A Sermon for the Worthy

Member created stories, poems, & other creative work.
Post Reply
User avatar
Senor T
Ogre
Posts: 629
Joined: Mon Jan 05, 2004 7:42 pm
Location: Durham, NC (US Eastern)
Contact:

A Sermon for the Worthy

Post by Senor T »

Vizian walked through the street, his thoughts focused on the words he’d prepared. Written and rewritten. Recited to himself in the basement of the Guild Hall while no-one else was around. The street was busy; cartwheels rolled over the timeworn cobbles and people were everywhere. He hoped they’d listen. This is what he’d set his life to doing, afterall. At least, while he was here. On this plane. He needed to guide souls in a way no-one truly had before.

The thought felt like a stone in his gut. Would they laugh at him? Would they throw things? Did people throw rotten fruit and the like… or worse? Or were those just stories? Surely they wouldn’t do it in front of the most holy building… well, perhaps anywhere.

It didn’t matter though. He had to try. Even if he was run through there on the spot, he had to. He could go face… well, who exactly? Oghma? Ao? He couldn’t think about that now. He had to try. Someone had to try to open the eyes of the souls to the truth.

People of Waterdeep, give heed to my words, I beg of you, he recited in his head as he walked. Humble… best to start humble.

Then there. Just like that. How had he gotten here so fast? His heart was pounding. A strange sensation, come to think of it. And his tunic was itchy. Gods, how was he supposed to do this? The plinth filled the sky before him, its angular tower cut off at the top. Symbolic, like Ao was cut off from everyone below him….

Then, he just did it. He walked up the two small steps to the raised entryway where people were coming and going. His cheeks flushed, he turned to the street. The midday traffic was at its peak, and not a soul noticed him. He cleared his throat, but barely heard it himself. The pleasant spring air felt oppressive.

“People of Waterdeep!” he projected as best he could. From the belly, like the bards. “Waterdhavians! Hear my words, for I offer you…” it didn’t matter what he offered. No-one stopped. No-one looked. Then a thought suddenly occurred to him. Perhaps he could do this every day and eventually someone would listen. This could be a simple rehearsal. His heart quieted just a bit.

“People of Waterdeep, I am a man from Baldur’s Gate, by the name of Vizian. I am a man of no notoriety, and I have little to my name, like many in my home, and many here. I have come in search of knowledge, and to offer my insight. I have come to speak to you now, in hopes you will consider what I will say, and perhaps to hear the wisdom you may offer to me.” He felt like he was projecting fairly well. It was hard to say, because it’s difficult to find anywhere private enough in the Guild to practice that. Still, no-one listened. The endless crowd before him he’d seen in his mind was a child’s fantasy.

He straightened his tunic and whispered, “Lord Ao, hear me. I wish to bring enlightenment to these people, and seek the knowledge I need to complete my task. Please, I am your instrument. Lend me your aid.”

He lifted his head and continued, “I grew up with two parents, both loving. Firm, but caring. My father had a decent job, working as a recordkeeper for local merchants. We never had much, but we never lived on the street either.”

A pair of feet slowed a bit as someone walked out of the temple. He turned and saw an old woman, perhaps in her forties. He gave her a quick smile, then turned back ahead.

“It was on the streets however, that my life would change forever. I was 15, and running deliveries for one of my father’s clients when I heard a sudden cry from around the corner along a side street. Before I could think, I darted around the corner and saw a nobleman on his steed, the horse’s front feet clawing the air ahead of it. In front of them stood a thin beggar, in tattered clothes, his hands before his bloody face as the horse’s hooves slammed into him quickly, before coming down directly on top of him. Quick as that. Two breaths… maybe three. And it was done.

“The nobleman looked at me and locked his eyes to mine. He was a young man. Just a few years older than me. But it was clear that he wasn’t even the same species that I was. ‘You want to get in my way too?’ he said, not even bothering to sneer like the villain he was when he said it. No, he just sat there nonchalant in his saddle and tugged on the reigns and his steed cantered off like he hadn’t just trampled a man near to death. He clearly didn’t care whether he lived or died.

“So I ran to the injured man. Just a few paces, and knelt down.” He paused a brief moment, staring straight ahead, but only seeing into the past. “‘Fuckin’ finally.’” Vizian breathed the words, mostly to himself, and stopped and looked down, the moment blazing in his mind. The man’s dirty, bloodied face. The meaninglessness of it all. He looked up and said, “‘Fuckin’ finally,’ was all he had to offer to this plane with his dying breath.” That’s when he saw the knot of people in front of him. Seven? Eight? Gods… they were… listening! His chest swelled. He could do this.

“This man had been born and had lived. Had hopes and dreams. He’d tried things, and more like than not, failed at them. But there was no denying that he had lived.” He spoke these last few words with emphasis, his conviction rising inside him. “And there before me, he had died. ‘Fuckin’ finally,’ then he couged twice, and his head lolled back.” He paused again, and took in the crowd. Made eye contact with a couple men.

“A guard walked over to me and just said, ‘go on kid, we’ll clean this up.’ I wanted to protest. To scream. Why couldn’t I do anything, why couldn’t he? I turned to look and saw the nobleman’s horse slip out of view behind a wagon down the road. Then I turned to the guard and he just said, ‘look, best you can do now is not to let this happen to you. Now git. This isn’t gonna be pleasant.’ In hindsight, I imagine the guard just wanted to pick through the dead man’s pockets… but in the moment I was glad to go. Just… to go.”

He had the attention of a full dozen now. As he saw them, he realized he wasn’t just saddened at the memory of his story. He was sad for them. They’d seen men like this man. But for Tymora’s grace, this man could have been any of them. He knew it, and they knew it. He took them in, looked around to let them know he was with them. A knot of boys walked up to the back of the group to see what was going on.

“Things like this happen all the time. Far too often. We’ve gotten used to it. For some reason though, and I have no idea why… perhaps it was the innocence of youth… call it what you want. But I was never the same after that day. I had to know why any of this mattered. Why were we here? What was the point?”

He glanced back at the angled tower behind him, the backdrop to his story, before facing forward again. “I visited perhaps as many temples in our city as there are altars in the Plinth. I sought answers. And they all had sweet things to say…” he paused and smirked to himself, “well some faiths are certainly sweeter than others. But they can all see a potential convert coming.” His smile widened. They smiled back, knowingly.

“But here’s the thing. When you keep asking the whys… they eventually run out of answers. And here’s the reason. None of the gods worshiped here,” he gestured behind him, “or anywhere else,” he swept his arms around, indicating the rest of the city, “are the reason we are here. But there has to be a reason.

“So I set out to learn at Candlekeep.” He chuckled a bit as he continued, “and I’m here to tell you that’s no small feat. All the stories you’ve heard are true. But suffice it to say, after nearly three years’ effort, I managed to make my way into its walls and I gained an audience with one of the sages.

“He was an elderly man, and he seemed hurried when I arrived at his chamber. At first his answers to my questions were those I’d heard before. That was, until I told him my story. Something in him changed and his face softened as he looked at me. After I had finished, he let out a breath and said a single word. Ao.

“There is a god above all gods. The great god that stood at the beginning of all that is and ever was. And his name was Ao. Very little is known of him, it is said. And it is said that such is his will. Ao has removed his name from any writings. In fact, try it yourself, if you are lettered! Try it if you doubt me.” Vizian smiled brightly as he reflected on the fact that the great lord’s own trick to conceal himself would serve as his revelation. “Ao will not tolerate his name to exist in writing anywhere. It was a fortnight after my visit that his name disappeared from my own notes! It was then that I knew what this sage had told me was the truth.

“Sadly though, there is little of it to be told. The great lord above all gods clearly wishes to keep himself distant from mortal realms. Though it is said he visited once, to end the Time of Troubles, in this very city. The city in which we stand is quite possibly the most holy in all of Toril.”

“But now that you know the truth, what should you do with it? I asked myself this question for a long time. What would I advise the man who had died, had I met him before that fateful day?

“I’d probably tell him that in the end, we all must face the gods, and transition to another plane. All people are mere wisps when compared to the light of the gods. And when compared to the god above all, we are as nothing at all.

“And for all the inequalities around us, they are wiped away in that transition. Ao has given us so much. A soul, and the will to do with it as we wish. It is our choice to follow a god that speaks to our soul. And in that god’s grace, to find life everlasting.

“Our time in this mortal shell is literally immeasurably small when compared to eternity. Everyone and everything you have ever known will shrink into the past until this life you are living is barely comprehensible. A mere mote of an idea. We are here to start our journey. This life is merely the starting point of an unimaginable journey, and we must do all we can to start out on the right foot. We must avoid distractions, and must set our eyes on our goal. For that prize is very real.

“That path could begin through these doors behind me. The doors to the holiest building in the holiest city. Behind them, knowledge that can lead to wealth beyond the comprehension of the most wealthy noble.”

He paused a moment. Letting the point of his sermon sink in. The crowd was larger, perhaps forty… or fifty?

“I would be remiss, however, if I did not tell you the rest of my story. For there may be one of you who thought as I did upon learning all of this.” He looked down a moment before looking back out at the faces before him. “After I saw Ao’s name disappear from my notes… I sent up a prayer to him. In my search for the truth I had followed… and still follow Oghma. But that day, at my bedside in the village inn on my way home, I reached out to him.” He could feel his face flushing. “And he answered. Ao gave me the divine power to heal, perform spells as a cleric would.

“I cannot say why he chose me. I cannot say even if he truly did, or if perhaps some other god has heard my prayers or learned of my task… and wishes to use me somehow. All I can say is that while I do not understand why I have been given divine power, I can use the knowledge I have learned and the abilities I have been granted for the good of all men and women. And until I breathe my last breath, I will help as many as I can to take the first step into a beautiful eternity. In Ao’s name.” Vizian bowed his head, his eyes wet.

When he looked up, he saw a crowd of people, some talking to each other, some in somber silence, and still others who were making their way up to him.

The first was a plain young woman with braided hair. He bowed his head respectfully and listened as she spoke.


_____
Note: I'll probably edit this when I read it again, but just want to get it out for now.
Currently laying the smackdown on Faerun as: Keryn Tel'Jora, who is XXX-TREME!!!.
Currently explaining the meaninglessness of it all as Vizian Nazyr.
Currently pointing out all other characters' shortcomings as Stephen the Archer.
Post Reply