3. Brother Shanr Runningfist

Brother Shanr Runningfist


  • Wet darkness surrounds the man who lay on the hard, cold stone floor. No windows are here to let the sunshine in, no candles are lit to shed some dancing shadows on the walls. There is no sound, besides the heavy breathing, and the scratching of fingernails.*
    ~Will anything ease the pain?~came the thought into the man's mind and a raspy voice inside his head answers him:
    ~Let me controll you…do not fight against me...give me your soul, and your body...that will ease the pain...~says the demonic voice, and the pressure on the mind of Shanr is increasing. He bites his lower lip, but the taste of his own blood just fires up the rage of the demon inside. He struggles against the demon, but panic, and despair is growing inside him. The beast that infected him knew him, knew his worst memories, and most horrible nightmares. Shanr begin to see pictures of his own previous life.
    His father, a large, tubby man with bushy beard,balding head and arched eyes. He was a merchant, a wealthy one, always on the move, to earn more money, to sign contracts, to check the shipments...or to make haste to home to be with his loving family. A flashing picture came in to Shanr's mind...the body of the father as it spins in the nothing, where hungry nightmares wait him, to tear the lifeless body into pieces.
    His mother, an attractive aristocrat, with a soft, quiet voice, and a warm smile. She was a caring goddess to her children...always there when she was needed, always with some advice, and a kind smile, or a loving hug. Another piece of the worst memories...screams from his mother, but he can not reach her hand, because he gets further and further away, whilst spinning around in a shiney tunnel...and the scream ends when the gloomy tunnel blindingly explodes violently.
    His younger sister a skinny little girl with big, friendly eyes, long, honey-coloured hair and with the shyest personality he has ever seen. She was the one who could not be resisted...charming, with a bright mind, and the face of an angel. The final stab to the mind came in the form of a memory...Shanr can see himself, and his sister spinning in the magical space, holding each others hand tightly...but not tight enough...the eyes of the siblings meet for one second before the inevitable comes, then the hands are torn apart by a strong push...a push from each and every direction.
    Then darkness come back, after the blinding flash, and the hand of the lonely man snapped after the long lost hand of his sister...but he hits only a hard, rock wall. The pressure in his head is nearly unbearable, as is the pain in his soul...but the holy part of his soul, and mind, the diamond that was chiseld for four long years will not give up the fight so easily...actually it has not fought back till now...
    The broken, tortured body rises, and stands in the center of his jail. The demon roars inside him, but he ignores it for a few seconds...he does not need more time. Shanr begins to do the only thing that can ease the pain...he begins his kanzan.
    Hands are raising, and the body bows. Every motion radiates the enternity of gods, the balance of harmony. He is truly alone, bathing in the time of the gods. Shanr was the rock in the way of the watercourse, the pure blue-light in the heart. Slow breath, and lower his body, to get a perfect stance...and then the dance begins. Three lightning fast hits forward, then a half turn to left as his right leg kicks an invisible openent. All in his blows, dodges strikes he showes the strength of a dragon, and the grace of a panther. To tame the emotions and the denial of the violence, fight without purpose...this is the essence of the kanzan, a form of perfection, that is more, and less than beauty at the same time. The man dances as he tears the throat of the enemy that only Shanr can see. His hands become claws, and he bruises the silence...two more fast hits with the wrist, a full turn with outstreched arms, and then silence. Crossed arms before the chest, and a bow...his hands are shining with blue light. The moment of the Word of silence...calm face, as he sits down, in a meditative trance.
    The beast inside grumbles, but it is tamed for a time...the wards, and glyphs binding the demon shine again. Footsteps tap outside his cell...the restrainers are here again. There is no sad story about how he ended up here, and how he is tortured by the evil captors...Shanr chose a long time ago to live like this, within the walls of Azzhan Monastery.

    "Entry in the secret tome of High Patriarch Irragol Sigrar, Revered One at the Monastery of Aazhan; 1469 - Year of Splendors Burning"
    -This day we have all made a terrible mistake.It is not only my fault, but I am the one who must deal with the consequences, and bear the burden for what I have done to an inocent man. Several years ago a young lad was found near an ancient portal, not far from the monestary. The monks carried him to brother Alyr, as he was unconscious, and needed medical attention...but then one of the clerics had opened his third eye, and examind the astral body of the boy. A great demon, an astral wyrm was looking into our brothers eye, and then the body of the boy moved. It stood up with a scarlet glow in its eyes, and tore out Alyr's throat...and killed several brother before I arrived. In the end I won over the still weak demon. It was obvious to me, that the demon posessed him during the usage of that old, forgotten portal. The exorcism was uneventful. But nobody can foresee the ways of Azuth. The favoured of the Lord of all Spells, came just in time, to stop the ceremony. I can not write down his name, even here. The messenger of my god, ordered me to use this deviant, for higher purpose...to train this poor soul, so in the end he could live, and control the demon within. The training was not easy for him. It is never easy to perfect the body, and the mind...and Shanr - named after the demon, that posessed him - had to deal with the demon's rage. Singing psalms beneath a cold waterfall for hours, or beaten nearly to death...the methods were cruel, but in the end with my bindings upon the demon, he managed to maintain discipline, and be "normal" again.
    I wonder if the church of Azuth is "evil" or not. We used this man to track down demon posessed men, and women, just the same as Shanr was once, or evil spellcasters, who used the gift of Azuth for...for a purpose we do not appreciate. He killed them, or brought them to us...it was inquisitorial work.
    But now...he has encountered someone who is posessed by a greater demon. Urnol Franghorn, the renegade wizard of Thay, and the agent of the Zhentil Keep, an initiate of the inner circle, had left that Keep, in disquise. Shanr encountered the powerful mage, at a deserted town. The demon of our agent detected the other one first...and the puppet, the body of Shanr lost control over the beast inside. He attacked the mage with bare hands...and beat him to half-dead. But during the battle the bondsthat grip the demon, make it weak...had faded away. And now we do not have any other option than the exorcism. I told him what will happen...and promised that I will kill him, if he become a mindless body during the ceremony. If he survives it with a clear mind, we will erase his memory, and replace them with happy ones...he deserves this compensation. May Azuth forgive us...and help this poor soul.-

    And the ragged man stands outside of the monestary. The Sun has just risen above the horizon, and the landscape is humming with life. With a faint smile on his face, he picks up the bag before his feet, and walks towards the shining sun...the memories of his life are blank, and he feels dizzy. But who cares, when this is a beautiful day, and Azuth guides his path. This journey to the north will bring new experiences, and he will collect all the saintly knowledge he can for the glory of the monestary.
    -So the journey begins...-says with bright eyes, and slowly disappeares from the sight of the watching eyes.
    Azuth,may help you Brother Runningfist...and redeem our souls for our sins...-says the Patriarch with sad smile.

    //Shanr In the diety of Azuth, cleric/monk/wizard, account:Szeltolo //


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