I saw a god today. Curious why so simple was this transaction. He was there above the lost dwarf, so pleasured by his own righteousness. Ecstasy of anger filled his capacities. Jacob, the skin he wore stretched with agony. It cracked at the seams trying to contain that which so horrendously forced itself in its place, unnatural, egotistic, and raw. Poor soul I suppose, though I’m sure many would say a deserving one. Perhaps it was, in the terms of the earth such things are as gravity, they weight down on the soul. Was this what he thought of when he dreamt of meeting his creator?
It’s the lost dwarf whose soul seems the heaviest of all though. The ground cracks under his weight. The Dwarven people, who identify themselves so ecstatically with the earth, they too cracked under his footsteps. And they bled rivers, hot rivers, steaming red. His masochistic purification of the disease in his own veins became ritual and unwavering. Did he think he could kill this feeling? Think not, feel not, overwhelmed with rage. When everything he knew was gone it got only worse. In becoming the judge’s hammer he himself became the guilty. It was a chaos driven justification for ridding the world of chaos. The necessary end to such a conviction is death, for the job is not done until he is gone, the last earthly drop of hell.
Yet he lives, his plan cut short by the only power capable of such miracles, forgiveness, redemption. These were not available to this scarred mind until god himself made it so, a furious god that gives no favors, only takes and uses. Arbitrary Dwarven judgment, rules for rules sake, rules carved in stone. To a primed mind even suicide gives a path to salvation. I wonder where this forgiveness will take him.
Why do I feel so empty? Any man would tremble to such a sight, yet I am denied this. I am sorry my lord, I have sinned. So hard I try to find my path yet it fails me. I fail me and in this I fail you. I so much aspire to know the truth, yet I am lost in myself. Why did I not tremble?
I have this equation I have been working on. It is to calculate the weight of a soul. It is so perfect, I must be close, yet the numbers don’t make sense at times. The things I seem to feel important have little impact and the things I take for granted can throw the balance to extremes. I have much work left.
Empty… there is nothing.
I met a man who put blood to my hands. He was a fool in the city of fools who knew more of me than I knew myself. Would a lie in a city of lies be a truth or a lie like everything else? He knew me and his words put pain to my ears. If you’re lost and the way out is to hell do you just close your eyes and turn another corner? What he said gave me the first hope of knowing what happened, yet now I’m unsure fulfillment will be what I find. Perhaps that is the path these fools have chosen.
Too many questions, I know. There are more. A merchant named Vasili has taken pleasure to others pain. The lost elf thought he found himself a home, yet he also found its destruction. The merchant took arms to Kal’s Dwarven family and now we’re off to seek revenge. Dwarven laws again. It is a conviction to punish that which spoils the soundness of life. Would I not do the same? I feel no sympathy, yet I am so guilty for this numbness. I should be enraged. All I can do is help, because I should. I want to help, but will I just cause more pain?
He knew me. I have to push forward.
This book, I know it. Pages too fine for the words they carry betray the contents as a distraction. The eye, I so much want to see. It’s the eye which matters, so easy to miss, it feels familiar to my fingertips. The longing, the excitement betray it. The printed eye so graceful and inquisitive as if were looking back at me, drawing me in. Look through the eye and know the truth. Is this truth worth it? The words it reveals excite and scare me. The eye knows me. It knows me like the fool knew me. It sees me, beckoning to pursue my path of discovery. Will I see me or someone else, a version of a man seen through someone else’s eyes, incomplete, fragmented, biased? It’s all biased. If I find who I am it won’t be me. It will be a man, forever disjointed, a moment in time filtered through the conscious eyes. If that’s what is to come, why do I yearn to follow this path?
That equation, it says a man’s soul carries little but a few defining moments which might, just might carry on beyond their limited horizons. A depressing conclusion as it would be, would mean a sort of salvation. Past just might be constrained to the past unless… it isn’t.
These amateur wizards are a distraction. They make me lose my focus. One plucked me from the sky too easily. My powers grew weak with the lack of concentration in one direction of study. Another summoned power beyond my knowledge, a chaos creature with formidable prowess. I might have bled if it wasn’t for the others. None of this seems to frazzle me. I fell 120 feet, not a trivial distance, yet as I was falling all I could think of was the wizard’s eyes. They betrayed fear. I pitied him, I despised him. He should have not done this. It was a poor choice. I am loosing focus.
The lost elf is close to his query. Vengeance froths his words. This focus for a price to repay. He is sure of this deal as any swindle he ever undertook, yet I am unsure things are so clear. All this seems too simple and too odd. Perhaps some things are so. This all seems to be on someone else’s terms. The elf is so sure of everyone, even the queensguard Sir Hans. He practically told him his life story. The eye, the merchant, now the queen, too many are making choices which affect us.