Legends of Belariath

Mozenwrathe

Unclean.... The Reanimation

*The young warrior (eventually, weapons master) Elur was known for his outspoken ways. Even with the soul of a Torian within his Chirot body, did his mind and heart belong to the Chirot ways. Though his views could be radical and occasionally bigoted, he was a Chirot in all the ways one could hope for - especially when it came to the issue of restoring one's life after their death through magic. This was something Elur actually witnessed thrice on a battlefield, and it changed the way he looked at humans and their high elven allies forever.

This scroll discovered by his sylvan elf slave a few weeks after his death explains some of his thoughts on the topic. Even though any who dared to ask him about it would get an earful of silence, the slave once asked him to spell out for her why resurrection was so wrong in his eyes. Being a benevolent master, he acquiesced. Then... he hid the scroll it was all written on. Telling her not to look for it until long after his "time had passed," he left the city where they had been residing and went to another major hub many miles distant. Only by pure providence she did find it again... or perhaps it was fate...?*

The other races, the foul ones, the sinful. Those who desecrate the ways of nature and the Most Honorable Ones Above. Those traitorous and hideous souls who ever dragged such sorcery back from the brimstone depths of the earth who even now laugh at we the Faithful from their shadows. Those bastards who ever thought they would cheat the Great Mother from her due shall know my vengeance... and my sorrow will be upon their heads and weigh heavy upon their hearts.

Those I speak of are the reanimated, the resurrected - those daring and arrogant fiends who find themselves "too good" to obey the way that nature has wished us to be. The offenders of the sacred laws must be punished with the hands of those who are born to grant them the release their souls ought have been given the first time. Their sins only compound and multiply with every resurrection they are the recipient of. Have they not seen how nature takes care of its own? The crabs of the waters eating away the rot and leaving only the clean behind? Flies and the like consuming the waste, leaving the ground richer for it?

Even with them on the tip of my tongue, does my scythe wish to reap their forsaken forms once and then again for good measure. Their blatant ways are an affront to my eyes, and the spirits of my people. Such a gift the eternal slumber is, and to steal it from one whom has earned it is sacreligious, not to mention a coldhearted reward for a soul who wishes to join again with those whom have gone before. Would these same fools steal a child from her mother because they thought it was right? Could their vision be so narrow they would willingly cut off their noses to spite their face?

Then as I observe them from afar, I see how I am right in my assumptions. They rape and plunder each other and themselves with equal impudence. Their clerics are town criers with fancy robes and heavy amounts of gold around their necks. Sorcery rules over their hearts, and their quests for personal power - these ... -hewmahns- of all kinds and types for one - tend to lay waste and ruin to innocent lands and beautiful landscapes become no more than mass open gravesites, perfect for the buzzards and renoituc to snip at with beaks and talons. In a way, the mages remind me most of the renoituc - flying in ways that were never meant to be, consuming all before them, fighting amonst themselves without concern for anything caught between them, and leaving naught of use but their absence.

The gift of life is a treasure, something to be honoured and respected. The gift of the eternal slumber is of equal value and ought be shown more respect than these unbelieving heathens have even cared to toss its way. The -hewmahns- especially fear it with great lust and passion, even though they are more ready to dole out death and devestation than any other race. No ogre horde, no hobgoblin raiding party, no dark elven slaver cadre has ever possessed more fear of death than any group of humans to be found on Belariath. And with that knowledge must I live with, and know that is why they above all others treasure those rituals and incantations which are an abomination in the hearts and minds of all that acknowledge the circle of life most intimately.

This power must somehow I take from the -hewmahns- and give it back to the foul beings who brought it up with them from the innards of the soil itself and have them choke on it. This among all other goals must I strive towards. Even if it takes all my life to accomplish, shall I quest to strip the -hewmahns- at least of this unnatural burden. Do I know such may be improbable and perhaps impossible, but I am only one whom is hated because of my dual nature. I shall not be missed for what I was, but mayhaps after joining my brethren in the great slumber shall I know respect and glory for my person.

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