We see her whenever she shows herself in the sky. Elune. The White Moon. In her hands she carries mysteries and magic. But in some mysteries the value is in the seeking of them and the love for the unknown.
Elune is love and she is mercy. The gentle hand that binds your wounds and the hand that stills the blade before it can pierce your heart. She is wild and free, allowing you to catch her only long enough to renew your interest in the chase before she leaves your arms and darts off once more. Teacher and guiding hand. Beloved silver Light and the wind that runs its hands through your hair in the forest.
My husband told me once that she was not just one woman but many. He was a hunter in the forest and told me a story that had been told to him. In it Elune spoke without words to her chosen. But her voice was not just one woman. It was young like a maiden, rich and warm, and the wise dry voice of an elder woman at once.
But she is not all kindness and mercy. She will not allow her faithful to call upon her for evil acts or let them be done in her name. Those who seek to profane nature and dedicate evil acts to her will lose her love and magic. They will dry and wither away like plants. If they do not dry and wither away then they will suffer. To lack the Goddess after you have known her is to lose color in life.
She can be the cold and unforgiving waves of the sea rushing into your lungs. The dark wind that makes you shiver knowing something is watching. She’ll hide her silvery light from you and with it gone there is only darkness. Without that light what stops the monsters from our dreams becoming reality?
Power brings responsibility and consequences. The power she gives is not without such consequences, as one should expect. Does she give blessings with the intent to be unkind? I do not think so. She is powerful beyond mortal imagining but not all powerful. Wise beyond mortal imagining but not all knowing.
I opened myself to the Light today and I rabble in my writing. Power drunk maybe- or Light drunk? Is it possible? High more likely to write so. But what a pleasant way to write.
“ Among the Spiral there is one who is Supreme Leader, holding highest authority over them all. When the leader of the Spiral dies the most worthy among the remaining suceed them. I have heard it said the Spiral hoards blessings gathered by the Light, blessings that were given to heroes past. But such has been denied by the Spiral. Their Gods have seen fit to give it to another they say, the one who was most diligent and deserving of it…”
There are many different magical vows in existence. These vows can be separated into two categories: vows and geas. A vow is something you swear- you have the option and are able to ignore or break it. There are consequences to breaking a vow but they can range from something small to large indeed. The second vow is called a geas, an obligation you carry out ether you wish it or not. You are forced to carry out the geas or suffer the consequences.
As an Altruist I have taken vows to never purposefully harm another. I still have the choice to break those vows but I do not. Conforming to my vows makes me stronger, strengthens my connection to the Light. A geas would be a command enforced by magic which I could not break and would have to follow.
“…I can’t forget the admiration the Spiral has for herbs and knowledge. They hold three things most sacred among them all: certain herbs, knowledge, and the blessings from their Gods. They worship only in natural places like caves and forest groves, and will perform no sacred rites unless they can confirm the presence of their Gods. And indeed among them there are those who bear ‘blessings’ (Which seems to be of the Light rather than any God) that they hold in the highest regard among them. For anyone who has one is given great power shoulders the burden that comes with it and surely, they say, the Gods chose only the best among them for it.
They search among themselves with great diligence and then when they find someone they deem capable that person is then taken to their most sacred of sites. The capable one then swears an oath before offering a sacrifice of themselves and attempts to shoulder the blessing given by the Gods.
When asked what happens to those who could not shoulder the burden they sigh with a heavy heart and look upwards. Such is the devotion that they think nothing of sacrificing them self on the whim of their gods. Such is the devotion shown by the ignorant who should be following in the path of the True church rather than cobbled together religions…”
Swearing any oath to the divine and to follow it will give you strength. Many people wonder how paladins. clerics, and priests of the Light can do what they do. The simplest explanation is that by following the Light and the promises we keep we grow in strength and belief.
“…- In her lifetime she had sworn herself to the defense of the weak and innocent. The downtrodden and the poor. She was not kind but she knew not to break her vows and carefully toed the line. Were she not careful Dornall found herself forced to come to the defense of those the Light called her to without concern for her current condition or what she was doing.
Dornall spoke the vows in eagerness when her black eyes shined with youth and her young mind envisioned a more perfect world. But as she was forced again and again and again to keep her vows she grew bitter and angry.
It was these vows that ended up being the death to Dornall the Defiant, Priest of the Easweld. Forced to uphold vows spoken with the enthusiasm and innocence of youth in a world that was cruel, unjust, and harsh…”
Breaking the promises or turning away from the path can result in the lessening of power. Those that seek to strengthen their relationship pray, take vows, quests- they do what is right and through those actions they grow in the Light.
Much in the same way as the Light, it is taking a path and reinforcing that belief that will make you stronger. But the sword you practice with can just as easily harm you as it can another.
I suppose, what i wish to convey, what I’m trying to impress upon you is that a promise is a small thing, a simple thing. It’s like stepping into a pool. A promise is a handful of stone. You can throw the stones away and not drown because you can swim when you get to the deep waters.
A vow is having your pockets filled with stone. A geas is having shoes of stone and your pockets filled with rocks. If you are clever you might survive when the water gets to deep but to often many will drown.
When my mentor died there were to few to continue the spiral, to few to make it the thriving religion it once was. Many of the remaining members were content to let it go. It was the way the times went, they said, and said they were content with the good they had done to their fellow man and elf alike. But there was one among them who was the most eager to see the Spiral done.
When I was still a novice my mentor died. When his ashes were scattered in our most sacred of places, I got to see the remaining members of the Spiral. On my last hour in our sacred site one of them approached me, offering me the last blessing they held dear. Jokingly I told her I would take it when I needed it for why would I desire a burden?
“Don’t laugh.” She told me. “You’ll need it after your son is born.”
“- All rivers do not have to end but eventually they must bend. It is saddening to hear that your mentor Armand is dead. But as you have had no talent with the art of war or shapeshifting I do not know if I would make a adequate replacement….-I would recommend you stay on your current path Novice.”
When my mentor died I cremated his remains and I did contact the other members I knew. So few were they that it took months before I had a response from enough to satisfy me. My mentor’s loss was mourned but those that remained either were unwilling to take me on as their novice or politely declined my requests. They were willing to provide me with information and let me to interpret it as I will and to guide me to what would become my mentor’s resting place.
The area now known as Eastern Plaguelands was once populated by bountiful farms and small villages and called Eastweld. Those familiar with the maps will note of the mountains. It was there I took my mentor. Carrying him in a small urn with my waterproof cloak wrapped carefully around it. Dornoll, Cathbad, Amergin, and Bodmail awaited me when I arrived and it was them who guided me through a small cave entry that barely fit two men side by side. These other members of the Spiral spoke almost nothing to me as they guided me to our destination. Our destination was a large cavern where part of the ceiling had collapsed to allow in the outside world. Our every step echoed as we approached the altar.
The Light is multifaceted. Do you remember what I told you about there being no one true Tyleril? The same is true for the light. I worship the Sun Goddess who speaks to me and once I bore her blessings with me into battle. I was nigh unstoppable, raining down cold burning fury and- ah. The good days before my heart started to fail me. One day I’ll take you to our sacred place. We used to have countless sacred sites, but time and long gone enemies have reduced us to one.
It is impossible to describe the feelings you experience in there so I’ll tell you the basics. The Gods were once bountiful with their blessings when we were numerous and farther spread out. Each person who carried the blessing of their God would return to our sacred site when they felt death coming. The blessing would be set there for the next one worthy to bear the burden…
It would be more accurate to say there had once been several altars. The design of a spiral was carved onto the floor of the cave and nine altars were placed around it, with one in the center. Each altar, I had noticed had been damaged. Some looked like they had been worn away by time, others looked as if someone had taken a hammer to them. Cathbad took time to silently point towards the altar on the farthest left. It had split in twain. Amergin next to my ear whispered my mentor had carried the blessing the altar had once held.
The ceremony that they sent my master off with was simple and soft. Voices never going beyond a soft keening wail. Armand was loved and I saw it etched in the faces of those present.
If the blessing cannot be given back when the Priest dies then the stone that held it breaks. Sometimes even when the Priests were able to return the blessing to the sacred site their successor could not bear the burden. And over time we have lost much. But fear not! Things change. With you as my novice I think the Spiral could continue on in some form…
There are some vows that cannot be broken. Some promises that you should not ever make because they will force you to pay up when payment is due. Some trades you should not make, some deals you cannot make.
I was not wise enough to keep that in mind.
To swear by the Light is no trivial promise. It is promising something in the face of the Light that it will be done. And if it is not? You will suffer the consequences of breaking your obligation. Never take one that you cannot or will not fulfill. Remember the tale of Dalor and how he was burnt to ash for breaking his, Novice, and see to it you are never forced to suffer the same fate…
The Spiral etched onto the cavern’s floor once held twelve blessings. Each stone was heavily magicked- each bore shining runes and intricate designs that were old. Strong enough to hold a blessing only those devoted to the Light and blessed by it would ever obtain. Perhaps some time ago the Spiral had more stones like this. But by the time I entered the cavern that day there were only two stones that were intact. All others were damaged.
Looking back now, centuries later I think they had found a way to extract the blessings of the Light. But unlike the Blood Knights they found some way to keep them and continue passing them on, thus ensuring that the strong among them were even more so. But I have no idea how they were able to do it. I only know that whoever bore a blessing obtained from the stones had to return it before their death or the blessing was lost and the stone that was held it damaged.
One of the things I remember my mentor saying was ‘I don’t want to die yet!’ when I had teased Armand of a human’s short lifespan. Armand had laughed then and we joked back and forth like the pair we had become. Now, even centuries after the words haunt me as I remember his face. Maybe it was the blessing that had killed him, a burden that grew to heavy for his heart.
There’s so much I’ll never know. The members of the Spiral used these blessings for their own benefit, that much is obvious. The Light does not bless everyone so generously. Only the most devout and strong among us could hope for the Light to shine down on us so.
That day, I started the path I could not leave. I swore an oath to the Light I could not break.
It is not the nature of man to do what we do. Man prefers his own tribes, to continue on as he always has. But to stay open, to remain inclusive, and to keep moving forward we must ignore out own nature. That is not to say we should let our religion make us into leaves that get blown away at the smallest burst of wind. But that we can make a difference if we keep in mind the three main tenants of the Spiral…
Of the Spiral there once existed over a hundred. When I joined there were eight, each one human, each one already creeping into their twilight years. I write them in my book now not for my own memory but because when I write of miracles, my halo, and how I became who I am then they will become important.
Armand was my mentor. Middle aged with short hair that was black and peppered with copious amounts of white and grey. I believe he recruited me with the intent of keeping his religon alive long after he was gone, though I know not for certain. We often traded crude jokes with each other and I do not believe he had anyone he had ever met who would go as low with their jokes as I. He met his match in me. When it came to matters of religion he preferred to take a path balanced between compassion and retribution. He claimed to have learned from druids and an angelic being in his visions and few could match him in combat in his younger years. As he grew older age forced him to move from fighting to a different path.
Dornoll was a woman who spoke very little of herself. As such, I have no idea what her life was before I met her. She told me she could transform into a bear and a cat and wore the furs of both. When the Spiral was bigger she trained novices in the art of warfare. Her myth has faded centuries later but when I was younger there would be whispers of a large panther that would come onto battlefields, whose claws could cut through armor.
Bodmall, Tuag, Cathbad, Tiachta, Amergin, and Lolo were the others. I have covered them elsewhere but to add in:
“These men and women predict the future by observing the stars and calls of birds. Angelic beings whisper in their ears, and each had studied for over twenty years- they are able to recite the history of their order at will. They held various lectures and discussions. But after the Spiral was decimated they accepted the changing of the times…”
For a few centuries the Spiral was dominant in the Eastweld and even now some of their myths remain. But for now, that is all I’ll write on the members.
By the time I was aware of how close to death the Spiral was I was to late to recover much of the writings that had been left behind and my mentor’s book was a tome that was rotting away.
My mentor wrote a book six and ten years before his death, proposing that there was Light in all of us and it connected us to everything else. He called it the theory of Light. I can say I have never read the book, at least not in its entirety.
Thinking of him now brings to mind the smell of pine and the back and forth we shared. The thin glasses he wore and the cheerful way he approached life. His skin was tanned and his hair liberally peppered with grey and whire. Armand was not a man without fault but his presence made our travels exciting.
I digress however, but maybe now you can carry some small shred of the mentor I knew with you.
At any rate, though I am long lived I do not consider myself a scholar or a adept researcher. I have mentioned my mentor and the other priests of the Spiral believed the Light was not one deity but several. But not necessarily polytheists. Rather they believed all the Gods and Goddesses they worshiped were aspects of the Light as a whole. There might not seem a difference between the two but it does make a difference when discussing how they related to their deities.
If the Priest believed their Goddess was unique and separate from the next God then it would not guarantee she would get along with them. In much the same way we treat every elf differently so too, would multiple gods need to be treated differently than one multifaceted deity.
I do not remember the deity names well. Each deity had its own names and titles. But the remaining Spiral members I knew and my mentor all had strong moral codes, but didn’t think quite the same many of the church would think today. The Light is not simply good or evil, it simply is. If a storm rages and rains flood your gardens then it is foolish to blame the rain of evil intent. It is simply behaving according to its nature.
The Light is not all powerful, I believe. It has limits, operating within the same universal rules we do. It is, however, far more powerful than we are. We do not rely on the magic within us when we call on the Light. No, we are a drop in the bucket. But when we call on the Light we summon an ocean with out strength and belief.
Of course saying everyone is capable of it would be to lie to you, my reader. Some study their whole life and never manage to heal more than scratches or light a candle with holy fire. Others will call on the Light and the first time they call the Light responds in full strength. You can praise the Light and believe it exists, but that does not mean it will come because you demand it. Calling upon the Light requires strength of will, belief, and devotion to the greater good.
As you encounter others who wield the Light you’ll see each has their own character and temperament. This shapes how the Light responds to them, which in turn is influenced by the Lightwielder. When you can talk to the Light you don’t need to use words or thoughts to do what needs be done. In the moment you call for the Light it knows and your willpower.
I intended to write on the Gods of the Spiral but today this has gone somewhere else and I know not why. My memory has failed me and the names lost.If only paper did not rot and humans did not die so quickly.
The word ‘Spiral’ for me conjures up memories that evoke the same emotion they have in centuries. But for many ‘Priest and Priestess’ would be more accurate. For some it conjures up elderly human men with beards and white robes, others think of elven priests and paladins or those clerics who wear mail and bear the symbol of the Light. Some will imagine mystics communing with the Holy Light in a church built upon the backs of the poor. Whilst others imagine fanatics or the ever virtuous paladin. Strangely, few imagine female priestesses in proper garb as their initial image. There is no ‘true’ or ‘only path’ of the Light, as each person sees it uniquely. When I first became a novice it confused me greatly until my mentor explained it thus:
“There is no ‘one’ you. In each man, woman, and child you meet there is a recollection of you that exists for them. It is not the same recollection I have, nor the same you have of yourself. To say there is one Tyleril is a lie- you exist as many different recollections and echos. Does any one echo or recollection make all of the others false? The man you think of yourself as exists only for you. In your long lifetime there will be millions of different echos and recollections of yourself. Each one will have you in it and yet ‘you’ ‘yourself’ isn’t really anyone at all.”
He concluded it saying:
“There is no one true path to follow the Light and what it teaches. It is your duty to consult it as you travel a path few will take and fewer still will ever live long enough to see the true meaning of.”
This might make it confusing. However, it is worth keeping in mind that change is a constant in our world. No matter how small it is change is still there even if everything else remains the same. So while the Light is still there the methods of reaching it and drawing upon it will differ as time goes on.
The Spiral was not well known and when i joined it it was well and truly on its way to its death. My Mentor often spoke of a massacre that decimated the Spiral, destroying the last few connections they had to human society. I do not know how much they had before I joined over 500 years ago, and now I will never know. It may well be my mentor did not know how many were lost and some seeds of the Spiral remains.
He portrayed the Spiral members as people of great wisdom who once had high social standing saying:
“The members of the Spiral hear the Light however it speaks, whether it be whispers, riddles, or the campfire. The Light must be worshipped, no evil done, and the standards we have set maintained.”
According to Atticus de Paor, who wrote this when the Spiral was at its height:
“The Spiral has its own eloquence, and teachers who claim to have learned from druids and angelic beings of the Light. They profess to know the movements of the heavens and stars, and the will of the Light which is interpreted differently by each Priest. They teach many things to those who seek them out, with instruction lasting as long as two decades, meeting either in the wild or the very edges of society.”
Some of the more glowing writings on the Spiral came from those who were actively involved with them in some manner, so I do not rule out that mayhaps they laid their flatter on thick to curry favor. I have not seen a trace of them exist outside the Eastweld, though I will admit I could be wrong. The Spiral did not believe in writing down their rituals, philosophy and beliefs and it was only in its dying days an attempt was even made.
I attempted to find what I could but it is difficult to say with certainty precisely how much influence the Spiral had, all the gods they worshipped, their rituals and teachings, and how much of its knowledge was lost. However, not all was lost. There are many scraps to be found, comments and criticisms laid against them by others. When I became a novice of the Spiral many of those within it were healers, accepting of the changing times and that their religion would likely die with them. Some, however, were fighters rather than healers. One of them was called Dornoll and to me she taught what she could:
“There are three accepted paths to the Light with each of the three paths splitting off into countless other, smaller paths. But to the main three special honor is paid. We are not defined not only by what we believe but by what we do…”
It would have taken two decades to fulfill my duties as novice and to have become a priest, taking my place among my fellows in the Spiral. As it was my mentor passed away two years, eight months and eight days into my teaching. I was left to get what guidance I could from the remaining members, what remained.
I learned, wrote, and gathered what I could. I was carefree until my mentor died and I realized how little of his wisdom truly remained. I took trips to sacred sites, I performed the rituals they taught me until I could do it from memory alone, and I worked hard those last few years. Eventually, I even took the last ritual and became a Priest, recognized only by myself. By then i was the last member of the Spiral, the only adherent.
There is a condition of the ear that is called tinnitus. It is a ringing in one, or both, ears that can be very soft or it can grow so loud that all one hears is the ringing. It has more than once cause. Sometimes it rings because the nerves in a ear are damaged due to loud sounds, other times it comes without any meaning or damage. Describing the ritual is like this but I know of no other way to describe how I obtained the halo over my head.
The ‘ringing’ I hear is always there now. Never ceasing no matter the day or night. I can ignore it or let it fade in the background. But still it remains, waiting for me to listen. But that, is another thing to write, another day.
[[ Though the page is not old the lettering is clearly very old- a mixture of Thalassian and common. Written down centuries ago several misspellings and grammar errors are there. The letter is left intact as it was but the writing below is, thankfully, more recent. Perhaps copied into something more legible.]]
Mine own name, should I not burn this, is Tyleril. I wast apprentic’d to a Priest f’r two years, eight months and, five days. Three days ago we began our normal bi-monthly routine and split paths- he to rest for a few days at the local inn hereabouts and I to wander for I am never content to stay in one place I had scarecly spent time among the locals when I was called by the inkeep. The priest hadst fallen in his room and wast not responsive to anyone or any means of waking.
I know. i know humans live short. But he wast only four and fifty years. I hath tried all I knew that he done taught. I did call upon the Light f’r aide, medicines and remedies. I couldst see his chest rise and fall with my efforts. But not once dist he stir. n’r did he show any responses to mine own healing beyond simply sleeping.
I do not like to heal. It is draining. But I knew deep inside me. I hadst to sit and bethink f’r a very long time. I did not know what had befallen him. It was not magic, no. But each time I needed to renew my healing it took so much more just to simply keep hi breathing. It took me two days but after constant prayer and medicine I didst as he told me and listened for the Light.
Then i knew. I knew. But still, I sat and thought. he hadst no family, nay children or wife and he was among the last of his particular religous branch. After some time I hath decided as his only remaining tie left to this realm and ceased my spells and medicine. I sat by his side and whispered prayers, for his body remained alive but his soul has gone.
And when his body had finally gone and his last breath hath left him something in mine own chest snapped.
I have been lax in writing down anything he told me, always saying there was tomorrow. But I did not thinbk he would go so soon. Surely humans can live beyond eighty years? I shalt start now and hopefully this will ease the sharp pains in mine own chest. Humans, so short lived and burning so quickly at both ends of the candle.
– Tyleril, Former Spiral Novice
I cannot discuss my mentor without exploring his religion as well. Many are familiar with the Church of Holy Light. it is a popular religion among the human race- few elves notably treat it as one and it does not have the same large following. As with every religion, true or not, it can be seen as a tree. There is a ‘trunk’ of beliefs shared by the majority and there are countless branches to support every other wackadoo, fanatic, and so on. My mentor came from a church him and his group called ‘The Spiral’ named so after an old text they all favored which I have endeavored to write from memory:
“- Two hundred years after Marrick wrote Sophy’s hagiographhy, a man named Verridian wrote a hagiography of a man named Brëannin , who lived in what is now modern day Eastweld. In this land the last man belonging to ‘The Spiral’ was considered ‘an elderly adherant to a dying religion’. No longer bearing the grand title he might have years ago, that man was called the ‘Last Adherent’. When the King of Lordaeron was dying he called
Brëannin over, and there Brëannin saw the Last Adherent. The King warned Brëannin not to treat the Adherent poorly for ‘he has lost his god! What sorrow can compare with this sorrow? once he was a High Priest; now he mourns a dead religion’.
The Adherent and Brëanninburied the King, and the Adherent asked
Brëanninto build a monastery, admitting that spot used to be sacred to his religion. The Adherent insisted it be done, and said: “it is my wish, the wish of one conquered but resigned to the changing order of the times, one who feels neither bitterness or hated.” The Adherent handled the loss of his religion and gracefully accepted the changing times.
When
Brëannin suggested the Adherent take up another in its place the Adherent kindly refused, pointing to the sky and telling
Brëannin that when they died, maybe they would realize their different faiths were in vain “for penchance there is nothing but a great mistake” When
Brëannin became outraged and again urged the Adherent to convert to his variant of Light-based faith, the Adherent refused. He would rather dwell where he always had and keep the faith he had always held in his heart. Besides, he told
Brëanninas they left the burial mound, “Do not all tracks spiral to the same great center?”
My mentor and his fellows followed this religion, holding scraps of knowledge passed on in books that were rotting away and through the words their predecessors had given them.
It is worth keeping in mind that while my mentor and associates considered themselves part of the Church of Holy Light, that it was only the thinnest threads that connected them. They were independent of the church, wearing different dress, united by many common parts of their religion- the trunk and branch of the tree as it were. They were free of the traditional loyalties. This is shown in the story I wrote down of Armand being expected to make judgments about the divisons of his priests. he was warned that were he to be biased, then the Light would punish him for such bias.
They were very honorable and once they gave their word they stuck to it as if they’d sworn by the Light. There was once enough that they followed several paths that the Light lead them. May stories I recall impart to them awe inspiring abilities granted by the light along with great knowledge of medicine, surgery, herbs, and whispers of knowledge untold.
They viewed the Light not as one entity, but many. For when the Light spoke to them, it spoke differently. Some felt the Light’s guidance to smite their enemies, others spoke of holy visions, great power healing mortal wounds. They did not see the Light as all-powerful, but as a great being / beings that were unique and individual. The Light’s goodwill could be earned in exchange for rituals and ‘good service’ done in its name. Only those that had the strongest willpower could truly command all that their mortal coils could bear.
They did not believe in spreading their religion. They would speak to those who listened but they believed only those who came of their own free will could take a place among them. Why tempt the weak of will when you can have someone who is willing to earn their place? Someone who comes freely and give their all to the Light?
it is my belief that the Light is not many gods and I do not follow it as a religion. Those days have long passed. But my faith runs deeper than leylines and my steps have not faltered. I was the only elf among them and I wonder if it would make them happy that the lessons they taught me have shaped me so much. I wonder if it makes them happy in the next world, that something survives of their religion and their teachings.
I am the last Adherent now and I do not know if there will ever be another who will take up the mantle I bear. Who else will wear the halo?
I do not know. But by writing this down and with you to read it, the title and the halo I bear does not seem as heavy.
We fight for The Light, for Elune, for the Shadows, for a thousand God’s, Goddesses, spirit and elementals. We heal for them. We protect for them. But most importantly we do it for what we stand for, who we love. You are an example for others to follow, a light in the darkness to keep them warm and their demons at bay. Your strength is immeasurable, your skill unmat he’d, your determination stronger than iron and your passion burns brighter than the strongest arcane fire.
But there are time when you waver, hold secret doubts, wish to out down your weapons and shut yourself away from it all. To let the weight on your shoulders fall down and leave. Do not be ashamed or think less of yourself if you are not the perfect healer, fighter, or guardian. When the world gets you down it is alright. It is alright to stop and breath, to take a time for yourself. When the world takes away your strength and continues to batter you, fuels your own demons then rest. We have all reached that point where we are worn and beaten, and every step feels like you bleed and walk on nails.
Rest and do not forget you are loved. You are treasured. With every action you have made a difference, with every block of your shield or wound mended. You have meaning and you make a difference. You are important, no matter what the whispers in your mind might say.
If you follow the Light and this is long after I have gone then call for me through the Light and if I am able I will be with you. If I can help you regardless I will.
Do not forget that you need to care for yourself or find someone that cares for you. To forget yourself is to burn the candle at both ends.
Some kill living beings for purposes of defense Some kill out of anger. Some kill for revenge. Some kill for sacrifice, honor, fear.
They are not to be thought of less for what they do. But is us who know their suffering and what is is. Because we see and understand their pain, the cause of our own happiness and pain, knowing others too.
And those who see and understand others feeling knows his own feelings. He does not raise his hand to harm or in defense. He does not hate, he loves. Because of his love when he enters the field he does so with the intent to see every ally, every friend walk off it. This is the Altruist’s desperate need. Knowing what is pain and desiring to change the capricious tides of battle, knowing he could drown beneath those tides.
This is what the Altruist knows. The love for his allies, the pain he sees and understands. And out of love, sacrifices himself for those that need him the most.
To those that fight alongside me I will be true To those who carry heavy brudens I will be their shelter To those that stumble I will be strong To those that hesitate I will be brace I will be brave, for there is much to fear on this path I’ve chose.
I will help all of my allies I will heal their wounds, cure what ails them, and use my gifts to see them return home. I am strong, but so very weak I stand at their side through loss and despair, victory and happiness
I am strong, but I am so weak. I am willing to do whatever is needed to see them home. I am Light and bring it on the darkened paths I tred Through victory and failure, loss and pain, through sunny days and darkened nights
Swords clash and magic thunders Where armies meet and lives are torn asunder With a thundering crash and rising dread The tides of battle turn again Thunder rumbles in the sky with disdain As the night lights up with arcane
A gentle whisper A spoken plea Torn flesh is mended Stamina restored
We bring the Light as we enter the fray Voices rising as we pray Our skill unmatched, our focus strong as iron
In bloodstained fields and dark paths we tread Through sacrifice, through love, and the Light We will turn the tide of battle And bring and end to the dark night.
Living beings are without number I vow to show them the Light My enemy is without number I vow to show them the Light’s fury The teachings of the Light are immeasurable I vow to study them. The path of the righteous is long. I vow to reach the end.
This journey I do make With a weary heart and heavy steps But determination keeps my shield up and my hand at my hilt Light, I beseech thee for the a flicker of Your warmth My faith can move mountains But steel and flesh get dull and weary And eventually my magic runs dry But I will clutch at my faith For where there is Light, there is hope And where there is the Light there will always be Me.
I desire neither revenge Or even freedom from death and pain I desire only to heal And to bring the Light to those afflicted by misery and pain Light, lead me from the unreal to the real From darkness to your Light From pain to serenity May there be peace May the teachings of the Light spread wisdom throughout the world And may everything I see the Light in bring me peace Ashal Quel’Thalas
“It is grace, pure and simple that none of us feel we deserve. But the Light loves us anyway.”
“In all things, paladins must reflect the Light, which supplements our strength. To strive to be divine for one of our kind does not mean we strive for godhood–we strive to be good in all actions.Although called upon to smite evil in these harsh times, you must always remember that it’s aiding others that will truly set you apart from the other citizens. Compassion, patience, bravery–these things mean as much to a paladin as strength in battle.Know this well, and never forget it.”
You have heard it before, whether it was spoken through the dusty pages of an old tome or through the lips of another. “The Light is good. The Light loves us. it forgives.” If you were anything like I was you get tired of hearing it. It’s annoying to have a cleric or a paladin repeat that with the same certainty that we have two moons.
Does the Light love you? Does it forgive? Does it give its favor or benefaction?
I am one of the Sin’dorei- a Blood Elf- and I have lived for a good few centuries. During any life you will find one mistake or some regret. Something that you think of deep in your cups, that returns with a haunting whisper at the edges of your mind, or that we carry with us as a burden. I’ve made such mistakes and some days I still feel them haunt me. I feel the marks they left on my skin as fresh as the day I got them. I feel the emotions well up inside my chest. It hurts and I would give much to undo some of the mistakes of my past. It is a sign of my greatest failures, of my weakness, and my failure to live up to the standards I set for myself.
They linger like scars on my skin. No matter if I drink, lose myself in my work, or occupy myself with any number of activities they remain. Somedays I do not feel as if I can be forgiven for all of them.
But yet, despite them I keep trying to hold to the three virtues of the Light. Not because I am a Priest but because I cannot stay standing still. The Light calls to me and when I reach out I find no judgment for what I have done. I feel loved without judgment, accepted despite what I have done. I do not have the words, my dear reader, to describe the feelings properly. I can whisper all of my regrets, all of my sorrows, my angers, my selfish feelings and I am accepted without judgment. At my core I feel the pain in my chest ease and serenity wash over me. Reach out to the Light and speak. The Light will not reject because of your failings or flaws. It will love you the same as if you were as perfect as you wished to be.
But even after centuries of being a Priest and the Light forgiving me, there are times when the Light still doesn’t feel enough.
It is odd to write those words. Is it as odd to read them? No matter what you have done, what lingering regrets, sorrow, and despair grabs at your soul sometimes it is not enough. It does not make you less to acknowledge it. On those days when the Light is not enough I push myself out of bed. I follow my work schedule. When I see my children run around the home, my friends at the forges, the many pets my children seem to have adopted, the wounded in the infirmary, and the smiles of those that love me more than I love myself- I try to remember to tell myself.
The Light loves me. The Light forgives me and in its benevolence gives me it’s benefaction. It forgives me and it forgets. But I cannot continue alone. I see myself reflected in the eyes of those that are important to me. It is every bit as wondrous as the Light. So when the Light’s love is not enough, when the teachings of the Light cannot help you then do not fear. But do not continue sitting and praying if that cannot ease the burdens you carry. Sometimes we must get up on our own power and face the demons we have made. The Light will always be with you but take strength from those close to you. Those that are important.
That will be what keeps you going when you cannot hear the Light and your faith is shakey. Their faces, their smiles, the memory of what is important.
Tyleril Silversword 
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