My Penance of Duty

[The Almight Red]

*Within the temple devoted to the Triad, Baragorn would be seated at a table located within the kitchen area. Before the man would be his journal, opened to the first empty page, following his previous passages. There he would sit for almost an hour, before he finally places the writing utensil to parchment.*

Many times I have considered writing, and even had this book opened to do that very thing. And every time, I have found myself not quite sure of what to write in here. There have been, of course, a great many things that have happened since the last entry. And as I've written so many times in the past, there have been to many things to possibly recount now.

I have found myself slipping more often into rage and anger. I have found myself quake with animosity, at the things that some would do. At how little people give to the thought of the lives of others. How some so wantonly kill without considering why they do such things. Why some treat people the way they do. Why some tolerate those that would do anything for their own benefit and profit, even to drastically heinous measures.

But the people of Sundren, those that live their lives just wishing to see their family survive, wishing to continue to make their livelihood, to see their children grow, to fall in love, to be faithful to the gods; it is these people that are so worthy of protecting.

Where I had first thought that Harik's old sword might have been the key to the destruction of the Anti-Phylactery, it seems I was incorrect. It was even recovered, against all odds. It took us into caves where no magic could touch, and a horrific being. It took us to the Hands of Mundus, seeking their assistance in knowledge and travel. It even took us to the very Abyss, upon a river of putrid evil, the Styx. All the way to an abominable dragon, where the sword was finally found.

And it eventually lead to a catastrophe within the halls of the Triumvirate, where it was proclaimed that only through another evil individual, a 'dark heart,' could the blade be reforged. Master Melchior even tried to convince me that it would be justified to do such a thing. I can only be reminded of the time Master Balthasar attempted to justify why it could be necessary to work with the likes of Banites.

I had thought the Triumvirate is where one of my Order could find support, and understanding. Instead, I am bidden to listen to the temptation of things that would cause me to break my oaths. To turn my back on the very vows I gave to my god.

The Kelemvorites said largely the same thing. That I must cooperate with those of dubious morals. That this was the only way to accomplish such. Even their own individual that said he understood my vows would then try to convince me of why I should do this. It seems madness, that so many of the individuals who I thought would stand willingly in such a situation instead step aside for things that should not be done.

That they would have me trust this blade in the hands of evil seems madness. Insanity. Why would it ever be trusted in such hands? A piece of a man's very soul even resides in the blade. A blade of immense evil power, no less. And we would just commit it to trust a man of dubious morals and a dark heart?

And so, with no other answers, it feels as if the people that have died along the way in this have died in vain. Innocent people, no less. People who sought only to help in its recovery in the hope it could be the key in all of this. They are dead and gone, and still the sword remains how it was.

I can only assume the day quickly approaches when the Dark Advent will finally make that strike against Sundren. Where they will lash out against the people once again. And if there are no answers, no actual solutions to the predicament, it could result in a loss of lives unthinkable. There really is little left in the way of ideas, on my part.

When I told the Kelemvorites of the blade, over a month ago now, they believed my idea might just work, due to its unique properties with its curse. But it is clear that the blade, without being reforged, will not be able to do as wished. But now I wonder if there is another way. That if a curse of such a nature could be the key, what about the one that resides inside of me?

It would be bittersweet irony. That the very coarse that dark being put on me could be that which could destroy the source of their power. This Anti-Phylactery. I intend to speak with the Kelemvorites on this. If they believe there would be any way for my person, my very life, to be the weapon. If there would be a way to give my life in destroying this object, this Anti-Phylactery. I understand I would not be around, then, to see the coming battle of others against this 'pseudo-god.' But if this object could be destroyed, then the others would have a chance of stopping this being.

And what is one life in comparison to tens of thousands?

I have no intention of telling anyone of what I intend to do, except for those that might offer me insight into how this could be done. If it could be done. Besides such, besides those Kelemvorites, I intend to keep silent about such. I presume that those that revile me would assume it was ridiculous self-righteousness that I would do this. They would somehow view this in some light to make me out as the villain once again.

And those that befriended me, I can only imagine some of them would try to convince me to not do this. That some would even try to forcibly stop me.

I confess, I would miss some individuals that I have grown to rather like. I have already written some parting letters, and handed them into the an Ilmatari, informing them to deliver them to the appropriate individuals, should it come to what I intend, in these coming days.

As each day passes, I begin to recognize that I care less and less how people might perceive what I am and what I have done. What they would assume of me. All that really matters, now, is following the Loyal Fury to what must be done. Torm, please show me an answer. Show me how I might do this.

Grant your power to your servant, though he might not deserve it. Though he has not lived up to your standards, and failed many times. Though he is weak, and not deserving of the strength you represent.

My eyes grow heavy. I should sleep. There are so many other things I should write about. About the Demilich being released from a prison. About the Veritas. About people I have met. But for now, rest.

May the True watch over me.

[The Almight Red]

*Within the halls of the temple of Helm there remained a small room that housed some beds for those who were sick and recovering. Within that room, upon a bed would be a one eyed elf, battered, torn, and immeasurably wounded by what could only be described as heinous torture that was committed upon him. Even upon his forehead now lays the atrocity, the blaspehmy, of the Black Hand's mark. At the foot of the elf's bed would be a chair, and a man in red lacquered armor watching over the elf.

Hours would pass before the human finally pulls out a small book, once again putting charcoal to parchment, and scribing both events and thoughts.*

Peridan Twilight now lies before me, having endured something that seems implausible. I had seen him only the day before, no less. We had spoken briefly. He had mentioned that he had taken Syne, or gotten her. I didn't ask for further revelation on the fact, however. I suppose I was consumed with my own thoughts.

And now he lies before me, broken, damaged, and not just to his body. The Abbot tells me he has been harmed intrinsically. It as if curses are a common sight in these lands. It is as if everyone would receive them at one point or another. In fact, from what I know of Peridan telling me in the past, this would now be the second time he's been afflicted with such. It is almost ridiculous to say, to see. But there it is.

Sundren is not a land of flourishing or a place where good sprouts. It is becoming a place that allows evil to dwell, to thrive. The Legion is excessively corrupt. Even the Triumvirate is corrupt, allowing things to pass, to be considered, even condoned that should not be. And Torm calls us all to seek out the corruption. But it matters now. Many just refuse to see it. They would only continue to accept it. Continue to tolerate it.

For so long people have tolerated those that are Banites, and look what it ammounts to? The torture of a man who only looks to keep this Valley safe. Not through corrupt measures. Not through unjust decisions. How many would continue to aid Banites in some misplaced concept of doing something for the greater good?

How many more will tolerate those who follow gods of evil? Does it truly take disaster and tragedy to open people's eyes? Does it take a catastrophe before they recognize the reality?

I can't help thinking that eventually all of the things the Triumvirate condones, and accepts, and tolerates will come crashing down on their heads. And finally, the people of Sundren will see the things they've done, they've accepted, and they will then lose any trust in the Triumvirate. The people will not see the Triumvirate as the shining beacon of hope that they should be, but as just another corrupt organization, willing to resort to measures that should never be allowed.

I have been told by them to stay silent on the Legion's corruption. To stay quiet about the Veritas. To cooperate with Banites. To cooperate with those of dark hearts. To listen to the Watcher, and heed its counsel.

I have even been told that the gods are unknowable, and their understanding of good and evil is not our own! Who are these men and women of this temple?! They do not represent the gods I know! Our gods are not unknowable! Torm was a mortal that became a god, because of who he was! What he stood for! For the ends he would go to see his Duty through!

For what is good and right and pure! Not for some obscure view or subjective, arbitrary concept these clergy members would have us believe!

These are not the words of a priest, one that attempts to guide us all to a brighter light, to a future of hope. These are the words of a man that clouds the vision of the people. That muddies the waters. That confuses with obscure words that would be veiled with wisdom, but instead are blatent heresy.

I am tired of the very people who should be standing for what's good to be instead trying to veil their irreverant beliefs in the veil of, "Those that are beyond good and evil." If this is their wisdom, I no longer want any of it. This isn't the Duty and Truth of Torm. This isn't the Wisdom and Justice of Tyr. This isn't the Comfort and Compassion of Ilmater.

My regret is I shall not be here to see this come to pass. But I shall outline my wish to Aerick and Cirion. I shall hope they shall take it to the ends that it should. A group, an organization that is seperate from the government. A group that no longer holds itself to one ideal. A group that isn't willing to rescind on its ideals, its morals, and its goals! Something to inspire people. To not just be in passing, but give them definite hope! Those that would do anything to see to the safety of the people without resorting to evil.

These lands need a people that inspire them. That give them hope. That young men and women look to with wonder and awe and inspiration. That they look to as the epitome of heroism and righteousness. Not just because those of it wish to appear as such, because those a part of it are such.

Perhaps such a group will never come to fruition. But I shall pray it does.

But I know what I must do. Torm gave his life to stop Bane. I do not view myself as anything like Torm, in any respect. I know I am not to meet his standards, his great prowess, his power, his faith. All of these things I know I have just a glimmer of, in comparison.

But I can take example of his. That he would lay his life down to save many others. And I will do the same. I will do my Duty. Too many have died not to. Too many have died with no resolution. Too many die and continue to be harmed with no resolution in sight. Too many have been injured and corrupted to allow this to continue. The people do not need another time where we simply hold back the tide of evil.

The people deserve to see it stopped this once. The people deserve to see the end of the Dark Advent, the end of this being that claims to be a god. The end of this Anti-Phylactery.

There is so much more. There's Harik. There's this Demilich that has been released. There's the Black Hand. The vampires of Colibrus. There's the Veritas and all the complications of such. There's the corruption of the Legion. There's the Enclave and the Red Wizards. There's the loss of the Wiltenholms' children. Arawen's Curse. The Watcher. Peridan's new Curse. Cirion retaking his vows.

I can only imagine I could go on and on.

Torm, evil has such a grip on this valley. Help me do this one thing to help pull one finger from such. Help me do my Duty. For the people. For you. Help me so it can be the start to pulling the hands that clench this valley in evil.

The Watcher spouts so much, and only proves its lies. Its true intent, its true colors. It cursed a woman for no reason other than its spite. And tries to pontificate on never interfering.

And it would have turned the Triad on eachother, deceiving us with its blasphemy. I can only hope this last act of my life shows the Valley that faith in the Triad is what will see them through. That faith what's pure, good, and right is the path to take. Not a path of turning a blind eye to evil.

Torm, allow my last act to be a Duty that adds luster to your name.