Resolve

[NolandTheNovice 276]

 

 

 

Trial 1: BIRTH

 

It had been long since the green-eyed elf had to care for another living creature. Nonetheless, his devotion to Wyrvun was deep and unwavering. No task was beyond Krenanteon if it meant an ascension in his divinity, a closer relation to the deity that had, in his eyes, brought the snow elves to a purity beyond compare. This was his chance to lead as a religious example, to preach the righteous path as Wyrvun truly intended. So he would set forth on this path, venturing into the wilderness with virtue and purpose to find a hatchling he could raise as his own. - The sun rose and fell in cycles, but no sign of new life nor cry of foster could be heard, nothing but the chilled familiar air of his native Fenn. Until a new perception emerged, another that was familiar to him; the putrid, rotting stench of a corpse. The rot was fresh, from what he could tell. While it could not be farther from what he was looking for, this Stolt was a man of medicine and science, and a body recently expired was a body to be researched. - To his surprise, he was not the first to find it. Beside the form of an ‘ame, unsuited to the harsh nature of Fenn, loomed a large vulture and its chick. The mother, scavenging for food, took what flesh it could from the body and flew off, gliding away into the frosty mist, leaving behind the young bird. Kren moved slowly towards, and bundled it in his arms “...a sign from Wyrvun.” He nodded. “You shall be Enoch.”

 

Trial 2: PEACE

 

“Fascinating…utterly fascinating.” He whispered to himself in a giddy bewilderment. His blood pooling to his head, bringing a mild dizziness to his gaze as he hung inverted from a large tree, watching two ‘ame bickering wildly down beneath him. Clutching his journal tightly as not to drop it, he did his best to jot down a few scribbles, the quill functioning poorly upside down. Raised voices echoed up the tree as their exaggerated banter caused the branches to tremble. He wrote down every movement, every flinch, every non-lexical utterance that spat from their mouths. This was exciting. This was groundbreaking. So many truths to be found, hitherto unknown to the academic world, things that the ‘ame kept close to their chest and locked away from the eyes and ears of outsiders. But his eyes and ears were hidden, immersed in heavy foliage to finally witness the ‘ame world with candid intent. Truth will out. All that remained was a title for its publication. Something meaningful, something that would captivate the minds of the people. “...Beneath..the Bark.” he uttered quietly.

 

Trial 3: WAR

 

The amber light of the dawn glistened upon the fresh snow blanketed before him as he followed the trail of paw marks through the forest. Leading to a small valley that lay below an icy cavern, he rummaged through his satchel until he withdrew an odd egg, bespeckled in a pale green. Cracking it and setting it upon the snow, he retreated to a nearby bushel. The aroma began to drift and the tall Mali’Fenn waited, arrow nocked. Patiently he sat, until a flicker of black spots moved out from the cave. The leopard slowly descended, following the scent that the egg let off. As it reached the egg and began to investigate, Kren slowly raised himself, bowstring stretched. His emerald eye fixed upon the snow leopard’s head, he let loose the arrow. It sank into the cat’s skull with swift precision and a cry from the beast. Dying, the feline looked up to its killer and charged with fury. As Kren looked on in terror, it leaped viciously, clenching its jaws upon his leg in its final seconds of vitality. Knocked aback, he looked down at the lifeless creature in relief before uttering a few words to Wyrvun and removing its pelt.

 

Trial 4: DEATH

 

The last rays of the sun's light crested over the mountain tops as the chill of the frosted lake creeped up his legs, into his chest. Wyrvun’s judgement lay upon him, and no weakness could be shown. He was a man of strong will, and standing before the gates of Fin’ciwn, he would prove his zeal. As the cold gripped his flesh, his mind fought against it, determined to hold onto consciousness for as long as his mortal vessel would enable. Long after the last licks of light faded beyond the horizon, and the pale moon took its place in the sky, reflecting upon the dark pool, the tall elf began to fade into darkness. His blood slowed and his body numb, he finally succumbed to the cold, collapsing into the icy deep. An impalpable mist of white thrashed about him. Nothing could be seen but pale silhouettes passing within the violent torrent of snow. A single figure approached, and from the blizzard a message resounded, as if the winds whirled in accordance to its words. “One man’s life or death were but a small price to pay for the acquirement of knowledge which I sought, for the dominion I should acquire.” He awoke a concerning amount of time later, next to the fire.

 

Trial 5: RESOLVE

 

A deep forgotten tincture, a remnant wisp of the heretical magics performed upon her lay dormant beneath her skin. To be healed by such a corrupted force was, in itself, a terrible crime against the gift that had been bestowed upon us. But to leave such a taint would be to insult Wyrvun himself. To besmirch his name each and every day it remains. For any Fenn, this would be unforgivable. For an Archvigilant, it could not be allowed. There was only one thing for it, to be cut out, root and stem. Deep within the earth, away from the sun and the snow, away from the eyes and words of men of lesser wills, Kren gazed at the ornate blade in his hand. Inset with red stones, it was sharper than any scalpel he possessed. It was a blade of not surgical, but religious, intent. Thus, the intent of the surgeon must be the same. He wished no ill will upon her, but the sin must be cast out. Where the body had been healed with blasphemous sorcery, he would unheal with Wyrvunic intent. Her suffering would be but a small cost for the salvation that would be achieved. 

 

VIGILANCE

 

The blade, dripping with the blood of renewal, laid beside Krenanteon as he kneeled upon the frigid stone. Deep cuts lined Kindrel’s cheek. She stood before him in atonement, bearing witness. There, amidst the entombed bodies of Fenn’s past, he swore his moniker.

 

“When measure fails and fights devolve, 
Where meek men pause, my soul absolves. 
‘Pon fervor only, conflicts solve. 
In end I triumph, through cruel resolve.”

 

Thus rises the Vigilant of Resolve.
 

[Monkee 7369]

In little time, word reaches 'Hope' of the ascension of 'Resolve'. With grim foresight, he glances skywards, and studies the stars. "None too soon." Thereafter, the Snow Elf returns to his maps, and his work continues.