[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/3NUD0QE.png[/img][/center]
[center][color=7CFC00]Acolyte Cantor Amentha[/color][/center]
[right]Location: A7 - Ordo Benevolence[/right] 
[hr]
Acolyte Cantor Amentha arrived at Ordo Benevolence early in the morning, bypassing the huddled mass and the pearly gates of the riches as he inched closer to the center of the gilded city, its gaping hole. The spark pulled grew stronger until suddenly reaching a grinding halt as he put his sack and gear down. 

No flower nor incense oil wafted in the air. No early morning hymn thanking a new dawn, but the grievances of a market. The haggling for prices of material and ceremonies, the screaming pain, priests and healing mages running back and forth like bussers of some dining place. 

An acolyte pulled him to his stall, 
"You're the new one, right? Acolyte Cantor?" He asked. Cantor nodded. Words barely escaped his mouth as the acolyte practically pushed him to his table. "We got two teams of 6 that just got wiped, think you can handle one of them?" 

"Sure..." A soft pat on his back, and he was alone with his table. The first one wasn't too bad of a cause of death. Must have lost too much blood. A quick inspection reveals something completely penetrated his abdomen, resulting in a dizzying death. Resolution? Stitch the abdomen then pass the fluid. The second one was a tad worse, half his face was already missing, perhaps from wild animals scavaging? Nevertheless, his nose was missing, and half of his left face was in a state of half-chewing. For this, the solution would probably be using clay to recreate the owner's nose while removing the owner's skin from the calf and reapplying on his face. Then the third ...

Death can indeed be a monotonous work. Men were not built to be emotionally stable with their kind dying on this level of scale. In the mortuary stall, there is no sound but the sound of a saw chewing through the bloated corpse. The sound of meat falls onto the bin as they remove an already rotten piece of flesh. The sound of water splashing on the cadavers. Then the dressing into the white shroud. The acolytes did with the silence of a factory and the product of death. 

But still, to say this is a butcher shop would be a lie. For even in an area that is filled with death and suffering of all kinds, holiness still reigns supreme in this sacred place. Cantor said the praying words from the Rites of Death and Forgiveness, the rite he is most familiar with from his Monastery while at the next table, the half-elf read Masses for the Dead for her patient. There are about 13 acolytes in this place, Cantor wondered if they truly said 13 different versions of prayers for the dead. [i]Through our prayer, God, your children will never die.[/i]   

Had it not because of someone calling him out, Cantor would probably worked until he finished. But his work on the 4th person was cut short by Jamieson, a debt collector Cantor presumed. With a slight nod of acknowledgment, Cantor covers the person with a white shroud before leaving to find the Head Priest. That reminds him. He should have advised Jamieson to find a seat as Cantor was not introduced to the Ordo. Still, after some time, the acolyte was able to locate the Head Priest's room and give a few knocks on the flimsy wooden door. The frame tilted with each of his knocks. 

[color=7CFC00]"Father, a guest has come and requested to see you. Say he is here to collect."[/color]