- Messages
- 24
- Character Biography
- Link
Stones that gather to scattered lives spent and ended,
Markers to lives lost and not remembered,
Not of knight or squire placed within the foundation of grief,
Built by depth of duteous thought of one solemn Shallows,
Who hearing the distant call of drifting malcontented departed,
Without memory marking nor grave visited from their fellows,
Did place each stone to help rest their spirits martyred.
Upon the gallows of chance and the cruelty of history poorly writ,
Did the pursuant to the finality cause amend adrift embittered soul's remit,
Thusly with cherished melancholy,
Did pale hand gather the stones to mark for want of tombs,
And set about the resettlement of those bereft of remembrance,
So that foul intent did not form into malefaction matter,
Set against those who still drew breath.
The farmhand knows of the seasons, of the fertility of soil, of the tilling of the field to make it yield much harvest. From the ground worked and applied with toil did nourishment arise for those who worked it and beyond. But to those who toiled within the rich landscape of magic, one could make note of passing seasons that yielded all manner of things. The echoes of rippling cataclysms years before still reverberating within reality influencing the urging of magic user's whim upon the world through time and space. The final curses from endarkened cowls lurking upon the fringes of time creeping into the night terrors of men as but a prelude of their unfurling moment. Such factors could be expounded upon muchly by scholars entrenched within their subjects, toiling to explain an errant event by persistent ripple of intent. But in the matters to which the pursuant of death, Abalon Shallows, did work with gathered stones arranged in pyramid, he knew not precisely each sorrowed story that brought the need to his deeds, but of the existential cause of souls lost without reverence to grave or name, this much was known to him well.
The ripples of those who were cut down in life without closure, without funeral or friend to remember, these souls did Abalon attend. Each stone placed, a pledge in gathered lost who, if left unchecked, might tear through reality itself to place misshapen hand and revenging mind to the task of ensuring that their final breaths left without leaving some memory of them. Such souls had gathered to his duty of care over the course of weeks of visitations by spirit distant and barely perceivable, brought large and insistent by the changing seasons of magic's ebb and flow. Through layline they did course and coalesce, gathering one by one to sympathetic ear and skilful mindfulness to their plight.
The ritual was in demand it seemed. Initially, had been performed alone, solitarily, by Abalon Shallows with all due sincerity. But in recent time quiet word of this deed to be done had been passed between the squires, and knights, and those who did vigilantly guide their efforts true. All were welcome, for an audience to those who would be given peace who had gathered so, would make it all the more powerful. But warning was fairly given, safety was not assured, a wit to react was required of those who wished to assist.
More stones than had been gathered before in recent memory. Signs of the times of conflict and cruel lonely fates. They piled high to the waist, each etched name divined by questioning each spirit in turn in hushed audiences that required much listening in silence by Abalon himself.
The place arranged was a small quiet hill, where the sky did yield much of itself within the Monastery grounds, where nearby babbling stream did soothe the souls that lingered upon the wings of frightful fickle reality. The sun in the fullness of redness as it did dim, and the spirits found the foundation of rock as sextant to their future chartered course. As darkness would envelope, so too would those who might attend.
There a chance that things might turn against the navigation of the souls, instead of into what lay beyond in peace, to form and gather into sinister beasts.
Abalon would stand with comrade in gladness to those stones that would became as dust to those fellows fallen in good fortune to their passage into the next. Such was the fitting respite and repose to the lost and unremembered
Abalon would stand with comrade against those who so gathered, might refuse the path set before them, instead clinging to their embitterment, and taking form betwixt realities, to set about their various maladies.
The season was upon the Order to remember those who had been forgotten distant to their causes, be it in peace or conflict, would remain to be seen by each soul's bent to revenge or peace.
Abalon with white of robe and sure of entwined staff did stand before the mound of stones as he looked around for those who might assist him in this cause as they gathered knowing full well that if alone he must perform this deed, alone he would. Even one soul to attend his efforts to guide peaceful these souls might ensure this ritual be complete without much violent expression. Such things, he sincerely hoped, as his purple eyes did almost will the sun itself into eloping. But wisdom knew that there were many things to begrudge for being so forgotten, lost, broken and left so long, by spirits that had suffered and waited for their moment to abscond their troubles, or inflict them again upon the world by discontented will to live again.