01-28-2011, 07:53 AM
I thought I had moved beyond fear. Left that desperate feeling behind when we shed our old lives. It seems I was wrong, because today as I woke from my meditations I felt fear, raw and desperate as it always was. Still it lingers, I can feel it like a worm digging through my flesh, but this in my soul.
Perhaps I better explain what happened, though that should tell enough, should it not? I write now because when I woke from my meditations I was not where I had sat down hours before, and I had no memory of how I had come to be there.
Today I traveled to Deathknell, wandering the abandoned quarters and watching the mindless husks dwelling there. Most of them stumbled about without aim, which is not surprising I suppose, others sat staring at nothingness, rot having stolen any expression from their faces long ago. It's been almost seven years since I was here last. Then they were not nearly so docile, and patrols had to be sent down to purge the streets of the more violent dregs. But now, they are all empty, they could as well be true dead. I heard rumours among the cults that some argue that we should destroy them, give them a chance for peace as they have clearly lost any inclination to wander in Shadow. They are slaves once again, but without a master.
I found myself nodding in agreement then, when I heard it. Now I shy away from the thought, now it so much more personal. Could I kill these things, these people? Not anymore, no.
But something must be done, our state may grant us physical immortality, but there seems to be a rot inherent, a rot of the mind or, perhaps, the soul. There must be a way to deal with this Rot. I will speak to the Sorcerer, he has shown some expertise in the matters of the art, perhaps he has some insight to share.
The Sorcerer, it seems his plots and plans are what drives him. I remember how it was, I had the same fire in me in the years after the awakening. How will he react once it sputters out? Will he wallow in old glories, or desperately find new causes, new enemies to war on? I have no illusions of how I have dealt with my own sorrows, but I still have goals, goals worthy of striving for while he sees only the false light of Power at the end of this road.
Our latest batch of recruits have some promise, although they too seem cursed with the lack of discretion that plagues these catacombs. I remember when we gathered in other tombs, we were fewer but we had results. Results greater than these fools seem capable of even aspiring to achieve. But one has to use the tools at hand, and longing for the company of long dead allies will not produce the results they would.
As I have worked to rebuild the organization I have found that the name Avidus still carries some weight, a few recruits aware of parts of our history has started to trickle in, but I wary of them for I do not know who are truly here to aid and who are here to spy. Charles certainly must have heard of our reemergence, and while lies and deceit was never his forte neither was betrayal, or so I thought. I will keep my eyes open, if not he makes a move I know someone else will. We must be ready when that happens.
Perhaps I better explain what happened, though that should tell enough, should it not? I write now because when I woke from my meditations I was not where I had sat down hours before, and I had no memory of how I had come to be there.
Today I traveled to Deathknell, wandering the abandoned quarters and watching the mindless husks dwelling there. Most of them stumbled about without aim, which is not surprising I suppose, others sat staring at nothingness, rot having stolen any expression from their faces long ago. It's been almost seven years since I was here last. Then they were not nearly so docile, and patrols had to be sent down to purge the streets of the more violent dregs. But now, they are all empty, they could as well be true dead. I heard rumours among the cults that some argue that we should destroy them, give them a chance for peace as they have clearly lost any inclination to wander in Shadow. They are slaves once again, but without a master.
I found myself nodding in agreement then, when I heard it. Now I shy away from the thought, now it so much more personal. Could I kill these things, these people? Not anymore, no.
But something must be done, our state may grant us physical immortality, but there seems to be a rot inherent, a rot of the mind or, perhaps, the soul. There must be a way to deal with this Rot. I will speak to the Sorcerer, he has shown some expertise in the matters of the art, perhaps he has some insight to share.
The Sorcerer, it seems his plots and plans are what drives him. I remember how it was, I had the same fire in me in the years after the awakening. How will he react once it sputters out? Will he wallow in old glories, or desperately find new causes, new enemies to war on? I have no illusions of how I have dealt with my own sorrows, but I still have goals, goals worthy of striving for while he sees only the false light of Power at the end of this road.
Our latest batch of recruits have some promise, although they too seem cursed with the lack of discretion that plagues these catacombs. I remember when we gathered in other tombs, we were fewer but we had results. Results greater than these fools seem capable of even aspiring to achieve. But one has to use the tools at hand, and longing for the company of long dead allies will not produce the results they would.
As I have worked to rebuild the organization I have found that the name Avidus still carries some weight, a few recruits aware of parts of our history has started to trickle in, but I wary of them for I do not know who are truly here to aid and who are here to spy. Charles certainly must have heard of our reemergence, and while lies and deceit was never his forte neither was betrayal, or so I thought. I will keep my eyes open, if not he makes a move I know someone else will. We must be ready when that happens.
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