‘These are Goddamn Gods, I am just a man.’
(The book itself is rather nondescript. A rugged leather cover with clasp kept the elements at bay over time. Now stiff with age, it creaks upon opening. The rest of the journal is quite plain, penned by a single hand – for those whom have read the earlier journals, the penmanship is easily recognizable as being in the hand of Grand Cleric Antillen Torien)
Lliey Herself sits but a few feet away from me, tending to her short sword and oiling her armor. I feel Her presence, as any Mortal should, yet even the Divine embodiment of Hope almost within arm’s reach of me does not lighten my heart as one would envision.
I arrived last night, under cover of darkness – as He had instructed. The act itself felt… blasphemous. We are the Shield, the Protectors, the Diligent, not some rogue skulking around in the shadows. I may have seen my share of Winters over the years, but we of the Devout are still expected to heft the Shield when the Call comes, so the climb into the cliff face of the plateau was not an undue hardship./p>
The hardship, in truth, is witnessing the reality of where we are and how few of us there truly are. The Militant Devout has been lost almost to a man. Whom I see around me are but youth, barely old enough to bring a razor to their chin or barely old enough to bear child - Acolytes and Petitioners, all. A few veterans still stand here and there, but these few… they are not fit for combat. A lost eye here, a maimed leg there. This is not what I expected for returning to the Host of the Divine, battered and fractured as it may be. First and foremost, the Devout are Healers and Protectors.
I will not lie, the sight tried to shake my faith.
Tahln debriefed me at my arrival, in private, after I had secured my gear and found a bunk. I know that I have been removed from the War for, what, almost twenty years, but being addressed in such a man to man fashion by the God whom I had served my entire life… rattled me. It was like I was a new General arriving to take the field, and another General diligently bringing me up to speed.
Apparently Tahln and a few others had separated themselves from the Divine Crusade some years back, initially travelling with the Host to help alleviate the cost and penalty of war to the mortals caught within its reach, and then later leaving as the Host fractured within from infighting – continuing to aid and assist the innocent and victims as they could, even while being hunted by the Soulless.
After some time, the remnants of Priel's followers joined alongside the Devout. The forces of Triel and Lliey, and the Gods themselves, soon joined the ranks here after The Protector and his company successfully kept a Soulless excursion from routing them from where they had encamped.
My first inquiry was to abundance of youth whom seem to have filled the ranks of the fallen. Apparently, my fears of persecution for those of Faith have been realized, for Nations were putting active practitioners of following the Divine to the sword as Enemies of the Nations. Not only were these near-children fighting for their Gods, they were fighting for their lives before they even got here.
When I inquired about the wounded and maimed around, I learned that apparently these Soulless, whom have the ability to strike mortal blows against the Immortal Divines, can also hone in on exceptional uses of Divine power – be it from a Cleric or his God – drawing them like moths to a flame. Thus only the lowest levels of curative magic may be utilized with any hint of safety. And as the years have progressed, the mortal races have produced more and more Soulless… exponentially increasing the chances of detection.
The fact that these moths can extinguish the flame is all most too much for my mind to bear. Then again each and every revelation in these halls could stress the sanity of anyone.
Now that the initial shock is over from my arrival, may I add that I will continue to write and journal what transpires here when I can. The World is spinning out of control, and journals such as this may be the few scraps of answers for those like Jane, whom will be left to pick up the pieces we are shattering today.
Apparently, we are in a stronghold from an Age long past. The closest answer to what it was for or why it was here was whispered cryptically to me by Trius, Courage Himself, as he tirelessly continued his rounds amongst our battered fighting force, bolstering weakened hearts and wills: “This is where We Ourselves first staged Our own attack on the Gods of Our time.”
Even the twinkle in the God’s eyes did little to abate the shock of that discovery. However, I have just left my wife and daughter to fend for themselves in the middle of nowhere with but Tahln’s brazier to protect and support them. I can count at least two dozen theological treatises that might as well be burnt to ash after His statement, but I will not let shock lead to disbelief. It is my belief and Faith that brought me here along this long road and it is by my belief and Faith that I will stay.
As I travelled throughout the Stronghold tonight, acclimating myself to my new surroundings… in one of the larger chambers I came across a small shrine, unlike any other I had witnessed in my lifetime. A simple dais, lit by a few votive candles at the corners, with a Greataxe, splashed and stained with dried blood, resting upon it.
Upon closer inspection, underneath the layers of crimson dried almost black from time, I could barely recognize the word “Acclaim” ornately etched along its hilt.
“He knew Glory was not to be Ours, yet He still led the charge…”
I spun around to find Lliey behind me near the entrance to the chamber.
“Glory, Priel, was the first of Us to fall to the Soulless. We did not find his body when We finally returned to that field, but We did find His Axe resting where He had fell. I thought that with even but a piece of Him with Us, it might make My job easier… there may be no Glory to this War anymore, but what would happen if I, Hope and Joy, turned to Despair? Trius does what he can to support Us just as he does the followers here, but even Us Gods need our own tokens of Hope in these dark times…”
The Lady of Hope and Joy went silent for a moment, and stepped up to the dais, hefting Priel’s Axe. “The worst part is that He knew. A handful of Mortals had given thanks in His name when the Soulless were created. They thanked Him for the ability to kill Us. They invoked his name before the fight saying that ‘Glory will be taken by the Nations’… and He still led the charge.”
I have seen people weep with tears of Joy over my years. I wept them myself at the birth of both my son and daughter. Her tears were anything but. Lit by the wall sconces, they appeared as liquid crystal falling upon the blade in her hands, returning the crimson hue to the memory of a dead god from the darkness blemishing its perfect form.
She returned the blade to its original resting spot on the dais. “But I am Hope. I refuse to be anything but.”
Turning to me, she continued: “You too, Antillen. You are Hope. You, and the remainder of those who stand within these halls. Trius and I have heard whispers from across the world, from those who forget that We can still hear Our names, or from those who invoke Our name by simple habit. The Nations stand poised upon their greatest victory and their greatest defeat. I fear the price of their Victory may be too high for them to bear. You and I may well not see the next winter on this plane, but your child... your wife… your memory and teachings will help shape this next world. The same as each and every other family left behind as We ready ourselves in these halls for the inevitable.”
Had I not a lifetime of devotion to Tahln behind me, a lifetime of living and breathing the Tenants of the Devout… I may have dropped to my knee and sworn fealty and faith as one of Her Rapturous right then and there. Yet, I knew with whom I stood and where I was needed: with the Devout. Alongside Her Rapturous. Alongside the few remaining Acclaimed of Priel. Alongside the Valorous of Trius. Brothers and Sisters of Faith fighting with, and for, our Gods and our lives.
However, after a speech like that, I think I will sleep a little easier each night onward.
Achieving First Order of the Devout not only required exemplary martial skill and Faith, it also required a vast study on warfare: tactics, logistics, support, coordination. More than a few Generals and High Marshals of various Nations have either been taught, or lectured, within our Cathedral walls over the years regarding the simple, yet expansive, topic of man killing man.
With the presence of the Gods, I had figured that it would be They whom took command. But no, the dice have been cast with my name on it. Countless briefings with the various Gods, putting Themselves in my charge. Even more reports and conversations regarding readiness from those of any significant rank from the other Churches. All of them answering to me.
This is something I was not ready for: the Gods are telling a man to move and use them as Chess pieces – a pawn, a rook, a knight, or a queen... Trius, apparently, read my exacerbation. He motioned me over to one of the storerooms that had apparently turned into my War Room for the inevitable fight. The never ending twinkle in his eyes and his disarming grin barely affected my frustration.
He motioned me to one of the chairs and would not sit down until after I did. Do these Gods realize the paradox I am now living?
He spoke first: “Let me guess. ‘Why me?’ ‘Why this way?’ ‘These are Goddamn Gods, I am just a man.’ Any of those hitting close to the mark, Antillen?” And again, that grin of Divine epicness.
I could not help but laugh. When a God decides to be charming, it is a lost cause for a mortal. “The first two. However a lesser man may have said a bit more than just ‘Goddamn Gods’ in the third…”
He returned the laughter. “You’re right. But you are not a lesser man, are you? Don’t answer that. We both know better. I’ll be completely up front with you, since we’re telling you that you have to be the one who holds all the cards – our Divinity is our own shortcoming.”
I just stared blankly at such a crass, yet honest, comment. Courage also apparently means the fortitude to say things exactly as they are: up front, no bias. Full-fledged truth out in the great wide open. It was going to be a very interesting conversation, apparently.
“You see, Ant… It’s OK if I call you Ant, right? We’re not omnipotent. That’s as obvious as all bloody hell. Otherwise we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we? All the prayers and uses of Our various names did bring Us worlds of information, but those days have passed. Apparently the days of one of Us showing up and doing some self-gratifying act of Divine Intervention in Our name has passed too. We just cannot show up and yell ‘Stop!’ and expect everyone to listen. Sure, back then we could tower over a mountain and sneeze out snot fireballs to burn down some City or Army or Whatever without any fear of reprisal. Since we abolished our Domains, not anymore. We’re as locked into the size you see in front of you just as you’re locked into yours. Something about resuming our natural form for returning in True to this Plane, or some theoretical mumbo jumbo along those lines.”
A very interesting conversation, indeed. I sat quietly and just listened as He continued.
“Speaking of snot fireballs and random acts of Godly Might and Magic, it raises the question of why We aren’t raining the wrath of the Gods down on whom We fight again and again to come out Victorious?” He raised an eyebrow, apparently anticipating a response.
“Now that you mention it, yes. The question had been forming in my mind. I kind of envisioned legions of mages raining spells against you, only to see You all shrug and reflect them back – battle won.”
“Again, there’s some more smatterings of that theoretical mumbo jumbo I just mentioned here. However, at the start of things… that is exactly what we did. The Nations then changed tactics on us – instead of their magic users being the artillery, they switched to being a shield. Whole platoons of mages tasked with nothing but creating areas to nullify magic, to dispel or reflect things that might be coming at their armies. They actually got pretty good at it, too. So We started working on dispelling their dispellings, reflecting their reflects, and whatnot. It simply turned into a magical stalemate. They couldn’t hit Us, We couldn’t hit them. So it turned into a ground war. All that magic being thrown around offensively or defensively took away ranged warfare on top of things. No arrows, no ballistae, no catapults, no siege weapons or mechanics. So let me say it resulted in a very nasty ground war, because no way was the other side going to let a simple thing like flight or invisibility come into play on the field either. Now that I think about it, that moment that We lost the magical edge was probably the first turning point in the war for the mortals, not Priel’s death. His death was actually the start of their victory.
“But We are Gods, you’re probably thinking. One might think that would still give Us the edge. Versus a thousand mages casting a thousand spells, a God, or even a Host of Gods… can only do so much. Your turn, speak.”
Again, I could not but laugh with his straightforward delivery and how the threw the conversation back into my hands. “But me? Leading this fight? I may be biased, but wouldn’t that be better suited for Nalie or Tahln?”
“Valid points. Having War here would be a Blessing, but when the Divine Crusade fractured, she went off into the world with her Strife Bearers to conduct guerrilla warfare against the Soulless. The Protector, however has the same shortcomings all of Us, even Nalie, that will forever make us unfit for leadership.”
“I nearly blaspheme with these words, but what shortcomings might those be?”
“First: We are not familiar with the concept of mortality. It used to be show up, use potentially overwhelming force, and continue on with Our day. We do not know how to adjust some many, many, countless years of well-trained habit to adjust for that simple concept of being killed. Second, this is ground warfare, fought by Men and Gods, side by side. Sidelining one of Us severely cripples this army’s strength. However, that is secondary to the fact that none of Us really know how to actually fight a ground war. It is you mortals, who do.
Trius paused for a moment, apparently wanting his next statement to stand apart from everything else. “And you may not realize it, but you either helped train or studied with the selfsame Generals and Marshalls whom lead the Nations’ armies against us. Some of them may be more practiced in the field, but you are familiar with everything that they know, in one way or another.”
I will not lie, they were amazing stories.
But for now, I have a war to plan and some sleep to get.
