Day 5, Spring of 514 A.V.
"You are fond of books. Look it up," Ivak had said.
Easier said than done. The information had been there of course, hidden within the shelves upon shelves of books at the library, waiting for heroes to come and free it from the crisp pages that confined it, ready to speak of secrets and mysteries for any willing to listen. Only, the information that Sal needed was not to be found in any book.
He had read of Ivak, how he was imprisoned after bringing Mizahar to its knees. Some cruel fate in fact, that after all Ivak had done in the name of his love for Kova, he had been kept from her still. Perhaps that was more punishment than his incarceration had been. He had read that in the aftermath of all that destruction had been born to the world The Azenth, of which Sal could now consider himself part of.
He had read of The Azenth, how its membership was compiled of individuals going solo, following their own paths. No secret meetings with hoods and anonymity, under the pale moonlight. No grand structures or statues to celebrate their god and offer praise and thanks. No spreading the word, enticing others to join the fold while regarding non-believers with condescending glances. Of course, that meant little in the way of literature from the inside, but instead a collection of observations and opinions from the outside in. Since Ivak had left a bitter taste in most mouths - what did the harbinger of the almost end of the world expect - most of what Sal could find was hardly written with the motive of putting The Azenth in a flattering light.
So it went. The information was there. Just not the right information.
In truth, what he did find painted The Azenth in more mysterious and cryptic strokes than Ivak had eluded to himself only days earlier. Amidst the words of theory and ideas, it seemed that nobody really knew much about them at all.
Well that was of little help. What driving agenda did Sal possibly have? He would be ignoring the truth if he did not heed that second part though. There had been emotionl upheaval, but was that not now buried in the past along with... Concentrate Sal, he instructed himself, trying to deflect thoughts that clawed at his mind.
This segment from another book was equally unhelpful, supporting yet further the idea that he really was alone in this. Further flicking through pages and documents tossed up more of the same. The Azenth were either such an unpopular subject that they had been altogether neglected, or their elite members had literally gone from library to library ripping out pages in order to sustain their mystery.
Curse you Ivak. You make me your subject but do not tell me what I am to do. He beat the table with a fist, drawing a glance or two from nearby patrons of the library. Commanding his growing frustration, he forced himself to press on. In doing so, he finally came upon a chapter in his pile of books that proved promising. The Families of the Azenth? This shows promise, he remarked with a little optimism.
Easier said than done. The information had been there of course, hidden within the shelves upon shelves of books at the library, waiting for heroes to come and free it from the crisp pages that confined it, ready to speak of secrets and mysteries for any willing to listen. Only, the information that Sal needed was not to be found in any book.
He had read of Ivak, how he was imprisoned after bringing Mizahar to its knees. Some cruel fate in fact, that after all Ivak had done in the name of his love for Kova, he had been kept from her still. Perhaps that was more punishment than his incarceration had been. He had read that in the aftermath of all that destruction had been born to the world The Azenth, of which Sal could now consider himself part of.
He had read of The Azenth, how its membership was compiled of individuals going solo, following their own paths. No secret meetings with hoods and anonymity, under the pale moonlight. No grand structures or statues to celebrate their god and offer praise and thanks. No spreading the word, enticing others to join the fold while regarding non-believers with condescending glances. Of course, that meant little in the way of literature from the inside, but instead a collection of observations and opinions from the outside in. Since Ivak had left a bitter taste in most mouths - what did the harbinger of the almost end of the world expect - most of what Sal could find was hardly written with the motive of putting The Azenth in a flattering light.
So it went. The information was there. Just not the right information.
In truth, what he did find painted The Azenth in more mysterious and cryptic strokes than Ivak had eluded to himself only days earlier. Amidst the words of theory and ideas, it seemed that nobody really knew much about them at all.
'Ivak picks individuals that already have a driving agenda or underlying emotional upheaval which parallels his own and empowers them so they can further their own causes.
Well that was of little help. What driving agenda did Sal possibly have? He would be ignoring the truth if he did not heed that second part though. There had been emotionl upheaval, but was that not now buried in the past along with... Concentrate Sal, he instructed himself, trying to deflect thoughts that clawed at his mind.
Each Azenth is different. They are not a cult nor a traditional faction with induction and strict rules.
This segment from another book was equally unhelpful, supporting yet further the idea that he really was alone in this. Further flicking through pages and documents tossed up more of the same. The Azenth were either such an unpopular subject that they had been altogether neglected, or their elite members had literally gone from library to library ripping out pages in order to sustain their mystery.
Curse you Ivak. You make me your subject but do not tell me what I am to do. He beat the table with a fist, drawing a glance or two from nearby patrons of the library. Commanding his growing frustration, he forced himself to press on. In doing so, he finally came upon a chapter in his pile of books that proved promising. The Families of the Azenth? This shows promise, he remarked with a little optimism.