Click Here to Play "The Final Challenge"

(located at mud.finalchallenge.net port 4000)

The Triat's Will Be Done...

He heaved another sigh of indecision. Pausing from his pacings, Talmud stared out the window. Night had quickly fallen over the earth, blanketing it in its uneasy silence.

'It must be done,' he decided, sitting at the desk.

Dipping quill in ink, he began his final letter.

"Bretheren of the Chosen of Fa..." he began, but shaking his head, threw the parchment out, beginning again.

"Friends," nodding his assent,

"I write to you from the threshold of a decision made. The decision is this, that I have decided to pass from this Realm. For various reasons, I feel the completion of the Cycle, the Ebon Sigla which starts from birth and ends in death (to then begin again?), has put its mark on me. I, the Wyrmling, Servant of the Triat's Will, must now bid the call of the Wyld and put an end to this."

Dipping his quill again, he paused, glancing out the window. 'Strange,' he thought. His vision seemed blurred.

"I'm afraid I am not making myself clear. I am leaving. I am leaving all that I know in this Realm, my life in this frail mortal body, the events, the people, the Threads of All Things in the Tapestry of Life. It must all come to end."

He looked up again, and a sensation, not utterly foreign to him, but yet so unfamiliar. Talmud started as a tear hit the dried parchment, its sound reverberating in the cathedra.

"Ends are rarely without grief. And..." He stopped here to wipe his eyes. "This end fills my heart with much sorrow. Friends... these mere words of parting could never fill the expanses of friendship and kindness that you have made known to me. I leave with the heavy debt of unrequitted friendship hanging over me. Forgive me if in any way I failed to return the sacrifice that you have all made for me."

"A great scribe and philosopher in another Age, in another Place, wrote these words: 'I used to believe it would be delightful to be loved without loving back. Now I discovered how painful love can be when you cannot return it.' Oh, how my voice and soul affirm those words at this moment."

"To the Lady of Fate, great Lady Cordir. My service and obedience has always been yours to this point. In my service I have also found love for our Goddess of Fate. This parting is not only one of a servant leaving his mistress' household, but of a son leaving his mother. May the light of your soul shine upon this darkening Realm... May your wisdom be your sword and shield, and your character the banner that unfurls above the entire earth, calling it to your example."

"To my brothers and sisters in Fate. It is rare that such an elect and chosen people should assemble together, working at the Weaver's sacrifice. I joined the Lady's fold early, and though this by no means gave me any superiority over any of you, (in fact, I felt much lesser so many times), which gave me the opportunity to see each of you enter the life of sacrifice and honor, and tread so firmly upon the path. May your feet never slip and may the Triat guide your path and be your light."

Putting down the pen, Talmud rose, visibly agitated. Casting off the cowl about his head, he again approached the window. His reflection gazed at him with large, mournful eyes. Trembling fingers, paled with cold and stress, ran down the smooth of his skin.

He sat and finished.

"However, it is not against my will that I leave. It is with All my Will that I do so. Nothing less could move me from my home here. With full conviction of purpose in the Triat's guidance I leave, but rest assured, not without many misgivings and sorrows which these words can only hint at."

"Give my greetings and farewell to our friends outside the Chosen of Fate. Give my sacrifice to the young of the Realm. Bid the Light of Cillidellia, the Queen Mariel goodbye, if I cannot do so myself. And tell that Loth-Llorien innkeep that my opinion of his appearance was not much higher than his for mine. But give him my farewell to him, too."

"Farewell."

Pausing to dip his pen into the inkpot again, he hesitates. Then with one brutal action, he takes his weapon from its sheath and runs his palm across his deadly blade. Immediately the crimson lifeblood wells up. It is into this he dips his quill lastly.

"Talmud, Theologian of Fate, and your servant."

"Young one!" he called out. The mouse-like pattering of feet obeyed his summons, and soon a elven child appeared at the archway to the Cathedra. The already frightened child lost all nerve at the sight of the flowing blood. He had been accustomed to the delivery of the Master's letters, but this late night mission, and the bloody... his head was swimming...

A strong hand caught him. "Young one," the voice calmly spoke again, his uncut hand grasping the child's shoulder. "Fear not my faithful friend. This letter must be delivered and left upon the Tapestry Loom. You understand, do you not?"

The child nodded, his face still blanched with fear. And then, in an
uncustomary gesture, Talmud kneeled, embracing the child, the folds of his cloak gently cloaking him. "You... you are leaving?" Talmud, stepping back, nodded once. "Fare... farewell, Master."

"Farewell friend." Ruffling his unkempt hair, the theologian nodded in the direction of the letter. "Go take that now. It should be dried." The child, positively grinning now, ran off towards the letter. "Give your regards to the Lady... and don't be afraid of her this time."

The boy shyly nodded and started running off. "Oh," Talmud's voice interrupted. "Wait one moment. I believe..." Rummaging about in his pouch, he pulled out several pieces of candy. "These were yours?" He tossed them to the child, who deftly caught them, beaming. "Now off with you."

The cathedral was oddly silent now. Talmud sighed, going to finish the task at hand. He sketched the Ebon sigla upon the ground, and stepped within it. Lifting his eyes heavenward, arcane words escaped from the opened mouth and immediately indigo flames flared up from where he drew the sigla.

Talmud closed his eyes, consumed in the flames, feeling no heat. But what was that... he looked down at his left hand where the cut had been made. Where the cut just was a moment ago, the Covenant Tattoo writhed, glowing brightly, evidently mingling with the blood. Talmud smiled and whispering, 'Thank you, Lady...' before the portal opened, consuming the elf.

And he who was called Talmud was no longer seen in the Realm.

Click here to return to timeline