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 A Troubled Economy Journals: Tjordiir Trueforger
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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
2263 Posts

Posted - 07 Dec 2020 :  16:21:27  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Home Again

02 NOV 2020

Without deception, what defines truth?

Throughout centuries; kings, captains, and all other men of power have lied for their agenda. This does not make these men bad, a far cry from evil. Deception is often necessary to push the masses towards a common goal, how else can you convince and army to march to their death to protect the ones they love?

Glory is the greatest falsehood uttered by mortal lips.

To say glory is without purpose is far from the truth. There is purpose in death, just as there is purpose is life. Inspired by their fallen companions, those who remain will rally to push back their adversaries. Those who perish will provide their souls to their chosen deity, providing them with the power of true belief.

There is no greater freedom beyond death itself…

“Peace… at last,” Danjo shed a single tear as his eviscerated abdomen spilled its contents on the ground. The old man’s face seemed to smile as the final moments of life faded from his face. Shino took Raugathuld in hand, rending his father’s head from his corpse and pressing forward.

A simple, familar chime rang in Tjordiir’s ears as three dreadwraiths rounded the corner to finish what Pandorym had started.

“Peace, at last,” the old samurai’s final words hung heavy on the air…

The chimes rang again, waking Tjordiir from his sleep with a start. Alim had Tjordiir’s head propped in his lap and was gently stroking his matted hair.

“You were having a terrible nightmare, Arausamman, are you all right?”

Tjordiir blinked, his mind a fog as he looked around his Athkatlan flat. Everything sharpened as his eyes adjusted and he looked to Alim’s face, where a simple kindness stared back. Tjordiir hugged the elf, sobbing into his lap.

“I don’t want to go back,” he cried, “Don’t send me back.”

Tjordiir sprinted towards the wraiths, blades in hand. Shayzala, in a fury, unleashed her holy destruction upon the wraiths, enveloping them in righteous flame. Tjordiir came close to one of the wraiths, eager to meet their wrath. In a mighty blow, he sundered the wraith that stood before him. Disappointed, followed through to the others that stood, only to find them equally easy foes. Pandorym’s purple mist seeped out from where it rested and Tjordiir ran back as the rest of his allies gathered to push on. He started at the crystal that had rendered Chand into nothingness and charged straight into it.

“Glory or death, I am ready,” he thought to himself as his blade made contact with Pandorym’s crystalline form, releasing him from his torment.

Tjordiir lie in Alim’s lap, simply sobbing and saying nothing as he felt the comfort of his home fade. His vision blurred until his homely flat was nothing more then a blur, replaced with the sealed chamber of Pandorym. Around him, his companions all stood in full health, staring at the door the would bring about their destruction, if not the destruction of Toril itself.

Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring
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cpthero2
Great Reader

USA
2263 Posts

Posted - 20 Dec 2020 :  23:31:03  Show Profile  Visit cpthero2's Homepage Send cpthero2 a Private Message  Reply with Quote
Leap of Faith

12 DEC 2020

Mist creeps from the etched stone doors ad they part. Danjo coughs as “Domination,” hangs in the air. Epaphus’s hand drops from the runes, and to his throat, as he gasps for air. Shino drops to the ground, just as pained as his brothers beside him.

Tjordiir took a breath and pushed into the mist.

He stared into the middle of the room, foresight heavy on his mind. The mist was thick inside the chamber, but he was almost certain he could see the crystal within. The piercing clang of Findargland striking the crystal rang in his ear as he stared, unblinking into oblivion.

“Hold fast!” he heard Danjo yell through his fits of coughs, causing the coughing to silence.

“Belief,” Tjordiir thought to himself. Even the devil he prostrated to was so adamant, “Nothing can obfuscate faith or belief.” Even with the Luckmaiden, it was his own faith that had kept him alive, not the luck he so often praised.

“I understand now, Lady. My path has truly been my own this entire time. Everything I’ve done, I’ve believed I could do.”

Tjordiir takes another deep breath, staring into the mist, prepared to take a leap of faith.

Higher Atlar
Spirit Soaring
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