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Diary of the Blue Paladin
Posted: 22 Jan 2007 01:58 AM |
I have decided to commence a new journal, detailing my inner quest to verbalize, in no uncertain terms, the dogma of this new faith to which I have been called. I firmly believe that, while there are other paths that are to be respected and lived with in harmony, the one to which I have been called represents something vital and as of yet unrepresented in Vives, and thus my quest in an important one, and one I do not take lightly.
I suppose a brief history is in order - I was born in Midor, to a minor aristocratic family with a tradition of service to the faith. I entered into the Midoran Academy as a child, and was awarded my spurs just shy of my twentieth birthday. I was a true believer, and performed my duties to the best of my abilities.
Something was always there, however, behind the facade that was Midoran. The god I prayed to and the god that seemed to answer were not exactly in agreement, as if someone were intercepting letters and writing back in the imitated script of the intended recipient. I believed that what I served was the true Midoran, and that Vidus Khain, the White Bishop of Midor, was somehow falsely representing him. I was mistaken.
When I refused to swear allegiance to Vidus Khain personally he banished me from the City. Shortly thereafter I saw Midoran in a dream, and he called me faithless and unworthy. He cast me from his sight, and I lost that sacred connection that all paladins knew from pubescence, that light of confidence and righteousness that kept them focused and rooted no matter what the danger or distraction. For the longest time, my life seemed hollow and directionless. I was lost.
I was found by a light, somethign that I recognized as familiar. It was from my earliest days of training, before the visage of MIdoran had fully formed in my mind. A benevolent, compassionate, loving light that was so ubiquitous and powerful that it could never be extinguished, like an eternal warm blanket that encompassed all of creation. I learned that this light was the true force of creation, and that it could only act in this world through the actions of others. It was the Couruscanti, the Nameless Creator, the Supralux. I once again knew grace and fellowship, and my life was saved.
Then, quite unexpectedly, the light identified itself to me - it was none other than Elbereth, the Mother, whom the elves believe dreamed this world and everything in it into existence. It was difficult for me to accept at first, but then I realized that so much made sense - I always felt some sort of connection with things elven, I always felt drawn to Ferein... and I couldn't deny what I knew to be true. I heard the voice of the goddess herself - she granted me the power to understand the speech of her children, the elves, so that I might live among them and further her will.
Therefore I believe I have a holy mission, mandated by the prime creator herself. Despite the fact that academics were never my strong point, I must wade through the semantics of belief and try to uncover what this new faith has to offer, so that I might better teach others. I have spent much time in the Sacred Grove speaking with the druids there, and many hours of meditation searching for answers within myself, listening for the Mother's voice among the sounds of the forest. This is the record of my journey. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: Diary of the Blue Paladin
Posted: 22 Jan 2007 02:41 AM |
First, the most obvious-seeming contradiction: how can a champion of law and goodness serve a goddess whose central tenet is balace?
An examination of traditional Elberethian dogma reveals little - the central core to all elven belief, whether it be followers of Elbereth, Aros or Tarik, is the Cycle. Basically, everything has a beginning and an end, and the natural progression of everything from beginning to end is not to be interrupted. One can see at once that this is a very elastic concept, and can be used to justify everything from charity to slavery. The Tarikite can argue that the hunting of other sentient beings is a part of the Cycle, the Arosian can argue that the preservation of the natural lifespan of the elf warrior is of paramount importance, the Elberethian can argue that the bringing back to life of the dead is an affront to the Cycle. Meanwhile, each sect engages in activity the others find distasteful.
The Church of Midoran holds a belief that goodness is defined merely by the symmetry of a given act to the Will of Midoran, and that no other ethical system is valid. Therefore, according to a Midoran, the same act - say, the murder of a child - can be either good or evil, depending on the victim and the perputrator. A half-orc raider slaying a Midoran child commits an act of unspeakable evil, while a Midoran footsoldier slaying an orcish child protects his city from the forces of darkness.
While I believe the Midoran application to be flawed, the principle itself is essentially sound. This is the deadfall in the Aristi system, and the reason I could not join them as my uncle did before me. They speak of a "common good", yet leave it up to each individual knight to determine what that is. This focus on the self is inherently dangerous - I know not from where they obtain their divine powers, but it is certainly not from a "bubble of faith" as Balthor would have me believe. I personally believe they have earned the attention of some otherwordly entity who prefers to remain anonymous, and they receive their powers, albeit unknowingly, from that entity. Whether this entity is a force of good or evil remains to be seen. I believe every Aristi I have ever known to be of good intentions, and certainly Byron Lorian is one of the most honorable men I have ever met. Cedrych von Maistlin, my former comrade in arms and someone I consider a member of my family has decided to join their ranks, and I feel no ill will towards him because of it. Yet I know that evil has ways of turning the best intentions of even the noblest of men to bad results.
Therefore, I believe if you apply the Midoran standard to the Elberethian worldview, the problem disappears. "Good" is what aligns with the cycle, and "evil" is what does not. There is room for debate over details - what constitutes a legitimate end? Should the victims of wanton slaughter not be raised from the dead? Was the slaughter an evil or merely a part of the cycle?
Humans, while a part of the Cycle, do not occupy the same position within it as the animals. We have been given intelligence, reason, and the knowledge of consequence. We can work together to maximize our efforts, and help those who in nature would be the first to fall. When an animal kills, it is from neccessity. When a human kills, the element of free will dictates that the action needs to be ethically weighed. I believe there are a very specific set of circumstances in which the taking of life is morally justified:
When one is directly defending the life of another;
when one is stopping a known serious threat;
when one is defending one's own life.
Again, there is a certain amount of elasticity to the standard. However, with the respect for the ending of the Cycle there is also a respect for the beginning, and it is this aspect which I believe the elves tend to gloss over (probably because of their long lifespans and the relative infrequency of their procreation). Creation is perhaps the most sublime expression of devotion one can conduct. It is replicating the divine act, the creation of the universe. Creation is sacred, therefore life is sacred. Every life, no matter how insignificant or twisted in its appearance, is sacred to the Mother, and is deserving of protection. When one applies this standard to the moral test above, wisdom yields the correct course of action.
Similarly, since Elbereth is the creator of the world, anything that threatens its existence is an evil. There is a harmony to creation, and when something disturbs that harmony it must be dealt with. I believe this is the main role of the warrior order, and one that distinguishes it from the already existing Holy Warriors of Aros: rather than protectors, we are the arms and fists of the Mother. The Warriors of Aros are the Shield of Ferein, and we are to be its Sword. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: Diary of the Blue Paladin
Posted: 11 Oct 2008 05:12 AM |
Much has changed... much has changed.
What else can be said? I have reawakened from a long, dolorous dream to find the world I remember gone. I travel paths that were once familiar to me and they have somehow... changed. I know only my mission for the Mother, one I thought I had already proven my unworthiness in undertaking by falling in battle to the Atalan. I was taken, humbled, tormented unspeakably. Restrained on a table... sharp instruments... blackness. Utter, complete blackness and the knowledge that none would come to rescue me. I was sure I would remain there forever.
I awoke outside of Buckshire. It took me hours to realize I was not hallucinating. I saw color and light, I heard birds. I started to weep for joy as I crawled over to the trickle of water beneath the bridge to quench my thirst. There, in the water, I saw my reflection, and I realized what they had taken from me. My flesh had been carved from the bones of my face - a horrific monster, twisted and grotesque stared back at me. I had always been somewhat vain - never the most beautiful, but always pretty. I knew I would never again be the object of any man's desire, as I once stirred feelings in Lucius...
Oh, but it hurts to think of Lucius.
I know not why I was spared from an eternity of torture at the hands of the Atalan. Perhaps my punishment is only complete if I am allowed to see myself in the water? Perhaps I must walk these darkened paths and see the reminders of a life that is gone and remember friends that are long dead. Perhaps I must feel the loss, the same loss that the Mother feels as her creation slips away into nothingness. In the deepest recesses of my heart, where the pride of a paladin still makes a last, valiant stand, I dare to dream that I am being honed into an ever more effective weapon, one that will play a role in the salvation of this world.
Perhaps that is my fate - to eternally hope for the best while seeing the dream fall apart around me. What can I do? I shut my visor against the eyes of the curious and gird myself for battle, trusting in the Mother to guide me to whatever end suits her best. I only hope I am given the chance to redeem my failures before I lie peaceful and calm at the end of my time. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: Diary of the Blue Paladin
Posted: 11 Oct 2008 08:51 PM |
At last I have seen a familiar face - Talion Deraith, fittingly, one of the first people I met when I left the Academy to pursue my missionary work in Port Royale. He was something of a known figure even then, an adventurer who had been noted as an honorable man and listed as an acceptable companion by the Expatriation Committee in the Fist of Midoran Handbook that every Errant Paladin is given before being let loose upon an unsuspecting populace...
Was given. Was given. The Isle of Midoran was blasted into nothingness years ago, and all I knew there is now gone. No more Knight Errants emerge to sally forth and carry the word of Midoran to the people. No more classes will graduate from the Academy, and no more eager young pages will say farewell to their families on the docks, looking forward to a ride on the ferry and a year of hazing, ceremony and tradition. Of course, I would have been executed on sight had I returned after I was exiled, but the betrayal remains. I know now that it was all a lie, that the righteousness we were serving was anything but... but it was still my home. It was still my childhood, my traditions, my life. The good folk of Ferein have, for the most part, been extremely hospitable. They have tried to make me feel welcome and a part of what goes on there... but even though I can understand their speech and speak it like I was born there, my childhood memories are still of Midor. I am still a Midoran, and will always be one.
I have felt truly powerless since my return. My previous belief that one person can change the course of history seems incredibly naive. No matter how many undead I slay, more rise in their place. No matter how much I seek to liberate the land from darkness, it persists. No matter how many innocents I save from death, something else kills them the next day and I am still looked upon with suspicion, while Jessup is knighted and feted as a philanthropist in Port Royale. Perhaps it is proper that such a man rises to the top in such a city; Jessup seems like a unique personification of the dichotomy of that place: selfish nihilism coated with a thin veneer of propriety.
But now, a ray of hope: Talion has spoken with a renegade Warlock from Naillamne who has a theory about how to rid Vives of this shadow. We are to travel to meet with him tomorrow, and I pray to the Mother that I am worthy of the responsibility of such a quest. I shall do whatever I can to protect this land from destruction. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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Re: Diary of the Blue Paladin
Posted: 30 Sep 2009 11:14 PM |
I have befriended a rather interesting follower of Naruth lately, a red dragon who assumed humanoid form regularly. I have to admit, at first I thought her a mad elf, but having seen the proof of her identity since, I have (not for the first time) changed my opinion of what is true and what is false. I cannot help but think of Juylina when we are together; she seemed so dangerous to me once, so malicious. I cannot help but think our relationship might be different were we to meet now. I have the nagging feeling that I was discourteous to her. I only wish there was some way for me to make up for it.
Ruby, Salt, Talion and I have undertaken a quest to locate a legendary artifact, a book that contains within it every spell ever devised by man or god. Such an item of power cannot fall into the wrong hands - unfortunately, there is evidence that no fewer than three less-than-savory factions are after it. After a battle of conscience and consultation with my companions, I alerted the authorities of Ferein about the situation. Regardless of their treatment of me, I remain obligated to them, and I shall honor that obligation. I worry about elvish arrogance - I pray they do not force me to choose between destroying this book and letting them study it. I fear such an item of power would corrupt any who sought to learn its secrets, no matter how noble or well-intentioned they may be. I believe Salt agrees with me, although he seems to have more faith than I in our ability to hide it from those who seek to take it from us. Still, Salt and Talion are the only two men left that I respect and trust, and whatever reservations I might have about our ultimate success, I shall not take any course of action that would jeopardize our friendship.
Talion continues to be his familiar self: self-reliant, aloof, hard to read. He still has not guessed at the depth of my feelings for him, and I would prefer it remain that way. I have had nothing but sadness come of affairs of the heart, and I would just as soon not have our relationship muddied by complications. Besides, I must come to terms with the reality of my situation now: I am hideous. I am disfigured, and there is no one in all of Vives would would be interested in tenderness with me. I must remain within the protection of my helm, shielding the world from my visage. I believe this was a gift from the Mother: I have been too proud of my appearance in the past. I allowed my heart to draw me into tenuous moral ground, and I think I have been a better knight since my beauty was taken from me. Ruby has suggested a healer that might restore my appearance, but I think the greater good would be served by my remaining disfigured.
I have been allowed to caretake Byron's estate. It is a grand affair, a two-story mansion with stuffed divans, oaken cabinetry and more fireplaces than Midor has fanatics. I must admit, there is something very comforting in the blend of Aristi and elvish style: the ornate scrollwork, the graceful lines... like a blending of my own past and present. But it is not my home. I am conscious every second I spend there that these are the belongings of someone else. I hope someday to have a home to call my own. I had thought for a while the authorities of the Grove might see fit to grant me property within the borders of Ferein - maybe, I fantasized, even the beautiful honeymoon cottage I used to dream of occupying with Lucius two lifetimes ago. Maybe they will finally accept me as part of them, and seek to learn something from me. I pray every day that someday this shall come to pass. Until then, I shall remain a stranger, living under the roofs of others, in lands foreign to my birth and faith. |
"You know, a gong. Large, flat object that you hit when you want things. Sort of like a waiter, but less portable."
-Radra |
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