The Darkness Within

During the four days he has to contemplate prior to leaving for the island, Matthias meditates as he did before. Only this time, instead of entering Constantine's vision, he descends into his own dark dream.

There is a flash and suddenly he is standing in a courtyard before a great temple, much like the one inside the Crystal Tomb. Only with more shadow than he remembers, seeping out from behind closed doors and high in the ceilings as he walks through the open doorway. The golden light of Pelor still glows from the central altar but it is different somehow. Its light is now darker, almost gritty, the illumination dulled.

Upon the altar is a large gold and black sunburst, the holy symbol of Pelor. The light seems to emanate from within it. Steeling himself for whatever might lay ahead, Matthias walks to the altar and peers down at the symbol. The holy symbol is actually loose, and not, as he first thought, a piece of the altar. It hums a little as he approaches.

The humming noise increases in intensity. The light seemed to be pulsing in time to the vibrations. Matthias reaches out and touches the symbol and with a sigh the humming stops, and he feels a jolt of energy flowing into him.

A voice echoes inside his head, speaking in a strange tongue. Matthias ponders to himself the meaning behind the words but realizes that the tongue is nothing he understands, yet the voices seem slightly familiar, almost comforting in a way. But these thoughts are quickly forgotten as the light diminishes in intensity, and golden flares start washing like waves up his arm.

In a flash, with his finger still on the holy symbol, he realizes why the voice sounds familiar. It is not words it is speaking, but the sounds of magic. Specifically, these are the sounds of the healing fires of Pelor.

This magic is dark, not tainted but angry. The magic is filled with all the rage of the burning sun, filled with life-giving and life-destroying power. The symbol seems to grow hotter as the moments tick by.

Matthias pulls his hand away, startled by the sudden intense heat. Immediately he feels a sharp pain all throughout his body, as though tearing away all the muscles, all the flesh, all the sinew in one moment. He doubles over, kneeling in front of the altar.

This is when he sees the cracks spreading on the golden face of the altar, cracks pulsing with an eerie red glow. Matthias senses something is wrong and backs away from the altar, but when he reaches for his mace and shield, shocking realization hits him.

No shield. No mace. Just himself, his robes, and the connection to his god. Looking again at the altar, a feeling washes over him, and he knows.

It is sick.

It is dying.

“It is you, Matthias.”

There is a voice, talking to him, whispering thoughts.

It's difficult to differentiate between the voice and his thoughts. Even as he listens hard, he can barely make out the whispers.

"Heal me. Embrace me. Call me brother. Pick me up, and carry me into the world as your own. Heal the sick, taste the rage. Embrace it, and by doing so, be cleansed."

The statues of angels all seem to watch in anticipation. Matthias bends down and picks up the symbol and holding it between his hands places it against his breast, pressing it against himself in what seems an effort to become one with it. As Matthias places his hand upon the holy symbol, the burning sensation starts again, almost immediately.

Gradually it increases as he strains to lift the unbelievably heavy thing. Finally, with a great heave, he slings it around his neck where it drops, without a single bounce, to hang upon his chest.

Matthias stands, breathing heavily for a moment, but realizes the ordeal is not over. The heat from the symbol suffuses him, but a new sensation is now radiating from the altar itself.

The cracks in the altar are spreading visibly now, and as they spread, Matthias feels cold running up and down his body, prickling his skin. The chill spreads out, engulfing the room. The red light within the cracks darkens and begins to throb in a slow rhythmic pulsing.

Almost like the beating of a heart.

At once Matthias knows what he must do: heal this sickness, purge the altar of the darkness, and set everything back into balance.

Matthias raises his voice above the noise to call out for Pelor to bring life, and, reaching for the altar his hand unconsciously brushes the holy symbol at his chest, its weight still dragging against his neck. There is a flash of golden energy and he feels as though his limbs are burning themselves away in the pure fury of it.

And then there is a silence.

So profound is the sudden quiet, that Matthias finds himself holding his breath for fear of breaking it. A moment passes as the red light seems to ooze back into the altar. Some of it drips down upon him, seeping into his flesh before he can move. Where it touches Matthias, he feels the anger and the rage all over again. But that too becomes quiet, until all that is left is the lightly throbbing weight of the holy symbol, pulsing in time with the light from the altar.

The pure, golden light. Unbroken, unmarred, uninjured.

His breath escapes, and he awakens. Matthias clutches for the symbol around his neck.

It's still there.

So heavy.

But it feels right, somehow.

A Little Treachery To Top Things Off: Part 1

In my most recent journal entry, journal entry 8, which was some time ago, I mentioned – a bit sarcastically -- how the mentality and actions of our party had shifted a bit and taken on a slightly more loathsome approach to what used to be general survival and adventuring. One of the lines that I wrote describing this was “a little treachery to top things off ...” It turns out that I was actually right, even if I was being a bit sarcastic. But I was right in completely the wrong way. And I am one of the worst offenders in our party when it comes to treachery. But I feel that my treachery is the right thing to do.

Where I last left off, we had arrived at the tower and met Matthias Lateralus, a heavily armored, squeaky-clean cleric who attracts light. After he presented his orders to a captain, we were to attend an audience with Lord Marius Wind, a half-mad, totally pretentious human arcanist who is very likely a strong diviner. He claimed that we (the party) were bound to the mysterious map-amulet, which he called a “key”, that we took from the Ogre captain that we previously killed. We were all to become initiates of The Tower, at least for the time being, and in service to The Tower, we were to pursue the goals of The Tower regarding this amulet and the Crystal Tombs, finding out its nature, its story, how to use it and how to find the Crystal Tombs that it could be used on. It turned out that this amulet was a key to one or more of the Crystal Tombs and that the Orgoshi might already posses one or more other keys to The Tombs.

Our first task in this mission was to seek out Baron Wolfrun in The Tower barrows, as he might have known something about the location of one or more of the Crystal Tombs. The Baron, like all inhabitants of the barrows, was apparently living the high-life as a ghost of his former self. So, with the assistance of The Tower's resources, we set out to pursue the baron a few days later.

The barrows were a ghastly place, dark and constantly shrouded with what appeared to be a living mist. Undead things stalked the ruined waste of the barrows and were attracted to the life-force of our party members. Things even stranger than the undead, very much alive, not dead, grazed among the dead and sometimes fed off of them.

We survived many deadly encounters in the barrows, yet we lost three of our horses in the mix. On our way we encountered some smugglers who were masquerading as Watch members. We passed them by after a brief chat the first time that we encountered them as we were not certain what their situation was and did not want to get involved until we understood more of what was going on. The second time that we ran into them, they attacked us, which was a bit ill conceived on their part. We killed them all except for one, who it turned out was actually a scout for The Watch. Eventually we arrived at the baron's ruined mausoleum and spoke with him. He was very friendly and open with us. He agreed to help us obtain the location of one of the Crystal Tombs if we did him a favor. That favor was to rescue his “girlfriend” -- an elven vampire -- from a witch on the coastal edge of the barrow.

So, we traveled on through the barrow. On our way out, we passed through a strange valley where a large skeleton with glowing, yellow eyes watched us from a distance while we camped. The skeleton warned us off of the land, stating that we did not belong there. We continued on to the coast, then followed it until we reached the small fort that the witch inhabited. It turned out that she had four bone hydras guarding the fort, plus a score or two of other undead creatures. We watched for a while and tried to track their pattern as they made their rounds, but determined that an all-out distanced assault was the only way to deal with them.

So, we lured them out and let them storm us from a few hundred feet away. I threw as much as I could at them with my spells and when they finally reached us, we had to fight them face-to-face. The battle was gruesome. The enemy horde consisted of four bone hydras and at least twelve undead humanoids. Eight of the humanoids were elemental types consisting of four electrical and four fire. The other four were heavily armored. We destroyed them all, but a few of us almost died in the battle.

After the battle against the undead, we passed the wall of the fort and worked our way into the keep. The keep was heavily trapped, yet very lightly guarded within. The traps were rather deadly and complicated, but that was little trouble for Gideon, though there was one particular trap that he had to sneak through and find a hidden side passage around for the rest of us. There were false doors and dead-end rooms that were trapped. The ground story of the keep was completely disused and decrepit. Gideon worked his way through the maze of traps and rubble and led us through safely. It appeared that a long time ago a battle took place at the fort and a last stand was made there. The remnants of those deceased and the overturned tables was indicative of this. Constantine found the body of what looked like a paladin who fought until his last dying breath to hold the keep against its attackers. Constantine was rather taken by the scene and felt that it was necessary to give the paladin a proper burial and prayer. and led us into the second story of the keep. Gideon took a dagger off of the paladin's corpse, seeing that it was a very fine dagger that would suit him well in combat, I suppose. He's definitely put it to good use since then. We hauled the paladin's corpse off into a side room, with the intent to take it back to The Wall with us after dealing with the witch.

After moving the paladin's corpse, Gideon led us up a stairwell to the second story of the keep. There we saw what appeared to be a very well-kept, clean environment that someone obviously lived out of. A chambermaid walked out of a door as we stepped onto the second story from the stairs and she greeted us kindly. Yet, she seemed to not entirely aware of everything. She seemed to be almost like a mindless automaton living only based on strict instructions. She she idly dusted and cleaned just about any object that was close by, including Constantine himself, without much thought or effort. She asked us if “the mistress” was expecting us. We did not know how to respond to that, but she was off to clean another room in the blink of an eye, not waiting for a response from us. Constantine seemed a bit offended that the chambermaid felt it was necessary to dust him off. He is a bit vain at times.

It seemed that there were no traps on the second floor, as at least one living being was residing up there it was safe to reason such. So, we wandered a little more freely. We found a bedroom with a skeleton in it and the skeleton suddenly sat up and then the door slammed shut. After that, we could not get the door open again. Then strange things started happening. It seemed that the air changed, became tighter, closer and more menacing. And a scream ripped through the upper floor, as if from all around us at once. Then, it seemed as though time was counting down, there was a timed “ticking” sort of sound, I believe, which rang through the upper floor at intervals. The whole event was very strange and difficult to follow. It is even more difficult to describe the event now, as some time has gone by since then.

We worked our way through other parts of the upper floor and Gideon took off on his own to investigate the area and the source of the scream. Nell, Matthias, Constantine and I all went together to check out the main room of the building. There we found the elven vampire – she certainly was beautiful – chained to a platform at the center end of a room with a black veil draped between four posts above her to shelter her from the sunlight. And, before the platform, the chambermaid stood in one place, her eyes closed, swaying while an apparition of another woman also swayed in the same place as her, but slightly out of sync, so that the two women appeared to shift and meld between and to each other. And then she saw us. The apparition looked directly at us. One of us shot an arrow at the chambermaid and the apparition, as they appeared to be one, and the apparition screamed as the chambermaid fell to the floor. The scream ripped through the air again like it had before and the door to the room, which we had not entered yet, slammed shut. Again, we could not get the door opened. We attempted to beat the door down, but it was being held by a mystical force. Again, it seemed like something was counting down, and when the end of the count was reached, the door could be opened again. When we opened it, everything in the room was normal and silent. The chambermaid lay on the floor, barely breathing. Nell, Matthias and Constantine rushed into the room. Matthias assisted the chambermaid while the other two secured and freed the vampire. I stood guard just outside the door while Gideon investigated one of the other rooms.

Just when Nell, Matthias and Constantine were about to leave the room, the apparition appeared again and the door slammed shut to the room, locking Gideon and myself out while trapping the other three in with the apparition. Even though I was outside of the room, I could hear the apparition talking as though she were right next to me. She called us thieves and trespassers. Then she accused us of working for her “him”. It turned out that the “witch” was actually the original wife of Baron Wolfrun and she was the one who captured the vampire that was the “girlfriend” of the baron. When she was referring to “him”, she meant the baron. Obviously this happened a long time ago and now the wife of the baron, much like himself, was a ghost and a very vengeful and powerful one at that.

While the three were trapped inside the room, the ghost apparently possessed Nell and used her body to attack Constantine and Matthias, almost killing the both of them. They managed to flee from Nell and then the ghost lost its grip on her body and Nell was herself again. But, before long, the ghost possessed her a second time. The situation was ugly. Gideon ran off to do something, at the time I did not know what, while the spirit talked to us all as a disembodied voice. I ran off to see what Gideon was up to (I was not aware of the fact that Nell was possessed) while Matthias and Constantine tried to avoid being killed by Nell. I found Gideon attempting to open the door to the bedroom with the skeleton in the bed. I went to assist him and as I arrived, he had successfully opened the door to the bedroom. He cautiously crept inside the room and went to grab a storage chest when the skeleton suddenly sat up and looked directly at him. Gideon reacted quickly by smashing the skeleton to bits with the large, heavy chest. This seemed to end the entire haunting and, as a result, began the collapse of the entire fort. Carrying the vampire “girlfriend” of Baron Wolfrun, wrapped in the dark veil to protect her from the sun, and carrying the unconscious chambermaid, we all rushed outside just before most of the keep collapsed into indistinguishable rubble.

We rested for the night, then continued our trip, bringing the vampire to the Baron's ghost. The Baron, who was quite happy, had us simply stuff the vampire into a hole in a wall for the time being. The whole situation was a little creepy. After that, he informed us that he did not know the answers that we needed, but he told us that he could direct us to a “friend” who knew the answers. So, he gave us a large, strange and magical lock and sent us off to a sectioned-off valley in the barrow.

We traveled on again, and when we arrived at the valley, we realized that this was the same place we had passed the outskirts of on our way to the witch's keep, where the strange skeleton had warned us off. This time, the skeleton (all of the skeletons, it turned out), was somewhat accepting of us because we possessed “him”, as it referred to the lock. The skeleton who had warned us off before, directed us to a barren portion of the valley, an area where all of the land was completely lacking of any kind of animal or plant life. Once we passed the threshold of this place, I felt disconnected from the world, as if my elven roots of life could not be maintained on this soil and, should I lie down there or spend too much time there I would cease to continue on living in any way, shape or form. Were I to die there, my essence would never leave there. The feeling was very unsettling. But I think I now understand something very significant about my people, the elves, and how it is that we exist in this world.

Once within this strange, barren land, we spotted a platform and a large pile of rock. As we approached the platform, the rock-pile came to life. The creature was very strange, but not very difficult to dispose of. We destroyed it in short order and continued on to the platform. Gideon, being the more daring member of the party, mounted the platform and investigated. After determining that everything was safe, he took the lock, which was given to us by the Baron Wolfrun, and inserted a key that he found on the platform into the lock, which caused a burst of light and energy, resulting in Gideon, as fast as he is, jumping off of the platform to get out of the way, releasing the lock and leaving it on the platform. He cautiously crept back up onto the platform and, after a moment, started talking to someone. So, we all climbed up onto the platform to see what was going on.

When we got onto the platform, there was an apparition there. The apparition was that of a royal and regal-looking man in his middle years. He spoke to us openly and warmly. It turned out that he was Emperor Lonton III. He spoke to us of what the empire used to be, and we spoke to him of what the empire is today. He was very disappointed with the current state of the former empire and imperial land of Tirynthia, but we urged him to explain to us the nature of the Crystal Tombs and how to locate them. He could only remember the location of one Tomb, as The Tombs were created long before his reign in The Empire, which he indicated was somewhere near Bayview and that the key that we possessed, was very likely the key originally “tuned” to open this particular Crystal Tomb.

After speaking with the emperor for a while about current and past affairs, he bestowed upon us his former vestments and royal weapons, which had been resting on this platform for ages and were completely undamaged or time-worn. With his last efforts before fading away for eternity, he bid us thanks and farewell, and we did the same for him. After this, we all set out to return to The Tower, each of us a little dumb-founded and consumed with our own thoughts on what had transpired. We learned a lot from The Emperor. Gideon seemed to pull his own personal knowledge and awakening from the encounter, which seemed to trigger a very deep change within himself. Constantine seemed to be much more prideful and determined in his decisions and, perhaps, his path in life, yet at the same time, a little disappointed in something. As for me, much of this I already had knowledge of, or had enough to figure some of the details out, from all of my knowledge of history and book reading. I just did not understand the depth of it all. And these newfound depths seemed extremely treacherous. What exactly befell The Empire? How did everything spiral so far out of control? The Watch, The Tower and The Empire had become completely divided and all that was left of the empire as a whole was purely an illusion maintained by a king who was simply a glorified ambassador of these bits and pieces of the former empire, attempting to keep the citizens from noticing the complete collapse of the imperial system. The various remaining facets of the former empire (The Watch, The Tower and the king) were constantly at odds with each other, and perhaps even silently warring with each other. Eventually this would all fall apart. With rumors of dealings with the Easterners and the Orgoshi Ogre captain's words of an age-old “empire” of Orgoshi and/or Wastelanders pulling together and becoming stronger and preparing for all-out war, these “complications” within the Tiryns empire were certain to be the deciding factor in whether or not Tiryns civilization would continue to hold together through the coming trials. I found this knowledge to be a little depressing.

When we got back to the tower, we informed Lord Marius Wind of what transpired, and most of what we learned, particularly the pieces about where The Tomb was that our key was “tuned” for, but we left a lot of the uncomfortable details of our knowledge and experiences out of the conversation. The Lord Wind decided that it was appropriate for us to prepare to journey to The Tomb and secure its contents before the Orgoshi empire did. So, we prepared ourselves over the next few nights, and rested up. But, as we planned, I don't think that either one of us was prepared for the treachery. For our treachery.

The Fox and the Shadow

'A Fox swimming across a rapid river was carried by the force of the current into a very deep ravine, where he lay for a long time very much bruised, sick, and unable to move. A swarm of hungry blood-sucking flies settled upon him. A Hedgehog, passing by, saw his anguish and inquired if he should drive away the flies that were tormenting him.

"By no means," replied the Fox; "pray do not molest them." "How is this?' said the Hedgehog; "do you not want to be rid of them?' "No," returned the Fox, "for these flies which you see are full of blood, and sting me but little, and if you rid me of these which are already satiated, others more hungry will come in their place, and will drink up all the blood I have left." '

----

Thus read the introductory page to the first translation (Circa 1401 TR) of "The Fox and the Shadow", but no children's story was contained within those parchment pages. Indeed, the book itself, bound in ornately worked bronze, with depictions of shadowy forms who seemed to be screaming in unbearable torment, was itself enough to ward off most casual scholars.

But, hidden within the pages of fairy tale, gibberish and seemingly random babble, were these words:

"The Fox came with losing case,
He smiled at the Shadow Man.
Whispered words, a sweet embrace,
Beneath the dark, he ran.

With trepidation and remorse
The Fox and Shadow ride.
Overcome by force,
The Shadow must abide.

All was quiet for a span,
Until the Fox he fled.
Fox devoured Shadow Man,
Then in moments, thousands dead."

While obviously prohpetic in some fashion or another, it was not always clear to whom the prophecy applied, nor even what era it would apply in. Prophecy, as any good student will know, has a way of revealing itself while further clouding its meaning in obscurity.

Indeed, after careful study of the book, it became clear to me that many of the ramblings and seeming "gibberish" of the book, were the keys to understanding both the hidden meanings inside the prohpecy and to discovering the era in which the prohpecy could take place.

It wasn't until many years later that I discovered, with shock, my own name hidden inside the text. Imagine it, I who have been to a thousand gatherings of the Society of Sensation, I to whom death itself holds no more mysteries, surprised by a book of prophecy I read in my youth! Yet there it was, clear as day, "Marius Wind" and next to it, my real name which, for obvious reasons, I do not record here.

I have come to believe, over long study, that the prophecy refers to a family in the Well. Perhaps a living member, or one yet unborn. I know also that the "thousands dead" to which it refers will come to pass regardless of fulfillment of conditions, yet none will believe it so. As is usually the case with prophecy, this seems to set only the conditions under which the next events may come to pass. This particular prophecy is actually the keystone event for a group of events which must come to pass.

--- Excerpt from the diaries of Marius Wind, entry dated 1543, TR

The old man's bushy white brows drew together, his face darkening. This was not the sort of expression commonly seen in the courtyard, and it seemed for a moment as though the blooms on the flowering starbursts looked on disapprovingly. It was not really the sort of thing suited to such a lush garden, with it's vibrant flowers, and bright shafts of sunlight. Truth be told, the expression did not look quite right on the old man's face either. Compared to the generous laugh lines etched into his face, the creases forming on his forehead looked like a thing which simply did not belong. Or, perhaps, like a thing long out of practice, nearly forgotten. His shining blue eyes, and the healthy waves of his silver hair further lent to the impression of a joyous presence out of step with his expression. The colorful fish in the fountain gaped at him openly. But the fish gaped the same way at everything, so it was hard to tell how they really felt about the matter.

“The story you have asked for is not an easy one, children.” The old man finally said, his somber expression lightening somewhat. The circle of young people, not children in truth, stirred uncomfortably, clearly not accustomed to this darkness on their storyteller's face. One young woman rose up on an elbow and spoke, the light of mischief in her eyes.

“No Caeda,” the old man said, starting out of his reverie ”it is not because I am old! By the Chalice, sometimes I think I remember the old stories better than I remember this morning.” Still propped on her elbow, the girl spoke again, the same twinkle in her eyes.

“No, Caeda, that does not mean I cannot remember this morning!” The old man harrumphed through his snowy mustaches and settled back on the edge of the fountain, drawing his exquisite cloak about him as though against a chill. “It is a hard story because it tells of a hard time. A sad time. Most of all, a complicated time. Too complicated for children, unless told by a far wiser tongue than mine.” This was too much for the gathered young ones, and they began to clamor to hear the tale, protesting that it was unfair to tell so much but refuse to finish.

“Oh don't start in!” the old man replied grumpily ”You all know I'm going to tell the story, I'm just working my way up to it” He drew in a deep breath, shifting his cloak back to his sides, and smoothing his features back to their usual gentle smile.

“This story is an old one. Older than your parents, and some of your grandparents. Maybe even older than that. It was around the time of the Day of Just Rebellion, though we didn't know about any of that yet. I was still with the five companions back then, before we even had that name. Before we had any name really. Ah, the five companions: Penelope Plainsworth. Raised as a noble in the old empire she was. Not much of a dancer in those days, though don't tell her I said that. I've rarely seen her equal on the field of combat, not to mention at the arm wrestling table. This was before she got married of course, though confidentially I very much doubt she ever got rid of that old hammer. Matthias Lateralus, in those days, had to have been the strangest Priest I have ever know. I suppose the Sun Father knew even back then what was coming, but at the time the leniency he was shown was a strange thing to behold. Erhvior was the first elf I had ever met, and seemed a madman to me at first. As I came to know him, and later others of his kind, I realized that I had been wrong in this. He was in fact a madelf.” The old man paused with a wrinkling of the corners of his eyes to allow for the laughter this provoked. Raising his hand, he continued ”He was not then who he eventually became, no more than any of us were. Erhivor was, perhaps, closer then than the rest of us though. . .” Again a pause for gentle laughter, and he continued. “Gideon Fox.” The old man pursed his lips, a haze crossing his eyes. “What can one say about Fox in those days? He was a trial back then, and a burden, handy as he was with a knife. From the first day we met I held out hope that he could rise above his upbringing, and reveal the good man behind the screen of filth. Unfortunately he knew this, and I think the fact that it was my wish was the largest impediment he faced in realizing that potential. Always a stubborn, and ultimately prideful man, Fox.” His eyes cleared for a moment, then took on an even darker cast.

“I was not then the man you have all heard so much of either.” His eyes cleared for a moment, showing a glimmer of humor “I do not think I was ever the man some of those stories tell of. Though should I meet that man I would like to shake his hand! You all know I began my life as a foundling, left on the steps of a cathedral a few days after the comet entered the heavens. What you may not have heard is that it was not a cathedral of the Invincible, but rather of Ariad the False. No, no, it is true! For the first fifteen years of my life I was raised by his false priests, many of whom were good men. I believed in him with all my heart, for I had been taught that other gods were either his faces to other peoples, or demons attempting to lure us away from the truth. In fact, despite what you may have been told, I was wholly faithful to him, or at least to the idea of him, until we met the shade of the ancient emperor Lantan III, but you have all heard that story already, too many times, I shouldn't wonder.” There was a shifting from some of the young men, that story was a favorite, but the old man went on.

”I have told you often enough what it feels to have a part of the Arch Paladin within my breast. The fullness, the certain knowledge of my own completeness. There is nothing that can compete with the gifts of the Invincible, but my first taste of this feeling came before I entered his service, or knew more of his glory than his name. So fierce was my belief in The False, and in the Empire that his grace had spawned, or so I had been taught, that I did not feel the emptiness, and I tasted a portion of what it is to serve a just god. What is it to serve a just god? I cannot speak for the servants of other Gods, nor for the Priests. For the Paladin of Heironeous, it is not only to know you are never alone, but to feel it to your very bones. Every moment of my life, waking or sleeping, I bathe in the presence of my lord. He clears the blinders from my eyes, and lends his strength to my bones, my toes, and my mind. If I were to tell you how old I am, children, you would not mind me calling you such, I think.

“To compare the feeling of serving The False to this, is to compare a sliver of light creeping in through the wall of a filthy basement with the full glory of noon, but I cannot think of another way to explain it. It was a feeling certainly, and there were gifts, certainly, but such a pale shadow, and no sense of companionship. But once, never having seen the sun, I looked through that crack, and thought this was all the light there was in the world. But even this was nothing compared to the time between.

“The Arch Paladin had sent me signs that I walked the wrong course before Lantan ripped the scales from my eyes, but I was too blind to see them. When the old Emperor revealed the falsehood of Ariad to me, he set the foundation that another would later use to reveal the falsehood of the Empire. When this was done, the wadding of false belief was torn from within me, and I sagged against the inner emptiness. I survived, as you can see of course” Here there was more laughter, relieved for a break in the bleakness that had come to dominate the old man's tale “but I was not certain that I would. Oh the learning of man did not desert me,” a gesture of his hand released a small bird made of lightning to sparkle for a moment in the air, “but I tell you now that the knowledge to topple a city's walls is of little help in a battle in which you are the battleground. It is little consolation when that which you are missing is not some prize to be won from a keep. Needless to say, I persevered, but it was not easy.

“During that time, as we, The Five, scrambled through the wreckage of the old empire to assemble to the tools we believed we would need to rite it, I cast about for the path to the invincible within myself, but I could not find it on my own, not quite. I am told now that I came closer than any other the Priests have heard of, but it is simply a path one cannot walk alone. It was just before we entered the second Crystal Tomb that a very strange man showed me the way.”The old man paused, wrinkling his nose. “I almost wish I could avoid telling this part, but it is probably important, even if I cannot divine how.”

“You see, to tell it properly, it was not a man who showed me the way to Heironeous, but rather a tree. A talking tree in fact.” The youngsters eyes widened in incredulity, but the old man did not pause for questions. “When The Five first encountered him, he was caught in the ground by his, ahem taproot.” There was a ripple of laughter at this, then a larger one as the audience grasped the allusion. Again the old man hurried before questions could b asked. ”We freed him of course, the codes teach us to ease what suffering we can. In thanks he gave us directions to approach the Tomb without having to slaughter a garrison of soldiers who's only crime was obeying orders. He also um, did a very peculiar, and rather ungainly sort of dance around me, that had the effect of thinning the divide between the earth and the Heavens, for just long enough that a piece of the Arch Paladin could sweep into me. Personally, I think the Spirits responsible for maintaining the divide simply forgot their duties in a fit of hilarity.” The old man sprang from his perch with surprising grace, and imitated the rigid capering of the treeman all those decades ago. The audience, frozen between being puzzled and being amused, burst into hilarity at this spectacle. The old man's eyes retained their usual sparkle when he stopped dancing, his lips curving into a smile. He essayed an exaggerated shrug, spreading his hands. “As I say, there is a reason I was shown grace in such an unusual way, but I am at a loss to explain what it may have been.” His smile broadened. ”Perhaps it was for no reason other than to bring these smiles I see now. I shall have to tell that story more often, I think, and then perhaps I shall find out.” He fingered the small broach holding his cloak closed thoughtfully, them smiled broadly again. “All right you rascals, what will you hear next then?”

Exerpts from the Chronicles of Gideon Fox: Fireside Contemplation

It's funny how things develop, how life experience influences who you are and what you become. The thing is you can always look back and see so clearly the path that brought you to where you are even though the markers may not have let you know where you were going. The frustrating thing is, even with the path behind you being so clear, you usually can't get much of a good hint where you are going. Sometimes I wonder if I'd be better off sleeping through the quiet times by the campfire, the late night watches that leave little room for anything, but self reflection and a sharpening of blades.

You see, where I grew up, a man took pride in his ability to do more with less. Not an unusual way of thinking in a place where most had little or not enough. To show skill with simple tools was more greatly admired than to be the fellow with a new tool or convenience to get things done. A carpenter skilled in the old ways with a keen eye, axe and hammer earned more respect than a new age craftsman with his fancy blades, drills and planes. The same rules applied to one of the most renowned of trades in The Well, the Enforcer.

It was common knowledge that you could cover a man with a small fortune in armor, give him a great huge blade worth a month of working man's wages and turn him into a war machine to enforce your will upon whomever you wished. Now a man worthy of respect, a man of cunning and guile to be admired and feared could enforce his will with deadly efficiency in a much more modest fashion. He could use something light and common, cheaply gained, easily transported and concealed, a man of true grit and dangerous demeanor could turn his will on the blade of a simple knife. Jorlax the White was such a man in my City.

Known high and low as a man to be feared, I personally saw him dispatch opponents with a knife on three different occasions as a boy, two business and one personal. All in public, all became a part of his legend. I studied those moves, I learned how to move like him, how to hold a stick in the same way, how to make that blade a part of me. I wanted to be like him, I wanted to be a knife fighter and a man to be feared. I made it my life's obsession. Funny thing the determination of youth is after a while you just fade into being. In the years since I've known the blade, I started looking to prove I had what it took. To count every fight as a notch on my belt and another trophy for my own personal abattoir. I've survived on the razors edge for quite some time now, killed great warriors, and unspeakable things, enemies of which I had not even dreamed existed. I've seen magic and revolution and been held in audience by the dead Emperor of old and somewhere along the way I forgot about trying to be a killer. That's the thing I see know when I look back in my minds eye. I remember now the images of Jorlax I saw as a child and I realize that he is clumsy to me. I see what he was and know that as I am now, I could take him as he was then. I have reached that place of manhood where I have forgotten to try and become what I desire and it is in fact because I have become it. Now with my kingdom in shambles I am what I had wanted to be, but still I have no direction, there are no signs to this path, and I can not help but wonder where it is that I go...