A Black Archer goes to Temple.

It's late at night when Faolaine slips into the Temple of the Seldarine, her solemn gaze worried and uncertain. She bites her lip as she glances around. No one seems to be there so late, which makes her let out a brief sigh of relief. She walks slowly and quietly down the stairs toward the shrine of Shevaresh, the Night Hunter. Her patron.

She looks up at the statue, it's features cold and sharp. Her hand rises to fiddle with her cloak pin, another symbol of her faith. She is anxious as she stands there, feeling the weight of her god's judging gaze upon her, even though it is but a statue standing there. She closes her eyes and takes a calming breath, repeating to herself silently, Just try your best. That's all.

Kneeling at the base of the statue, she places an offering of rosemary, sage, and violets into the golden bowl placed there by the priests. She lights the fresh sprigs with a nearby candle, letting the scent waft around the hall. Rosemary, the memory of her mother's voice whisper's in her ear, For remembrance. Sage, for wisdom. Violets, for faithfulness and watchfulness. She slowly breathes in the smoke, letting her mind relax. Slowly, she begins to recite the basic creed of her Brotherhood, her head bowed and palms pressed together in prayer.

"The greatest enemy of the Seldarine is Lloth
Who sought the corruption of Arvandor and the overthrow of the Creator
The greatest enemy of the Fair Folk is the Dhaerow
The debased followers of the Spider Queen
Who long ago were enmeshed in her dark web
We fight this black crusade
For redemption can only come from tears and blood
Only when Lloth breathes her last
With every drow heart pierced
Shall the joy of life begin anew
Until that day, nothing will stand in the path of our vengeance
We shall never fear, never falter
Fighting until our last breath."

She then raises her gaze to the statue again, looking lost and forlorn. "I need your guidance...." She begins, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Even when the enemy was outnumbered, I fell heavily. I train all that I can, every day And yet I feel as if I have failed you. " She sighs. "You've told us to bring you arrows of obsidian and jade, never once touched by any but those of The People. I try my best to do as you have asked, but when I try and shape the stone, it crumbles and breaks in my hands." She pleads up to the rocky face, "Please, show me the secret to this craft. I know not where else to turn...nor what else to do. I need a sign." Her gaze falls to the offering, slowly smoldering in the bowl.

"I know I am not one of your priests, or your rangers.....but as an warrior, an Archer of your creed, I ask that you lend me wisdom and guidance in these and other matters, such as the Drow Mage, who comes to kidnap children, both in Cormanthor and the Dale. Guide Norlamin as he looks for answers."

"I hunt tirelessly in your name." She bows her head again, falling quiet, waiting until the last of the incense is consumed. It is a time of contemplation for her, her gaze distant, as if her mind was far away. She does not seem to notice her surroundings any longer.