Role

Chapter 8

Bazz sits at a Scribe's desk. Nearby, A crackling blaze fills the fireplace,
casting figures of dancing light and shadow on the cold stone walls.

He surveys the room a final time. Finding nothing amiss, he reaches into the
sleeve of his robe for a small black book. After navigating the piles of
blankets atop him, the book is at last laid open to a blank page. Bazz begins
to write:


//Journal Entry 97

I feel old today, as if the calendar has simply not caught up to me yet. Each
of us has moments in their lives that we believe will forever define us.
These moments add a weight to who we are, and as of late I felt it beginning
to crush me.

I did not know or like who I was in my earliest memories, but I felt that
through my works as an Acolyte I could aid the Fortress, spread the Light,
and perhaps, selfishly, gain respect for myself. I accepted the trust of Lady
Azorinne and became Elder Prophet, almost immediately stepping into a rising
conflict between the Fortress and Spire, with many Maran teetering on the
edge of the Light. My words and actions felt not enough. I thought then that
raising awareness of the unseen damage caused by our actions would be what I
had to spend the rest of my life doing. My friends fall in endless conflict,
despite my best efforts to save them. I have seen the membership of the
Fortress change almost in its entirety, with even my closest friends falling
away, and I feel that I could have stopped this.

The person I am today is built of all of these experiences, and through it
all, I have always felt an underlying purpose. Only recently have I been able
to form words to describe it. Alongside these words I also acknowledged to
myself that I am drawn to Lady Azorinne's teachings in the Light. Somehow,
despite her many years of seeing all of the pain and failures in the world,
she is not overwhelmed by its weight. When I asked her for guidance, she told
me I have to ask myself one important question, "Did I stop?" And NO, I did
not stop trying, I *want* to do all of the things I know I must, and with her
guidance I know I can. I laid out for her the vow that I had finally put
words to:

"I vow to actively seek out those with pain hidden in their hearts, to
provide a willing ear to listen and unburden them of it, and to guide them in
the Light."

And as I stood after speaking my oath, my purpose and future actions
unchanged by making this vow I already kept, *she* unburdened *me*. She asked
me to explore Mercy. So simple. But I have known joy, and good friends, and
successfully protected the Light, and helped the Fortress, yet never realized
that Mercy is not just for others, it can be a gift we give to ourselves.
Instead of punshing myself for what I could not do, I forgive myself. And so
simply, I feel many weights lifted from me, allowing me to do more, never
stopping.