The Weight of Good

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Eters
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The Weight of Good

Post by Eters » Sat Jun 09, 2018 4:48 pm

"And so I ride these hills again, on my own, with nothing but the sound of my steed's talons upon wet grass to comfort my solitude , the lady's magic embracing my skin like the caring touch from a lover, sizzling in a monotonic, yet beautiful melody, reminding me of the gift given to me, the power bestowed upon myself, the weight of the oath I've sworn, and the choices that come with it."

I lift my staff, and my enemies fall"

"As they fail to face the vision of the atrocities they've once committed, who would've know, that life was such a weak and feeble thing, easily taken away with a swing of a sword, or a word of power spoken in an old tongue."

"Walk in light, I ask those that I meet, praying for their well being, while continuing to walk my own path, a bloody path, that I wish no one else ever has to walk, It is a necessary path, because good words and good deeds do not shield the innocents from the darkness that comes with some."

"Sworn to the oath of the ancients I am, to carry the hopes of others, and shine light upon their paths, like a shield I am, to protect them from the vileness of the world we dwell in."

"And so, I make a choice, a hard choice, that not many understand, Zeal is it, or simply the way things are meant to be, I do not know."

"I lift my staff, and my enemies fall"

"As their souls leave their bodies, I know they shall no longer cause harm, even if but, for a short period of time."

"I lift my staff, and my enemies fall"

"And while some rejoice in the victory earned, a few start to see, that the light they revered isn't all that bright, for the stains of blood slowly but surely have their toll on it all."

"I lift my staff, and my enemies fall"

"And in their screams of pain, their last breaths, my heart aches, and my soul is torn, but let it be torn, for such is my duty, such is my way, such is the weight of the good I carry, a path from which I shall never stray."

"I lift my staff, and my enemies fall"

"But comfort comes in the smiles of the victims, that were once shuddering in fear and terror from evils most foul, and as life finally takes back it's normal path, and peace is once more restored, I get on my horse, and ride towards the hills alone, with nothing but the sound of my steed's talons upon wet grass to comfort my solitude , the lady's magic embracing my skin like the caring touch from a lover, sizzling in a monotonic, yet beautiful melody, reminding me of the gift given to me, the power bestowed upon myself, the burdens of the oath I've sworn, and the choices that come with it."
Last edited by Eters on Tue Jun 12, 2018 6:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Sing for the Laughter
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Re: The Weight of Good

Post by Sing for the Laughter » Tue Jun 12, 2018 6:00 pm

“I raise my Voice.”

It’s only been a few years, but my oath of redemption always weighs on me. I don’t often think back to the reasons I sought redemption as the thoughts are always there regardless if I wish them to be. But I see it in others—a path that perhaps they can only find with the right guidance.

“I raise my Voice.”

There is another way, I would say. The actions one has done in the past cannot be changed. Redemption is a path, not of forgiveness, but one of acceptance. Do not fall into the trap of believing that just because you want to change, people must forgive you. No, you must accept the vile deeds that you’ve done in the past and learn to live with them.

“I raise my Voice.”

Even to the goblin who should be offered no quarter. All souls are precious, even the ones who have fallen the furthest. Do I think it would accept? No, but I do so anyway.

“I raise my Voice.”

At times, I must fend off people I consider friends. They think I'm short-sighted to attempt to help these people who seem to spit in my face but I know that redemption is a path that may take more than one attempt—how far are they allowed to fall before I consider them a lost cause? Are they right? Am I right? Perhaps we both are.

“I raise my Voice.”

I ask Barachiel to aid me in these plights. The ears of mortals are graced by the Messenger's tone, and I wish to be his voice and sense on this plane. But, I also ask for wisdom—the wisdom to know when to admit defeat. So, instead, I ask for Mercy and Domiel responds.

“I raise my Sword.”
Sing for the tears.

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Pav
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The Weight of Good

Post by Pav » Tue Jun 26, 2018 10:45 pm

I find sensory analysis to be flawed. As I look upon another man, another woman, another person of any sorts, I would often see one just as I. A mortal being, with its own merits and faults. I would see the beggar on the streets of Athkalta. I would see the nobleman, parading through the terraces of Waterdeep. The merchant, hawking his wares on the docks of Westgate. The headsman, heading home to the outskirts of Baldur's Gate after his gruesome chores were completed. The fishermen squabbling over their latest catch, the sizes of their haul, and the prices they'll fetch in Carradoon's market. I could have been any of them in another life, and I could still become any of them in this one. It is but a matter of circumstance.

Do not trust your eyes.

And when another comes near, one with whom you might engage in conversation - does he not wear the mask, plainly? The one we all wear, be it unnecessary niceties, dignity, abrasion, cruelty. The smile and the scowl on their faces. It is not them, but what they choose to show you. One's true self is only known in the deepest recesses of one's soul, and thus all you meet, whether wantingly or not, deceive you.

Do not trust your eyes and ears.

Mortals are unpredictable beings, dangerous. They act on whims, whether or not those whims are immediate or born of pretense, of the very same mask they wear to convince themselves that they, indeed, are different. They would manipulate and maneuver, whether on purpose or not, to get what they desire, the abject of their whims. They will say what need be to appease you, if you tower above them, and do what needs to be done to you if you stand below them. This is universal, hidden behind those very same pretenses, those very same masks.

Do not trust the mortal mind.

Though what of the oathsworn, those dedicating their lives to the truth, to honor, and for the good of all? Surely, they must be genuine in intent.

Do not trust your known convention.

No. The deceit is universal. Those Knights oathsworn, will say what needs to be said to appease those that would seek to kill the innocent when they cannot defend them. They will go out of their way to smite the forces of darkness that they tower above, and they will walk in masked cruelty for that same purpose. They will manipulate with their words, whether immediate lies or not, to make sure that their role is upheld. For their role is their abject desire, for reasons known only to them. I know this, for I walk the same path.

Do not put your trust blindly in the knight.

I think all this, incriminating myself and my fellows. I paint the world in the black of cynicism, covering it in dread of any personable interaction. Yet, it is up to us, those aware of these flaws, to act with them in tandem. I will smile, I will bow my head to unknown danger, I will maneuver, I will manipulate. I will drive away the dark, I will stand firm against it, I will kill all who bring it. I will act for my desires - so that none more will lead life as I have.

Only trust your heart, and know it to be true.
Last edited by Pav on Wed Jun 27, 2018 1:05 am, edited 1 time in total.

Nevrus
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Re: The Weight of Good

Post by Nevrus » Wed Jun 27, 2018 12:55 am

As the two hundredth bandit of a day takes a swing at me, which just happens to miss by some twist of fate or divine intervention, I think...

I just wanted to help people and hit things. Was this a good idea?

Cyrrollalee knows the number of friends and family who told me not to. Told me to just sit tight and have fun in Gildedbrook. Told me I didn't need to worry about a thing until the end of my days and I'd be better off than anyone could dream.

But I wanted to mean something to someone. To mean something to myself. To do and give, rather than to do nothing and receive anyway.

I look the man in his eyes and see fear, as he grips his sword more tightly. A fear I once knew but surrendered on some altar with some words in some particular order to become something less and more than hin.

To him, I mean death.

But that's how it goes. Actions are choices and choices have consequences. To stand in that place he was standing, swinging that sword at this hin, he made a catastrophic series of poor life decisions. I only get to see the end of that long road, not knowing just how many he's hurt or how many he'd hurt if I wasn't here.

I follow a message to a meeting point to grant the whims of yet another petitioner. Another fire set by one I call close, and I'm the water, as usual. Things only get more out of hand as I run my armored butt off towards it. When I get there, all I see are two idiots who are idiots in a different way than I'm an idiot, and I have to get them to both be an idiot in the same way as each other. No one dies, everyone's happy. Shouldn't I be happy? I'd be happier if my friend knew what to do in the first place.

To him, I mean things getting made right.

Not five minutes later I'm face to face with some criminal of legend. Just my luck. They could snap my neck with one hand, but they're here to talk. They want to know how to get out of the hole they've dug themselves.

I don't have the time or energy in the day to explain the whole process, as usual. I settle with telling them the first three steps and that there'd be more after that, and caution against repeating the same mistakes. Usually they follow through on this recommendation and get one step away from darkness. To me, I just steered a ship away from crushing a flotilla of a thousand other ships.

To him, I mean a path to salvation.

Utterly exhausted, I go home, and make a hearty dinner to share with my love. We talk about all the terrible things that happened to us that day, all the terrible things we expect to happen to us tomorrow, and how not-terrible this moment right now is. This is the only thing that keeps me moving forward, following that relentless marcher without cease, knowing that if I slow down it'll slow him down. He probably feels the same about me. Is that healthy?

To him, I mean everything.

As I start to drift asleep, his warm, tattooed arms wrapped around me better than any blanket, I ask that question again. Was this a good idea? What do I mean?

I've not yet seen the limit but I already surpassed where my imagination guessed it could be. And I just keep going higher, blindly and dumbly. This was a great idea, until it's not. Will that day come?

To me, I mean something that can't be put into words, but can be felt when I see a smile I earned.

To me, I mean Knight.
Ganus- Riding the Isle (Active)
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Consult a medical professional before believing anything Nevrus says.

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Imoen
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Re: The Weight of Good

Post by Imoen » Wed Jun 27, 2018 2:01 pm

Do not fear.

Squire Rose is unconscious on the ground, arrows sticking out from her back. Victoria Kross with her. Once again it is I alone and the sands, and the bandits that plague it. No more room for mistakes, no more room for sloppy tactical errors. The enemy was advancing and I was the last piece on the board keeping our checkmate from happening. I need to get to my squire now! Yet they advance so rapidly, circling like wolves, before one leaps toward me, only to strike at air. They look around in shock, not ever seeing that the bodies prior on the ground were gone too, carried on my back and shrouded in shadow.

Have courage.


We returned to the desert again, just a tenday later, to finish the justice we had failed to complete before. A sandstorm obscured our path, and in a blink of an eye, a turn of my head, they were gone again. Why is teaching so hard?! Alone, I am an enticing target, and all sorts of bandits and creatures creep on me like prey. The hours become a hot day, with no sights of my squire, and I become afraid. I am so hot from sweating I have no choice but to find a small oasis for relief, and remove my helm. Gods, I look so hideous.

Light the way.

I finally stumble out, praying the message I got was true. My armor is cracked and dented, my sword trickling with blood and worn from use, and I’m sweating terribly, with sand in my boots stinging at my toes. And there she was, with a horse, getting ready to search for me alone. Courageous. Strong. And lacking any tactics! What is she thinking? But she is alive. Alive to learn to become a good knight, someday. But am I good enough of a teacher to inspire the next generation of knights?

Our Sacrifice for the next generation

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Re: The Weight of Good

Post by MoreThanThree » Thu Jun 28, 2018 11:58 am

I open my arms.

To lovers I've known for years. To lovers who have been by my side through hard and through soft. To lovers against whom I have fought longer and tougher battles than my greatest enemies. To my cornerstone. To the foundation of my smile.

I open my arms.

To friends who I've known for years. To comrades in arms against the evils that threaten beauty and goodness. To people I see everyday, then every other day, then every other month. To the hardest workers I've ever met. To the Knights by whose side I will die.

I open my arms.

To the wicked who turn to face the Light. To the men and women who run from their own shadows. To destitute and lonely, whose only salvation is my embrace. To the bravest people I have ever met. To the few who rise above the wages of evil.

I open my arms.

To the commoner and to the pauper. To the stranger and to the traveler. To the merchant and to the adventurer. To the one who never stays and to the one who never leaves.
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Eters
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Re: The Weight of Good

Post by Eters » Mon Jul 02, 2018 1:18 am

Mortals, we are mortals, with limits we can't break, with boundaries we can't pass and lines we can't cross, reality is cruel, but honest, it reminds us of our limits with the sour taste of defeat.

I wished to stand, but I knelt down.

Crushed by the guilt of losses I couldn't overcome, damage I couldn't prevent, pains I couldn't mend, fears I couldn't ease.

I wished to stand, but I knelt down.

Overwhelmed by the voices of those that seek my light, seek my guidance, but Gods, how can I lead people, when I can't see the path myself.

I wished to stand, but I knelt down.

Clutching my heart, Agonizing, is it rage I'm feeling, or zeal? Is it justice I seek, or revenge? Where is my honor, when my mind is filled with nothing but murder? Where is my light, when I begin to utter the same words as those I fight? Where is my oath, when I turn into the very blight I loath?

I wished to stand, but I knelt down.

Before the gods I did so, with head lowered in shame, and heart filled with guilt and disdain, but there is wisdom in all that pain, for I am reminded of the weight of the good that I claim, and the enemies at which I aim. Into the abyss I gaze, and my soul is set ablaze, not with the darkness of what I fight, no, only with light.

I wished to stand, and I rose up.

With a heart beating anew, and darkest of emotions banished away, I am a knight whom shall stand, again and again, with the conviction of righteousness as a base, and the smiles of those I cherish as pillars, the oaths I swore as a bastion for my will to never flatter.

Those limits I shall embrace, those boundaries shall be my mold, and those lines a reminder, when arrogance falls upon me, and victories blind me, that I am nothing but a mortal.

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