The Wanderer's Parable

[Hierophant]

THE WANDERER'S PARABLE
Penned by Eamon Bronzegate

They say the Gods are older than anything. Perhaps the Gods have a plan for us. But with the arrival of the Old City refugees - I among them - we have come to this land where the Wheel is blessed and true.

I was not always a pious man. Indeed, the god I once followed died with the Count. At the very least, it was known that after his death, many relic guardians found themselves alone. No longer did they feel His presence. The Lord did truly depart, now and forever.

I came through the thicket of the Boundary and I stepped upon the ash of the Great Desert, lost and afraid. It took me some time to decide whether this was a world I wanted to live in any longer. I lost my friends, my family and those I loved. I found honest work at a Caravanserai, where I shared laughs, drinks and bread with many travelers of many coats, and many refugees like myself yearning for a home and following the road to the jewel of the world, Ephia's Well. A satrapy beneath the Sultan's boot. I left a fortnight later on the first caravan to Ephia's Well, and leading it was one of the Waradim's many priests. We had many days to discuss faith, and he convinced me that paying homage to the Wanderer was a fitting reward for the end of our journey. I never saw him again.

When I first came to the Well, I felt little love for the way of things. I held Warad to heart and met a priest of His road, Khalid. A genial man of great wisdom. I've yet to meet another, but I have met other Waradim and have heard of another priestess, Lynneth Llywarch who was a dedicated veteran of the Cinquefoil Rose. She perished in the great battle of Red Hill. I could fill an entire page of those Waradim I felt inspired by and called friend, brother, sister, but this is not that sort of book. The Shepherds have lulled them upon the Edutu with brazier lit and coin set betwixt their now empty eyes. But they wander the sands now, surely sharing the company of the Lord of Roads.

I praise Warad, He of many burdens. May He take some of mine this day so I may walk behind Him. As I go after Him, to dark and desolate lands, let His footsteps be my guide. These are the words spoken of by those in Qa'dira. The only temple dedicated to Warad I've come across in my travels. I hold these words close to my heart.

Nay, these writings are for all who seek the insight of the Wanderer. He who brings peace to these lands, ensures our roads are safe and our borders safer. He who walks the sands, prowling them for any sign of brigand, thief or murderer. So well revered is Warad that even the dwarves of Kulkund call him such, whereas they've other names for the Wheel and consider them stolen by the Ashfolk.

It is my belief that Warad is far too humble to claim praise for his many acts of righteousness and miracle in the disparity of danger and treachery when not protected by four walls. Indeed, that the Wanderer is the patron of this land. The warden and caretaker, of all things. Agaslakku may be a prodigal brother, respected for his might in battle, Warad is the gleaming shamshir in the distance, whose heart is true and whose spear strikes truer.

While Agaslakku revels in war, battle and plunder; Warad is a true protector, who does not enjoy blood spilt but will spill it for a just cause. A necessary cause. His charge extends where might the wind blow, and you must know that the wind is boundless and so is He. Think to don your steel and your mask, take to the sands and call thyself Warad, for you pay homage to He and if your sword strikes true against the thieves he abhors, they will know the battlecry of the Waradim.

As it is soon the coming of Adar where the nights are darkest and the fiery glare of the demon Pra'raj is pushed back by the superstitions of the Sabotage and the Absence and the combined faith of the Mother's blood. Izdu, father of Kalim and Gamil - brother to B'aara! It comes to the Waradim to make their final pilgrimage of 7787 IY to begin the cycle anew.

As twilight comes, as the sun dips below the endless dunes, the Waradim find solace in their communal journeys. Each footprint we leave upon the shifting sands and ash becomes a testament to our devotion, a mark that echoes the footsteps of the Lord of Roads himself. The path we tread is not one of isolation but of shared burdens and collective protection.

As the Wanderer's Parable unfolds, it reveals the patchwork tapestry woven by the nomads, travelers, and protectors who call upon Warad's name. Ours is a pilgrimage through the realm of hardship and triumph, where the promise of sanctuary lies not in opulent temples but in the simple shrines scattered across the land. We Waradim understand that these sanctuaries are not mere structures; they are sacred havens where the divine presence of Warad is known well and trusted.

In the face of adversity, the Waradim stand united, their battle cries echoing across the desolate landscapes. The legacy of Lynneth Llywarch and other fallen heroes lives on in the wind's whispers and the fluttering, tattered banners cast upon the dunes. Their sacrifice is a testament to the enduring spirit of those who walk the sands, guided by the principles of protection, hospitality, and the pursuit of new horizons.

And so, as the Wanderer contemplates the words etched upon the sands of time, His heart heavy with the burdens of the journey, a sense of purpose prevails. The faithful understand that in embracing Warad's path, they become stewards of His presence in the Great Ash Desert, and take upon this duty with honor and diligence. Know that even if the Wanderer is not seen, His presence is felt and bolstered by the unwavering faith of his Waradim.

The Lord of Roads, humble in His might, walks alongside them, a companion in the boundless expanse, ensuring that the road ahead is marked not only by challenges but also by the enduring light of sanctuary and salvation so long as one follows in His footsteps.

Illuminated by the Lord of Roads, our journey through life is a pilgrimage of purpose, where every step taken is a prayer whispered upon the winds. In the vast expanse of the desert, we learn that the true sanctuary lies not in the destination but in the footsteps we leave behind. May our paths be ever guided by the wisdom of Warad, and may we, in turn, be guardians of His clarion call.