RuneScape Forum Archive | A Voice of the Realm

Resoun

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The conversation was cut short by the approach of Brother Francis. After inspection of the hops during which the elderly monk pressed several cones and experimented with bending petals, he announced that the current crop would need to be harvested immediately after breakfast. He then sent them to retrieve the latest shipment of compost aboard the morning's boat. Soon after doing so, the morning bells rang signaling breakfast. And so Murushk found himself following into the natural order of the days on that blessed isle.

Meals were eaten in silence while another Brother read aloud from a text written by a High Priest of long ago. These texts generally contained exhortations to the brothers to be mindful of their vows. Occasionally they were poetic. Sometimes one might be a work of prophesy.

After the meal was finished they returned to their respective places of duty to carry out the day's assignments. Some went to the fields. Some went to the docks. Some went to the small farm. Some simply seemed to vanish. All had a job and all did their part. After a full day of work they reassembled for evening meal and prayers. After this it was off to sleep for the next morning.

As the days wore on Murushk began to have a greater appreciation for his fellow brothers. Each worked at a steady and careful pace. There was no competition. The frantic feel of the larger cities was not to be found here.

If one had a question, one had only to ask. There was no recrimination. Indeed, the brothers were only too happy to share their experience and any knowledge they might have of a subject. Here he found the true meaning of the oft repeated credo; "Strength through Wisdom".

Murushk decided that not only would he enjoy living here, there was a good chance he might thrive.

And so time began to pass.

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We must all learn to embrace our own inner newbishness

11-Dec-2009 23:46:09 - Last edited on 17-Dec-2009 21:51:44 by Resoun

Resoun

Posts: 671 Steel Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

Spring on Entrana brought its own unique “gifts” to some of the monks on the isle. Optimal composting for hops involved fertilizing the beds with a mixture rich in potassium, phosphates, and nitrogen. The scent of a morning's freshly weeded earth blended with the exotic compost to create a “perfume” that lingered throughout the day.

It took awhile to get used to.

By general agreement the scent was repugnant enough to excuse those under brother Francis' care from work on the docks. This was done mostly as a courtesy to the pilgrims. Legend had it that once upon a time a particularly fragrant brother had caused an entire boatload of pilgrims to become sick during the journey from Port Sarim. Word of this had quickly spread across the mainland and the subsequent drop in pilgrimages for the rest of that season had almost bankrupted the abbey.

Murushk didn't really mind the smell. As a former soldier he had been exposed to far worse assaults on the senses. Sometimes, however, he had to admit to a moment of longing for a good long steam bath. At least as a soldier one eventually got around to some relief from the battlefield on occasion.

Thus far in service Murushk had taken the time to observe, study, and participate in as many of the major groups that comprised daily operations of the isle as he could. He had most often been detailed to the fields given his above average stamina from years of combat training. But Murushk had learned of another activity that held great interest for him.

For the first year, a postulant on the isle generally found themselves employed in a variety of jobs. Work was assigned on a need basis. All of the various groups that made up the day to day operations of the island would submit assistance requests to Brother Drew. Brother Drew had in a previous life been head of logistics for the once famous Bama Industries Group of Catherby. Here on Entrana he put his amazing deployment skills to good use on a daily basis.
We must all learn to embrace our own inner newbishness

12-Dec-2009 02:16:07 - Last edited on 26-Dec-2009 09:27:21 by Resoun

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12-Dec-2009 02:25:43

Resoun

Posts: 671 Steel Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

The only group on the island that did not issue daily requests to Brother Drew were the scribes. Sealed below ground in a multi-level chamber referred to as the scriptorium (and best described as a tomb), the scribes worked daily to copy the sacred texts and early records of Saradomin. The work depended on the painstaking efforts on behalf of the copyists. To be accepted into this group one had to come from a privileged minority of those trained in reading and writing. These skills were not often taught anyone without some connection to a royal family, royal office or knighthood. Beyond this the candidate had also to demonstrate an aptitude to the exacting nature of the work. Detail was everything.

Any brother having the requisite skills could apply for acceptance into the Order of Scribes within one month of reaching his novitiate. If the brother was accepted he would be subject to another more intensive period of training for a year. At the end of that year he would sit before an examining board to decide if he were indeed called to the Order. Should he be called he would report from then on directly to Brother Rorek.

Brother Rorek had been head of the Order of Scribes and in charge of the scriptorium for longer than anyone else on the island had been alive. His short, thin, and wiry frame was seemingly dwarfed by his bulky monk's robes. Save for a faint tuft of white hair directly over his forehead he was completely bald . His face was most notable for the huge goggles he wore. These caused his pale blue eyes to seemingly pop out of his head in a perpetual expression of furious intensity. His mouth seemed always to be set in a grim expression causing all who worked in his presence to feel slightly uneasy. When he spoke he was known to be strict and deliberate. He was in a position of absolute authority, save that of the High Priest, over the scriptorium and as such he was used to complete obedience.
We must all learn to embrace our own inner newbishness

12-Dec-2009 14:09:41 - Last edited on 26-Dec-2009 14:55:53 by Resoun

Resoun

Posts: 671 Steel Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile

It was whispered that in the scriptorium there were volumes unread for generations. Words of power were said to dwell there. Words of power written on pages bound in forbidden leaves. All were jealously guarded by the scribes. Some tomes more so than others it was rumored.

Brother Rorek was the master of all these secrets.

Murushk had felt the calling of knowledge from a young age. When the other children had been busy playing between their studies he and his friend Mahlenken could be often found studying some history of battle formations in the school library. It had been through his knowledge of these ancient battle treatises that he had gained his rank in the white knights. The thirst for knowledge was never satiated in the depths of his heart.

It was for this reason that Murushk had decided to apply for the Order of Scribes.

And the fact that they frequently took baths didn't hurt much either.

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We must all learn to embrace our own inner newbishness

12-Dec-2009 21:12:21 - Last edited on 26-Dec-2009 14:58:01 by Resoun