Time: June 14th, 3C 79. Afternoon.
Inside the library, the light comes in only as dusty slanted pillars through the open windows, which also let the summer in. The cicadas are a loud droning outside, which might make it hard to focus. It certainly seems to do so for Half-Orc twins Tharkul and Ankhalus, the other two students in the room. The three of you are in your semi-weekly Philosophy class, which never seems to interest the brothers.
They came to the monastery only recently, and despite their youth and race, they seem to find little kinship with you, Grond. They are a few years your junior and only really seem interested in their martial studies, spending their spare time sparring in the yard with Clara or each other. Ankhalus in particular has proven himself to be a skilled combatant with innate magic, able to make himself completely invisible for short periods of time. Currently, the boys are trying to write on one another’s parchment while Kjinja talks about the nature and existence of evil.
Kjinja is an elf whose life has eclipsed nearly four centuries. His ability to walk was lost a long time ago, so he floats on a small magical carpet, an extravagant item for such a poor monastery. Apparently he fasted for almost two years to help pay for it. His robes are simple cotton and black, the color hiding the sores on his body that leak and stain his clothes. His hands wobble constantly with tremors, and he raises them to eye level when he talks. His voice is very quiet, a problem exacerbated by the twin’s horseplay. In the year since their arrival at the hands of a desperate human mother, Kjinja has constant difficulty keeping them behaved, especially during warm months such as this, and often he just tries to talk over them.
In the defense of the twins, Kjinja definitely has a habit of being long-winded, and the sun kisses the stacks of tomes with a small radiance that looks the way sun-heated leather smells.
“In the case of the church that we talked about last week—Grond mentioned and we concluded that a vampire would not be allowed to enter a church of Pelor because the vampire is inherently evil. Boys, listen please. But what if the Pelorian priest is actually an evil man? What if the building were to have a wall fall in, or collapse completely? Boys. Does the good of Pelor come from the building, the land—boys—the people inside, or Pelor himself?”