His jade eyes pierced the veil of heaven, and in silence Darian Beviin prayed.
Chaos was the nature of this world. Death was an affirmed part of the cycle, both necessary and unavoidable. It was not a sad thing to go to Manda, but the circumstances surrounding this massive loss of life were hardly to be celebrated. In his youth, the man fought alongside the finest men of his clan and learned the ways of blade and blaster. His skill with weaponry became renown among a generation of his people, and he gained notoriety as Battlemaster of his Aliit.
Then, he watched his wife and his son die.
Memories of tragedy raced behind his hardened gaze as he leaned on the gnarled staff that supported him in times of crippling peace. In the fleeting days where battle and blood did not race around him, the weight of his chains reminded Darian of the burden he bore, of the people who were his family now and in times gone by. He recalled the word of Kad, the promise of glory beyond the grave, and it breathed contentment into his lungs.
He was not the same man who had gone brazenly into combat against lesser enemies for the sake of fattening his wallet. Such fleeting notions of propriety were lost to him now, a savage warrior who threw off the shackles of "civilization" in honor of service to his family. He took no honors and held no coins. For the son of Artus Beviin, there was no meaning in life beyond the Resol'nare.
"They have gone to His side," he finally spoke, the dryness of his throat eliciting a crack in his voice. "The fallen have gone to Kad to fight His great battle in Manda. Theirs is a duty fulfilled, but one that we must take up in their stead." He looked to [member="Kade Kelborn"] as the other man stood quietly beside him, on the rock face that overlooked a sullen river. His words were crafted not only to inspire, but also to reaffirm, to revitalize, and to console. "Remember that death is not the end, but the beginning of a new battle. We are reaped so that Kad can sow again. The old crop must give way for the new to take its place, but the bountiful harvest He takes from us is given greater purpose than we can know in this lifetime."
When finally the words of Kad Ha'rangir were spent, the High Priest expelled a heavy sigh. His shoulders sagged and his head bowed. "As a frail and fleeting man, I understand the pain. This loss of Brothers and Sisters is an unspeakable thing." His gaze slowly softened as he looked out toward Keldabe, his jaw clenched in deep introspection.
"Rest easy, Kade. I will bear the burden with you, for as long as you carry it."
The links in his unorthodox armor clinked together as he placed a hand on the man's shoulder.
"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la"
Chaos was the nature of this world. Death was an affirmed part of the cycle, both necessary and unavoidable. It was not a sad thing to go to Manda, but the circumstances surrounding this massive loss of life were hardly to be celebrated. In his youth, the man fought alongside the finest men of his clan and learned the ways of blade and blaster. His skill with weaponry became renown among a generation of his people, and he gained notoriety as Battlemaster of his Aliit.
Then, he watched his wife and his son die.
Memories of tragedy raced behind his hardened gaze as he leaned on the gnarled staff that supported him in times of crippling peace. In the fleeting days where battle and blood did not race around him, the weight of his chains reminded Darian of the burden he bore, of the people who were his family now and in times gone by. He recalled the word of Kad, the promise of glory beyond the grave, and it breathed contentment into his lungs.
He was not the same man who had gone brazenly into combat against lesser enemies for the sake of fattening his wallet. Such fleeting notions of propriety were lost to him now, a savage warrior who threw off the shackles of "civilization" in honor of service to his family. He took no honors and held no coins. For the son of Artus Beviin, there was no meaning in life beyond the Resol'nare.
"They have gone to His side," he finally spoke, the dryness of his throat eliciting a crack in his voice. "The fallen have gone to Kad to fight His great battle in Manda. Theirs is a duty fulfilled, but one that we must take up in their stead." He looked to [member="Kade Kelborn"] as the other man stood quietly beside him, on the rock face that overlooked a sullen river. His words were crafted not only to inspire, but also to reaffirm, to revitalize, and to console. "Remember that death is not the end, but the beginning of a new battle. We are reaped so that Kad can sow again. The old crop must give way for the new to take its place, but the bountiful harvest He takes from us is given greater purpose than we can know in this lifetime."
When finally the words of Kad Ha'rangir were spent, the High Priest expelled a heavy sigh. His shoulders sagged and his head bowed. "As a frail and fleeting man, I understand the pain. This loss of Brothers and Sisters is an unspeakable thing." His gaze slowly softened as he looked out toward Keldabe, his jaw clenched in deep introspection.
"Rest easy, Kade. I will bear the burden with you, for as long as you carry it."
The links in his unorthodox armor clinked together as he placed a hand on the man's shoulder.
"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la"