Santos's Journal - Year 11
It has been eleven years since I was brought to the Monastery by Father Liam. Cardinal Ruger is now a Patriarch and has brought me to the Temple in Wyldshire to receive advanced training. I am now being trusted with small missions in the surrounding areas of Wyldshire. It really is glorified messenger work, but I am happy for it; it gets me out of the temple and I get to meet people and spread the word of light. Often times I travel along the roads to bring fresh supplies to needy villages. Not exactly striking down the forces of evil, but it is good will, and the Light needs every bit it can get. The ripples of the Rebellion still echo, there are still Mages being hunted, and while they are being hunted, they don’t have any problem taking a few innocent lives with them. So I am happy to do my part. There is a young elven girl and boy that visit me on the long road every day, they are brother and sister, part of some elven gypsy group or something. If I have spare bread from my morning meals I share with them.
She plays some sort of violin which is quite lovely and refreshing compared to the hymns and chants I am used to in the monastery. She is certainly an indication of all that I have missed out on by being in the monastery all these years. Her younger brother plays a drum and will traditionally play a sort of march every time they see me in the distance approaching their wagon on the high road. The family seems nice enough, and though their lifestyle is a meager one, they all seem incredibly happy. There are girls in the church of course, but we are strictly forbidden from dance and carnal urges.I think of her often and wonder; if I hadn’t become a Cleric, would I have shared a life with someone like her. Then I banish those thoughts because they lead to attachment, which can lead to loss, which leads to vengeance, a path far too tempting and dangerous.
I took my first life today. Although I suppose that isn’t true; I have killed many dire rats in the dungeons. Today was my first sentient life, which also shouldn’t matter since intelligence is not what makes one alive. Myself and a couple of brothers from the monastery were sent to meet with some Templars to defend a town that was being raided by goblins at night. We arrived at night fall and camped out quietly, with raids occurring. The people of the town were certain that the goblins would attack soon though. During the day we kept indoors so as not to attract attention from any scouts. I tried to speak the words of Light to many townspeople, but they seemed less interested in their salvation, and more concerned with their slaughtered livestock. The goblins did come that night though and in an instant we blocked off their escape route. In true fashion I did tell them that they could surrender, but these goblins did not seem intent to do so. The battle began and I must say; I was fairly adept at deflecting and parrying their attacks, only taking minor scratches and then bringing my mace down with a crushing blow. All the years in the dungeon with Victor were certainly paying off. However I think I will never forget the sound of the first skull crunching against my mace. It is times like these that I wonder how truly civilized we are. But there isn’t much time for that when shrieking goblins are charging you. The night ended in goblin blood, and some of our own, a young cleric like myself was not so lucky and the goblins rushed him, ending his life. I am again reminded of a power to bring back the dead using Light. Not like a Necromancer, but to restore life that has been taken away. How different am I? One of the goblins did surrender to me, and I captured him, releasing him to the local village elder to imprison.
I pass by the village we saved from the goblin raids. The head of the goblin that surrendered to me was on a pike out in front of the village. I was delivering supplies to cover some of their losses. I was furious. He was a prisoner, he surrendered. The village elder said that he had to pay for the crimes he committed. I don’t think death is the right way, not when someone willingly submits. The elder said they couldn’t let him go because he would return with more. I told him that wasn’t necessarily true. The elder didn’t care. If it was a Necromancer, would I let him live? If he surrendered and I killed him, I would be no better than him. But if he surrenders and escapes he’ll cause more suffering. And if he is imprisoned, who is to say someone else won’t harm him in cruel unusual ways. Prefect Leoht would have said that you cannot force your will upon people, that is the beauty of free will. Father Liam would have said to kill the blighter before he harms others. I have a feeling the now Patriarch Ruger would want to study a man like that, find out the reasons for his evil, the power of his faith, and then offer him the choice to be destroyed or live peacefully.