Many Paths to Many Truths [Kassan]

[Liar]

He laughed. “You do not know what happened to you? Were you not there?” But despite so many brazen words, and every insult and assumption, there was kindness in his face. The audacity was kinship, a trial of Kassan’s understanding and mercy. He was not any less mad than he had been before, but the slave hoped that his strategy had not distanced him from this man. Their eyes had met somehow, but parted quickly. He could not look at the monk’s desperation for long. “The raid that saved you was a disaster.” He spoke slowly, tentatively, as he recalled a thing that was clearly very painful. “We underestimated the strength of the slavers. Innocent people died. A great man died." Legs that had been splayed like sticks out before him bent toward his body then. He wrapped them in old, wintry arms and looked longingly skyward. “He was my brother, the way any man can be when your mother isn’t his. He was the reason I left the South and committed to the Order. In some ways, he was the reason I was captured, and the reason I have not escaped. “And in some ways, he was your father. He gave you this new life by sacrificing his, and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. You became good, and strong.” He looked down again, and tears were shining on his face. “Sometimes I wonder if you aren’t just him, in disguise.”

[Kassan]

"Oh, I was there," Kassan whispered, voice twisting hoarsely. He found it hard to get any more angry, when the slave remained so neutral, something forgiving in that face. Something soft and caring. "The raid...?" he swallowed, sweat coming through the pores of his skin. He wasn't sure if he was even ready for this, now that the truth came spilling out. It came garbled, difficult for Kassan to understand. The monk swallowed, suddenly parched. "of course. The caravan. The masked man." The man wrapped his arms around his knees as if for comfort. Kassan remained still. His brother? Strong? Similar to him? And the tears. Kassan shook a little, blinking slowly and heavily into the darkness. For a moment he said and did nothing, and then finally he relinquished any tenure he held over his weapons and came to sit beside the man. "You have not escaped from the slavers? Who are they? And who saved me -- why was I saved?"

[Liar]

The man nodded. These questions seemed to help his lucidity, the way they put his memories in order. “The slavers were slavers,” he answered, sighing. “As far as I know, their only allies were their buyers. I was taken during the raid, not before. It was a disaster,” he repeated, and his tone grew cold and weary where it had been briefly light. “I— We saved you. Why? Because it was the right thing to do.” His moods fluctuated heavily as he drifted further from the questions and into the familiar realm of impassioned ramblings. “At the height of it, we were called the Ivorn Order. We wore masks carved from bone or white stone or painted to look like it, and we set out to right the world of its wrongs. It was easy enough, at the start. Waiting at home, toiling at work like any other, until they called you to service.” The tears had dried as he described it, evaporated in the tender breeze of happier days. But his grief had left a deep hole, and bitterness inevitably filled it. “The world is full of more wrong than we thought. Corruption always wins in the end—that, and cold steel. “We wanted to free you all, but we miscalculated their strength. I can only assume those who survived made sure you, and some others, were safe. I, on the other hand...” When he could not bring himself to look at Kassan’s eyes, he chose the glaive instead. He repeated, “I was taken, in the raid. I went gladly because I thought they would find me, eventually. But they never did. Said it was too risky. Left me to rot with this terrible man... the only consolation I have is that sometimes I can protect his miserable family from his drunken wrath. It’s a thankless job, but it’s all I have. As far as I know, the Order’s all dead and gone.”

[Kassan]

Kassan felt cold. Not just a cool breeze from the northern wilds... this was ice down his back. The darkling shades of reality, brushing over him like morbid, writhing fingers. The Ivorn Order. The mask flashed before him - the mask of his saviour. It had been no random happening: the raid had been a coordinated rescue attempt, but one that had turned into a bloody mess. "Yes... there is more wrong than right," Kassan nodded, narrowing his eyes, and folding his arms, "but that is a reckless thing to say. Everything will surely corrupt, but only if we do nothing about it. You build your own helplessness." Kassan felt chagrined somehow. His safety had come at the cost of others. He swallowed as the truth rattled out. A life of misery... of nothingness. A false life; and an empty one. The man looked at his glaive. The fact the Order ceased to exist made Kassan feel crestfallen. His thanks seemed misguided now, with nothing or no one to thank, other than Uphis and the fisherman for their salvation. But still... he could seek some kind of closing of the cycle through his own actions. He looked back to the man, pondering for a moment, and then reached out a hand, touching his arm. "I am sorry for misjudging you," he said slowly, "it seems we share more than we disagree on. But it is my faith that makes this worthwhile. It gives me reason."

[Liar]

The slave smiled, showing a broken wall of rotten teeth to the dim moonlight. He nodded. “I accept your apology,” he said slowly, sighing away so many other thoughts as his attention moved between the hand on his arm and the glaive before him. “And I am glad for your faith. I am glad that something was born from all of that.” A flame lit in the window opposite, belonging to the house for which the old man had been thrown. Voices stirred from behind the wall, tired and consoling. A woman to her children. He did not look up,did not even seem to notice them, as he continued. “I was not always godless, but I have always had faith in the Order. It was worth more than all the divine power in the world. It was my reason.” His mouth hung as if he wished to say more, but he decided against it. For all the bumbling tirades and half-hearted offenses and sad, enlightening confessions, he was silent. After a long moment, he lifted his arm. He reached for the glaive as if it were a lost lover found again, caressing the detail on its flat side. “You know the truth, now. I suppose that is all I could have hoped for. If you are kind, if you are as good as the Order was, you will do me one last favor.” He gently pulled the blade toward him, suggesting its progress instead of insisting it, until the blade’s edge rested against the small of his rags-bound chest. “Save me from this life. Let me die knowing you will live yours right.”

[Kassan]

Kassan nodded slowly. "I suppose," he began begrudgingly, "we will put our faith into anything, if it will sustain us. That, I think, is a trait of man." The man silently agreed, remaining quiet for a moment. There was unspoken words on his tongue, but he had said his piece - perhaps. Eventually, the man reached out to touch Kassan's glaive, fingers trailing along the metal, exploring its dark, cold surface. The truth. Yes, he knew some of it now. But a favour? The mans eyes were pleading, not desperate, but hopeful. They brimmed with askance. He slowly moved the blade until it leant on him, taking his life in his own hands. "What...." Kassan looked down at the ground, eyes sparkling with something. Indecision. "Tell me what it is you'd have me do."

[Liar]

The sharp blade had sliced through the black cloth over his heart, and so his breath became shallow beneath it. His hesitance remained in its entirety, the mouth that hung in silent deliberation and the brow that furrowed above it. A choking syllable escaped him before he decided against saying it. His attention had strayed to the window again and it was there that he found his words. “Find them. Organize them.” The words came out like a croak on a dry tongue. “And if there is no one left, be our legacy. You owe us that much.” The bitterness in him died hard, but so would it be difficult to mistake his gratitude. “If you cannot, then tell me you will do good and...” He sighed and, with the weight of his own request looming close, found the strength to say it outright. “K- kill me. I am too old for false hopes.” Then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, ready to accept whatever fate Kassan would grant him.

[Kassan]

"Then they are all here in the city? - for I cannot leave Mother Nyka. Departure cannot truly be an option." Kassan narrowed his eyes, cleansing and purging thoughts, trying so hard to keep his mind clear. The man's request was long and drawn out, desperate and final. But could he truly carry the burden on his shoulders? "A legacy I can be... but not a memory. I will embody the truths of that past, and I will embody them through my spirit, through my glaive, and through my daggers. I will not simply profess to know of the Order, and speak of their memory with fondness." The man asked for death, and Kassan lifted his glaive as if in compliance. But his intentions were not of murder. "And I will not grant you that last request. Death is not in my hands. I kill for Uphis, and Uphis alone. Uphis does not will your death, brother."

[Liar]

EXPERIENCE AWARD Kassan Skill Points Investigation 2 Philosophy 2 Leadership 1 Lore Owned by Uphis The Cost of Freedom The Ivorn Order Notes Good job! Continuation can be found here.