The Temple of the Rose
The night wind flows with a soft whisper through the tall stands of bamboo which surround you. Their cool green leaves drape down, gently caressing. Cool clouds shift and flow across the moon's face, leaving the rest of the starlit sky bare to illuminate the grounds for those who practice their meditations and martial arts in this temple. A wide platform of teak logs with an open air structure and roof stands a short distance away. The wood of its construction is a dark, weathered red, and slate tiles of crimson cover the roof, their color mirroring that of the roses which grow in lush profusion up the beams of the temple. Wind chimes hang in each corner, their sound both invigorating and calming.
(Blue Aura) Blood-red roses fill a white jade vase upon an altar of wood and stone.
Look altar: A simple thing made of a curved wooden top laid across two rune-covered stones, this altar's sole decoration is a dark iron censor filled with pleasant smelling incense and a vase of roses. Some of the flowers are in full bloom, others still in tightly closed buds: perhaps an illustration of the varying degrees of growth and knowledge of those who tread the Rose Path. As your gaze lingers, the runes upon the stones glow for a moment, providing details of the rules of this Order. (Look runes)
Look runes: Rule number 1: NO aiding Nashites in any way whatsoever. Rule number 2: NO public smack talking. However, Ftell and tells are permitted. Rule number 3: Follow ALL TFC rules, and respect ALL TFC immortals.
Holy Symbol: (Growing) a blood-red rose A thornless vine with glossy leaves supports the growth of this blood-red rose.~
Look rose: A thornless vine with glossy leaves supports the growth of this blood-red rose. This flower needs no adornment. In its simplicity, it radiates a tranquil beauty. Graced with a hue to match the darkest spilled blood, it is velvety soft, and unmarred by thorns
Look North: An arched portal marks the way back to the Temples, a place of conflict and strife and bloodshed. Would it not be wiser to tarry in this serene garden a moment longer?
Look East: A tranquil garden of sand and stone greets the eye and calms the mind. In the center of the carefully raked grains lies a wide, dark slab of slate. Upon its smooth surface has been carved twin circles, one encompassing the other, and within them, an insect figure. The symbol seems to pulse, keeping rhythm and time with the heartbeat of the earth itself. You feel your own heart begin to match this rhythm, and know peace.
Look South: A simple yet beautiful altar awaits the meditations of those who gather here, thin woven mats spread out before it. Crafted of polished wood and stone, the altar bears only a dark iron censer filled with rare incense, and a a vase of deep crimson roses. Lifting your gaze above the altar, one can make out distant mountains enclosing this holy place, their dim outline blurred by the lush vegetation upon their slopes.
Look West: Flame-bright koi move sedately through the waters of an ornate pond. A small wooden bridge, squat metal lanterns illuminating each end, arches over the crystalline flow, allowing egress to the practicing platform beyond. Further to the west, the pond widens in size, and there, a stand of giant bamboo stirs in the twilight breeze, leaves rustling softly as monks move through its branches.
Look Up: The moon hides like a coy maiden behind a thick swath of clouds that have seemingly abandoned the rest of the sky. Starlight glitters brightly, and casts a pure silvery radiance down upon you. The long, angular silhouette of a crane flying overhead holds its own quiet beauty, it's lonesome call somehow echoing an emptiness in your own heart you had not harkened to.
Look Down: The earth has been packed solidly underfoot, and the marks of bare and booted feet can barely be discerned.
Look spider windchime wind chime A spider has spun a web around one of the wind chimes, softening its sound. As if it felt your gaze, the spider turns and looks back at you with eight eyes filled with sentience. It pauses a moment in its spinning, then dips its thorax in what was unmistakeably a bow.