The Ironbreaker was scared and out of breath, the wind whipped at his face and ice chunks tore at his skin and armor, he was caught in a snow drift sinking every step so he couldn’t get away, and He was coming. He heard the crunch of ice feet behind him he turned around only to be picked up like a child by the largest man he had ever seen, dressed only in a raggedy loincloth. He brought the Ironbreaker face to face and looked at him like his father looked at him after he caught him trying to lift the grown man’s axe as a child, with slight amusement in his eyes. The Giant opened his mouth and with a voice of deep bass, rumbled. “My dear little Bjorn, you are mine, you have always been mine.”
The Ironbreaker screamed back with rage and futility “I AM MY OWN ULFRANDR, I DENY YOU”
The smile on the giants face quickly turned to a snarl and he slammed Bjorn down into the snow and brought his foot crashing down on his chest.
The Ironbreaker awoke with a start grabbing his ax and almost letting out a howl, it took him a moment to realize that he was in his own bed in the corner of a his room. let out out a sigh he let the ax fall to the ground and sighed, the dreams were getting worse, The Wolf Runner had touched him in his dreams, for the last few weeks he had been slowly gaining in his dreams but this was the first night that He had caught him. He had heard tales of men dying in their sleep from bad and evil dreams but for the time it looks like he was alive. He got up and prepared for the day. he worked the paints over his face in their practiced forms, Red for clan, the Ironbloods best fighters in the North, Blue for his chosen color, stability, wisdom, and strength, the runes to remind everyone who he is and where he’s from. Next his necklaces each a story to themselves, the wolf, the lion hanging next to each other his past and present. After that his shirt he looked at the pile of armor that was by his bed and considered leaving her but then remembered what happened last time he didn’t wear armor and quickly put it on. Lastly his sash, Blue for his color, marked proudly with the Stamp of the Metalli, he would rather be naked than go without that sash, it marked him out as a Merchant belonging to one of the best guilds in the world as far as he was concerned.
He slipped through the open room of the place he staying and smile and nodded to everyone he met, Undying was eating a chunk of meat he hoped was game, Balthazar was, as usual, in a constant state of movement through the room bouncing from here to there, Walt he hadn’t seen in a few days and Florence was most likely out in the city already, she was always the first up. Ironbreaker looked at the Shield by the door and lightly grazed his hand over its symbols then feeling ready, he walked out into the world. The streets as usual smelled like garbage and human waste the first step he took out of his door resulted in sinking ankle deep in the mud that always seemed to be present in these southlanders cities. shaking his head he started to move to the workshop were the lists of orders demanded his constant attention. Moving through the silent hooded crowds never got easier, they all looked the same to him, and a quote from his father echoed through his mind, “the age of heroes is dead, The Lion God has killed it, leaving humankind with nothing but weeping martyrs, fear and shame.” Hearing their whispers as he moved through the streets and saw their sideways glances, someone had started the damn rumor that he was baptized and it had spread like wildfire he wanted to smack that person for causing him a world of trouble. It had been months since he had lowered himself to the Gods and the fear that once gripped him was over. He was tired of the Gods both old and new throwing him around as their plaything, he remembered the inquisitors words and his promises but for some reason that seemed like a long long time ago. All he was left with was stubbornness and spite, and with his beloved leaving the valley there wasn’t even any soft comfort waiting for him.
The Ironbreaker reached the Guildhall, opening the door he waved to Borso and Bakara who where pouring over some papers, and maps, he should really learn how to read he thought to himself. he went int to back of the guild hall where his workstation was adorned by bones of bears, wolfs, and eagle feathers, the stones around the forge where the fire danced were marked with runes of power said to make the iron stronger and the coal last longer, in the back of his mind he knew it didn’t do anything but it was traditional that all proper forges have them so he placed them around it. it felt almost like home, picking up a bag of coal he poured it into the forge and started a small flame. The Ironbreaker then picked up a piece of Hard Iron and looked it over feeling the raw ingot in his hand. “Now what shall I do with you I wonder?” he said aloud and he placed it on the coals and started to work the billows. It was a bad winter with nothing getting done so he had to work hard to catch up on everything he slacked behind during the winter, but the day was new and the sun was just about the peak above the horizon he took the red piece iron out and placed it on his anvil smiling he picked up his hammer and like his namesake broke the raw iron so he could make it into something beautiful.
Mechanical Advantage 13: Inertia.
Objects in motion tend to stay in motion unless acted upon by an outside force.
So many people had argued that with him over the years, not understanding the bevy of nuance that existed in their world. People, at the hearts, were just well-meaning objects, and they tended to do whatever they had always done until someone forced them to do otherwise. Then there was a general outcry, and a scramble to defend what had been before without truly gauging the merit of the proposed change. The laws that governed all known bodies applied so beautifully to people that it was nearly ironic in its wonder.
More and more of his time was being pulled away by side projects, these days. Reviewing contracts. Approving tax rates. Assisting with land parcel development. Getting married. It was a wonder that he had time to think at all. Gone were the days-that-never-were of being able to blissfully sit carefree and think for hours on end. To mentally turn the world on its axis to examine a new idea or question an assumed reality. No, no, he was an honest man of this strange new faith in an old decayed city.
The tavern was noisy these days. Too noisy. His apprentices wanted for work, and he hadn’t time to direct them like he used to. So the other ones drank the day away, or caroused with the Hestrali strumpets about town while the youngest doodled in the corner. Jehanne had taken to them, at least, in her bright smiled way.
Such a smile.
An agitated puff of smoke left his lips and bounced off the confining wall opposite him. The one remaining room in his world that was firmly his, the quiet study at the top of the Metalli Guildhall. Below him, he could hear the work of hammers and saws, improved for efficiency by his own design. If he sat long enough, he even believed he could hear the bellow of Borso echoing off the halls. The old miner had proven to be an exceptional investment, but if the equally old Engineer was being honest, the Metalli hadn’t felt the same since Thorn had departed. She had been the… heart of them.
He sighs and turns the page of his weathered tome.
It was strange how long the winter had felt. The Cappacian beauty wrapped in his sheets, the warmth of her filling the room nearly to bursting. A genuine laugh before eyes hungry for answers latched onto him. She had a way of drawing him deeper and deeper into her wants. Before long, she’d have wrung every answer she could ever desire from him. What a blissful prison he had built. Soft and pale and witty. A small part of him wondered when this young lady would tire of so… grumpy a companion. Odd that his mind hadn’t turned towards its usual routes.
He cough a hurrumph of scented smoke into the room and turns another unread page.
It promised to be a busy Spring, he could already hear the clamor of the city as it slowly roused itself from the lethargy of Winter. Soon construction would begin. Soon he would find time to touch his quill to paper and allow the creations to flow. Soon the carefully set pieces would form the desires he wished.
The key to inertia was to account for the forces that would draw away energy, not to invest more energy. A smile touched his lips as his eyes turned to the book again. Another few hours of solitude wouldn’t harm anyone.
The Nature of Sin
The Triumvirate’s rebellion is what brought sin into the world.. When these creatures destroyed their Meaning to create a new Purpose they discarded their Divinity and allowed paths of wickedness to be walked. This was their childish, spiteful act against their creator- to lead Mankind astray and say “See! Your way isn’t perfect!” Were their acts not so destructive they might even be pitied as one might pity a child throwing a tantrum, but that time is long past and any sympathy for these creatures is merely the product of their twisted manipulations. Eons of stewing in their hatred and belief that they could not possibly be wrong have left them bereft of anything of value.
Regarding the nature of the damage they have inflicted, it would seem to me that sin exists in two intertwined, but separate ways. The first is the wound upon the soul of the person taking the sinful path, and the second is the wound inflicted upon the world. Here in Stragosa, I see people struggling with both and that highlights the need for wisdom, courage, and strong atonements for all.
The capacity for a person to sin is a product of the subversive Purpose that the Triumvirate have created. In the world as it was meant to be, God would test themself with all sorts of circumstances and in a world without sin, he would choose a sinless path every time. The most difficult conflicts would be solved and with each, God would grow and Meaning would be gained from the results. In the world that was wounded, we must guard ourselves for paths of darkness exist and they are tempting and easy. They draw us into Meaningless successes and Pyrrhic victories where nothing is truly learned, gained, or resolved and every man and woman looks upon what they have wrought and feels only anxiety or anguish. These paths can range from the venial like drawing you into conflicts and mistakes with too much alcohol, to the deadly of seeking to resolve a feud with an assassin’s blade. The lie that avoids conflict does not resolve it, and the lie will always be found out and make the eventual conflict harder. The Triumvirate have designed their wicked spiral to draw you in with the smallest missteps and you must be watchful to avoid them and right yourself swiftly when you stumble.
This is why atonement is so important. An appropriate atonement should include three parts. The first is the healing of the soul. The penitent should engage in an activity that’s purpose is to rehabilitate, not punish. The penitent should be shown, in this time of openness to the path of Meaning, that their sin is unnecessary and not as rewarding as taking the sinless path. The thief must be shown that their needs will be met by their community. The violent must be shown that conflict can resolved in other ways. The lustful and the gluttonous must be shown that fulfillment and happiness comes not from momentary, distracting pleasures, but from living a good life with good friends.
The second part of sin is that which damages the world, and an atonement must also help to heal the world. Sin manifests in the world as those monsters we call the Night Malefic. These are our sins made manifest.- our Divinity twisted and corrupted by unhealed sin and expressed as Acts upon the world. The world needs healing, too, and so our atonement must not just help ourselves, but our community and the world itself. All of our Acts must do this, but atonement especially is the time when you have most opened yourself to expanding God’s Meaning and are listening to his words in your heart. Therefore, protect yourself and others from the Malefic, but also work with those wise in the faith to resolve them. Give the orphan love and the soldier peace. And seek to right the wrongs of the living and help your neighbors so no more do they turn to sin.
The final part of atonement is simple, but also easily overlooked. Atonement may be difficult, but it must always be possible. There is no shame in seeking new guidance about an atonement to make peace with an enemy who has passed beyond your reach. Seek a path to healing in the wisdom of the clergy and trust them to help you.
Together we can find Meaning and become great- greater than any other race or deceptive creed. Together we are God. We are the Form God takes when poured into the world. Do not be taken in by the tantrums of the Triumvirate. Their paths have no Meaning and their rewards are false. Only the path of Divinity leads to a true victory.
