Role

Chapter 10

Istdinen stretched his back, pulling himself away from the
current volume he had picked up from the great library of
Hamsah. An ancient treatise written in the days of the
the Servants on the Liberation of the Oppressed. Though
many writers had contributed to it and it's base theories
were sound, he took issue with a good deal of their
approach to many things. They were careless, even at times
reckless in their approach to soothing the pains of the
world they so loved. It carried insight to both the
good intentions of many yet he found it an annoyance. With
more thought they would have, beyond doubt, been more effective.

Jotting down a few notes carefully in the margin of the
copy of the manuscript; how he would have loved to be in the
possession of the original, he gazed up at the tavern's
waitress bringing him another pot of tea and frowned. Such
a waste living one's life in such lack of further persuits
of the mind and spirit was an affront to his own sensablities,
but everyone had their place. laying a pair of silver crowns
before him he returned to his books and writing giving her
no more consideration than he would have the furniture he
now occupied.

Istdinen simply could not read further. Months had passed
and the voice in the back of his mind sounded louder than
ever. Time was drawing near to see and record the world that
lay beyond Darsylon for himself. Many had done so before him,
but his unbiased perspective, in his own mind, would lay many
of the records, roles and legends out for what they really
were. He was a scribe and a healer. Pain was a necessary
part of the world, and he would aid as he could with the same
zeal he persued his studies, but pleasing his own mind and
worth not only to himself, but to his Goddess would always
come first. Knowledge was out there waiting for him to
gather and scribe.