*A note left upstairs within The Church*

[Joachim]

To my Superiors et al.

     I found myself incapable of sleep and thus knelt in prayer. I thought much about my answer to the Preceptor when I was asked about my reasons for answering the call. My answer rang feeble to me, I felt both shame and insignificance before him. Indeed before Avatar himself, for I have not considered myself particularly holly nor skilled. A man neither remarkable nor particularly pious. It was in these self doubts I wallowed as I knelt. What indeed could I offer to Him? How ever could I be worthy?

     Much time did pass, yet gradually my thoughts brightened. It is not for any man to know his worth or have any skill He did not grant him. Only He might know our worth yet we must always endeavor to greater things. In this realization I took up my arms and armour and set out to the road. A humble task needed doing. I cast my gaze west and thought of Yew. Its herds of sheep would provide much needed wool to be turned to cloth, thus I set out upon the road; His word my sword, my Faith my shield.

     I set forth upon a most treacherous road through Altmere, the eastern end seems rather pastoral; previously I could imagine myself here, a life with little purpose. The road did help me reflect upon myself, fears of my own mortality along this journey began to fade as purpose hardened within me. The west proved a mess of twisted trees and wailing shadows, an air of despair and malevolent watchfulness settles upon the shoulders as one walks. It attempts to bend ones back and force the righteous to lie down and surrender their purpose. His word upon my lips and His love within my heart I carried on.

     My foot steps hastened as I arrived at Stone Keep, its fortifications a welcome sight to road weary eyes. I found but a handful of Guardsmen awake at this hour, their vigilance was noted, as I made my way to the fields where sheep are kept. I entered and removed my shears to set about collecting all the wool I might carry. Protestful bleats and the watchful eyes of a sheep dog kept me company whilst I worked. I found myself quite content and happy as I worked. I do not recall such satisfaction from so mundane a task as I did then. The shearing complete and a small treat to the hound saw me off towards the Yewlander's local tailor. I arrived and the smell of the tannery very nearly knocked me over. It were like walking into a physical wall, my mind turned to the day priors work. The undead upon the road, the guardsmen's exultation in victory, my bec de faucon smashing bone and piercing armour. I shook away the memory and quietly swore to hone my skills in His service.

     The wool spun and woven into cloth I were left with sixteen bolts of cloth, of one I immediately cut into bandages, the other fifteen I put aside for the use of The Church. My mind turned to the journey home and as I trekked upon the road I passed before the crypts of Yew, I thought of the undead then and turned from the road into the Cemetery gates. The dead arose to greet me, empty eyes sockets radiating malice lip less grins twisted in vile sneers. A shake of my head washed this fearful fantasy from my mind leaving only the shambling dead to be put back to rest. I nodded once in determination, a prayer upon my lips for strength and into the fray I waded.

    Many undead lay at rest again, I paid my respects to the long dead Lords of Yew in their crypts beseaching Avatar for His blessings upon them of eternal rest and peace. The road home began. Now the shadows seemed less close, the malevolence which so closley watched me before now seemed as though it cowered in His presence. I found but one thing to mar my passage home, upon the road lay the body of a man, his cause of death was not apparent to me. I found little nearby save the body of some minor guardian spawn. I laid him to proper rest and intoned the funerary rights and then built for him a pyre. I watched as pyros performed his sacred duty and waited until stratos did bear him aloft to Avatars loving embrace.

     My arrival home was ended in prayer, the gold collected was solemnly counted. In total over 5,000 Gold coins were collected for The Church coffers, and 15 bolts of cloth lie ready to mend kilt, sash, and surcoat or be turned to bandages for the binding of wounds.


In via virtuti nulla est via

Friar Joachim Charron, Squire, Northern Chapter

[Danaeyl]

A short response is attached below

The open road doth stimulate much contemplation. Though our own road may wind and cross in such a manner we can not see where it leads, it will always lead us home if we heed His ineffable call.

Welcome home, Brother.

Danaeyl