A Cage For the Soul

A book sits in the library of the great temple where those who follow the god of Justice reside; its cover bears three images. First is the image of a human priests holding a golden cage which both blesses and binds. Second is the image of a knight in armor darkened by ash and blackness; his hands bear a sword of pure white, and with it he stands in judgement over the earth. Third is the image of an orcish priest; bearing himself with humility, his head is bowed and his arms are outstretched in supplication.

An inscription on the back cover reads: ‘These are the words recorded in the first book of the followers of the god of Justice; an account of the first orcish priest of the god of Justice, and the interpretation of his dreams. May it ever serve as a warning against corruption to all who serve the gods.’

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I had that vision again.

Flashes of light and darkness course the my memory as I tried to cling to the fading images in my mind.

A human priest clutching a bag of coin to his chest as he condemns a man in rags for corruption.

A man in darkened armor bearing a shining sword slaying both priest and poor in rage and anguish before the darkness of his own armor consumes him.

A young orc picks up the fallen coin and  gives it to those remaining, bringing life to the world once more.

All of these left me as quickly as they came; I did my best to record the details of my vision. My hands shook with excitement or fear, making my task all the more difficult.

In times past I would have chosen to tell my vision to a priest of one of the many gods for interpretation, but with the gods absent the priests were powerless to help. Only the dwarves or the fey could interpret visions during this troubled time, so I sought out an Oracle of the fey rumored to be gracious toward my kind.

“Come for a tell? Or come to be told?” the Oracle muttered, settling down on a log as he spoke.

Unsure of what he meant, I did my best to remain courteous as I replied; “I have had a vision, and I seek a meaning, great Oracle.”

The fey were said to be descended from the gods, and so were unpredictable in nature. Although generally peaceful, the fey were unkind toward any threat, and would not hesitate to end my life if they deemed it necessary to do so.

The Oracle drew out a pipe and began smoking; the essence of different types of weeds and magic filled the air, making my eyes water and sting.

“Then tell, and be told.” the Oracle said.

And so I told the Oracle my vision of the priest, the beggar, the priest, the knight, and the orc. All the while he watched me intently; I sensed he judged my words and my wishes as I spoke, so I did all I could to keep darkness from my thoughts lest they corrupt my words.

When I finished the Oracle leaned close, breathing smoke into my face; “And you think you are the young orc you saw?”

I lowered my head; “I cannot say, for my memory is already clouded. The orc in my vision did what was good; I would say that I strive to be like him.”

The Oracle pondered my words, puffing clouds of thick smoke into the air, where it coalesced into a dark and ever shifting cloud above us.

“Tell me this, young orc; how is it you came by visions?” he asked me.

“I know not;” I replied honestly; “visions come from the gods alone save for the fey and the dwarven-kind.”

“You must have fey blood within you;” the Oracle surmised.

I knew not to refute the word of a fey, but this revelation was more than could be believed. I set the matter of my heritage aside as the Oracle began to speak once more.

“You know the matter the gods have left this world to discuss, do you not?” he asked.

I nodded; “A god was slain by a god, who in turn was slain by a man.” the recent events he referred to were common knowledge.

“Not one man, but three.” he corrected; “The death of a god by the hands of humans will not be easily forgotten by the gods. Neither too will the death of a god by the hand of a god be forgotten by humans.”

The Oracle shifted his bony legs, folding one beneath the other as he continued; “Humankind has long been the arbiters of the will of the gods, carrying out deeds of justice and mercy according to the god they serve. But as there is corruption found among the gods, there is corruption found among men.

“The vision of the human priest is a vision of that corruption; with the gods absent, they are left to their own devices and so tout their superiority over all others.”

“How can this be?” I implored; “To be chosen by a god is an honor unparalleled for mortals!”

“Honor without honor is no better than fire without heat, or breath without life.” the Oracle replied calmly; “All that is can both corrupt and be corrupted; even the priests of the god of Justice have long served themselves before others.”

As he spoke, a light formed in the midst of the cloud of smoke above us. I looked to see the same priest of my vision standing before the dais of the world. In his outstretched hand he held a ring from which a dish hung, suspended by a string; from this dish flowed waters of pure blessing upon the earth. He smiled at his work, but it was not a kindly smile; from his eye came a locust as though graven of gold, and it flew to the dish in his hand, and settled in its center.

“Corruption” the Oracle explained; “is like a disease, spreading from heart to heart until all are corrupt.”

As I watched, metal strands like bars stretched out from the priest’s palm, extending out and around the dish until it took the appearance of a bird cage large enough to hold a human child were that its intended design. The dish bearing the locust hung in the midst of the cage, continuing to pour waters of blessing. But as the waters passed between the bars of the cage they became as iron chains, wrapping around the earth in cruel restraint.

“Justice and goodness become a cage for the hearts of men when borne by corrupt men. Left to their own devices, the priests of the gods have used their calling to further themselves and condemn all others.”

I looked on as the man clad in darkened armor arose from the earth and drew a blade from the dish in the middle of the cage. Contrasting the darkness of his armor, the blade shone with the brightness of purity, and with it the man slew the priest and shattered the cage.

“The man in darkened armor is a mystery. He is an arbiter of corruption; a Dark Paladin. Taking up a holy sword imbued with magics to harm only those with corruption in their hearts, he will slay the priests of the gods and destroy the civilization of mankind.”

“But none can harm a priest of the gods!” I protested, resisting my despair at the horrible sight before my eyes.

“But the gods are withdrawn, and their protection with them.” the Oracle replied; “Nothing stands in the way of the Dark Paladin, and by his corruption shall corruption be judged.”

There was no falsehood in the Oracle’s words, and my heart grew heavy with sorrow for the race of man. Their deeds were terrible, but judgement should come from the gods, not from men.

As I watched, the darkness in the Paladin’s armor spread and consumed him as he turned his blade against the rest of the world, his thirst for judgement unquenched. But the darkness consumed him fully, and was in turn consumed by itself before he could harm the world further.

“But the gods will not suffer corruption to stand judge, and so will cast him out into the void as they did the evil gods of legend.” the Oracle explained; “Mankind will lose all favor with the gods, spurned and cast aside for the darkness of their hearts.”

The vision he showed me now looked bleak, as the remainder of mankind was scattered across the earth; the chaos of a world ungoverned filled me with fear at what was to come. The smoke dissipated, and my attention was drawn to the Oracle once more.

“What can be done?” I implored him.

The Oracle shifted, offering a shrug; “Without the gods this vision cannot be altered. However there is hope found in the end; the gods will choose the orc as their priests in mankind’s stead, and with them shall rebuild the world to what it once was.”

“But we have only ever served the people of the world!” I protested; “How can we possibly lead them?”

The Oracle tilted his head at my words; “What do you believe leadership to be if not servitude? It’s this very quality that makes you fit for leadership.”

I pondered his words, incapable of comprehending the reality of what was to come.

“Then I shall strive to do what I can.” I said; “I know that mankind will forever be shunned by even my people for their deeds, but this vision has granted me insight; I will not suffer their extinction.”

The Oracle stood and placed a hand on my head ; “Fools like you are the reason there is hope in this world; remember your oath here and you may one day repair the damage done by men.”