Lost in the Mists
His body is cold, metal and spiky, but his laughter is warm.
Goodman cuts an imposing figure, halfway to seven feet tall and seemingly made of metal, with spikes jutting out at all angles from his body. However, as soon as you speak with him you can tell that within is a man of love and warmth doing his best to personify The Morninglord, who’s rose-tinted disc is affixed to his chest.
Vosk was delivering yet another impassioned speech, rallying the nobles to his cause, getting them to pledge gold and sons “For Miredus!”. Everything was going exactly as planned: He was Advisor to the most powerful man in the country and they were rapidly gaining support to crush their selfish neighbors and become the one true kingdom. Darvis chuckled to himself, thinking about his simple cleric vestments he once wore, as contrasted by the gold trimmed silken robes he now donned. All thanks to a simple letter.
Two years ago Pelor had shown Darvis that this drought would come and he had done his due diligence to warn his Bishop about it. But Bishop Learley was a small-brained man with the eyes of an imbecile and so Darvis was ignored. The harder he tried, the harsher he was punished until, after being demoted to a church in the most remote part of Miredus, a letter arrived addressed to him, sealed but unsigned. It laid out a full course of action for the next year and explained how it would all result in more power than Darvis had ever known.
Perhaps a weaker man would have ignored it, but a year of punishment and belittlement at the hands of an incompetent Bishop had turned Darvis hard. He followed the plan in the letter exactly, rapidly rising in power in the local church, eventually meeting, befriending and advising Vosk Faydan, Regent of Miredus. Then when the drought came, as Darvis said it would, it took very little prompting for the power-hungry Vosk to be turned to the war path. Untold glory awaited, said the letter.
Half a year passed…
The war couldn’t have gone better, leaving Miredus the sole nation standing. Its neighbors would rebuild, with their help, and then the greedy fools would pay fealty to Miredus! Vosk declared himself the rightful king, but promised Darvis a Regency in Strava. The night of the coronation feast the laughter came, and then the darkness took the stars. In the midst of the panic Darvis heard a warm, gentle voice say
“You are not the man you once were, Darvis Frondsun. Where you are being taken I cannot follow. But I believe you can be redeem, if you can find the good man you once were. Let your form be your reminder.”
Cold replaced warmth in an instant, and blackness replaced light.
Five years passed…
I’ve been trapped inside this metal body for years now. Maybe it’s a blessing, no one recognizes me now, and I can hide my shame behind it. It’s been several months since The Morning Lord called me. His voice is similar to Pelor’s, but sounds…pained and younger somehow. He told me that soon I would be needed to fight against the crushing darkness and redeem myself from my past. I came out of my exile and have been hunting the unliving and protecting the people of Miredus since. Maybe if I’d had them in mind in the first place, none of them would have been dragged to this place at all.
I must be the good man I once was. I will be redeemed and save these people I have condemned, no matter the cost.