Scene #5379: Spectres of Thought

Owner	Pose
Count Kord	Archengart. The town is quiet. Not even the birds sing here, so frightened by what had happened that only the plant life, unable to feel fear, has found any purchase in what was left behind. The tightly-knit town must've housed thousands of people when it was still intact. But now, under a mid-day sun, it is clear that no one has lived here in years. That, alone, is a sign of the scar left behind by the man currently standing in the town square that sits before a massive cathedral, a structure that is starting to show signs of wear and tear. Kord would have come here with or without people. The invitation to show it to others was an afterthought to him. So he steps around the square, examining the signs of decay in the corpse of civilization. He pauses to look down at a shattered wagon, he steps over rusted armor whose owner could've disintegrated if the way it was left to rest were any indication, and he peers into doors left open, the insides of structures still containing glimpses of the lives that once carried on within. For him, it's a time to meditate on the past so he can focus on the present and guide himself to the future. Everyone else is left to examine their surroundings as they like. The Archengart Cathedral is the most notable landmark here, an enormous gothic stonework structure with Yveltal-themed gargoyles atop it, and stained glass windows that appear mostly intact. There are other stone buildings with crystalline doors that slide apart using the power of magic, the largest of which called the 'Apothecary.' Shops, social gathering places, and so on. In the center of the town, the dry fountain is covered with invasive vines which conceal a statue of Mew, sleeping upon a great sphere of stone. Most of the town is so damaged by the fires that raged here when Kord attacked it that it's a wonder any of the inner wooden buildings even survived.
Alexis Maaka	Deathly quiet hamlets aren't anything new to Maaka. She's gone through some dire villages in her time, inhabitants displaced either by war or private corporations that want to get at resources beneath the ground. THis is much more akin to that village Jonathan Joestar was at, the one he cleared out of that Dio fellow. She guesses this is Kord's territory, which means she's better off being the polite guest for the Count. "Evenin'." She greets Kord after tracking him down, careful to not trip over some poor sod's lost armor as she keeps an eye in an empty shop or two, before she heads towards the houses. Once she's at the first house, she reaches for her Kama, the 10mm pistol looking quite striking in her hands as she begins to clear rooms and hallways. No point in coming unprepared, even if this place looks pretty deserted. Never know if squatters are around.
Young Arthur	Arthur Pendragon's horse may be brave and bred for war, but it cannot escape the feeling of discomfort, and rather than force the steed to ride onwards, the young king appoints one of the two retainers he's brought along to look after the horses. The other stays by his side as he enters the town, "This place feels cursed." He mutters under his breath as he marches onward, approaching Kord, and when he is close enough, he inclines his head. "Your lordship."
Theurgus	Two beings approach the venue, one a tall willowy woman in a white coat-dress with a large pointed hat, blue hair and piercing blue eyes. The other being is a small thing, two feet tall at most, seated atop a large open book. This small girl hovers close by the taller one, both to not get lost, and to keep her weather eye on the unstable DCC. Theurgus makes a beeline for the Cathedral, drawn to it for the similarity to her own Cathoderal, at least in passing. She ignores anyone that doesn't approach her directly, at least at first.
Septette Arcubielle	Out of an instinctive respect for the weight of the silence here, Septette treads as quietly as her mechanical frame will allow; the typical din of her metallic footfalls is hushed, almost blending in with the rustle of her floor-length shawl against the mossy stones. Her softly glowing eyes scan the architecture deeply, soaking in the details and restlessly attempting to extrapolate from scattered bits of information to the specifics of what must have happened here. Truthfully, the little android has little interest in the town itself. Ruined villages, overgrown and strewn with hints of awful tragedy, are a dime a dozen in her homeworld; she knows too little of this place's history to be truly impressed. Her purpose here is not to pay her respects or to solve a mystery- it's to assess Kord's character, and whether she could peacefully work alongside him someday. The past is the best means for predicting the future, after all. Septette's rounds take her in a spiraling path towards the fountain at the center of the town. Along the way, the only building to truly catch her eye is the cathedral: a strange edifice, to someone who is unfamiliar with gods worth worshiping. Her curiosity piqued, she makes a mental note of its baroque exterior. Perhaps she can later divine what purpose such an ostentatious building served. Finally, her winding route takes her to the town's center and to Kord. This place is a reminder or a symbol of something important to him, else he would not revisit it- but the best way to determine what it symbolizes to the Count is simply to ask. Rather than approach him immediately, she simply waits a respectful distance away for a break in his meditative reverie, trusting in her noisy movements and supernatural presence to have sufficiently announced her. When he chooses to acknowledge her, she has one simple question for the nobleman: "Why return here? What does this ruin really signify to you?"
Athela Valemore	The thing about parties is that there is always at least one uninvited guest that shows up. An armored boot steps down on the side of a wrecked cart blocking a path, applying pressure intended to tip it back out of the way. But the old and rotten wood gives way around the nails holding it together first, and just the side collapses loudly to the ground. Well, good enough. The crumpling of rotten wood and collapsing cart frame probably got noticed, so Athela doesn't bother with trying to be stealthy as she steps over the remaining wreckage. Something of divine intentions had drawn her here, but she hadn't really been sure why until now as she steps into the square and sees who is standing there staring up at the cathedral. Of course it would be him, who else has a reason to come back here? "Somehow I feel as if this shouldn't surprise me." She's heard the stories of what happened to Archengart. But unlike some of her counterparts likely would Athela doesn't immeadiately go for her weapon at the sight of the Count. Just a somewhat sarcastic "Giving tours of your handiwork are ye now Kord?"
Flamel Parsons	"Wow, you really buried this place!" Parsons says, eagerly. Kord's exclusive preview of Parsons outside of his upbeat positivity has ended, it seems. "You really know your business. The usual way this sort of thing goes is shadowy councils of hidden world leaders convening to agree to totally annihilate a place, and it looks like you really got that on the mark! Reminds me of my trip Shaky Claim. Just, a lot more thorough! Guess it's the way you do things when the problem's in the people and not the soil." He could investigate the location inch by inch, perhaps, but areas of great death usually need a VERY careful approach with his clairvoyance. What he's better at is understanding the people -- the emotions and the thoughts involved -- and so he focuses on that, just for now. He'll give him some time alone soon, as soon as the others point out more interesting things to psychometry at. "You're following a lot of the proper way of the world!" In Parsons' weird, paranoid view of things. "But it's pretty rare to want to come back and see it. You sure didn't seem like you were planning to come here and gloat!"
Count Kord	Kord lifts his head and gives Maaka a simple nod in reply to her greeting. He makes no attempt to engage her in conversation if she wants to be a dutiful ally and investigate for threats. As she closely examines the various derelict buildings, she will find that there are signs of a battle once fought here. There are stains on woodwork of blood, but there's also piles of clothes and armor as if their owners had turned to dust like staked vampires. The only movement she would pick up is flecks of dust dancing in beams of light cast through decaying rooftops, except for one room that contains a colony of Rattata which hiss at her and scatter in all directions in fear. Arthur is given a vocal response by Kord. He chuckles, first, and then says, "Your highness," with an appropriate bow to the young royalty. Theurgus takes a step into the antechamber of the cathedral and discovers something disquieting. The Cathedral antechamber is stacked with half-crumbled statue-like corpses. A great battle happened in here, a battle that was like a blender of violence. Benches of stone are shattered, a chandelier is smashed to pieces in the center of the room, and countless weapons and suits of armor as well as religious robes are discarded and rotting here. The doors into the main room are blown open as if by an explosive force, and a single figure can be seen at the end of the room. A statue lifting its arms in a defensive posture, trapped in the appearance of pure terror. The cathedral drips with an aura of death, as if truly were cursed. Septette is given a look of thought from the armored, cloaked man. His answer is cut off by Athela's sarcasm. He turns to face her, a full body turn of a slow, intimidating grace. He visibly squints at her. Flamel, likewise, has similar inquiries into why he would come back here. "I was once a soldier stationed in this town. It was precious to my heart to see it safe and preserved, because it was the center of equality in all of Bayern. It was a place I could feel proud of. But it was already lost by then. The state you see it in now was inevitable. Either I would have done it, or the cursed beings infested it would have done worse. I return here to remind myself that good men can be ignorant of the dangers that pervade their world, to remind myself that honor and moral justice are a farce when it cannot see the monsters that pretend to be friends and family." "This place was destined to die." He makes a dramatic sweeping gesture to the decaying town. "I do not feel pride for what has happened to this place." He sounds more than a little emotional. This is not a positive memory for him, like he had to put down a rabid dog and not like he achieved some great victory.
Alexis Maaka	Maaka doesn't know Kord that well, beyond the fact he outranks her. That's enough reason for her to not waste time, and she definitely acts like she knows what she's doing as she goes inside the house and sweeps room by room. Her pistol is holstered, and she kneels near a pile of clothing as she brushes some dust across gloved fingers. "Hmmmm." The cyborg tries to get a closer look at the dust, narrowing her eyes before her hand goes back to the gun, hearing scattering noises. She widens her eyes in mild surprise at the Rattata running all about in fear. "Feh. Like a horror movie in here." She mutters, before she takes note of blood splatters, trying to gauge how old the blood is by now.
Theurgus	Charta gasps softly, covering her mouth. "It's like a tomb... what happened here?" she asks, her eyes wide in shock. Theurgus herself simply moves through the antechamber, among the corpses. Her eyes tracking from one to another, to the armour, then the robes. "To think the Organization has had their hands into even such as this, and so long ago." she muses. She strides in through the blown open doors, approaching the lone figure and inspecting them as well. "Our ally is certainly thorough in purging those he deems unworthy, it seems." Charta merely floats along silently, aghast at the sight.
Count Kord	Maaka would find that the blood is very old. Years have passed, and the only reason it can even be seen right now is because of how the arterial spray has soaked into the wood. Someone died here, but unlike the other piles of clothing and armor there's no sign there was a person besides the blood. Oddly enough, this looks like a rare sight. There's very little blood for how many people seemed to have been killed in this town.
Athela Valemore	Slow and intimidating. The young knight doesn't flinch at the look in direction, though it takes a fair share of will to keep her composure. She'd be lying if she didn't admit that the dark count does give her some creeps still, but she's not about to let that show in his presence either. One hand does go to rest on the hilt of the sword at her side, but it's more for her own reassurance than to actually draw it on anyone present. Once she's got her composure kept in order she strides closer. She wasn't around at the time, but she's heard the stories, and from what Kord reaccounts she can put the other pieces together. "So... The Hollowed were here, and when no one would listen you took it upon yourself to... handle it." She makes a little bit of a face at that. She can't say she'd agree with the lengths Kord went to... but having learned first hand what the fiends of anti-life were capable of... "And most people only see what you did, and believe you a monster for it."
Flamel Parsons	Parsons takes a moment to consider what Kord's said. "You know!" He says, still with that smile on his face. "You could be right!" He bobs his head like some sort of physical machinery was churning away at his thoughts. "I mean, that could be the way things work, so I'm not really going to begrudge you doing this kind of work. I am kinda curious, though!" He plants a hand on his chin the way a person might plant a flag on a hill: As a statement, a definitive marker. "Here's a question I usually don't get to ask people like you, so just tolerate my curiousity, please?" He finishes his thoughts and plants both hands on his hips, tilts his head, and asks, "Do you want things to be that way? I mean, do you feel like that's the right state of the world?" He says this like he expects a "no", and the point isn't actually saying "yes" or "no", he wants to hear the whys. And he specifically wants to make sure the whys are on Kord's mind as he gathers his thoughts from this place. He thinks, however accurately, that it'll be psychologically beneficial.
Young Arthur	"Either use proper style or don't use it at all, your lordship." The young king's tone is mildly testy, but he doesn't seem to desire to make an issue out of it considering the circumstances, and instead he follows along. "If destiny demanded its death, do not despise your own part in it. Few men can fight destiny and succeed, fewer still can do so and not end up wishing they had not rejected that path." Now that sounds like it's something he's been taught, he's too young for that to be personal experience. Of course, his own path is shaped by his own destiny. He believes it, clearly. "So, why did you gather us here?"
Septette Arcubielle	"So you believe it was something that had to be done," Septette muses softly, without obvious judgement in her tone. "I presume that not everyone in this town was one of these 'Hollows'. That must have been a difficult decision for you, to put it to the sword like this." She casts her gaze around, pretending to survey the old carnage again. She's tempted to ask how many survivors there were; how many got away- but that would be senseless provocation. Nothing good could come of that. So instead, she says: "What was your time here as a soldier like? What were your feelings towards the town, before... all this?" Aletha earns a respectful inclination of the head. "Some people care more about acting towards what they believe to be the greater good, than whether they are seen as monsters. I don't consider this a sin. After all, it seems that humans are always in search of someone or something to hate anyway." The finer psychological questions, she leaves to Parsons for the time being- a psychonaut would know better than she would how to ask them. Instead, she glances over to the young king- a voice she recognizes from the radio. "Is there a problem, Mr. Arthur?" Her tone is gentle, calm, and ever-so-slightly provocative. Even if she knew the proper decorum, titles mean little to her.
Alexis Maaka	Maaka makes a thoughtful sound, before she begins to search the rooms for more things. Mostly records, anything she can read and get some history around here.
Count Kord	Kord nods in confirmation of Athela's words. She has the truth of it, and he sees no reason to correct it. Even the part about the perception of him, though he turns his head to look elsewhere by that point. Arthur's disapproval of Kord's etiquette spawns a look of mellow surprise... if Kord cared if he offended Arthur, it isn't clear in how muted his reaction was to it. And on the subject of destiny, the cloaked man makes a dismissive gesture. As if his answer to the question had two components, he tells Arthur, "I am here to explain myself for those that dare to ask and to collect my thoughts, and you are here to do as you please." He turns and begins his slow walk over toward the Cathedral. Very slow, as if hoping he'll lead others along as he talks. "I don't," he answers Flamel, "If I had believed there were any other options left, I would have taken them. I do not take the decision to destroy lightly. The loss of Archengart may mean that Bayern will take centuries to recover what it once provided to it. There should be men better than I. And there wasn't." "I loved Archengart. It was a home to me. I was always... alien to the people here, as it consisted heavily of psychics who found my resistance to the telepathy they took for granted very disquieting. But I felt it was a jewel of Bayern that needed to be protected. But..." Something clearly went wrong, if Septette is perceptive to catch the dip of his gaze as he walks. He elaborates after a few seconds to consider how to phrase it. "The Hollowed here saw me as a threat when they discovered what I was, and drove me out, and no one stepped up to question it. Because Yveltal is destruction and death, and his brood was an ill omen. It was a betrayal not just by the unholy things that pretended to be men and beast, but by those who ignored the injustice of it. Perhaps they made a mistake when they failed to kill me." Further into the Cathedral, there are statues of all of the major gods of Bayern... except for Yveltal, whose presence is instead seen in the gargoyles outside. Xerneas, the three Swords of Justice as well as a minor statue of Keldeo beneath them, and a fountain containing the visage of Manaphy that somehow still functions, trickling crystal clear water. A chandelier floating overhead depicts Diancie in chiseled crystal, sleeping on a bed of gemstones. All of the statues have their eyes closed, as if contemplative or sleeping, and their heads are dipped. The statue of the horrified figure stands off-center from the middle of a scuffed, runed circle whose symbols have worn away with time. It is positively coated with old blood... like the site of an ancient evil ritual. All of the pews have been shoved up against the sides of the room, as if that concussive force had blown them all outwards, with the center of the blast having been the statue.
Septette Arcubielle	Septette walks in relative silence for a few moments after Kord's reply, airgapping the emotional content of her previous question from her next one as she digests the new information. She sees no reason to doubt most of his account, but his tone in discussing how the town scorned him causes an inkling of concern... Certainly, there were monsters here, but could bitterness have swayed him towards the decision to put it all to the sword? "That grand building with the colorful windows," she says, nodding towards the cathedral in the distance- "what purpose did it serve? I'm not familiar with its kind. Some kind of town hall, or meeting-place? It's a work of art, but I can see little function in its form. A strange use of resources, in a town like this must have once been."
Theurgus	Theurgus stoops, tracing the tips of her fingers along one of the vague curves of the circle near the statue of the horrified being. "Curious... Charta?" The fairy-like girl floats down, looking at the worn circle. "Some kind of ritual... it, certainly does not match the rest of the archetecture... it would take me about three months to even come close to a match for the markings, they are increadibly worn." "Don't bother then. Shall we find the others?" replies Theurgus as she stands, gesturing towards where the pair entered, likely as the others start to enter.
Young Arthur	"To call me 'your highness' implies I'm either not royalty or not sovereign, while I am both. A sovereign royal ought to be addressed as 'your majesty' if one uses formal style." The young king explains to Septette, still assuming that Kord knows this, and well if Kord doesn't, this way he ought to be able to learn. Then he listens, and he muses slightly. "So these Hollowed, what are they?"
Athela Valemore	At first Athela just watchs thoughtfully as Kord starts to walk towards the Cathedral. Is this why she was lead here? To better understand what had -really- happened? Certainly the Legendaries that watch over Bayern knew the truth. But had she not been brought to see for herself, would she of believed it? Finally she steps to follow the others into the Cathedral. At first she looks up at the crystalline Diancie, but her attention is drawn then to the Swords of Justice... and then something that surprises even her. While the others look around Athela walks over to gaze up at the Keldeo statue, at first uncertain what was more strange -- That there was a statue, or that there was a representation of Keldeo and Manaphy at the same time. Regardless, the was only the third place, besides Tideport and the grotto she first found the Resolute Blade in, that Keldeo had any sort of presence at all. "The gods of Life and Death, the Fairy of Jewels and Watcher of the Deep. The Swords of Justice and their Squire." She holds up one hand, just short of actually touching the statue. "Here, you were all equals. The people of Archengart knew it, that you were all important.... And why the Hollowed wanted to corrupt this place..."
Septette Arcubielle	"I am quite familiar with the customs of mortals regarding monarchs, Arthur," Septette replies in an equally bright but quieter voice- the better to not interrupt Kord's other conversations. "It matters not to me that you bleed blue- only that you bleed. I respect the traditions of your people, but the tradition of mine was that no mortal was above us... and also that no mortal was beneath us. Does that make sense?" Her tone suggests no rancor, but is firm nonetheless. A good litmus test for King Arthur's character, in her view: give him something that he could choose to take as a slight, and see whether he does.
Flamel Parsons	Parsons doesn't hesitate to follow along. "Sure, that sounds reasonable. Can't blame you for having to do what you have to do to, you know, just keep the place functioning! Better to have a sort of harsh society than, you know, none at all." He says, in that usual easygoing and upbeat way. The glint on his sunglasses that comes when Kord talks about the betrayals... He ponders for a moment. "Do you ever feel like any of them deserved what happened?" Parsons' question here ventures a little, maybe past what's acceptable. "You know. For the betrayal stuff. Do you feel like any of them should have had what happened here because of what the Hollows made them do?" His positive demeanor remains utterly unchanged, but the question is loaded with a gently piercing cognitive payload, this one motivated more by curiosity than his curiosity about Kord's mind. After all, he can't look at it for himself.
Count Kord	Kord pauses in the Cathedral, and stares at the sight of a man that seems remarkably familiar to him. With the party having likely followed him in there, he has some time to muse over how he might answer any further discussion directed at him. He looks surprised by Athela and her words. Her understanding is a bright beacon of oddity to him, and the way she talks gets to the final note in the song that was Archengart with a poignant touch. The man known as Kord turns to address everyone. "This statue was once the Duke of Archengart. It was here that he slew men and Pokemon alike to feed a ritual to awaken a creature that dwells somewhere deep beneath these lands. He chose this building for his master's enemies called it home. The Hollowed still succeeded here, in a way. The gods now no longer have a place to teach men to act together against a common threat. Even those gods that men saw no value in were given a place here, and all were given reverence. Even Yveltal, although its place was as guardian." "I know some of how you see the world, Parsons," the man goes on to say, "How there are great conspiracies everywhere that control the world. Here, that was more true than you can imagine. But that does not mean they deserved it just because they could not see it, any more than a man deserves to become ill and die because he did not know the water was poisoned. And that is why I took pains to spare any that I knew for certain were not Hollowed themselves. Many survived my attack on Archengart. A sizable portion live in Dragoni now, and many others in Konigburg, a city to the north of us." "How do you explain to families that they had lived among beings that only pretended to love and befriend them, for years? I could not find the answer to that... so few accept such a horrible idea. And I want them to see me as a monster, because it is easier for them to accept." Easier for him to accept, too. Kord reaches over and taps the statue of the Duke of Archengart on the nose. ting It doesn't even wobble. It's made of something more solid than the stonework around them, perhaps cursed to remain in place. "I never liked this man, even before I knew what he was," he adds, with a wistful sigh.
Young Arthur	"And that is fine, I demand not that I be called by formal styles of royalty. I merely insist that if one does use such a style to refer to me, one does it properly." Arthur answers Septette, and continues, "To call me Mister Arthur is fine, such a manner of address conveys little about who I am, by design, and as such can fit nigh anyone. 'Your highness' however is from a system of formal styles where each has a specific meaning, and 'highness' is not accurate." "For his lordship to use it rather than the accurate 'your majesty' implies he does not acknowledge my claim to sovereignty, or perhaps not my claim to royalty. Either of which I could rightly treat as an intentional slight." He pauses, "After all, if I am not both sovereign and royal, that implies my kingdom is not mine, and such a claim is in effect a challenge to my right to rule." He glances towards Kord once more, still listening.
Count Kord	"I was born on a farm, learned to fight among drunken guardsmen, and taught farmers to fight to gain my power," Kord explains to Arthur, "I admit I have... no experience with kings." He gives a shrug with both of his hands up at his sides, palms upturned. "I do not challenge your place. I find no value in doing so."
Athela Valemore	Athela Valemore mms softly. "The people know of the Hollowed... but most only as random raiders and monsters. Without the unity they do not see the greater schemes beneath the obvious though." She takes a few steps back and lets out a low sigh. "History unspoke only remains broken..." Then shakes her head a bit. "People will never truly know, or accept, what you had done here... But it was something few would of been able to do."
Theurgus	Theurgus shifts out of the way, blue eyes watching Kord as he approaches the statue. She remains silent, but Charta speaks up. "Sir... what happened here?" she asks plainly, hands folded in her lap as she floats nearby her companion.
Septette Arcubielle	Falling a bit behind the rest of the party so as not to disrupt them, Septette inclines her head towards Arthur and nods. "I understand what you mean, now. You do not wish to force others to adopt your traditions, but if they would attempt to engage with them, you would rather they do so correctly. I think that is a sensible position to take." She falls quiet immediately on stepping through the threshold of the cathedral, however- something new has consumed her attention. As grand as the interior of the cathedral is, it isn't Septette's focus here: her eyes linger on the slope of Kord's shoulders, the hang of his head. There's a wealth of information to be gained from that explanation, and not all of it explicit. Whatever she concludes from her analysis, she keeps to herself for now, taking a moment of silence to punctuate the heavy atmosphere. She finally speaks up after the others have said their piece, adopting a more personal and confidential tone. "Kord. The other day, you said that I should do whatever was necessary to assuage my guilt over the Numbani incident. At the time, I shrugged it off- I felt no real guilt over my actions; it was an attempt to maintain decorum, and express that no personal antagonism was intended." "'Guilt' is a fickle emotion- ostensibly it exists to steer people away from evil deeds. But in truth, there are situations where even decisions made for the greater good can saddle a person with guilt. Now, I think I have a glimpse of your experience with that, if it is not presumptive to say such. Your well-intentioned words from before have become invested with new meaning." She pauses for another moment, to give the impression that she is considering her words carefully. "Having seen this... I respect you more, Kord. I believe I have begun to form an understanding of your character, even if it is woefully incomplete."
Flamel Parsons	"Oh, nobody deserves something for not wanting to see this sort of thing!" Parsons says, seeming to take it in stride. "Whether someone deserves anything or not is really just a perspective issue, and I was wanting to see yours. It's the kind I don't usually see from the outside!" That is to say, usually a psychonaut sees it from the inside of the brain. "So you really want to be thought of as a monster? Don't really have any desire for people to understand the sort of difficulties you went through in dealing with this situation?" Predictably, Parsons has spent his entire time mostly psychoanalyzing Kord, rather than investigating the place itself. "That helps with them accepting you, but that doesn't really answer the question of why acceptance needs to happen." He ventures a guess, distantly. "Do you feel like it helps make them think regular people aren't capable of what you did?" An optimistic spin from an optimistic expression.
Count Kord	Kord fixates Septette with a silent stare. It's hard to say what he thinks of her assessment, with his posture having been so stiff except when he would emote with his hands. Except at that moment, his seldom-mobile tail uncurled from his waist as if to portray something like comfort, a subconscious effect on him for just a moment. And then he nodded to her, acknowledging her respect. Parsons has more to say. Kord directs his gaze that way and crosses his arms, because the psychic's psychoanalytics are starting to grow tiresome. He was never one that enjoyed the philosophical back and forth, and it takes clear, active effort for him to pair meaning and words effectively on this matter. He decides to put it like this: "Is it easier for them to accept that I was once a farm boy that lived a life almost exactly like theirs? Or is it easier to see me as this symbol of a thing they fear down to their bones? Imagine the horror they would know, if the first were the case. Any common man could become a monster, and none would feel safe."
Athela Valemore	While the others discussed Kord's deeper motivations Athela's attention wandered back to the statues. She looked at the one of Keldeo again, and then down at her divine weapon which resembled the horn of a different form. She could only assume the statue had been placed back when Keldeo first appeared, before he had unlocked his greater power from training with the other Swords. Which would be a very long time ago. Yet now, it was fitting. The gods draw some amount of their strength from their followings, be it in reverence, or in fear. With little following save herself and the few places that still held Keldeo in regard he had not the power to take of his greater form again. What -had- happened between him and Manaphy and the governing bodies of Bugen at the time? With what she had seen and heard today, Athela started to wonder if there was a deeper aspect to that story that even she did not fully know... Cloak flared briefly as she turned and exhaled slowly. "I doubt I will ever agree fully with what had been done... But now I at least understand better why it was done. Archengart was destroyed... but it would of been much, much more horrific if the Hollowed had taken over. You may of made yourself a monster, Kord... but even Death understands what life is more than the empty shells that claim it a disease do." There was something deeper to all this, and it was starting to weigh at her mind that she could not see it yet. "I shall leave ye to your, ah, tour." In hindsight that was a terrible joke, why is she refering to it again. "Good eve." Time for her to leave.. and try to make some sense of a few things.