Post by Clark Kent on Jun 11, 2011 21:46:42 GMT -5
((Just storing it on here; making a second account tomorrow to apply properly. xD ))
Strange, how small the temple seemed compared to what lay beyond it.
Zanten swept across the towering stone structures and seemingly endless crowds of people, a silent, invisible wraith that drew no notice and left no sign of its passing. Voices beyond count seemed to fill the very air that carried him aloft, and the further he traveled from his point of origin, the hazier and less distinctive the faces and buildings grew. Through it all, he caught only brief snippets, single phrases or the occasional flash of a crystal clear scene; an 'automobile,' all steel and speed and noise. A
It was a long time before he relucantly began to loosen his concentration, easing himself from the almost intoxicating astral plane and letting the call of his mortal coil draw him in. Though his mind had swept across many miles of land, and seem many thousands of people, his body had not moved in the last ninety minutes; seated in a lotus position in the courtyard of the White Tree Temple, the Seventh Sigil came back to his body just in time to note the approach of one of its supporting monks.
"Wren, my dear friend," Zanten greeted, bowing his head, a gesture that received a far more curt nod in reply. "I apologize for my distraction; I was seeking to learn more about the world I will soon be joining. A most remarkable place, more so even than your tales suggested. Please, sit."
"I believe that it is the only reasonable course of action," Zanten replied calmly, a small smile on his face as he glanced down towards the ever-scowling monk. "If it is indeed true that dark forces press on the veil between worlds, and if a scourge should think to fall upon this realm, then I would be far better served attempting to discern its source. The White Tree will protect this place from incursion, and keep our brothers safe from harm, but its influence is far too limited; billions of souls remain exposed to annihilation... or, worse, corruption. How can I remain here, seperated from a world that may well need my aid?"
"Sigil," Wren said slowly, trying to sound respectful without making it appear he was giving up an inch of ground. "I will not seek to question your wisdom, as I know its depth. You were here when I first came to the temple seeking answers, and in your service I have come to find more peace than I imagined possible."
"You do me great kindness," Zanten interjected serenely, which predictably only caused Wren's distressed grimace to deepen.
"But," Wren continued firmly, "trust in me when I say that the world beyond the temple walls is stranger, and far more chaotic, than even your contemplations can reveal. There are many dangers out there, and even the most mundane may slaughter a man unprepared to face them."
Canon or your own
My own! (Clark Kent)
Civilian Identity
Zanten Zonoran
Alias
The Seventh Sigil
Gender
Male
Age
Appears to be early twenties; in actuality in his seventies.
Occupation
Seeks to counter demonic and extraplanar threats.
Appearance
Obvious differences being the staff is white, and the described presence of the Dragon Beard Hook described in Equipment.
Personalty
Zanten is both a product of decades of quiet, philosophical contemplation, and of his own admittedly playful personality; the former has given him a wisdom beyond his (apparent) years, with a bottomless pool of patience and a quiet confidence that leads him through even the most trying times. He has often stood completely still, without moving a single muscle, waiting for a certain time of day or for some anticipated event to occur; whereas most would fidgit or shift their weight from foot to foot, he will simply stand, straight-backed and relaxed. At the same time, he has a very sharp sense of humor, often making small puns or jokes with small amounts of affectionate sarcasm thrown in here and there. He will quite happily plant himself in front of most forms of comedy, (it being the only thing he will bother to see on television,) and sometimes it seems he will seek it out with particular enthusiasm when times are troubling. One might think it a little odd to find a bald, serene monk laughing uproariously to reruns of Third Rock from the Sun, but in many ways this sense of humor makes the normally mysterious Zanten far more approachable. This same humor also makes him a bit of a gentle teaser, as he will poke and prod at any foibles or flaws the other person has, but in a way that allows them to laugh at themselves.
One would think someone who devoted every waking minute to physical perfection would take every opportunity to use it; why walk to the kitchen when you could do six backflips, a leaping reverse somersault jump turned into an overhead twirl and landing with a rolling cartwheel? But outside of combat, exercise and chores, Zanten will rarely demonstrate or utilize his training or physical skill, prefering instead to remain quietly unassuming. In fact, were it not for his odd attire, he wouldn't really stand out at all.
When it comes to combat, Zanten is both merciful and brutal; while he will not hesitate to accept the surrender of an enemy, if it is genuine and the individual can be safely restrained, nor will he falter at inflicting severe harm on someone who would otherwise put others in danger. In other words, if the only way to halt a fleeing thug before he reached the detonator of an explosive was to break his legs, the snap of bone would only briefly follow the man's first step. In addition, though he finds all life to be sacred, he will kill if there is no other option; in part this is because he has been taught values and beliefs from a far older, more violent culture, but in all honesty he has also come to the decision on his own. He will never allow the safety of a criminal to jeopardize the well-being or lives of that same crook's victims; it is a practicality that may well put him at odds with other heroes. Of course, that is where the self-confidence comes in, for though he will listen to the arguments of those who might oppose them, virtually nothing will convince him otherwise. Rather than grow defensive or upset at being opposed, however, Zanten will merely nod, smile, listen and thank them for their opinion. Then he will inform them that he disagrees, and outline his reasons for it.
Worst of all, they're generally very good reasons.
Abilities:
Timeless Training: For decades, Zanten has done little but train his body and mind in endless drills, exercises and deep spiritual contemplation, seeking always to reach beyond his limitations. After many years of such practise, he has become a master of unarmed and staff combat, and has pushed his body to peak levels. To maintain this sharp edge, he is constantly training himself in some way or another, whether it's overt, like balancing himself on a single hand, or covert tension of his muscles.
Perfect Body Control: Aware of even the smallest acts in his own body, Zanten is able to regulate and consciously alter or maintain everything from temperature to pulse rate, to pupil dilation, to level of pain response; fortunately for his sanity, he doesn't need to make his heart beat, or lungs expand, as he is just as capable of running on 'automatic' as anyone else.
Expert Climber: With his physical training and considerable agility, Zanten is capable of scaling even the most difficult of surfaces with relative ease; sometimes, he has even made a slow, gradual ascent using not but the tips of his fingers and toes to find the smallest crevices and ledges. By comparison, getting up the side of a building is absolute child's play.
Longevity: There have only been seven Sigils over the course of millenia, due to the incredible longevity each has; though Zanten has 'only' been alive for six or seven decades, he has the potential to last centuries before his inner flame finally burns out.
Polylinguist: Stuck in a temple for seventy years? Might as well read a lot! Zanten is fluent in English, French, Latin and Cantonese, the first two due to the fact that they seem to be relatively common, and the third because it seemed a useful one for someone who might have to face demons. Though he has not focused on other languages too much, he can hold simple conversations in about a dozen different tongues.
Meditation: Every twenty four hours, to maintain his own body functions and control, Zanten must enter five hours of deep meditation; this meditative state replaces sleep in normal humans, which is why he'll usually devote another four hours in the day to brutal physical training, given most of his team members will still be sleeping. Entering the meditative state also helps him recover from injuries or illness, permitting wounds that might normally take two weeks of bedrest to heal within two or three days of constant meditation.
Chi Manipulation: Through the use of mystic and mental techniques, Zanten is able to harness and focus his inner chi to a variety of effects; the primary one is to further enhance his physical abilities, allowing him to accomplish superhuman feats of speed or agility. These feats are generally brief, though spectacular; a superfast sprint across an open field, a thirty five foot leap straight up, a twisting evasion that allows him avoid bullets from multiple angles, etc. The absolute concentration required means these feats will only last a short time, usually just enough to give him an edge during a particularly tight conflict.
In addition to physical enhancement, Zanten can also harness his chi to perform a variety of more 'magical' effects; generating bright, warm white flames that can cover a surface without harming it, lightening his body so it can cross snow without leaving an imprint or making a sound, and astral projection; such abilities can be maintained for longer periods of time.
Equipment:
Whitewood Staff: Taken from the same tree that had sprouted when the First Sigil gained his abilities, the staff bears a number of decidedly magical properties; for one, it's far harder than any other wood, allowing it to resist even energy blades or superhot flames without damage. If spun with sufficient speed, (in other words, enough for the staff to blur somewhat,) it can generate a shield the size of its circumfrance for as long as it continues to spin. To put it more simply; even an incredibly fast marksman could not simply plant a bullet between the staff's rotations to get to the man beneath. In addition, just as the tree acts as a ward against evil, protecting the distant Temple from direct attack, the staff can be particularly effective against fully demonic or spirit opponents, essentially burning at them on contact.
Dragon Beard Hook: Essentially a two-pronged spearhead attached to a long, silken cord, the Dragon Beard Hook serves as both a weapon and a mode of transportation; the cord is about fifty feet in length, secured to the right side of his outfit, moving across his back and looping around his left arm until the spearhead is secured tightly to his forearm. A small band of metal lets him fit the head of it to his wrist, to keep it from flying loose, but with a quick tug, he can free it, and as much of the rope he requires. He can use it to trip, tangle or strike an opponent, but he will mostly use it as a climbing or grappling tool, as he seems to have sufficient strength and coordination to wield it with considerable skill, particularly when he lightens his body with chi manipulation.
Weaknesses:
He relies far more on his agility and speed than resilience when it comes to a fight; in other words, it is far prefereable that he evade the big stream of molten lava than get hit by it. He can easily evade a throwing knife, but just because he really, really doesn't want to get hit by said knife.
Also, when he is in a meditative state, he loses all touch with his surroundings; someone could come and draw on his face, or lop off his nose, and he wouldn't notice until he came out of the trance. For this same reason, he can't be awoken from the same trance before his planned time has elapsed. This means he might not be able to show up to the more unexpected villainous battles... needs his beauty rest!
Background:
The Sigils were intended to help maintain the Earth's balance, acting as truly human guardians in order to preserve the trust and cooperation of other inhabitants. The first Sigil dated back to the second century B.C., forged through both training and the consumption of herbs and potion that often bordered on poisonous; the greatest of their Mystics worked endlessly to find the next enhancing tonic, the next meditative exercise, and the most potent of spells and prayers to the Guardian Spirits. Though initially invisioned as a group of men, for whatever reason- perhaps the intervention of those same spirits- only a single man from the formed group began to exibit truly spectacular capabilities. Indeed, though the others were somewhat improved by their many treatments, they died within less than eight years due to the high toxicity of many of the tonics they injested. Only one survived, and thrived, and the sudden sprouting of a white tree in the Temple courtyard was deemed a prophetic sign that the spirits had answered their prayers. It was this man who became the First Sigil. (Well. At the time it was obviously just 'Sigil.')
The First Sigil's abilities were numerous, his skills tremendous, and his contributions almost immeasurable, as he often served to halt both wars between competing tribes of men, and breaches from supernatural elements. He outlived those who had first helped create and trained him, and their successors, and their successors' successors, always aging at only the slowest of rates. There was concern, however, for though it was clear the Sigil would remain for many, many years, he had only since been able to bear a single child, and it had emerged alive but apparently in an unending slumber; most curious of all, the child, kept alive and sheltered in honor of its sire, appeared unchanged by the passing years. Without the ability to reproduce whatever had come before, it was thought that this Centuries came and went before, finally, the Sigil succumbed to old age, simply passing away peacefully one evening.
It was then, and only then, that the child awoke, beginning the reign of the Second Sigil.
And so, the centuries passed, with but a single Sigil existing at any one time, seeking to maintain order, particularly when the origins were supernatural. A single child would be born each time, and no other; carefully protected and nurtured, the child would lie dormant and unchanging until the eventual death of his predecessor, at which time he would awaken and begin the process of transforming into the next Sigil. Only a single child was ever born, and so there was only ever one Sigil at a time. Though the earlier ones occasionally aided Emperors and more enlightened warlords in mundane conflicts, as the centuries passed, the Sigils became less concerned with the affairs of humans, and instead turned far more reclusive, arising only when the threats to the world were of supernatural origin.
Zanten Zonoran, the Seventh of the Sigil line, awoke in the late ninety forties, when the Sixth succumbed to old age at nearly six hundred years. Well taught, ironically, by the Sixth Sigil, the Temple Monks wasted little time in subjecting the infant to the same training regiment that had been followed by those who came before. He took to the training with considerable zeal, growing quite attached to those assigned to protect and teach him. Like the Sixth, it at first seemed that he would spend most of his existence in contemplation and self-improvement, as the dangers and challenges seemed more those of simple human folly, and the clash of massive Empires, than those of smaller tribes, or demonic incursion. The Sixth Sigil had spent much of his time in the Whitetree Temple, meditating and contemplating the mysteries of the universe; it had seemed that the world was moving beyond the need for a Sigil, as more and more independant protectors began to arise.
That changed, though, when a collection of Mystics in Tibet began to prophesize the coming of a dark storm, one that would plunge the world into shadow. Many of the other countries, and even other monastaries, attached little credit to their words, but some, the Whitetree Temple among them, knew better.
Believing the central hub of this disturbance was located in the United States, the Seventh Sigil decided, quite excitedly, to go and see for himself.
Base of Operations:
He is currently approaching Jump City.
Sample Post:
My own! (Clark Kent)
Civilian Identity
Zanten Zonoran
Alias
The Seventh Sigil
Gender
Male
Age
Appears to be early twenties; in actuality in his seventies.
Occupation
Seeks to counter demonic and extraplanar threats.
Appearance
Obvious differences being the staff is white, and the described presence of the Dragon Beard Hook described in Equipment.
Personalty
Zanten is both a product of decades of quiet, philosophical contemplation, and of his own admittedly playful personality; the former has given him a wisdom beyond his (apparent) years, with a bottomless pool of patience and a quiet confidence that leads him through even the most trying times. He has often stood completely still, without moving a single muscle, waiting for a certain time of day or for some anticipated event to occur; whereas most would fidgit or shift their weight from foot to foot, he will simply stand, straight-backed and relaxed. At the same time, he has a very sharp sense of humor, often making small puns or jokes with small amounts of affectionate sarcasm thrown in here and there. He will quite happily plant himself in front of most forms of comedy, (it being the only thing he will bother to see on television,) and sometimes it seems he will seek it out with particular enthusiasm when times are troubling. One might think it a little odd to find a bald, serene monk laughing uproariously to reruns of Third Rock from the Sun, but in many ways this sense of humor makes the normally mysterious Zanten far more approachable. This same humor also makes him a bit of a gentle teaser, as he will poke and prod at any foibles or flaws the other person has, but in a way that allows them to laugh at themselves.
One would think someone who devoted every waking minute to physical perfection would take every opportunity to use it; why walk to the kitchen when you could do six backflips, a leaping reverse somersault jump turned into an overhead twirl and landing with a rolling cartwheel? But outside of combat, exercise and chores, Zanten will rarely demonstrate or utilize his training or physical skill, prefering instead to remain quietly unassuming. In fact, were it not for his odd attire, he wouldn't really stand out at all.
When it comes to combat, Zanten is both merciful and brutal; while he will not hesitate to accept the surrender of an enemy, if it is genuine and the individual can be safely restrained, nor will he falter at inflicting severe harm on someone who would otherwise put others in danger. In other words, if the only way to halt a fleeing thug before he reached the detonator of an explosive was to break his legs, the snap of bone would only briefly follow the man's first step. In addition, though he finds all life to be sacred, he will kill if there is no other option; in part this is because he has been taught values and beliefs from a far older, more violent culture, but in all honesty he has also come to the decision on his own. He will never allow the safety of a criminal to jeopardize the well-being or lives of that same crook's victims; it is a practicality that may well put him at odds with other heroes. Of course, that is where the self-confidence comes in, for though he will listen to the arguments of those who might oppose them, virtually nothing will convince him otherwise. Rather than grow defensive or upset at being opposed, however, Zanten will merely nod, smile, listen and thank them for their opinion. Then he will inform them that he disagrees, and outline his reasons for it.
Worst of all, they're generally very good reasons.
Abilities:
Timeless Training: For decades, Zanten has done little but train his body and mind in endless drills, exercises and deep spiritual contemplation, seeking always to reach beyond his limitations. After many years of such practise, he has become a master of unarmed and staff combat, and has pushed his body to peak levels. To maintain this sharp edge, he is constantly training himself in some way or another, whether it's overt, like balancing himself on a single hand, or covert tension of his muscles.
Perfect Body Control: Aware of even the smallest acts in his own body, Zanten is able to regulate and consciously alter or maintain everything from temperature to pulse rate, to pupil dilation, to level of pain response; fortunately for his sanity, he doesn't need to make his heart beat, or lungs expand, as he is just as capable of running on 'automatic' as anyone else.
Expert Climber: With his physical training and considerable agility, Zanten is capable of scaling even the most difficult of surfaces with relative ease; sometimes, he has even made a slow, gradual ascent using not but the tips of his fingers and toes to find the smallest crevices and ledges. By comparison, getting up the side of a building is absolute child's play.
Longevity: There have only been seven Sigils over the course of millenia, due to the incredible longevity each has; though Zanten has 'only' been alive for six or seven decades, he has the potential to last centuries before his inner flame finally burns out.
Polylinguist: Stuck in a temple for seventy years? Might as well read a lot! Zanten is fluent in English, French, Latin and Cantonese, the first two due to the fact that they seem to be relatively common, and the third because it seemed a useful one for someone who might have to face demons. Though he has not focused on other languages too much, he can hold simple conversations in about a dozen different tongues.
Meditation: Every twenty four hours, to maintain his own body functions and control, Zanten must enter five hours of deep meditation; this meditative state replaces sleep in normal humans, which is why he'll usually devote another four hours in the day to brutal physical training, given most of his team members will still be sleeping. Entering the meditative state also helps him recover from injuries or illness, permitting wounds that might normally take two weeks of bedrest to heal within two or three days of constant meditation.
Chi Manipulation: Through the use of mystic and mental techniques, Zanten is able to harness and focus his inner chi to a variety of effects; the primary one is to further enhance his physical abilities, allowing him to accomplish superhuman feats of speed or agility. These feats are generally brief, though spectacular; a superfast sprint across an open field, a thirty five foot leap straight up, a twisting evasion that allows him avoid bullets from multiple angles, etc. The absolute concentration required means these feats will only last a short time, usually just enough to give him an edge during a particularly tight conflict.
In addition to physical enhancement, Zanten can also harness his chi to perform a variety of more 'magical' effects; generating bright, warm white flames that can cover a surface without harming it, lightening his body so it can cross snow without leaving an imprint or making a sound, and astral projection; such abilities can be maintained for longer periods of time.
Equipment:
Whitewood Staff: Taken from the same tree that had sprouted when the First Sigil gained his abilities, the staff bears a number of decidedly magical properties; for one, it's far harder than any other wood, allowing it to resist even energy blades or superhot flames without damage. If spun with sufficient speed, (in other words, enough for the staff to blur somewhat,) it can generate a shield the size of its circumfrance for as long as it continues to spin. To put it more simply; even an incredibly fast marksman could not simply plant a bullet between the staff's rotations to get to the man beneath. In addition, just as the tree acts as a ward against evil, protecting the distant Temple from direct attack, the staff can be particularly effective against fully demonic or spirit opponents, essentially burning at them on contact.
Dragon Beard Hook: Essentially a two-pronged spearhead attached to a long, silken cord, the Dragon Beard Hook serves as both a weapon and a mode of transportation; the cord is about fifty feet in length, secured to the right side of his outfit, moving across his back and looping around his left arm until the spearhead is secured tightly to his forearm. A small band of metal lets him fit the head of it to his wrist, to keep it from flying loose, but with a quick tug, he can free it, and as much of the rope he requires. He can use it to trip, tangle or strike an opponent, but he will mostly use it as a climbing or grappling tool, as he seems to have sufficient strength and coordination to wield it with considerable skill, particularly when he lightens his body with chi manipulation.
Weaknesses:
He relies far more on his agility and speed than resilience when it comes to a fight; in other words, it is far prefereable that he evade the big stream of molten lava than get hit by it. He can easily evade a throwing knife, but just because he really, really doesn't want to get hit by said knife.
Also, when he is in a meditative state, he loses all touch with his surroundings; someone could come and draw on his face, or lop off his nose, and he wouldn't notice until he came out of the trance. For this same reason, he can't be awoken from the same trance before his planned time has elapsed. This means he might not be able to show up to the more unexpected villainous battles... needs his beauty rest!
Background:
The Sigils were intended to help maintain the Earth's balance, acting as truly human guardians in order to preserve the trust and cooperation of other inhabitants. The first Sigil dated back to the second century B.C., forged through both training and the consumption of herbs and potion that often bordered on poisonous; the greatest of their Mystics worked endlessly to find the next enhancing tonic, the next meditative exercise, and the most potent of spells and prayers to the Guardian Spirits. Though initially invisioned as a group of men, for whatever reason- perhaps the intervention of those same spirits- only a single man from the formed group began to exibit truly spectacular capabilities. Indeed, though the others were somewhat improved by their many treatments, they died within less than eight years due to the high toxicity of many of the tonics they injested. Only one survived, and thrived, and the sudden sprouting of a white tree in the Temple courtyard was deemed a prophetic sign that the spirits had answered their prayers. It was this man who became the First Sigil. (Well. At the time it was obviously just 'Sigil.')
The First Sigil's abilities were numerous, his skills tremendous, and his contributions almost immeasurable, as he often served to halt both wars between competing tribes of men, and breaches from supernatural elements. He outlived those who had first helped create and trained him, and their successors, and their successors' successors, always aging at only the slowest of rates. There was concern, however, for though it was clear the Sigil would remain for many, many years, he had only since been able to bear a single child, and it had emerged alive but apparently in an unending slumber; most curious of all, the child, kept alive and sheltered in honor of its sire, appeared unchanged by the passing years. Without the ability to reproduce whatever had come before, it was thought that this Centuries came and went before, finally, the Sigil succumbed to old age, simply passing away peacefully one evening.
It was then, and only then, that the child awoke, beginning the reign of the Second Sigil.
And so, the centuries passed, with but a single Sigil existing at any one time, seeking to maintain order, particularly when the origins were supernatural. A single child would be born each time, and no other; carefully protected and nurtured, the child would lie dormant and unchanging until the eventual death of his predecessor, at which time he would awaken and begin the process of transforming into the next Sigil. Only a single child was ever born, and so there was only ever one Sigil at a time. Though the earlier ones occasionally aided Emperors and more enlightened warlords in mundane conflicts, as the centuries passed, the Sigils became less concerned with the affairs of humans, and instead turned far more reclusive, arising only when the threats to the world were of supernatural origin.
Zanten Zonoran, the Seventh of the Sigil line, awoke in the late ninety forties, when the Sixth succumbed to old age at nearly six hundred years. Well taught, ironically, by the Sixth Sigil, the Temple Monks wasted little time in subjecting the infant to the same training regiment that had been followed by those who came before. He took to the training with considerable zeal, growing quite attached to those assigned to protect and teach him. Like the Sixth, it at first seemed that he would spend most of his existence in contemplation and self-improvement, as the dangers and challenges seemed more those of simple human folly, and the clash of massive Empires, than those of smaller tribes, or demonic incursion. The Sixth Sigil had spent much of his time in the Whitetree Temple, meditating and contemplating the mysteries of the universe; it had seemed that the world was moving beyond the need for a Sigil, as more and more independant protectors began to arise.
That changed, though, when a collection of Mystics in Tibet began to prophesize the coming of a dark storm, one that would plunge the world into shadow. Many of the other countries, and even other monastaries, attached little credit to their words, but some, the Whitetree Temple among them, knew better.
Believing the central hub of this disturbance was located in the United States, the Seventh Sigil decided, quite excitedly, to go and see for himself.
Base of Operations:
He is currently approaching Jump City.
Sample Post:
Strange, how small the temple seemed compared to what lay beyond it.
Zanten swept across the towering stone structures and seemingly endless crowds of people, a silent, invisible wraith that drew no notice and left no sign of its passing. Voices beyond count seemed to fill the very air that carried him aloft, and the further he traveled from his point of origin, the hazier and less distinctive the faces and buildings grew. Through it all, he caught only brief snippets, single phrases or the occasional flash of a crystal clear scene; an 'automobile,' all steel and speed and noise. A
It was a long time before he relucantly began to loosen his concentration, easing himself from the almost intoxicating astral plane and letting the call of his mortal coil draw him in. Though his mind had swept across many miles of land, and seem many thousands of people, his body had not moved in the last ninety minutes; seated in a lotus position in the courtyard of the White Tree Temple, the Seventh Sigil came back to his body just in time to note the approach of one of its supporting monks.
"Wren, my dear friend," Zanten greeted, bowing his head, a gesture that received a far more curt nod in reply. "I apologize for my distraction; I was seeking to learn more about the world I will soon be joining. A most remarkable place, more so even than your tales suggested. Please, sit."
"I believe that it is the only reasonable course of action," Zanten replied calmly, a small smile on his face as he glanced down towards the ever-scowling monk. "If it is indeed true that dark forces press on the veil between worlds, and if a scourge should think to fall upon this realm, then I would be far better served attempting to discern its source. The White Tree will protect this place from incursion, and keep our brothers safe from harm, but its influence is far too limited; billions of souls remain exposed to annihilation... or, worse, corruption. How can I remain here, seperated from a world that may well need my aid?"
"Sigil," Wren said slowly, trying to sound respectful without making it appear he was giving up an inch of ground. "I will not seek to question your wisdom, as I know its depth. You were here when I first came to the temple seeking answers, and in your service I have come to find more peace than I imagined possible."
"You do me great kindness," Zanten interjected serenely, which predictably only caused Wren's distressed grimace to deepen.
"But," Wren continued firmly, "trust in me when I say that the world beyond the temple walls is stranger, and far more chaotic, than even your contemplations can reveal. There are many dangers out there, and even the most mundane may slaughter a man unprepared to face them."