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...

Nell's Diary

14^th of Octumbre, 1581 TR

Dear Diary,

What the hell is wrong with men?

First they promote you (2^nd Lieutenant, Junior Grade), and give you a beautiful shield (another family heirloom), and then they completely ruin the moment by accusing your companion(s) of betraying the empire. At least, that’s what my uncle Percival did. He’s a captain, and I’ve never met him before. He’s hardly ever mentioned at home; I think he and Father had a falling out of some sort.

But that’s not even the worst of it. After vigorously defending my companions’ honor, I was told that my “friends” had stolen away, WITHOUT ME, after strict orders not to leave Bayview. They didn’t even bother to leave a note! Is this what I get for my loyalty? I understand if there was a dire emergency, but if they had time to pack up their belongings then they had time to WRITE A BLOODY NOTE. It didn’t have to say why they left or where they were going, if such information was too sensitive, but it could have at least said, “Sorry Nell, we had no choice but to leave now. We would never abandon you without a good reason.”

Men. Honestly.

My uncle instructed me to go after my companions and make sure they did not let the key to the Crystal Tomb fall into Orgoshi hands. I asked around town to try and find out how and why my companions left. After talking to a drunkard, I discovered that he had ferried them across the sea. When my uncle confronted me about my progress I instinctively lied. But I’m not a good liar, and my uncle wrested the truth from me.

I’m still not sure why I lied. I think I was partly humiliated to discover that my companions had up and left against orders and without leaving an explanation for me. I was hoping the drunk had overheard their conversation, that they had left a message for me with him, or that they had at least mentioned feeling guilty about leaving without me. Alas, they did neither. The other reason I tried to lie to my uncle was loyalty. It’s ludicrous to suggest that I should be loyal to my companions above the Watchguard, especially my uncle, but when you travel day and night with a group of people, relying on them to watch out for you and looking out for them in return, enduring countless dangers and injuries, it’s incredibly hard not to put your loyalty to them above all others. I couldn’t fathom that they had left without good reason.

But I digress. After discovering where they’d gone, my uncle instructed me to follow and bring the key and my companions back, whether they wanted to return or not. I was given a party of a dozen soldiers, and I was expected to lead them. Being promoted is wonderful and filled me with pride – actually owning up to the responsibilities of my new rank made me nauseous. Thankfully the sergeant was very knowledgeable.

We were ferried across the sea as my companions had been. We knew the general direction they would be heading. Later that day, as we trekked across the snow, the ground suddenly gave way beneath me. I dug my armor into the ice and managed not to fall down a long tunnel. I did, however, lose my grip on my maul, and it slid down the passageway. I could just see it at the bottom, and decided to go after it. Just as I was reaching for my beloved maul, I heard a growl coming from two glowing blue eyes. The eyes belonged to a huge white wolf, which proceeded to lunge for my throat. I seized my maul and attacked.

This amazing creature, aside from being a wolf, which is dangerous enough as is, could breathe gusts of icy cold air! When he tried to harm me with this power, however, my armor protected me. Then I noticed something even more peculiar – the wolf look puzzled by this. But he continued to attack, so I continued to defend myself. Eventually, when I was about to make the killing blow, the wolf cried out, “Deal!”

Turns out these white wolves can also speak in the common tongue. Needless to say, I faltered. When I regained my composure, I spoke with the wolf. His name was Rolf (you have to really roll the r, so it sounds like growling). He wanted to make a deal with me. In exchange for sparing his life and dispatching of his pack’s Orgoshi master, he and the other wolves would lead me to my companions. This seemed like a good deal to me, so I accepted.

I shouted up to the soldiers to wait for me. Then I followed Rolf to the den of his shaman master. Well, the “shaman” turned out to be nothing more than an Orgosh (of the small, extremely annoying kind) with a few potions, like some alchemist’s fire. He would wave his arms about and chant nonsense before throwing the potion, pretending as if he’d cast a spell. My armor protected me from his mixtures as well as it had against Rolf’s icy breath. I dispatched the “shaman” easily, and quite impressed the wolves. They even took to calling me “Mistress,” which I really enjoyed, to be perfectly honest.

True to their word, the wolves found my companions’ trail and tracked them to a valley. The valley was filled with dead bodies. Some were Orgoshi, some were human; some were Easteners, and some bore flags and banners with emblems I didn’t recognize. Upon closer inspection, it looked like the “valley” had actually been created by a powerful spell. At the center there was a huge pile of bodies. Every minute or so, the pile would quiver. I didn’t know what was underneath, but I had no desire to find out. Rather than walk across the valley to the other end, the soldiers and I traveled around the edge.

When we got to the other side of the valley, we found a body that seemed to end halfway. Now, he wasn’t cut in half in the way you normally see, where the guts are hanging out and there is blood everywhere – he just abruptly ended at the torso. When I tried to walk around him, I disappeared from the soldiers’ view, and inadvertently discovered an illusion. On one side there was a view of snow and trees. But when you stepped past the invisible barrier, the Crystal Tomb came into view.

The soldiers and I marched onward toward the Tomb, but before we reached the gate we could see two creatures guarding the entrance. They were monstrous; slightly translucent blue skin covered their massive bodies. Even from a distance I could see their mighty claws and teeth. They paced in front of the door, their long arms almost dragging on the ground. I knew there was no way we could defeat them.

But past the monsters was the only way through. I froze, couldn’t make a decision. So the sergeant made one for me. He said, “We’ll fend them off while you run through.” Then they charged. As I ran past them into the Tomb, I could see in my peripheral vision the monsters tearing the men apart. Not one survived. If my companions had just waited for me, I could have gone with them and no one need have died. That’s all just wishful thinking now.

Anyway, the Tomb was a labyrinth. I had no idea how to find my friends. I meandered through the halls, past several menacing stone statues that decided I was trespassing. After battling several of these annoyances, and feeling that I was completely lost, I finally found my “friends.” Well, they had no excuse for leaving me, other than it was “urgent.” Apparently it was the type of urgent that allows you time to pack, but not to write a note. Not only did they have no excuse, they weren’t even really sorry! The only one who actually apologized in so many words was Gideon. Gideon. What is the world coming to?

To make matters even worse, they didn’t have the key anymore. They traded it for another. They traded the key that I supposed to retrieve with men from some other empire that I didn’t even know existed. Apparently the Tomb we were in did not hold magic that would be helpful to us, but the new key opens a Tomb that will be helpful.

I should have arrested them right there, I know, but I couldn’t. Despite what they’ve done, I still believe that they have the Empire’s best interests at heart, and they are my friends. We’re on our way back to Bayview now, and I know that we can explain it all to Uncle.

Somehow it’ll all work out.

Fall from grace Or: You'd better all hope Constantine does not go Goth, cuz ther'll be more of this coming if he does. . .

People need certainties.

They need to have faith that at the end of a hard day of work, they
will be fed, or paid for their trouble.

They need to know that their work is worth something. That the furrows
they plow will be planted with seeds, which will grow to feed the
people.

They need to know that there is meaning in their life.

They need to know that there is a reason to get out of bed in the
morning.

Some people have lots of small certainties, tiny articles of faith. A
village to please. A litany of minor saints they are sure are watching
their every action, hopefully with approval. A thousand rituals they
have concocted to make them feel happy throughout their day. A short
prayer at dawn. A nod to this shrine every time a thread almost slips
on the loom, to that one every time you don't quite nick yourself
chopping vegetables.

Some people have fewer certainties, but larger ones. That caring for
their family is necessary, and right. That their magistrate is just,
and honest. That their priest is pure, and good.

I have only ever had one, big enough that I needed no other. Ariad is
all that is good. All that flows from him is good, and all that is
good flows from him.

The priesthood flows from him. and so the priesthood is good.

The empire flows from him, and is blessed by him, and so it is good.

The watch flows from the empire, which flows from Ariad, and so it is
good.

I flow from Ariad, and my strength flows from Ariad, and my visions
flow from Ariad, and I am blessed of him, and so I am good.

My life has meaning, and it is his meaning. And so I rise from my bed
each morning. And this too is good.

But Ariad is a lie. A sham. A smokescreen for evil men to blind the
people with, and gain power for themselves.

There is no Ariad. And there never has been.

And it is not good.

I am empty, I am without foundation.

I am crumbling inside.



I am not strong enough to go on by myself. Not strong enough to live
alone, under the weight of this lie that was all that I am.

I can feel myself dying. And for the first time in my life, I am
afraid of it. For the first time I do not know what awaits me.

I do not know anything.

There are no certainties.

In my heart, there is no faith.

Light and Shadow

My Life Thus Far

By Matthias Lateralus

Before the Wall:

Growing up, I had the unfortunate honor of being the youngest of three sons to the head of the small Freeholder house Lateralus, located deep in the wilds. As such, my oldest brother Edgar was the favorite of my father, and I of my mother. While Edgar would be out hunting and training with the sword, I was inside being coddled by my mother. I quickly learned to read and write and spent most of my days with my face in a book. The rest of my time was spent with my other brother, Maynard. We would sneak away and play in the forests surrounding the manor. My mother would always warn me not to play in the wilds, for they are unpredictable and dangerous.

As we grew, my eldest brother continued to spend all his time with our father, and they were frequently gone, visiting the countryside and Father’s estates. I continued my studies with a tutor, since I had long learned everything my mother could teach me and more. I grew increasingly interested in mythology, especially the divine, yet couldn’t learn much due to a lack of text on the subject (and lack of text in general). I remember asking about my family history, and getting a cold look from the tutor. All I could ever get him to tell me was that, long ago, the head of the family committed some unspeakable act and the remaining family had to flee from Tiryns.

Meanwhile, Maynard was now allowed to practice every day with sword and bow, as his dreams were to go to the wall and become a glorious hero. I never understood his desire to fight horrible creatures and perhaps die, but he would just say that someday I might.

By the time I turned sixteen, Edgar had all but assumed control of the family, as my Father’s health had been failing in the past years. We all worried for him and the house grew silent and cold as if readying itself for his death. I was especially worried because I knew Edgar was not all he appeared to be. He had never been very nice to me or anyone else for that matter and as the years passed, he developed a sickly pallor, yet seemed to become more and more invigorated. Whispered rumors about Edgar dealing with men that had murder in their eyes reached my ears and troubled me greatly. Some even spoke of him digging in the family crypt.

One night I decided to follow Edgar to see if these rumors had any substance, and was horrified by what I saw. The night air coated my arms and face with a soft layer of moisture. It was not uncommon for there to be mist and fog, but tonight it seemed especially dense. I followed Edgar down to the family graveyard and watched as he entered the main crypt. Down and down I followed the flickering light of his torch, for how long I do not remember. I kept hoping that the incessant pounding of my heart would not be heard by my brother.

Just as I thought the passageways could not possibly delve any deeper I realized the torchlight had stopped ahead, and I crept up to the edge of an archway, peering inside. I gazed upon a large room twice the height of a man and five times as long. Lifelike statues lined the walls, and many broken wooden coffins were scattered across the floor, out of place in a family crypt full of intricately carved marble sarcophagi. Kneeling over one of the coffins was Edgar, waving his hand over the body inside. To my horror the body inside moved, and suddenly sat upright! It was then that I realized the figures standing about the room were not stone statues as I had earlier thought, but bodies that swayed slightly and stared with dead eyes.

I let out a choked scream and tried to run but my body would not respond. It was then that Edgar spun around and looked directly at me, and it was the blue fire in his eyes and hand that brought my body to life. Turning to run, something impossibly cold smashed into my back causing me to stumble and crack my skull on the wall. As blackness crept across my vision, I remember hearing shouts and battle cries as I saw what appeared to be three men and one woman all rushing into the room, clad head-to-toe in shining armor. The rest passed as if in a dream. Shining bolts of light sprang from the hands of the woman, and a large hairy man roared, swinging his gigantic axe among the swaying bodies.

As I lay slumped against the wall, a wet feeling trickling down my head and back, a bright light, brighter than any I have ever seen, shone throughout the room. I looked up to see a gleaming man holding a sun-shaped symbol above his head. From that sun the light gushed forth, destroying the walking corpses as flame destroys cobwebs. And just as quickly as it had come, the light vanished. Left standing in the middle of the room was this magnificent man, still seeming to glow, and nothing else. Feeling much weaker now, my head slumped and I tasted copper in my mouth. Before I lost consciousness I remember seeing the brilliant man striding towards me, his outstretched hand glowing with the light of the sun, and the words, “You will live young one, and one day you too will serve…”

After that night my brother Edgar disappeared. I had awoken back at the manor, under the care of several servants. The only information I could gather on the identities of the group that had saved my life was that they served the Watch and had come to deal with the trouble my brother had been causing. Everyone seemed relieved at his apparent death, all except Maynard. Being the eldest remaining son, it was now his duty to oversee the family affairs and stay at home. His lifelong dream had been to travel to the wall and serve on the Watch. But the duty now fell on me to travel north to the wall and serve in the name of my family, Lateralus. So I bid my farewells and traveled north, all the while wondering if I would ever see that magnificent man and the beautiful symbol he held in his hand.

On the Wall:

When I arrived at the wall, I was quickly processed and sent to train with all the other new recruits. The days were grueling and spent under the scornful eye of the drill master who seemed to love nothing but grinding us into the mud. After a time we were deemed worthy to advance to the rank of Private, and I was sent on my very first patrol.

As we were gathering up to depart, I gaped when I saw the very man who had saved my life stride up to our group. He said his name was Dryden and he would be leading us on this raid against Orgoshi camps to the north. Not wanting to gush and seem out of place, I said nothing, but couldn’t help glancing at his shining armor and shield with the wonderful symbol of the sun upon it.

The raid was unfortunately unsuccessful when we were ambushed several miles before reaching the camps. I fought as best I could but was in awe of Dryden and his skill in dispatching the attackers. After the battle he went among the wounded and I again witnessed the golden flame in his hands mending the wounds of my comrades. I could no longer contain myself and began asking questions about the source of the light and golden flame I had seen in the crypt and again after the ambush. Dryden smiled and took me aside as we all began the long march back to the wall.

The journey back was filled with my questions about how he was able to mend the wounds of the fallen. He told me that he served under the great god Pelor. It was by praying and devoting himself entirely that he was given these gifts to aid others in need. I then asked him if he could teach me in the ways of these mystical and divine arts. With a smile and a nod I was to become the disciple of Dryden, Radiant Servant of Pelor.

Over the next few years I learned to pray to receive the wonderful gifts granted by Pelor, and use those gifts to aid those in need. Dryden also spoke of always bringing the light to the darkness, seeking out the evil which plagues man. I was delighted to discover that I took to the teachings very well and quickly mastered many different incantations and spells.

But this mentorship was not to last forever. One day, just like any other on patrol, we were investigating rumors of some giant beast prowling the woods near a small town over the wall. Nobody was prepared when a fifteen foot beast came roaring in a full charge out of the trees and leapt amongst us, swinging a tree trunk and causing devastation. In the initial rush I was caught in the side by the massive hunk of wood and sent flying to the wide of the fight. Struggling to catch my breath and heal my wounds, I looked back to the fight to see Dryden standing alone amongst fallen comrades. He seemed so small next to the behemoth and yet shone like a star in the sunlight. Lifting his holy symbol and crying aloud a jet of golden flame shot down from the heavens directly on the beast. But this amazing feat was in vain as it only seemed to enrage the monster and reaching above its head with both hands on the trunk, it swung down in an arc, catching Dryden by surprise and catapulting him through the air where he smashed against a tree.

I let loose a cry of anguish and rage and charged directly for the beast only to be met with the side of the tree trunk, and blackness took me. I awoke back in the wall infirmary and was told that another patrol had come upon the devastation left by the beast. They told me that Dryden was dead and I was the only survivor of a twenty man patrol. Presenting me with Dryden’s armor and crumpled shield, they silently left the room and left me to weep for my fallen mentor.

That night I had a very strange, vivid dream. I was walking alone in darkness, through a valley or perhaps a forest, when I suddenly heard a singsong voice calling my name. I followed the voice for, in the way of dreams, perhaps 100 yards, perhaps 100 miles, when I came across a still pond with a glowing white ball in the center. A voice seemed centered upon the ball and it sang to me these words:

“Twice to run, twice to fade, once more for the glory repaid.
Never to see, always to look, in time, everything is remembered by book.
One Sun for the glory of ages past, two more for the screams of
remembrance dashed.
Still one more for night, and the last one for pain, at the end of the
light, all will be plain.”

To this day, I have no notion of what the voice was speaking of, but I do know this was no ordinary dream, even though the healers told me false visions were common among head trauma patients.

Time passed and I healed in body and soul, and was to take over as the unit’s healer. Showing great prowess on the field of battle and with my healing abilities, I was quickly promoted to Private, First Class. I only hoped that I could live up to the teachings given to me by Dryden and aid all those in need.

A New Journey:

I received orders today to meet a new group of privates and escort them on some mission of which I do not know the details. But my goal has always been the same: complete the mission and keep everyone alive. I was surprised when I came to learn that I had been promoted to Specialist for the mission and told that if I continued to display my cunning leadership I might be granted the honor of Sword Leader.

Erhivor's Journal: Entry 8

A fellow Elf from the Seale'de by the name of Isiil used to play this eerie tune on his lute whenever something strange and creepy happened. I've had that tune repeating in my head for the last few days.

Where I last left off, my party members and I had decided to murder an Orgoshi ogre that we had previously entered into a bargain with. Perhaps the honest adventuring just got a little too boring and it was time to step things up a little bit. A little murder here, some backstabbing there and perhaps a little treachery to top things off ... The typical resources commonly exploited by those seeking excitement. But I digress.

Anyway, we nearly passed out on top of each other, desperately needing the rest after the long march and the dangerous battle. But, in the middle of the night, a man approached our camp. He was very friendly, but he wanted to know why we were in his territory and why we had made a mess of it. It turned out that he was very similar to Brom in that he was very much in tune with nature and could make use of the mystical energies that pulse through nature in order to aid him. He was simply keeping an eye on us and wanted to make sure that we cleaned the ogre's remains so that the creatures of nature could make use of them properly. He also wanted to make sure that we left his territory before too long. So, he camped with us through the remainder of the night and he guided us out of his territory and toward the coast. He was very friendly, and helpful as well. We apologized for trespassing and thanked him for his help once we parted ways with him.

For a day we traveled on the border of the wilds and the coast, attempting to make our way toward The Wall. During that time we saw an aquatic vessel sailing south on the ocean. It was fascinating. I wonder how they deal with all of the sea monsters. It must be a very risky undertaking.

At some point near the coast, Brom was flying around in his owl-shape and spotted a very large eagle flying in our direction. He flew back down to us and informed us of it and that it was flying fast. He said it was the size of a horse. Well, sure enough, it was the size of a horse. Perhaps a bit larger. And there was a man riding atop it. The rider and the eagle landed not far from us. When the rider dismounted and approached, we could see that he was very different looking. He was very thin and slight, much like my people, but his eyes were the strangest feature. His eye-color rapidly shifted between many different, vibrant hues. His speech was very precise and accurate. He was very friendly and greeted us kindly. We were also kind to him. He informed that his name was not capable of being pronounced in our tongue, but to simply refer to him as "Brown". So, we did. When I asked him what his native tongue was, he informed us that it was Celestial, which both Constantine and I speak fluently. But, it turns out that, according to a native of the Celestial plains (Brown), Constantine and I have rather pronounced and undesirable accents when speaking Celestial. Constantine seemed quite a bit taken aback and disappointed when Brown informed us of this.

As we spoke with Brown, it had turned out that he was a knight in his land, and that he is sent to places in order to help out good travelers and that at times he suddenly appears in places and other realms, seemingly without notice, for the same reason. This, it turns out, was one of those times when he was suddenly popped into our plane of existence and it seemed that we were, in fact, the "good travelers" that he was to assist.

Brown was a very chaotic creature and, after his brief description of the land that he comes from, so is his home, where weather and earth shift and change frequently. And, at one point during our conversation, Brown suddenly changed into a wild whirlwind and headed off rapidly toward the ocean and then, moments later, returned and resumed his more humanoid form and acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. At that point, he was ready to take us off to The Wall and quite eager, at that. So, his eagle friend summoned some of his other eagle friends to carry us up into the air and fly us to the wall.

It was a fascinating experience. The giant eagles that were carrying us to The Wall were very adept and swift fliers, even while burdened by their large passengers. And they made excellent conversation (they spoke Common and, aside from their rough, bird-like accent, they spoke it very, very well). My giant eagle escort conversed with me about many adventures. I told him of all of the encounters that my party and I had witnessed over the last couple months and he, in turn, told me of many great adventures he had experienced. It must be amazing to be able to fly all of the time. To travel so quickly and so far must make for quite the number of adventures.

Our escorts landed a bit away from largely populated areas, for obvious reasons. We thanked them all and they acknowledged our thanks and flew off. And as suddenly as we met him, Brown informed us that his service to us was done, and before we could even thank him and offer to return the favor, he too was off and about his business.

After this exhilarating experience, we were quite tired and exhausted. We marched on for a little longer, until we came to some farmlands, and went in search of shelter for the night. The first farm that we approached we managed to get ourselves ousted from rather promptly. Gideon, the odd man that he is, managed to convince the locals that he was a demon and, as a result, stirred up a pack of locals with pitchforks and torches who were about ready to attack us. So, we quickly moved on and sought out another farm a little farther off. There we spent the night and learned the next morning of some very disturbing news about a rather successful and devastating Orgoshi raid that managed to level the village of Bayview. Bayview is in the Freelands and is the home of Brom. Brom was quite disturbed by this news and, understandably, left our party very quickly in flight as an owl, presumably to go back to his home and aid his friends and family. We'll miss Brom and I truly hope that he and his friends and family are all well.

We also learned that The Watch had sent out announcements throughout Tiryns, recalling all of its members back to The Wall. So, after eating and cleaning up, we thanked our kind hosts and headed out to The Wall.

After a couple more days of journey on foot, we arrived and ran into Lucien almost immediately after entering. Lucien wanted to speak with us right then-and-there about what we have been up to, but after a few words and a quick glance at the amulet that I was wearing around my neck and hiding down my tunic, he quickly realized that privacy was necessary. He told us to go ahead and eat and clean up and then we would be escorted to a private room where he could speak with us.

After eating and cleaning ourselves up a bit, we were escorted to the private room where we were met by a mystic and by Lucien. I did not trust the mystic, at first, but she did not seem overtly devious. She also found Gideon's antics to be somewhat amusing, so she's probably a good person. So, I showed her the Amulet Of The Crystal Tomb and she asked me if I knew anything of it. I told her what I did know, which was little, and she filled in the blanks for us. It turns out that he Orgoshi must be hunting down these amulets in order to bring out what is locked away within the Crystal Tombs. The tombs, apparently, hold powerful magicks and mystical items and were locked away since about the time the empire's history dates back to. And the amulets that are marked with the maps are the "keys" that grant access to these tombs. It is uncertain whether or not one amulet can access all tombs or each amulet is unique to its own tomb. My guess is that each amulet is a unique key, otherwise the security of the tombs would be weakened and one person could get access to all tombs with one "key". Lucien informed us that, since we were all now aware of the existence and nature of the amulets and the potential motive of the Orgoshi, that we would now serve a direct role in preventing the Orgoshi from getting a hold of these amulets.

After our debriefing, we were escorted to our quarters and told to make ourselves comfortable and we would soon be escorted again to swear our vows to The Wall. We went into town and deposited all of our valuables that we could not easily carry into a bank and ran a few errands. Then we ate and cleaned up and we were then escorted off to become official members of The Watch. After swearing in we were given very large tomes that contain the litany, rules, laws and regulations of The Watch. I read through the book that night and boy is it droll, filled with mundane, run-on descriptions of rather benign subject matter. Hm.

Note: Practice adding more flare to writing.

The next day we were given our "orders", which were in the form of a large scroll, sealed with wax and the imprint of someone's signet ring. Apparently we are not allowed to open these "orders" ourselves. We were then given a tour of the wall and the others were introduced to some of the duties they could expect to be doing over the next six months. These duties are extremely banal and it is hard to believe that they expect people to do these things. They expect people to pace around at all times, never being allowed to sit down and read a book until their "shift" is over. Sometimes humans amaze me. At one moment, I see the spark of intelligence and adventure in humans and then I see the dull, dying flicker of a flame being smothered by droning repetition and mindless, colorless and tasteless monotony. So, I asked them where the books were. They told me that they were somewhere not anywhere near there.

The next day we proceeded on out of West Watch and on toward East Watch. Humans are not known much for creativity when it comes to naming locations and places, it seems. We traveled for about a week and came to a city that was far too crowded for my tastes. But, with a crowded city comes goods and gold and trade, so I guess I cannot complain too much. Here we met Matthias who is probably the cleanest, shiniest and friendliest person I have ever met. Gideon's use of the nonexistent word "beamy" to describe Matthias is strangely accurate. The man sparkles and glistens and it seems that there is always a significant source of light around him and above him. He'll never be able to hide from anyone. But he's a very friendly man. He was even genuinely kind to Gideon, which I have never seen before. He is a religious man and I think they call his kind a "Cleric" or a "clergyman". Except that he wears armor, which seems a little strange to me for severely religious man. He managed to frighten Gideon and that was impressive. Another thing I had never witnessed before. All-in-all, I think Matthias is a good person to have around. And he's been instructed by his superiors to assist us in our "duties". So, in our party, perhaps the world's most unclean and pungently aromatic human (Brom) gets replaced by perhaps the world's most clean and aromatically inoffensive human (Matthias). What a coincidence! Humans really have a knack for extremes.

Anyway, after getting to know Matthias a bit and watching Gideon turn into a nervous wreck, Constantine handed Matthias our "orders" and Matthias took us to another clean man and handed the orders to him.

I seem to be drawing upon a vast void of knowledge at this point. Oh, hey! I identified lots of neat items that we were carrying. Fun mystical stuff. And I identified a bunch of neat scrolls. I will need to transpose those to something suitable for my spellbooks. And I need to go back to the tailor today to get my black garments designed and started. And I really need to gargle some water. I've been choking on pearl dust all day.