A desire for apprentices.

[Jentos 6813]

SEEKING APPRENTICES

 

 

Akrdirr’Gwylt! Dalarri geimorr-agktrr. Aesh Dea. Or’gald geish akrdirr. Kar kir Dea, ikr aeshirr Kastafir’ei!

My name is Jaghari yr Kastafir'ei, those of you that have looked upon me and spoke know that the name I give to you people is Jean, much easier on the tongue of those that do not share my foreign speech, known as the Layd, or song, considered holy and ceremonial. I am a Schoolman, from the honourable House of Fir from Aeldin, East of Blackwood, past the Whispering Woods and before the Drakken mountains, between three differing borders. The Khanate does not bother my people. The Empire employs us; and we are never paid in gold. For many years now I have lived amongst the people or Oren and the northerners, confused and lost before your ***** laws and customs of sleeping with orcish brutes and long eared, forever-living elves in what appears to be a strange form of diplomacy. For I see no other reason why one should desire these other races, many atheist, and most unable to comprehend the idea of the God, seeing It as nothing more than a man floating on a cloud, to be blamed for all woes. But I have spoken with the people of Oren, and to my the pleasure of my heart, many are of Canon Faith, as is true, and pure of any that dare live with a soul of his or her own. 
 

For much time now I have spent in this place, seeking a man which seemingly does not exist. So I must now ***** my mind in hopes that I shall find someone to aid me in this sanctified quest. I shall teach all who dare desire it all matters of theology and philosophy, for such is the art and queens of the sciences from where I was bred and raised. I shall teach any, as long as their hearts are pure. I shall not tolerate the anathema, or heathen. But I shall smile upon the student, and the one with an open mind, with a keen desire to open his eyes. 

 

For the God is the World, and It is great. All breaths through all. All dies and lives. Death is our only, and singular right. For a child newborn may be strangled and forfeit that right of breathing; his very existence denied, and ushered back into the Pit. What I propose is a perilous journey, an impossible trek in which we shall fathom the horror that is the World. It is an almost poetic thing, as the living try to comprehend what can never be understood. But perhaps some might succeed, against all odds, and against any price; to become the true Magi; a hierophant seeking truth and meaning while rejecting the temptation power in a seemingly meaningless World. 

 

The Schoolmen are never paid in gold. 

 

Aesh Dea. The God is great. Find me in that village of Esbec. 

 

Spoiler

((Jentos#6646))

 

[Sorcerio 4594]

A philosopher would gaze to the missive, granting an commending dip of his head as he muttered to another man looking over the bulletin as well. "Certainly, he is a wise man endowed with many graces. I would vouch for his character."

[Birdman 285]

Magnus, his soul stirred to flight by the notice, sends the man a carefully written letter, hoping to impress him with what little he can muster in literary talent. 

[Callistus 963]

"Our conciliation among that which binds us to this earth will bare to us the true roots of Man; and in rekindling the ancient concord which dwells our blood, Man will rise from ignoble ash to be granted purpose, and thereby endless posterity.

Such is the mandate imparted unto our foolish race, so furtively abandoned by men who scorn the heavens and those who reside above it all. Aesh dea, ae kikimorr - good schoolman."

 

A man spoke in words that rung with great vacillation, and yet conviction; for it was at the very least acknowledged that no mere living scholar can achieve true corroboration...

But with perseverity, and the ever-churning tides of death that vow to consume us all, Truth will be left no choice but to come forth and unearth itself. If not for our subconscious desire, both worldly and beyond, then by which sense of cruelty are we even borne our conscious and forced from the lull of sleep to wander this accursed world? 

Hah.. hah. What a sick joke, thought the old pilgrim, so deep in trance.

[Hephaestus 1317]

At its talons, the kind jay met the somber embrace of the ground, in contrast as to the loose nature of the cobalt skies, it flapped its wings – not once, but times a-several, – thus meeting far and fro, its destination at coarse, crude caw in its cry, as to such alert descent then. Hempen, so it were that managed its not at the foul cretin's feet, forming at ditches in its craft of inlay at soil, fertile or otherwise, but a tattered set of scribe clung at that strip of rope, in its poor knot yonder about the bird's ankle.

 

"To the sire, Jean yr Kastafir'ei – otherwise, the sire, Jaghari yr Kastafir'ei; 'lo put stock in my word and treat it delicately. Fortnights ago – or, perhaps were it more than but moons, but rather years, I will take little effort in bothering any correction – tongue was exchanged by myself and yours, and it were so that ingenuity in tidings of philosophy, but more importantly, word of God, were brought up and tossed about, here and there. This piqued my interest to measures far and unaccountable;

An interest, far greater, if not, rivalled, as to the word and telltale of the august antediluvians of yore and bygone. It is for such fair pretext, that I greatly anticipate the exchange of good word – and, on my behalf, apprenticeship – between either of us in coming sojourn. I heed to ailing marrow, in my joints, and my time in this life will is limited, if anything; it is all that my decrepit age and nature will beseech of me anymore.

The anointed, Johannes of Ceannaideach. Aesh dea. The God is great."