3. Valmor: Of Perfection and Vengeance

Valmor: Of Perfection and Vengeance


  • account name: JBirdL
    character name: Valmor

    The room was permeated by an absolute darkness seemingly without end. The only sound was his quiet, steady breathing, its rhythm deepening his focus as he centered himself within. He sat on the floor, staring into the blackness – whether his eyes were open or closed was inconsequential at the moment, and he wouldn't have noticed in any case. His mind was blank, save for a vague awareness of his breath, his only tie to the external world. There he remained, for a time without measure, without determinacy, until...

    He emerged from the room of deeper darkness into the main hall of the monastery of the Order of the Dark Moon, squinting involuntarily at the comparative brightness given off by the few flickering torches mounted on the walls. After a moment of acclimation, he moved forward with a quiet, graceful stride. With each step he took, the hour drew nearer to midnight.

    Dark of skin, of eyes, and of soul, he fit in quite well with the other monks in the monastery, having been abandoned there for reasons unbeknownst to him by his biological parents in extreme youth. He was taught by those in authority and by his peers to revel in this abandonment, this loss, and to seek vengeance instead of solace. Without a choice in the matter, he gave himself up to this bitterness and strove to perfect himself, that he might exact his revenge on the world which had (though only once) betrayed him so cruelly in its machinations.

    As a means to this end, he aspired to serve the goddess who so embodied that which he was and that which he sought.

    Thus, after his meditation in the room of deeper darkness, he strode to the monastery's communal temple to pay his respects to the Mistress of the Night, as all monks of the Dark Moon Order were obligated to do. After he and the other monks filed into the temple, the giant iron-wrought doors were pushed shut and the service commenced.

    The doors creaked open again about an hour later and the monks filed out again, the right hand of each stained with a red viscous substance.

    He moved to his spartan chambers and fell promptly into a dreamless slumber.

    Some tendays later, he had left the monastery. He had left Amn altogether. He now went by the name of Valmor and had been ordered by the powers-that-be to travel to the far north spread the corruption of the Lady of Loss. If he minded, he didn't say so. One could assume that he might have even welcomed the challenge of appearing to be something that he was not, of perfecting deception as an aspect of perfecting himself.

    And so Valmor arrived at great length in Narfell, his ultimate destination. In such a place, he concluded after a few days, perfection of the self and devotion to Shar would be mutually beneficial endeavors.


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