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From the Record of a Rogue Godseeker

Forum-Index Fanmades Fanfictions From the Record of a Rogue Godseeker
Interna_Chaotica
OFFLINE
Trainerlevel: 36

Forum Posts: 51
Posted: Fri, 15/11/2024 19:38 (2 Months ago)

Quote from The Godseeker's Preamble
If you have stumbled across these texts on your own, then that means I am dead. Do not fret my life, nor feel pity for me; I have fulfilled my purpose that was bestowed by the gods, and now I meet them and feast in their great presences. But please, as my final wish, I ask that you share these tales. Tell them among your friends and family, whisper them to the bards and the poets. Leave this bound novel of tales somewhere that it can be found when you have finished reading it.



Prologue - The Godseeker Entente

xxxxxWe are, or were, once a famous and renowned cult unique to the Northern Reaches. At first, an attempted guild, then a failed guild. We poured over religious texts of all sorts, often needing to send agents to strange and unusual monasteries and churches, obeying bizarre rituals and processes to be accepted into their culture for even a matter of days. Our goals were never something hostile, at least while I was still recognized as a member of our loose organization. Rather, we sought the knowledge of deities. We believed that, if we were successful, we could impart the knowledge of these deities on the world and bring them closer to their gods and goddesses. I was still a stranger to the ways of the Entente when I first realized the foul truth hidden beneath the mask of righteousness. Certain beliefs worked traitorous puppet strings within our organization, spreading their deities far and wide through the use of hidden missionaries. Only the inner circle, our Godrisen Acolytes, were uncorrupted.

xxxxxWhen I stood before those I believed to be my kin, I called out to them and begged for these hidden fools to be revealed and cast out; endorsed by the Godrisen, I believed myself invincible to the lies of the missionaries. Instead, those lies disassembled my authority and credibility, and my kinsmen called for my expulsion from our false cult. However, the Godrisen did not endorse those calls. They could do nothing without proof. Sadly, that meant that the spoken threats to my life could not be used to expel the hidden traitors, nor could the missing texts of sensitive religions be called to attention, for the thieves were never caught. I took it upon myself to step away from these liars and blasphemers of our beliefs, and so became the first of my kind: the Rogue Godseeker, neither exiled nor slain in the line of my duties. Rather, the final true Godseeker, devoted both to my gods and the true dictations of the first Godrisen Acolytes. I have, in the years of my life, traveled far and seen much. And, to keep those memories in order, I have written them down. If there are other pages scattered around this one, seek them in order. I have numbered them carefully as I have with the memories that first gave rise to these stories. Chronologically, they will make far more sense to any reader.


Now please, read on. Enjoy the tales from far and wide.
Interna_Chaotica
OFFLINE
Trainerlevel: 36

Forum Posts: 51
Posted: Wed, 20/11/2024 04:16 (2 Months ago)
Tale One: A Lie as Old as Trees

Quote from The Rogue's Note
Now, before I begin on this tail, as I'm sure I will tell it later, let me say this: I had no idea what I would see this day. As many coincidences and odd conveniences occur, I assure you that they are all just coincidences and odd conveniences. With that said, I can finally begin telling this story.



xxxxxFar on the south end of the world, on my first self-assigned mission to discover a much-debated presence of an exotic pantheon, I first heard of a mysterious falsehood hidden by centuries of root and soil. At first, I was investigating rumors of an isolated piece of humanity, a civilized group of exiles that wrote with odd symbols and crafted tools of rare metals and powerful steel. They were renowned, even by those that turned their noses up, as masters of the forge and hammer. Their weapons sold not for the common coin, though, only ever traded for material; metal for metal, and nothing else tolerated. When their merchants trekked to and from the market, they carried their goods in enormous pouches that they draped across their shoulders or ragged bags that they laid across the backs of steady mules. The tools and weapons, even plates of armor, all seemed as light as feathers upon them when they began their hikes. When I inquired, I learned the name of their community - Duuvernheim. Well, as close as I can find to write it in an understandable way. Their odd language, those dozens of odd symbols, were spoken with odd sounds that were nearly impossible to first understand. But, given time and exposure, I came to comprehend how the sounds were made. Some seemed to come from the clicking of the tongue, both while the jaw was closed and open, but some seemed more of a rumble, a growl from the depths of the chest and back of the throat. Those sounds created new words and ideas for me - including the name of the community, like this; Duu - with the teeth gritted, the growling sound from deep in the body. Verhn - almost spoken through the nose, though the lower lip still meets the front teeth for the sound of V. Heim - the sound is started with one of those odd clicks of the tongue, and sounds something like "kime", though it's very much not the sound of a K, most certainly a click.

xxxxxUpon further inquiry, and after following one of the merchants while incessantly trying to communicate with her, I learned just how hard the average Duuvernheim resident could punch. As I was catching my breath, some heavily accented words reached my ears, which had flushed red from my sputtering disbelief and genuine shame in having let myself be hit quite so hard. Her voice was harsh and rather strained, as if raked by claws from the inside of her vocal chords, but her meaning was easily understood - even without an obvious tone.

"What kind of... Fool are you?"


xxxxxI'm not sure which hurt more - the fist that had landed squarely in my gut, or the assumption that I was just some mindless fool. She made a sound (something akin to a hissing snake and a coughing horse) and stamped her foot at me, causing me to flinch back several inches, scrambling to cover my face from a rogue kick or another fist sent my way. I felt my adrenaline fire, my body desperately trying to claw away the curiosity of my mind, and shuffled back before trying to calm myself and straighten up. Gasping for breath still, and feeling the ache of a large bruise already forming along the bottom edge of my rib, I managed to hold out a hand to ask her for a moment to catch my breath. My other hand moved to dig in a bag along my waist, no larger than my own foot, and drew out the insignia of the Godseeker, a small sigil of our organization bearing an image of a featureless human clasping their hands together, rays of light blossoming from their palms. I tossed the insignia at the merchant's feet, then collapsed to my knees and gasped for breath once more. I nearly expected her to pick up the insignia and use it as a projectile to knock me unconscious before striding off into the woods, but what happened next truly did surprise me. Again, odd conveniences aplenty in this tale - she bent down, seized the insignia, and gazed at it sharply, examining every detail with an artist's appreciation for the workmanship. Then, with a scoff, she scolded me once more.

xxxxx"You should have told me you were Seekerkin. I would not have punched you so hard. Come, I will bring you to Duuvernheim to fix you." She held the insignia out to me, keeping her hand low to help me up as I pocketed the sigil. With a grunt, she pulled me to my feet and put my hand upon her shoulder. Then, with no mercy for my partially crippled state, began her hike again, nearly dragging me along behind her. Well, with truth, I was the one dragging myself, trying to keep up in order to use her as a sort of crutch. Her pace was not-quite-breakneck, but certainly enough to make me regret everything I'd done up to that point. Our journey wasn't exactly a long one, just vertical enough to make my legs ache and burn with strain. I was used to walking, as the Godseeker's Code forbids the use of horses or other beasts to carry us, but climbing was a different issue altogether - especially when I could still feel the remnants of the merchant's punch in my core.


To Be Continued - Please Be Patient