The Journals of Solutare Letrange
Aug 8, 2010 20:12:33 GMT
Post by Vaylon Kenadell on Aug 8, 2010 20:12:33 GMT
327 Luna Imbrium 25.
I first spotted the the Tower of Rysimond some distance on the horizon, a speck of glittering obsidian thrust upwards against the wide sky as if to defy it. All my training, research, and travelling have led to this, the culmination of learning. But on my journey I have heard mutterings of dark rumors which have put me in great dis-ease: some locals believe the apocalypse is coming; so fervent is this belief that many have gathered together all the worldly possessions that they own and set out for the tower, believing its master to have some way of shielding them from the end. Even now, a large group of simple peasants have joined me, and as I approach the tower, I notice more and more strangely empty hamlets: houses whose doors and shutters have been left agape, fields left half-plowed -- even animals abandoned and left to fend for themselves, braying and bleating in panicked, plaintive cries for help to their long-gone owners.
Normally these events could be easily dismissed as a case of unwarranted mass panic by an ignorant peasantry, easily excitable and deeply superstitious -- there are indeed many famous examples of it, much-studied by the learnèd -- but I witness many disturbing signs, the presence of which do justice to the belief. The birds of the air flock strangely, in confused circles, as if they are unsure of where they wish to go. The animals brought on this impromptu pilgrimage are frightened and start at the smallest thing or seem to urge their masters forward, to say nothing of the poor beasts left behind whose good sense abandoned them in favor of blind fear. The sky grows dark and threatens such a deluge that we may all be lost forever. The simple farmers, huntsmen, and herdsmen travelling alongside me look to me for guidance; they know, from the way I am dressed and the way I speak, that I am a mage.
A mage!
Long had I wished the right to call myself that, and here I give it not a thought. Let me now give thanks that I had returned to my studies, and that my path has led me down this road, no matter how dangerous it may become before the end. At least I will face it as a mage!
Loath though I might have been in earlier days to think speech with them worthwhile, I see now that in these dark times, wisdom and counsel are necessary for all men, no matter how simple, and that kind words go farther to allay their fears than even the cheeriest of fires or strongest of draughts. I do not say so, but it is my great fear that every man shall need all his strength in the days to come.
I first spotted the the Tower of Rysimond some distance on the horizon, a speck of glittering obsidian thrust upwards against the wide sky as if to defy it. All my training, research, and travelling have led to this, the culmination of learning. But on my journey I have heard mutterings of dark rumors which have put me in great dis-ease: some locals believe the apocalypse is coming; so fervent is this belief that many have gathered together all the worldly possessions that they own and set out for the tower, believing its master to have some way of shielding them from the end. Even now, a large group of simple peasants have joined me, and as I approach the tower, I notice more and more strangely empty hamlets: houses whose doors and shutters have been left agape, fields left half-plowed -- even animals abandoned and left to fend for themselves, braying and bleating in panicked, plaintive cries for help to their long-gone owners.Normally these events could be easily dismissed as a case of unwarranted mass panic by an ignorant peasantry, easily excitable and deeply superstitious -- there are indeed many famous examples of it, much-studied by the learnèd -- but I witness many disturbing signs, the presence of which do justice to the belief. The birds of the air flock strangely, in confused circles, as if they are unsure of where they wish to go. The animals brought on this impromptu pilgrimage are frightened and start at the smallest thing or seem to urge their masters forward, to say nothing of the poor beasts left behind whose good sense abandoned them in favor of blind fear. The sky grows dark and threatens such a deluge that we may all be lost forever. The simple farmers, huntsmen, and herdsmen travelling alongside me look to me for guidance; they know, from the way I am dressed and the way I speak, that I am a mage.A mage!Long had I wished the right to call myself that, and here I give it not a thought. Let me now give thanks that I had returned to my studies, and that my path has led me down this road, no matter how dangerous it may become before the end. At least I will face it as a mage!Loath though I might have been in earlier days to think speech with them worthwhile, I see now that in these dark times, wisdom and counsel are necessary for all men, no matter how simple, and that kind words go farther to allay their fears than even the cheeriest of fires or strongest of draughts. I do not say so, but it is my great fear that every man shall need all his strength in the days to come.