Brother Deverall returns

[TheFarsight]

The valley was not the same. Not that I had expected it to be you see, but. . .

I did not wager that matters would be so grave, so chaotic. Perhaps if I had not followed my holy duties of wandering the path and I had stayed, maybe things would be different. Perhaps if the city had never taken to the sky, if it just had stayed through the thickest of night. . . Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. . .

Second guessing never had its use, why would it now?

What is it I tell those of the younger age, those still with vigor and pip in their bones?

Oh right, give your head a shake.

I find myself doing just that as I stand in front of the keep walls in Sestra. My mind had begun to race on all the possibilities, all the outcomes that could have been different. Perhaps if I was here. . .

No, again, give your head a shake Keegan.

This is just how it is; you must accept it and move on. If you have learned anything in your old age, it is that.

Roll with the punches and move on.

We cannot focus on the past, we must move forward.

I must find it in my heart to forgive myself for not being present during such calamity.

I must find in my heart, the strength to put aside the welling pain and those wishes to lash out in anger.

I must find in my heart, the grace and forgiveness. . . I know my Lord desires and wishes I hold.

Like a candle against the dark during a stormy night. I must prevail, I must continue to shine even when faced with gusts of wind that try to snuff me out, or the assailing rain that attempts to douse my flame.

Oh Lord, before I step into the walls of your enemy. Walls controlled by a tyrant; an evil deity that seeks domination over life, I pray for the safeguarding of my soul. I pray that this shepherd does not stray from your path, that my hands can help foster the people of Sestra. Guide me to where those in this place cry out in pain; help me bandage their physical and emotional wounds. These people have been wrongly conquered, taken from the light, and I know you do not desire me to come in rage. . .

So I pray give me the clarity to shake my head when my own emotions of anger rise, give me the strength to treat the ruler and the deity of this place with grace. For I believe my Lord, that this is the only way I can stay within these walls; in peace, to bring peace, to bring aid to those that require it. That this is the only way I can help lift the burden from the common folk, from the citizens of this town and of this valley.

Lord, my God. . .
protect the people
from those that wish to infect,
direct my hand to help collect broken souls:
and stroll them from the hole of despair,
prepare your servant, for I dare
to enter the lions lair,
and strike a deal
with the devil.

Amen.

[TheFarsight]

The heavy ornate doors slammed shut behind me, signaling that it was time to relax. The sigh broke from my lips as I let my posture slump. It was tough keeping pace with a younger man such as Adeodatus.

. . . Keep the shoulders back, chest out, neck up, chin down. Strike a bow to show respect and it could not be any sloppy bow, no. The man I had just spoken with might have been an enemy, a foe of my religion and of my values but for the matter of grace. He deserved the same issue, same standard of respect any lord of a keep should receive. . .

Remember Keegan, grace is essential.

Something so easy in my younger years but now, the ache in my back reminds me. . .

That such a polite manner and posture was not as easy to achieve as it was before. I have grown too accustom to the weight and scrape of unpadded chain. The hunch it had dragged into my bones, the lazy limp my right leg had developed from wandering for years and years while keeping a meager posture. So when I struck a pose of pride, of dignity to reflect respect and honor. . .

My old bones complained. Maybe I could lay down soon, take some rest among the hay, or dirt beneath my feet. I knew that the place I was heading, the Floating Flagon Inn would have a bed for me but, I had grown use to the bare minimum. Though, I have to admit a bed sounded nice. I was tired, and still had the walk down these steps and across town.

However a smile was on my lips. The discussion with Lord Adeodatus went better than I had pictured. Of course I had some laws to abide by, his rules to follow. But, the man had accepted my offer and allowed me to stay, allowed me to lend my services to the people of Sestra.

My mind was a buzz with the duties, the chores that would follow. Did I have enough bandages? Enough medical supplies? Enough coin for the poor, for the workers I had to look after? And above all else, did I still have the energy left in my shoulders to take on the burdens of these people?

I did not know the answers but, I know my God, my beloved Ilmater would provide. I just had to have faith. A prayer uttered out from my lips as I looked to the sky and with that closing with amen, I puffed another sigh. It was now time to begin the hike down these steps and across town.

A chuckle followed in my steps with the thought; I am getting too old for this.

Give your head a shake Keegan and keep on going.

[TheFarsight]

I find this task. . .

Daunting, overbearing, a weight that--that I cannot carry. My shoulders slump down under it, my legs buckle and my heart aches. And it is not just this town that brings me such. . .

Woe.

But the entire state of this valley does. And, what brings me the most pain? What brings me the most doubt? Where is the light? Where are those that help carry the weight?

Where are the champions?
Oh yeah, floating above the mess!

I find this thought, the lack of their presence replaces my woe, my heart break and turns it to anger! An anger I have not felt since my younger years, an anger that attempts to overthrow my temper and send me into a righteous rage! An anger that dares me to storm to the gates! Of course however, it would be alone as I am no---

Keegan, give your head a shake and bow. . .

Move those lips in prayer, still your mind and calm your heart. Remember that you are not alone. Remember that you do not have all the facts. Remember where you draw your strength from, remember what your pillar is.

"Oh Lord, forgive me for I have cast doubt upon those of your order. Forgive me for I have allowed this doubt to seep into my heart and crumble my shoulders. Forgive this faithful one and open my eyes to the reasons of their flight. Open my senses to your will, to the will of the Triad. Remove the blindfold of rising anger, and replace it with your guiding vision. Oh Lord of the broken; oh Crying God, shed your tears over the top of my head. Over my hands and my feet. Anoint me to continue carrying the burdens of this valley. Anoint me in those tears; to remember that I am not alone, even if it seems as such. Anoint me in blessing so that I may carry on and share your good works with the people of this valley. . .

With the people of Sestra and even their Exarch. Offer me your wisdom, your mercy, grace, and forgiveness so that I may move past my emotions in this place. Open all that I am to this suffering so I may lift it from the people. In your name, in the name of Ilmater the broken, the crying. . . I pray shield me from anger. Ahem."

Let me never forget why I am here, why I carry the suffering.

[TheFarsight]

I met a young man and his sister today.

Their clothing-- no better than rags, burlap crap.

Where; I would wear such a garb to humble myself, to be in poverty, these two-- this young man and his sister, should not have to bare that ill comfort. I could see the scars of weather upon their skin, burnt and bitten into their flesh. They were both skinny wrecks. I could tell that a full meal had not hit their bellies in weeks. Death was hovering above them, just waiting for the moment to pounce. . .

A moment of reaping.

I see you death, I see you; agents of demise, of fate cut short, and I rebuke you from Dorothy. I rebuke you from Milburn. See these hands of holy flame? They will strike you, they will punish you, they will shun you back to that plane of darkness! These two are under my protection, under the protection of my Lord Ilmater, begone cruel fate, begone agents of darkness.

These bones may be old, this spirit may be wary, and my soul may not hold the vigor it did. But I still can banish you.

I feel that my thoughts were made clear as my outstretched hand to these two, seems to cause the waiting shadows to shrink. I led the two back to my room and told them.

"Sleep here for the night, no. . . Take as long as you need Milburn. Get yourself back on your feet, for yourself and for your sister. Take these clothes, take this coin, and do not worry I will not let you survive off constant charity; I see your face protests. I will arrange honest work for you son, as soon as you are well."

I left them to my room. Hey, I was not using it anyway at least now, it would get some use. Proper use, use for good. Which in this place, in the kingdom of Bane is-- rare but also not impossible.

I however do not leave the hallway. I fear that those spirits of the dark, of unfair passage into the next world would come back. There was life to rob here, life that was ripe like a cherry, ready for picking. And as this was a place of Bane, I knew ultimately as 'safe' as 'just' and 'protective' for the people as the Exarch claimed. . .

It was still a place under the rule of taint. Of a tyrant fist where choice was not yours.

No, I will stay here until their health regains and shines as their own light to beat back those unwanted spirits.

I silently pray, well aware of those that might be in earshot of these halls I now guard. . .

And after all I made a promise not to preach, not to spread Ilmaters name. Which for the sake of these people, for the sake of me being able remain the missionary in Sestra, I must abide.

Lord, my God. . . Him of the broken. Protect these two souls, breath life back into their shattered bodies and wavering souls. I also praise you in thanks, my Lord. You have shown me why I am here, reaffirmed my work. I praise you.

[TheFarsight]

Oh my Lord of suffering, the shepherd of the broken. . .

You test me and bring me*to the edge of my patience. I see the people of Sestra and the weight that attempts to break their backs, their will. And my actions are limited!

It is like dressing a massive gaping wound with only one bandage in hand. I can only stretch the material so far before its ability to soak and the pressure applied, is no longer effective. It goes slack or rips, it gets too dirty, too clotted with blood.

Every action I take to dress the wound, to stitch it to a full closure, to allow complete healing. . . Is denied and tossed aside by the Exarch. I knew this task would not be easy, I knew that even with his permission to set up in Sestra. . .

That there would be blowback.

When I took in Milburn and his sister Dorothy, there was a frown on his lips and the request that I turn them back out, that I get them back to work, now. Well, request is putting it too light, it felt like a command. He does not command me. But, I have to abide it, I have to bow and allow him to hold the cards or... I will just be kicked from the town and even the meager aid I am allowed to give would be denied.

Why does this happen? I ask myself every time there is that denial, that frown. But, I already know the answer I just do not want to see it. I want to believe that he could be more... Understanding, that there is *more light in his heart than is shown.

The reason is simple of course. He is of Bane, I am of the Triad-- of Ilmater. The fact that I could put aside my feelings, my views; and that he could do the same, was a miracle of its own. Well, I do not think he has really put them aside, as I have. To be honest, I do not expect him too. I am being used for a purpose of his, I know. But to what extent? That I do not know. And, exactly what? I do not know.

It is just an issue I have to put to the back of my mind for now, the people need me. . .

No, Keegan give your head a shake. They need the power of my Lord, I am simply the tool, the funnel. . .

I did manage to persuade Adeodatus on the matter of the two siblings. For now Milburn and Dorothy may remain in my room at the Inn. For now they can recover and get back on their feet instead of being sent immediately to the hard labour of the wall. I have even managed to convince him to allow me to assign them to different work. They will be my assistants for now, helping me tend to the sick, the wounded. . . To those that burn out and fall to the ground under the heavy work of the wall. Tomorrow I think Milburn will be well enough to learn, I will begin teaching him how to dress a simple wound. Which, I thank Ilmater for, for Dorothy and Milburn; they have not only reaffirmed the value of my work but they have also yielded an extra pair of shoulders to help me carry the burden.

I lift my hands to you my Lord, my God who I will serve faithfully till the day I am called to the martyrs stand. Or till the day I simply cease to have the physical strength to continue, the day I naturally rise to the heavens. I praise you my God, and thank you for this day, a day I was able to take the suffering of others, unto myself. A day, of hard work for you. For the people.

[TheFarsight]

I raise my hands
an' lift my voice, in a worship daze,
to my Lord: I hoist his name up on tongue
to exalt and bring glory.
I sing to ring the toll of his bell;
I am not here to sell,
but hope to resound the joy
of lifted burden from your herded sorrow,
the suffering of yours I wish to borrow,
till you have forgotten that it was yours.
Stretch those shoulders that are now free,
and return to your toil with no retch or kink:
to slow your plow. Allow your eyes
to grace the sky,
and know he of the broken
washes you with tears,
so that your gears of life, remain oiled
to continue their grind;
in this valley of woe.

[TheFarsight]

Just as things begin to settle, somebody shakes the pot.

I had just begun to settle into my daily activities in Sestra, to become more comfortable with where I was. My emotions, my old mind had just started to come to terms with the task my Lord. I had come to terms with the lack of presence from my fellow brothers and sisters. . .

And; of course, the pot was shaken.

Oh Lord; my God, I thank you for this reunion even though my stomach is unsettled by it. I thank you for bringing me back to your temple, I have missed your holy ground. And, I know that it is you the stirs the pot and churns the water. Even though it brings weight back to my old shoulders, I give you thanks. For I know, in your wisdom you have purpose with this action.

Dain Tornbrook, the High Adjudicator crossed my path yesterday; as I am sure you know, after all I believe it was your action, your stirring hand that brought about this meeting. Joy fills my heart at such reunion, yet---- yet. . .

Why do I feel sorrow? Why do I feel like there is a pollution in the church? Why do I feel such doubt over my brothers? Have I been out of the fold too long? Was my action in taking to the Wandering Path, what isolated me from understanding? I have so many questions my Lord. Which, I know younger men would say that a man of my age and faith should not ask, but I believe. . .

We should always keep asking questions, always keep wrestling with our faith. It is this path, these sets of actions that have brought me so close to you my God.

I digress,

the reunion with Dain was. . . Well---- Interesting. Many of the questions I had to as why the Triad acted as they did, why the city rose to the sky, were answered. But, the first moment of the reunion was spent pleading with the High Adjudicator, begging for him not to end a life. I understand the justice Dain sought, the justice that was his vigil and his right. . .

But, now is not the time for such harsh and quick actions. And, Aquor was not the place. The people need to see the champions of light shine! They need to see them show mercy, and grace! They need them to show a presence, even if no action is taken besides... Standing in town.

I know others of my order would debate this, perhaps mock me for this but, we cannot solve this chaos with violence of revenge. And, that is why my Lord I believe the Triad is... Confused, is perhaps polluted. Revenge; the want to rip the hearts of our enemies from their chests for the chaos that has befallen this valley is--- in my wisdom, a taint in our own hearts.

Yes, what has happened is tragic. Yes, we have lost brothers, we have lost sisters. But, we have to rise above the misdeeds against us, against the Triad and the Legion... Against Sundren. We are the better, are we not? We must show grace, and I fear my Lord...

That this is not possible in the church. I do not doubt you, I do not doubt Torm or Tyr, I doubt... Please forgive me for this Ilmater, I doubt my brothers and my sisters. But... I know I must seek out more answers from them, I must hold more discussion and conversation as I have only spoken with two.

There is more data to collect.

I pray to you or one of Crying, one of broken. Mend my torn mind, bring light to my confusion and to my... Inner debate. Allow these old bones to continue as there is much more of your work, to be done.

Ahmen.

[TheFarsight]

What can you say of the good,
that take a cut to heart, an' ban care
with prideful hood? In silent pain they piss away gain
offered by hands, and soon turn to violent hiss;
what was good now turns the serpent snake:
they take vow to burn who cut
with vengeance venom.
So I say: what day is this that the good,
allow wound to fester
an' lead to the acre of their soul,
to become a bowl of hate that all heed.
Please do not let that seed sprout;
take my hand as a good deed to dry the drought,
to route water of light back into heart.

'A Sonnet recorded in the Journal of Brother Deverall'

[TheFarsight]

Milburn asked me a question. . .

“How do you do it Keegan?” Firstly, my mind stopped at how he addressed me. Just by my first name. The young man had used no title, no formal pretenses. It was simply Keegan. This brought--- a mixed feeling; to say the least, my Lord. It is nice to drop formalities with those you consider within your own embrace but. . .

This was not the case.

If he had known my title I am sure he would have used it. If he known the faith that came with Brother of the Wander Path, than he would not have asked how I did this. I wanted to tell him, I wanted to share my true purpose and reason. But, I could not. The agreement, the pact I had with the Exarch forbids it.

So, I walk a careful line. I am not allowed to preach, and one wrong slip of tongue. . . The wrong word or title given to someone in these lands could be the tumble that sends me over the cliff side. . .

All my work would shatter like glass on the rocks below.

I cannot allow this. So remember Keegan whenever you are in doubt, whenever you are not sure what words to let pass your lips, simply give your head a shake and smile. Sometimes nothing said, has the heaviest impact of them all.

And, that is exactly how I responded to Milburn with a shrug and a smile. Nothing broke my lips. I simply handed him another bandage and another needle with thread. I motioned him to the groaning man in the corner whose leg was broken from an accident of their labor. These people were being pushed too hard and their bodies were giving way. At least I could tend to them, and I hear that there is another of my faith here. I must contact this man so we may coordinate our efforts.

I think I may have crossed a line however. . .

In my efforts to help the people of Sestra, those who have no choice but to submit to their new rule, I might have offered aid that will give Bane a greater benefit; in the long run. If so is the case than I strip myself of my robes oh Lord and pray that you lash suffering and pain into my skin, you remind me what I fight for, and what I fight against. I pray that you toss a limp into my step, a sting in my shoulder so that I may never forget the wrong I have done. I only pray that. . .

That is not the case, that the medical knowledge I have offered to teach these people lends a greater aid to the commoner. To those unfairly stripped of what is just; and are now ruled by a tyrant. Or so my teachings would such he is a tyrant. . .

Shake your head. He is.

I pray for the salvation of Sestra oh Lord of Crying, oh one of the Broken. I pray that you empty your lungs in a graceful release to scatter their suffering like ash in the wind.

[TheFarsight]

I fear, I fear if nothing is done to stop the bleeding. If the wound is not cleansed and than stitched to a close. . . Sestra will become infected, gangrene. The rotting flesh will spread to the rest of the valley and eventually to the head, to Sundren City. Even though it floats in the sky, that safety will not last forever. If the taint is no cleaned. . .

It will have to be amputated, and I do not think that the government, the Triad, or the Legion has a saw sharp enough to rip through its bone-- to sever the Banites.

And I am discovering, that this corruption flows deeper than just what the Banites have gripped. The blood stream of this valley of Sundren has been going vile for sometime. This is no sudden venomous bite. Everything that has taken place that has lended a hand to putting Sundren, putting this valley in the strife and chaos it is in now, was all carefully laid out and planned by various sides. Not just those of Bane.

A question comes to my mind at this thought, where were the plans of those of the light? Of my fellow brothers and sisters? Did we simply just sit and wait hoping that glory would prevail? What actions did we take to---prevent the poison before it settled.

I would like... No, love to say that we had our own plans, our own schemes to counter that of the vile. But; as far as these old eyes see, we did not. Maybe it was the blindness of Tyr that led us to this?

I than ask, I beg. . . Where were those, those of my faith, of Ilmater during this? We are suppose to be his eyes, his advisor, his counsel. Anger rises briefly in my heart as I ask these questions and than... I have to stop and of course;
shake my head.

I was a pair of eyes. I was in such a position all that time ago, before I was of such age, before I struck to the wandering path; to be a counselor. And, I just left. Only if I locked away my arrogance and my ignorance; I might have been able to see this long string of actions, of fates that led to such an infection in the body of Sundren. But no, I sought perfection with my God, a relationship outside of the Church. An--and I left. I abandoned the valley.

I cannot blame the others...
I can only blame myself...

[TheFarsight]

To the proud men: three,
lost in the crowd above,
I say, where have you gone?
Those below pay the cost,
their tables host suffering,
poor nourishment the gift
from bad harvest.

I say to you,
bring back your shining strides
and summon life in your wake,
for our sake play your tune in fife;
the breeze of justice light,
be your pitched melody.

I see flowers that yearn
to be woken from cold slumber;
bold petals wish to glorify,
so: terrify the pests with your blade
invade the corrupt soil,
toss the infection
with your might hand.

I cry for you to weep,
seep your tears upon this heap,
that bares down on those shoulders
that care to raise in praise,
an' dare suffering on their
own souls; sown by drained hope--please,
flood the valley in your grief,
cleanse with your offered blood.

I beg you,
three of the Triad,
three of the proud,
three of just an' light;
fight with might: for us,
down in this valley,
under the volley of vile
where evil clutches heart.

Bring salvation,
or we will be lost.

[TheFarsight]

I find myself in this city: thinking of the choice to flee,

this den that holds home to my deity should bring me glee;

but bold hoarding, apathetic snoring, written on the cold shoulders

of noble blood: acts the boulders weight that

crushes my toes to crud in the mud, preventing the flood.

The flow from those that take delight in rightful work;

even those in the smirk murk of wrongful duty deserve the tending

that springs with my tears: the watering-tin

for the sorrow; denied on those above -- I only weep the left behind,

those left to dry in rushed airflow, with no ammo to quench the pain,

no aloe to sooth their abandonment burn.

The choice to save the few left fragments burdened in ailment

with ill garments, and only hills of joyless burden,

no slopes to turn valleys cold: only pain their vest.


'Sonnet II, recorded in the Journal of Brother Deverall'

[TheFarsight]

Forgive me -- my father,
I have made a grave mistake:
I left the window to my heart a-jar;
for I had placed no bars,
to protect from the dirt crusted hand
I was reaching to connect.

Believing pure intentions,
would be the lure to the cure:
a step to assure their endurance;
but my scales - not all there
became worse for wear.
The actions reversed my effort
and left an adverse state
perhaps this is my fate:
to now stand at outside your gate?

After two hundred or so – seasons,
walked hand in hand; this man of age,
looks to his cage, seeing the steel
for the first time from outside.
I now say after I have cried,
my pity has dried:

‘I cannot bide till you
open heart once more:
with the door shut,
from you whom I adore, I turn:
and burn with regret of lost years;
I hear no call to stop,
my gait away from your gate
oh Lord: Forgive me.
I now truly wander lost;
but at what cost?’


From the Journal of Keegan Deverall

[TheFarsight]

Even in sin from my action, I must stay true to my path, true to the greater purpose I see in my mind.

I must move on in my plight, in the plight of this Valley. Just because my soul now heaves a heavier burden and my shoulders go sore with no renewal from above; with no tears raining down from above to wash me. . .

I must continue regardless. I look above and fold my hands to the sky. I know I am out of your reach my Lord, that you have turned you open hands to fist towards me. I see your gate close behind me, but I wish. . . No, I want you to know that I march forward still. With, or without your blessing I will see to the suffering of this place, of Sestra.

Even without your divine blessing and grace, I will forge on in my own grace. I will continue to feed the starved, and bandage the wounded. Just because you no longer see me fit of your salvation does not mean I will abandon these people in my woe.

No, I will strive on.

I must! Not for myself but for the greater purpose of this valley and for the people. This old mans duties will continue my Lord; you may have lost faith in me. . . But I say. . .

I will wander this road even if it is lost and turned from your favor; but my faith in this task, in this duty of burden, burns brighter than it ever did.

[TheFarsight]

A man is pinned by a boulder,
a stone of such weight that he alone can not lift;
no heft of might, can assert himself above his absurd opponent.
If a bright moment of wisdom bursts: a component to his release
may increase to the front of mind - so I say to him, pray and let thought go to clay:
grind through the bind of frustration that blinds from finding
the answer to freedom; keep them to level head.
But it is rare that the man gives in to calm,
he cares more for quick escape: a solution made from palm of hand
a feat of strength to prove pride, a stride that will be downfall.
A brawl that will bring him to a crawl, clinging to this ideal -
believing if he digs in at the heels; offer no surrender,
that the boulder will yield and become the lender of life.
Instead it will usher in ignorant death; debt now paid.

From the sonnets of thought in the journal of Keegan Deverall