Post by Eldrin the Black on Sept 4, 2008 1:54:51 GMT -5
Two hours had passed since he had begun to kneel at the altar in the small chapel. Pre-dawn meditation was necessary for Clerics and Priests. Not only did it give them the divine favor of their god throughout the day it also gave them time to worship. These were nearly one in the same, not quite though. When a cleric of Eiur knelt before their Lord and lifted their hearts in supplication an exchange transpired which none but a cleric could ever understand. Power inexplicable filled their spirit, their life-force, and gave them a certain mastery over reality such as their God had. This was not requested, but given. Prayer, humility and faith were given at the same time to the All-Father as the All-Father gave him a portion of his power to do good works upon the face of the earth. More truly spoken though, a Cleric gives all that they are in the exchange. This occurred during meditation almost simultaneously.
First, a moment of weakness, insignificance and doubt; then he would almost lose consciousness as the torrents of an infinite being consumed him. Then he was lost and found all at once. His worldly ambitions and wants were lost to him as he knelt in the presence of Eiur. His true self, what and who he really was, without the constrictions of a temporal life, became aware. He was still himself, but more truly himself than he could ever achieve within the world of pain, fear, doubt, and all else that harms a man. Though he knelt in a chapel his essence was far from his body at the moment of spiritual transfiguration, the moment of bliss. His essence stood before the creator and in his body the creator resided, filling him with all the energy his spirit could hold. Here he would stay for two hours every morning and for an hour after the last meal. When he rose his spirit would be strong and replenished and his heart made humble by his prayer. But the cold of the world caused anguish when he no longer stood in the direct presence of his creator; the one who loved him more truly than possible to any mortal creature. The cold starts to seep in immediately. The secret life of a powerful priest is longing.
This was such a morning for Gwydion the White Hawk and he loathed his worldly task today. His Lord and Master, Eldrin, had left on another one of his frequent “travels” seeking out a cure for his “disease” as he referred to it. His Lieutenant and second, Raslin, had left with Eldrin leaving Gwydion in charge of the Fief. He loved his kindly master and mentor and was grieved that he often parted, but he knew that Master Eldrin was in far more pain than anyone knew. He was almost always joyful in the presence of the men and villagers and only in secret, to a select few, did he reveal his true heart. Several times Eldrin had told Gwydion, barely restraining tears, that the only thing that kept him from un-death was his daily prayers.
“I’ve fallen from the grace of Celestia,” he would say to him after morning benediction, “and I am now caught between the grave and life. I, as I am, can never enter into the grace of our Lord. I am damned and immortal until I find a way to rid myself of this. If I die, I’ll rise again as a monster of unbelievable power. We must not let that happen. You and the brothers are my contingency if this occurs; I have trained you all not only to defend these innocent folk from the Dreadwood, but also to defend the world against me. Raslin will give you the order and you will take the priests and paladins of our order and send me to the hells where I belong. I will plague my long time enemies for all eternity!” then he would laugh in such a way that it unsettled Gwydion. Often Eldrin had this conversation with Gwydion and it nearly brought tears each time. Before Eldrin would let him go about his work he would always make Gwydion promise to do this thing if needed. Gwydion always promised.
Gwydion, growing upset, ceased his reflections and walked out into the street in front of the chapel and turned around to face the closed doors and the note nailed upon them. This was part of his orders. Eldrin ordered him to send this letter across the province to all the peoples and by special courier to all his personal friends. It was nailed upon the wooden chapel door and handed out among the people of Arun-Dar and the outlying farms within the fief. He read the elegant scripting Brother Jyrus had transcripted for Eldrin barely a fortnight ago.
To all those who serve me or call me friend,
I send forth my dear friend, Brother Gwydion the White Hawk, to march upon a hold of a Lich that causeth us much grief. Much of the corruption in the Dreadwood can be attributed to him. Before his coming to these parts the men of these lands called the Dreadwood the Springwood. Flowers once again grow near my holt, but out into the darkness evil chokes all life. It consumes always and always yet hungers. It will consume us all if we are not vigilant and make a continuing stand against it. If we kill this Lich, and we will, that part of the Dreadwood can be forever cleansed of evil! I urge all people that wish to prove themselves to Dreadwood Company, serve the republic or destroy an aberration of un-death to go, under the command of Gwydion, to the slopes of Mt. Shirin and destroy this ancient evil.
I am sorry for my absence, but my journeys must take me away for a short time. I will return soon and reward all those who helped in this endeavor. Gods be with you all.
Peace, Mercy and Grace
Eldrin the Black
Gwydion was nervous, for today Dreadwood company and whoever else volunteered to go with them would leave and travel through the Dreadwood and then march up the slopes of Shirin. The Dreadwood was bad enough, but a Lich Holt? It frightened him. Clearing his thoughts, he started walking to the barracks to get his weapons and armor and then it would be off to the rally point near the northern gate of Arun-Dar. Then perhaps, off to his doom. He was comfortable with that possibility.
First, a moment of weakness, insignificance and doubt; then he would almost lose consciousness as the torrents of an infinite being consumed him. Then he was lost and found all at once. His worldly ambitions and wants were lost to him as he knelt in the presence of Eiur. His true self, what and who he really was, without the constrictions of a temporal life, became aware. He was still himself, but more truly himself than he could ever achieve within the world of pain, fear, doubt, and all else that harms a man. Though he knelt in a chapel his essence was far from his body at the moment of spiritual transfiguration, the moment of bliss. His essence stood before the creator and in his body the creator resided, filling him with all the energy his spirit could hold. Here he would stay for two hours every morning and for an hour after the last meal. When he rose his spirit would be strong and replenished and his heart made humble by his prayer. But the cold of the world caused anguish when he no longer stood in the direct presence of his creator; the one who loved him more truly than possible to any mortal creature. The cold starts to seep in immediately. The secret life of a powerful priest is longing.
This was such a morning for Gwydion the White Hawk and he loathed his worldly task today. His Lord and Master, Eldrin, had left on another one of his frequent “travels” seeking out a cure for his “disease” as he referred to it. His Lieutenant and second, Raslin, had left with Eldrin leaving Gwydion in charge of the Fief. He loved his kindly master and mentor and was grieved that he often parted, but he knew that Master Eldrin was in far more pain than anyone knew. He was almost always joyful in the presence of the men and villagers and only in secret, to a select few, did he reveal his true heart. Several times Eldrin had told Gwydion, barely restraining tears, that the only thing that kept him from un-death was his daily prayers.
“I’ve fallen from the grace of Celestia,” he would say to him after morning benediction, “and I am now caught between the grave and life. I, as I am, can never enter into the grace of our Lord. I am damned and immortal until I find a way to rid myself of this. If I die, I’ll rise again as a monster of unbelievable power. We must not let that happen. You and the brothers are my contingency if this occurs; I have trained you all not only to defend these innocent folk from the Dreadwood, but also to defend the world against me. Raslin will give you the order and you will take the priests and paladins of our order and send me to the hells where I belong. I will plague my long time enemies for all eternity!” then he would laugh in such a way that it unsettled Gwydion. Often Eldrin had this conversation with Gwydion and it nearly brought tears each time. Before Eldrin would let him go about his work he would always make Gwydion promise to do this thing if needed. Gwydion always promised.
Gwydion, growing upset, ceased his reflections and walked out into the street in front of the chapel and turned around to face the closed doors and the note nailed upon them. This was part of his orders. Eldrin ordered him to send this letter across the province to all the peoples and by special courier to all his personal friends. It was nailed upon the wooden chapel door and handed out among the people of Arun-Dar and the outlying farms within the fief. He read the elegant scripting Brother Jyrus had transcripted for Eldrin barely a fortnight ago.
To all those who serve me or call me friend,
I send forth my dear friend, Brother Gwydion the White Hawk, to march upon a hold of a Lich that causeth us much grief. Much of the corruption in the Dreadwood can be attributed to him. Before his coming to these parts the men of these lands called the Dreadwood the Springwood. Flowers once again grow near my holt, but out into the darkness evil chokes all life. It consumes always and always yet hungers. It will consume us all if we are not vigilant and make a continuing stand against it. If we kill this Lich, and we will, that part of the Dreadwood can be forever cleansed of evil! I urge all people that wish to prove themselves to Dreadwood Company, serve the republic or destroy an aberration of un-death to go, under the command of Gwydion, to the slopes of Mt. Shirin and destroy this ancient evil.
I am sorry for my absence, but my journeys must take me away for a short time. I will return soon and reward all those who helped in this endeavor. Gods be with you all.
Peace, Mercy and Grace
Eldrin the Black
Gwydion was nervous, for today Dreadwood company and whoever else volunteered to go with them would leave and travel through the Dreadwood and then march up the slopes of Shirin. The Dreadwood was bad enough, but a Lich Holt? It frightened him. Clearing his thoughts, he started walking to the barracks to get his weapons and armor and then it would be off to the rally point near the northern gate of Arun-Dar. Then perhaps, off to his doom. He was comfortable with that possibility.