Wednesday, 17 September 2008 at 04:57

A man’s life is identified with his soul. That’s what the monks teached me when I was but a child. The soul is what keeps a person ‘alive’. However even not alive, … the soul still exists and moves on, so one can question wether there truly is such a thing as death. This leads me to the conclusion that a true death - a true void of nothingness – will only be the fate of those whose soul is destroyed.

This is theory of course, since I do not know whether it is even possible to destroy the soul. Well, the gods probably could. But there is already another punishment for the souls of the evil. I was taught that, upon any mortal wound, the soul is saved – a truly priceless gift from the gods – and will face the judgement of Cory in his own realm. The soul travels Holy Cory’s plane of existence and finds it’s way to his throne room and there, one of 3 fates will awaits it:

- A soul who has proven to be bent upon evil intent, will be cast in Cory’s jail - It’s soul forever to be kept prisoner under the watchful eye of Cory’s Skeletal Clerical guards.

- A soul who has proven itself worthy and who has performed its role in Trinald according to the gods’ foreseen providence will be allowed to pass a certain door, moving further in Cory’s realm. What is beyond that door nobody knows since no soul has ever returned after passing through that door. Some say another life waits there, between long lost brothers and sisters, others say that it is a peaceful cloudy realm where every wish will be fulfilled. The truth is that noone knows.

- A soul who is not evil, but of whom Cory judges it still has a useful task to accomplish on the face of Trinald, will be sent back to a life monument, where its corporal body will reform (another gift from the gods).

Every time I reform at a life monument – thanks to the power of the gods – I think of what the monks thought me. Cory still has plans for me, my work in Trinald is not yet done.


Iron Knight Purazon

- Link - comments (4)

Thursday, 11 September 2008 at 10:52

I was talking to a rather wise cleric scholar recently. While he told me his work will remain incomplete I couldn’t help but compare with my own work. Acceptance is the first step I guess. Our short lives on the face of Valorn, until Holy Cory deems us worthy of his judgment to move beyond his throne or forever be doomed as a prisoner, can never be enough to grasp the infinite. However that is what scholars aspire to. What else can a work be called where one scribes something down only to see that it is already outdated the next day.

This cleric learned to accept his work shall never be complete, he said. I guess mine won’t be either. I have attempted to comprehend Trinald in my work. I’ve tried to describe what is known about it: about the lands; about the oceans; about the divine and about evil; about recent past and about the ancient past; about stories and about facts. Nevertheless, every new day brings something new to learn. Be it by standing eye to eye to a forest ogre or by realizing ones own mortality, each moment can be treasured as a memory, a lesson.

And so I learned to accept my own limits as well. The first visitors have seen my work. But while the racks and desks seem well stacked with tomes, it will never be complete.


Iron Knight Purazon

- Link - comments

Monday, 01 September 2008 at 04:30

Demons were sighted in Dundee forest. Since I was close - in the library of our guild hall - I ran over there to see how the battle was faring. As I arrived I saw signs of struggle, and the battle seemed to have passed as quickly as the desert winds blow past the Great Wall. However, between broken twigs and black demon blood, I found fresh tracks. It seemed someone was running away from something, ... running to safety. Or at least, running with haste. Even so close to Milltown, it is important to tread with care, ... for one never knows what lurks behind the corner. Fearing they might be in trouble I followed the tracks. They led north, towards the forest sanctuary. I followed them quickly, trusted axe at the ready. As I arrived there, to my surprise, I found my guild sister Valera collapsed on the floor. She lay there, between the crystal clear water of the pond and the cracked life monement, her body twitching, seemingly by a fever.

Fearing she was sick, I knelt by her and layed my hand on her forehead, to check wether she was feverish. Upon the touch she opened her green eyes, probably in surprise. She seemed exhausted but at least the twitching stopped. She had been running from raid to raid and had pushed herself over the limit. She claimed she was merely tired, I didn't have to worry. However. I noticed the crusts of dried blood on her knuckles, clearly caused by some frustration. I bit my tongue however and made no further inquiry about it. Already she was making efforts to stand straight. Truly, she is a proud warrior with no intention to let a mere fatigue stop her. However, I cannot escape the thought that her exhaustion goes past the physical. The bloody knuckles, the sad glint in her eyes as she opened them. I think she has other troubles, but her pride may get in the way of getting things of her chest. I must admit I'm a bit worried for her.

In any case I was able to give a bit of assistance. I gave her some tea to improve her rest and a sweetroll to get her energy up. Luckily Dear One allways makes sure my pack is never lacking such supplies. I'm starting to wonder how I ever managed without her everlasting care. As for Valera, she gratefully accepted the food and drink and started to walk off to rest. May the gods grant her a peaceful rest, so she quickly regains her strength.

Iron Knight Purazon

- Link - comments