Merrol Deacon the Holy of Faith, Ruddy Fox of the Fall

Role

Chapter 5

In my heart, I never thought to prove myself worthy to so generous and
beautiful a goddess. I am now one of the marked: a true priest of the Lady.
The tattoo on my right hand is more than mortal ink. It is magically embedded
within the skin. It was a cold winter when she marked me with a squall of
snowflakes, but to my delight, I found soon after that Her tattoo changes
with the seasons!

The Fortress is more my home than ever before. We are blessed with many who
show prowess in battle, and the Marshall leads our forces effectively. I do
detect an undercurrent of discontent with the way our enemies fight. Some in
the Fortress choose to focus on short-term goals that lean toward vengeance.
I have tried to steer them back toward the Creed: we fight not for pleasure
or prophet. We fight so others do not have to bear our burden. In these times
the stick is a coninuing source of inspiration. Together, we strive to be an
example of resiliency against the darkness. With every foe I cut down, I try
to inspire others with my passion for the light instead of a passion for
blood. I will speak to the Captain on how I can help train our squires to
remember that.

My conversations with the Prophet Andira are a joy and make me feel needed
for the first time in my life. She has Grown so much in the faith since the
death of her beloved. I see within her a Passion for life - it shows in her
eyes. No longer does she dwell on death, but rather sees that all Seasons are
a time of change: a continuing cycle of death and rebirth. I hope that one
day she can be reunited with him through the Lady, but until that day, her
life has meaning once again. Our talks serve me as well. In my youth, I
struggled with the emotional toll of the endless slaughter of our enemies. My
life had no purpose other than the war. The change in Andira reminds me that
there are other equally important battles to be fought and won.

Thank you, Lady Padwei, for believing in me.

Role

Chapter 4

To my frustration and dismay, my communions with Lady Padwei had taken a turn
for the misunderstanding. Undoubtedly she had been using all of her godly
powers to try and make me understand her point, but to little effect. Yes,
the seasons change. Yes, they have differences between them. My goal,
however, does not:

I am the stick. I am the one who stands fast against the storms of darkness
that threaten to destroy Thera. Though I cannot hold them back myself any
more than a sapling can halt the wind, I can be that resilient example to the
Fortress that the stick was for me all those years ago.

The goal, though noble, was all-encompassing. Lady Padwei sought to show me
that there was more to life than the war. After our conversation, I sought
out the Sunwarden Dreatide, her highest priest. He, too, sought to convince
me of the beauty of each individual season. Only after deep reflection did
their words sink in.

Each season has its unique characteristics. Most are overt such as the
temperature, yet many are subtle and only noticeable to those who take the
time to immerse themselves in the natural world. Take for example the cherry
tree:

Light from cold darkness
New stars grace the heavens
Three budding blossoms

Life-giving treasure
Crimson orbs swollen with blood
Three ripened cherries

Cloth of yellow gold
Aimless sails on azure seas
Three falling leaves

Skeletal fingers
Rigid 'neath a white death shroud
Three barren branches

The cherry tree's goal remains unchanged. It is there to live and grow.
Throughout each season, however, the manifestation of that goal is different.

What I need to do is to hunt evil as a True Maran should. That will always be
my goal. Yet in doing so, I must remain ever vigilant to what goes on around
me and within me. Perhaps to talk about the changes of the seasons to others
will help me remain focused on earning the Lady's mark.

Role

Chapter 3

I have twice now been graced with Lady Padwei's presence, and twice I have
come away with a sense of awe. Although I am a hunter of those who walk in
darkness, there are times when I feel stretched thin with the task I have set
for myself. I admit that I was afraid of becoming what I hunted, a mindless
killer with no thought or remorse. Lady Padwei's reassurance gave me pause to
reflect once more on the purpose of my actions: to "kill the weeds that the
flowers might grow," to paraphrase her words. She reminded me to take the
time to reflect each day on why I slay the dark hearts. If I keep my purpose
to heart, the danger of failing lessens. To reinforce this principle, I will
speak more with the Acolytes in the Fortress about how I can help protect the
helpless by means other than killing the evil ones.

Role

Chapter 2

Reaching down, I carefully cut the smaller brother of the living tree. Though
my part would die, the tree would live and I would gain an important symbol
to remind me of this day. I quickly returned to the village, took some of my
meager belongings and ventured toward more civilized lands while giving the
orc warren a wide berth.

Closing my eyes and clearing my thoughts, I saw the bigger picture.
Akan had enemies. Nature had enemies. For whatever reason, the mountainside
had earned the emnity of the storm. The stick had survived! I could be that
destructive power, cleansing the land with righteous fury. The stick knew the
storm. It had a story to tell. Eyes resolute, hand clenched on the stick, I
continued down the mountain.

Role

Chapter 1

The stick is everything. I found it just outside Akan when I was very young.

For days, a storm had been brewing high up in the mountaintops. We could all
see it coming. The elders knew it for sure, but every dwarf who took but a
step out of the mines felt something was amiss. Old or young, lad or lass...
_something_ was coming. At dusk, hell broke loose. With an earsplitting crack
that shook the mountain, the storm was upon us. Villagers rushed to the
safety of the deepest mineshaft. Jagged streaks of lightning ripped through
the cloud-darkened skies. Chunks of ice hammered the village like the
pummelling fists of so many titans. Somewhere up the slope, a bolt of
lightning ignited the dry timber along the mountainside starting a raging
inferno.

I tell you these things from memory because I did not reach the safety of the
mines. I didn't want to go. The villagers call me simple, ever since I was
small. In truth, I've always felt different from them. Whereas they prefer
the underground depths, the open sky is the place for me. I've never been
much good at speaking aloud and so I don't do it if I can avoid it. Making
friends was never my strong suit either. So, when everyone ran for cover, I
wedged myself in an alley between two buildings with a view so I could watch
Nature's awesome and terrifying power.

If not for the deluge of rain that followed the hail, Akan may very well have
been lost to the fire. Yes, despite what some think they know, stone does
crack if heated enough. Though it does more damage to a city of wood, stone
can and does suffer a fiery doom. After some time, the thunder and lightning
ceased and the rain lightened to a steady drizzle. I hitched up my belt and
wandered up the slopes to see the damage.

Everywhere I looked, trees were rent asunder by the force of the gale. Rows
of fire-blackened stumps greeted me with a toothy grimace. Great mounds of
soft earth lie about in heaps. Earth, Fire, Air and Water. Nature had brought
the full force of her wrath down upon the mountain, but for what purpose?
What offense had the mountain committed? As my eyes took in the breathtaking
destruction, my gaze fell upon a small sapling which had somehow miraculously
survived the maelstrom untouched.

Barely three feet high and as thin as an elf it was! A smaller sapling of
nary a foot forked out from the base. Tiny, delicate leaves, even, on some of
its fingerlike branches! Incredible! Here, despite the destructiveness of the
storm, an example of growth and renewal! As I marvelled at the sight, it
occurred to me that no one from Akan would understand this miracle. They were
good people, solid as the stone they worked, and I bore them no ill will, but
my place was not among them. They would assume me lost in the storm, I know,
so it would be better to simply leave.

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