Elder Players' - Game Handouts
The world be shades of color across the spectrum of light, and ranges from blackest dim to blinding bright. But for the few braves souls that walk The Narrow Path, the world must be black and white, wrong and right. There are those that dwell in pits of darkness, but the Knight of the Rose dwell in the crisp clear light of goodness. Reason must rule emotion. Good must rule over evil. Law must rule over favoritism. The group must live beyond the individual. And the light of life must be preserved, unless it threatens the life of another. It is the Knights of the Rose that must lead the way on The Narrow Path, and once a Knight steps from the Path he is forever lost. Below is our code....
-Sir Phineous Thorn
The Code of the Narrow Path
(for Ruahdin and Jeremiah)
TORN BY THE WYRM'S TEAR
Ruahdin grimaced in pain…a horrible feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. "They stole my bag…MY BAG!
Anything of value I get…they will secret away from me…TAKE WHAT IS MINE! Next they'll be wanting to take the Wyrm's
Tear from me…."
Zeek patted Ruahdin on his shoulder. "You seem lost in your thoughts good knight…is there anything I can do for you? Would you like me to brew you some of the Empire Tea that Will gave us? It has a most soothing effect on the humours…no?"
Ruahdin's head snapped around, and his fiery eyes met Zeek's…his mouth was pursed into a hateful shape, and he was about to scream some angry accusations at the tattoo'd monk. But he stopped himself, and with some effort gained his composure. Zeek had a worried look on his face, and he withdrew his hand from Ruahdin's shoulder. Finally Ruahdin trusted himself to respond. "Yes…yes, good monk. A mug of Will's fine tea. Would…would do me good. Thank you."
Ruahdin realized he had made a grave error. Carefully tucked away among his clothing was an item of great evil. An item that not only threatened to doom his soul…but an item that was at this very moment successfully dooming his soul. "How have I come to this point…where I trust the answer to the devil-problem to an evil magical item? When did I lose faith in my god…and my essential goodness? I will surely burn in hell for keeping, and coveting, and planning to use the Wyrm's Tear…."
Zeek brought over the steaming mug of tea, without saying anything further to Ruahdin. The monk was wise enough to recognize someone wrestling with their own demons.
Ruahdin looked at Jeremiah, dozing off…his face lit by the flickering fire. "Why had the priest allowed him to do this? Why did Jeremiah always seem to be misleading him…holding back information…keeping him in the dark. Was this the way of Thorn's Men…was Jeremiah still on the Narrow Path? Surely not…surely not."
Then the evil settled upon Ruahdin again. "Fuck the priest…Fuck the Narrow path. What I seek is power…the power to vanquish my enemies…ALL my enemies. And the Wyrm's Tear gives me that power…NO!" Ruahdin was torn. He was beset with his own inner doubts…the new found power of the Wyrm's Tear tearing away at his paladin's code. Which side of him would win out?
MASTER DOLA RETURNS
"Do you love the Valley of Mists, my son? Do you know your mother's womb calls to you? Have you not chosen
to follow a foreign path…a way that has led to many wrongs in the world? You are no longer pure. You are no longer
a spirit of power. You are no longer of Wudan. Is that a choice you have made…or a choice made for you?
Zeek shook his head. He had come to the spirits for information on the Demons…or Devils, whatever. Now Master Dola had appeared, and appeared very angry. "I died…I died, Master Dola. Heironeous gave me a second chance, and returned me to the land of the living to complete a great crusade in his name. You can't ignore such power."
Master Dola laughed. "You can't ignore such power? Ignore this child of the Mist." The Master waved his hand, and Zeek felt a tingling sensation on his face and abdomen, and in other scarred locations of his body. He put his hands on the locations that tingled, and they were warm…and smooth. His hands sought out his face, and the scars were gone…he was whole. "You ran to another for help. You sought out the foreigner's compassion, instead of that of your forefathers. Though the ancients should abandon you for such rebellion, they are spirits of love. Return to the religion of your ancestors, my son. Grow in the power of the religion you were born to. Insult us no longer."
Zeek's hands were still on his face, and tears ran from his eyes. "Master…forgive me. Forgive my lack of faith."
Master Dola laughed again. He feinted with his right hand as though he was going to strike Zeek on the right side of his head. Zeek moved to block the blow, and felt Master Dola's left hand smacking the left side of his head. Zeek laughed now also. Master Dola put his arm around Zeek's shoulder, and they began to walk through the Mists. "My son…you have done much good. But you have also made mistakes. All that we ask is that you keep trying. Don't let the foreigner's religion confuse good and evil for you…follow your own heart."
Master Dola suddenly looked very old. "One last thing…Your spiritual brother, the Raksasha in the Mists, he has grown in strength since his fall at your hands. He has taken the holdings of LoChoi, and profited well from them…growing his Empire well beyond what he took from that old crooked vampire. His holdings within the Azure Kingdom are lost to him for now…but his holdings included many profitable ventures outside the confines of the Kingdom. Beware him…for you still hold the key…you still possess something he wants…." And Master Dola was gone.
Zeek smiled, and rubbed his unscarred face. "I will not fail you, ancestor. I am a Azeekeil Ah-Rathra Tojiero of Viesland der Tunderoc…and I will not forget from whence I came."
A PRIEST WONDERS AT HIS PLACE
Jeremiah rises from his knees…and brushes the dirt from his pants. "Heironeous says that he is with me.
Heironeous says that he has forgiven me. But, why do I feel cut off from his grace. What have I done or not done?
How have I displeased him?"
Jeremiah considers his conversion to the Kempin religion's aspect of Kempin the Stone…god of strength. He feels the ceremonial iron rod swinging from his belt…the symbol of this god, so like Heironeous. Jeremiah was sure that his straddling between the two religions was not the problem…this was the same god, worshipped by two different cultures. He was sure of it.
Was it the failure at Birchmont? Was it the accidental breaking of the Holy Sword? Was it the half-truths told to the paladin here and there over the past few months? Just what was it that separated him from his lord? Perhaps Heironeous had chosen others to wok through. Perhaps Jeremiah's opportunity had passed….
Jeremiah shook his head back and forth to clear it. Hadn't he just promised to maintain his faith? Hadn't he just resolved himself to no longer doubt his god? Yes…yes. Have faith priest…have faith.