Holy Pilgrimage of the Glass Char-Desert
Garden of the Prophet > Source of All Seeds

It was upon the fifth day of Censen that two Brothers of the Rageless Order came in pilgrimage to the sealed war-shrine of the lowest fortress-vault of Shekegen. Far and far again had they traveled from the great Cathedral of the Prophet's Arm above the clouds, upon poison-river and through the Mereken realm wastes where char meets straggled tree and bush.

The forgen great-portals of Shekegen were frozen over by a rod of ice and snow in Censen of that year, and so nigh through Char. Only the least-shafts were cleared by sheth-fleeced peasants of the portal decks, that middens be cast beyond the fortress-vault and Lord Adrus' guard might take small-cannon to hunt whiterabe betwixt storms and snow. Through soil and stench in the least-shafts came Brother Sarmen and Brother Traves, clad in the fur of starved wolven, the Prophet's seed strong within their chests, and of countenance as though this were but the first step upon their holy journey.

Through vault-way, stair and shaft trod the Brothers without pause, not even to seek out the Lord of the fortress-vaults in the name of the Order. Peasants followed from each new deck, the least of the Faithful drawn to these Hands of the Prophet. At the base of the fortress watch-spire, Brother Traves struck the seals placed by the Ordained Amsepehem, and Brother Sarmen set the flesh of Faith against the mighty forgen seal-gate of the war-shrine. Upon its opening, the Brothers gave great praise to the Prophet before the gathered peasants - for within was the holy sign they sought, that they would make pilgrimage to the center of the great char-desert, just as the Anointed Marten in the time of the First Order.

Away from the inland sea of Shekegen there is only the great desert of char and glass, the punishment cast by the Unhallowed upon themselves. The storms of Rue and Awe blow char and glass across a thousand leagues of the deepest desert, fit to carve peasant's forgen and strike the blood and flesh from the bones of the Faithful. Yet it is said there are lost souls deep within the Mereken realm, who toil as peasants upon poison char, drink poison rain, and suffer yet the fate of the Unhallowed.

Into the snow-covered glass and char went the Brothers Sarmen and Traves, upon the frozen tenth day of Char, when whiterabe lay still as death within their burrows and peasants hid from their duties. Went they gladly, these Rageless Brothers, for the Prophet's eyes were upon them, His will made plain.

[ Posted by Reason on September 23, 2006 ]