters in the Faith who subjected themselves to whip and chain only one step above the pompous leadership who would speak, preach and write as if they had come from the Seven above themselves. Their humility in the lash had the stink of pride, and while Martyn acknowledged his of defensiveness and proud nature he felt that at least he didn't disguise it under a scarred and bloody back. Still...in politics as in religion, support and the power to make ideas become reality came at a cost. He looked up at the Father's face, etched out of Lannister gold. Recalling why he was here, and the words in the Seven-Pointed Star which places kings ahead of any priestly or earthly power and he spoke, "Lord Jaymes has agreed to find our endeavours, both financially and with gauruntees of safety for those of the Faith seeking reform. I have prepared several treatises adapted for those of both high and low birth. We need the backing of the septons both here in Lannisport, and those who travel from village to village. The small folk are more apt to heed any message coming from a friendly face and a septon's mouth than even a kingsman." He took a deep breath and continued, "the prospect of lashes and whips has never held any particular attraction to me Edward. Aside from whatever logical reasoning I have against the practice I am also a coward with regards to my own physical well being. My shield has been pen and parchment because I fear the sword that strikes at a real one. But for this, for what we're trying to do, I will undergo the lash. I will make a walk of shame and repentance from manor to dock here in Lannisport and cover my scars with the ashes left by the Ironborn if I have to."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Apr 13, 2015 15:19:18 GMT -5
"There is no gain in the eyes of the Seven in public humiliation," the septon scolded. "the scourging is done in private, that only they see your penitence. The Father says that all who make a scene of penitence are given their reward here, whilst in private, now, that is where spiritual deliverance lies." He rose. "Post your decrees. Live by the code of the Seven."
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Post by Septon Martyn on Apr 13, 2015 15:42:15 GMT -5
Martyn could think of at least a dozen instances in the maesters' histories where the Faith had demanded the public humiliation of some lord or septon. Martyn barely hid his annoyance from Septon Edward's scolding, hiding it behind a pair of dead eyes. "As you say, in secret then. Our decrees shall be posted without delay," Martyn considered emphasizing the word "our," but thought it best not to antagonize the prickly Septon of Lannisport. He inclined his head before Edward and turned. Lighting a candle at the alter of the Father he muttered a prayer.
As he left the sept he stopped at the alter of the Stranger. The cowled figure stared down at him as he lit one more candle there before exiting.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Apr 13, 2015 15:44:02 GMT -5
ooc: I'm not huge on theology so I was trying to make the point that i theory, public punishment is supposed to be for politicl figures, not really private sins.
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Post by Septon Martyn on Apr 13, 2015 15:53:44 GMT -5
Ooc: No worries. Out of character I'm fine. In character Martyn is just being a prideful dingus, who thought of some political plans he could employ in a public scourging/humiliation.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Apr 23, 2015 18:21:32 GMT -5
//
Lord Jaymes lays in repose.
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Post by Queen Joanna Lannister on Apr 23, 2015 18:26:55 GMT -5
/////////
Joanna entered the sept and left her two guards outside. She wore a dress of deep crimson under her black cloak, because Jaymes would be wearing those colours. She ordered the septon and everyone else out of the hall where the body was held and stood behind its door for a while before going in.
Jaymes's lifeless form was lying on the pedestal in the middle of the room, surrounded by the statues of The Seven in each of the corners. She felt the sting behind her eyes from the moment she'd stepped into the hall, but hadn't really registered it until she reached him and noticed that something was.. off. "No," she managed, her voice barely louder than a whisper. They'd told him he'd died, but not that he'd been decapitated. She traced the ugly stitches connecting his head to his neck. Slowly, she slid down and knelt next to the podium, resting her head on his shoulder, sobbing silently.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Apr 24, 2015 8:59:41 GMT -5
At PC's request, the curtain closes on the tale of the Lannisters of Lannisport.
ooc: PC mist time! No one ask weird questions about the effects of this!
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