[KC] Mortification of the Flesh [Tyrone] Chy 26 Late ET

[Guido Cercatoro]

“Audrey,” mumbled Feolin as if the name stirred some memory. Then, the harlequin-paladin shrugged. “Some of my former memories are denied to me. Please follow me.”

If Tyrone followed Feolin, he would be led into the forest for a few paces until he entered a small clearing. In the centre of the clearing stood two statues. One was of Sir Feolin in his harlequin costume. The other was a statue of Feolin in full Paladin regalia looking thoughtfully at a book.

The Paladin turned to Tyrone. “What is the difference between a wise man and a fool?”

[Tyrone]

Wasn't there a passage in the holy book about a holy prophet named Yehsuah who said, 'Follow me and I shall make you fishers of men.' And indeed he followed, Tyrone had been doing that since the abbots of his monastery took him as an orphaned child. He walked silently behind Feolin, wrapping the cloak tighter around him until they came upon a clearing and stood before two statues in the similitude of the Paladin.

“What is the difference between a wise man and a fool?”

Questions. It was another question and the young postulant monk frowned at the Paladin wondering if this was the test. Why was it always these kind of questions? He thought with a small dismay as he recalled the questionings of Jaxomen the apostate he had met at the tavern. Tyrone was never good with philosophy and he disappointedly berated himself for not listening to the lectures of philosophy back at the monastery. He looked at the human paladin and wondered if this was a trick question, something that jesters would ask of anyone who would listen. He preferred a knock-knock riddle instead of this kind of questionings but as he pondered about it more, the young dark achadhiel realized he didn't have enough patience for such a gag either. Slowly, he sighed and turned his attention back to the two statues and scrutinized the difference between them and mulled over the question the Paladin of the One asked.

What differs a wise man from a foolish man? He repeated the question silently to himself. Tyrone wasn't sure if he should attack the question through philosophy or through theology. The jester statue of Sir Feolin appeared foolish, that was certain and the other appeared wise enough with its face deep in musing over a book. Was there a connection from the lesson he had learned back at the lake? Appearance can be deceiving, wasn't that the lesson he had learned earlier? If he attacked it theologically, there wouldn't be any difference for wisdom comes from Dominicus and before Him, men are equally wise and equally foolish. Philosophically, it was another matter and he groaned out loud at the implication of it. Wasn't there a wise philosopher who uttered, 'The only thing I know is that I don't know anything.' Tyrone wasn't sure if he should agree with the philosopher or if he should call him a mad man. There were questions that couldn't be answered and Sir Feolin just asked one of those.

"I am not wise enough to know the difference, Paladin of the One. A man may appear foolish when he is wise while a man may appear full of wisdom when he is but a mere fool." The young monk of the Purificatio replied as he gracefully gestured his hand at the two statues and continued. "Appearance can be deceiving, Paladin."

[Guido Cercatoro]

Feolin laughed at Tyrone’s words. “A cryptic reply, almost as cryptic as the question.”

“It is certainly true that appearances can be deceiving,” continued the strangely clad Paladin. “That is the lesson you learned at the lake. In this case, appearances do not deceive. In the statues, I am both fool and wise man. Both exist inside me. I am capable of being either, as are we all. Sometimes we play the fool.” He glanced downwards at his costume with a wry smile. “Even the One God appears to have a sense of humour.”

“At other times we seek wisdom.” He glanced back at the statue with the book. “I do look so wise, don’t you agree?”

“Whether you are wise or foolish, the One will love you, so long as you follow him. Do you understand this?”

“Now, there is one final lesson before…well, let us proceed.” The Paladin appeared slightly nervous as he left the clearing by a small path on its far side. The path meandered through the forest for a hundred paces or so before ending at another clearing.

Lying on a stone in the centre of the clearing was a long sword with an ornate hilt. Feolin walked over to the sword and, with a sigh, picked it up and offered it to Tyrone.

“Kill me,” he said simply, closing his eyes. “The One commands you.”

[Tyrone]

“Whether you are wise or foolish, the One will love you, so long as you follow him. Do you understand this?”

Tyrone frowned as he mulled over the words of the Paladin. His words were true, indeed, the One was merciful and man, in his imperfect state appeared equally foolish and wise before Dominicus. But, he wasn't sure if he should agree that the One had a sense of humour. Was it a heresy to think so? The Jackal wasn't sure, he wasn't wise enought to understand the nature of the One God for He was the greatest mystery of all. Slowly, he nodded his agreement. Some of Sir Feolin's words were true enough, he had been following the One God since he was called by Him to do His works whether he be a fool or a wise man.

He turned and followed the Paladin and glanced over his shoulder to take a last lingering over the two statues of Sir Feloin. The dark achadhiel trailed behind Feolin, silently following the human, clad merely in a fur-lined cloak. They passed through the forest once more until they came upon another clearing and silently looked at the Paladin and heard him sigh when he took the sword and offered it to him.

“Kill me, the One commands you"

The Jackal gasped out loud, his voice echoing around the silent forest, unable to believe what he had heard. He had never killed a man before, much less a servant of the One God but he had taken a vow to of obedience to Dominicus' Will when he took the habit as a postulant monk of the Purificatio, to serve Him and the Church with whatever command he would give. But Sir Feolin is a servant of the One God! Tyrone reasoned with his mind, troubled by such a demand. I cannot! He screamed silently as he stepped back. But the One commands it!

"I cannot!" The young monk heard himself sobbed out loud and found himself crying and tremblingly took the sword that was offered and felt the hardness of the hilt and the heavyness of the burden that was given to him. Slowly, he looked down at the sword through his tear-filled eyes, the sword shining under the sun and bitterly wept. "Why?!" He cried out in anguish but he realized that he was questioning the command of the One God whom he had vowed to obey. He had to obey, it was his calling and with his arms shaking, the Jackal lifted the sword and glanced at the face of Sir Feolin, his eyes closed, meekly and peacfully expecting for the killing blow.

He had to obey, there was nothing he could do. It was Dominicus' commandment and to disobey Him was sin. "Lord, take this cup away from me..." Tyrone prayed out loud between sobs, lifting his hands and face up high. "But not my will but Yours be done."

"Pray to Dominicus, Servant of the One." He leaned and whispered to the Paladin as he slowlypulled the Paladin to kneel and with a trembling voice, with his tears, the Jackal gestured the sign of the One over Feolin's forehead and then he pulled back as he started to recite the prayer for the last rite of the sacrament:

"Almight God, Dominicus,
Who bestowest upon mankind both life and death;
look mercifully upon the soul of thy servant,
and cherish the soul which which Thou didst create,
that at the hour of his departure he may be found worthy,
to be presented without stain of sin to Thee our Creators,
by the hands of the Holy Angels.
Receive, O Lord, I beseech Thee,
the sacrifice which he offers up to Thee:
and grant that by it,
all his sins may be purged away,
so that in the hour of his death,
the Nether may not prevail against him,
but that he may be found worthy,
to pass into life in company,
with Thee and Thine Angels,
Amen.”

“Confess your sin to the One God, brother, so that your sins may be forgiven.” Tyrone whispered ever so silently and with his hands trembling, he would wait for the Paladin to confess his sin and then he would lean closer and whisper ever so gently to Feolin’s ear:

“Your sins are forgiven, brother.”

And he would then swiftly deliver the killing blow.

[Danomel]

As Tyrone swung the sword, it suddenly seemed much heavier than he had realized. As he feel forward he heard Feolin reciting lines of scripture;

“And Dominicus said vengeance is mine and mine alone. For surely shall I require an accounting of the blood of your lives.”

As the sword struck, Feolins life’s blood sprayed from the mortal wound covering Tyrones hands.

As Darkness gathered around Tyrone, he again hears the voice of Feolin growing fainter.

“For thy neighbors life’s blood cries out demanding the price of vengeance! Nor shall ye then wash the blood from thine hands in the sight of Dominicus!”

With a start, Tyrone awakens in a cold sweet in his small scantly furnished room. Moonlight baths him through a single window. And the last words of Feolin seem to echo through his mind.

[Tyrone]

“For thy neighbors life’s blood cries out demanding the price of vengeance! Nor shall ye then wash the blood from thine hands in the sight of Dominicus!”

He woke struggling for breath with whispers in the darkness, floating in the air like a sibilant voice of the night wind coldly caressing his skin to consciousness. Confused, the dark achadhiel looked around him expecting to see the Bishop Lazos and found himself in his room. How did I get here? He murmured as he groped around the room looking for the small candle he had left behind.

It was all so confusing, grimacing as he remembered the feel of the heavy sword sliding through the body of Sir Feolin and saw the blood spurting through the wound onto his hand and face. He had never seen that amount of blood before and Tyrone felt himself draining, the strength leaving him.

What is happening to me? Is it all a vision? Am I going mad? He wailed out in the silence of his mind, profoundly afraid and feeling like a puppet, his life being pulled by some unknown hand, helpless and deranged. Was it all real? Did I had a meeting with the Bishop Lazos? Did I just killed the a Paladin of the One? What is happening to me? He was scared, that much he knew, he had never been scared before and he shivered, the darkness of the room almost suffocating him and he frantically and blindly groped around for the flint on the table and lighted the candle.

Dominicus, am I going insane? He had three visions today and it took all of his sanity and strength and he felt drained both emotionally and physically as he leaned himself on the bare, cold wall and sobbed ever so pitieously, remembering once more the blood. "God! I have never seen so much blood!" He groaned as he recalled the feel of the warmth blood upon his hand, the blood of the a Paladin. It all felt so real! In growing panic, he looked upon his hands, his senses still dulled, still unsure if this, this "here-ness", was a vision, or a dream within a dream and it dawned upon him, a realization of profound fear, that he couldn't discern the reality from the dream.

"Lord, save me from this insanity!" He groaned out loud.

[Danomel]

Only the slightest of echoes answers back, then silence.

Looking around, Tyrone noted that he is fully clothed atop his bedding, as if he had been unceremoniously dumped there while unconscious.

Slowly, as his perception began to take in his surroundings, it became obvious that he was no longer within the vision that he had indeed returned to his body. But for how long had he been out, what time was it anyway? The sky was dark outside the window.

[Tyrone]

Questions rang inside his confused mind. Something was happening and the dark achadhiel didn't know what it was, he felt as if he was thrown inside a maze with no direction and no idea which way is out, as if he was plunged into a dark sea and drowning, not knowing which way was the surface, floating uncertainly, floating confusedly within that dark water, drowning and drowning perpetualy.

Bishop Lazos! Tyrone gasped within the silence of his terrfied mind. He would know. He must have put me back here inside my room when I was in the fit of my vision. But it was too late, the young monk didn't know what time it was and barging in on the Bishop unceremoniously was ill-mannered. He had to wait, he will wait for the answers and realized that if the Bishop wanted to talk with him further, he would have been still inside the Bishop's office, not back in his bed.

He will rest, the Jackal thought as he found himself profoundly weary of both mind and body. Tomorrow shall be the day of answers and as Dominicus is my witness, I shall seek the answer and protect the church. And with that he prepared himself to sleep.

ooc: I think we're done here. Ty's going to have a meeting with the Bishop the next day anyway.

[Danomel]

Locked for Skilling

[Guido Cercatoro]

Skilled and archived