The Counterweight

Messages for the Druids' Guild
Ulmoth
Posts: 1
Joined: Mon Apr 01, 2019 5:55 pm

The Counterweight

Post by Ulmoth »

A whisper: "In the beginning, all was quiet. In the end, all, too, will be quiet. The joys and calamities in between are necessary to the balance. Such is the cycle of beginnings and endings."

I am Ulmoth, once of the Herd Dalashan, itself of the Great Herd Clashan. From my earliest days, I have known the feel of Deori’s breath as our kin ran with His wind. I have known the longing of Deori’s tears as we looked out across His oceans...known their nourishing touch, as we drank and bathed in His waterways.

I have, too, known his children and their gifts.

All the herds know well the sands of time, forever riding The Creator’s breath to all the far-flung hinterlands of His realms. Many among my people see only coarse grains, and are swift to undo the works of ancient Vagma, reveling in their destruction of evil as they weep over all his gifts have wrought.

I have spent time thinking on this facet of balance. Before leaving Herd Dalashan, I did what I could to remind my kin that from Vagma’s gift of time sprouted Vasari’s gift of history. With beloved Vasari, there, too, stands beloved Vagma. One reviled in many mortal circles is as precious to the balance as one so esteemed, for both were of The One’s design and perfect hand.

For each of my people that understood, another branded me villain, harbinger of dooms. How could their own kinsman claim to champion peace and growth, and yet still honor that which stands for ruin?

Such is my beginning and my calling to the Druids. The balance has need for even the most violent centaurs of the great herds, those who delight in trampling life beneath hate and steel-shod hooves. After some time, I decided that it is not my place to change them, but to seek a way to preserve the balance despite them. That they are as cherished as their oppressors; blades of grass surviving a cleansing brushfire. That if they are to one day change, it will be by the bloom of fire kindled in their hearts by The One Himself.

If the scale tips, I must not seek to clear one side. I must seek the counterweight.

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