It’s been a while, but back at it:
Jax tethered his horse outside the rather plain, yet exceptionally clean, Temple of Lyra. Where as all the other buildings within Blucester portrayed their age, with crumbling stonework, or patched up woodwork, the temple looked better now than the day it was built. Whilst it would never win any awards for its aesthetic design, it was certainly loved and cared for devotedly by those that found salvation there.
A muted yellow glow eminated from behind the two solid oak doors that were set open. A hint of juniper hung in the air, most likely from the incense burning within. Jax slowly walked to the back of his horse so as to lift the rolled up blanket into his arms. His heart was heavy, and though he’d been fearing this moment, he knew he owed it to his fleeting love, Yulien, a disciples burial.
“What burdens you traveller?” enquired a middle age man, seemingly standing sentry between the two doors.
As Jax approached the man’s gaze became fixed upon the rolled blanket, his furrowed brow deepening with curiosity the longer his question went unanswered.
“I ask you again traveller, what carry you to the doors of our temple?” Shifting his left leg, his stance became more defensive whist his hand hovered over the hilt of previously unseen mace. Still Jax advanced, until he met with the outstretched hand holding the cold steel of the guards weapon but inches from his face. “Stop and declare your purpose!”
Lifting his head, sorrow and heartache portrayed unashamedly within his eyes, Jax stared intently at the guard. “She warrants a disciples burial.”
“That is a matter for the clerics to decide,” stated the guard lowering his mace. “I will see if any are available to offer you audience. Please, wait here.”