The Word of Kula-- Collected writings and works by Jerrod Felch

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[Within the Creep, left with a bookseller in a secluded nook, is a collection of prose, rambling or otherwise, inspirational pieces, musings and other literature penned by Jerrod Felch. The individual pieces may still be found beyond the Well or below it. This particular tome is far from perfect condition-- coffee stains, earmarked pages and smeared ink establish a certain 'character' that may perhaps add to its appeal for some.]

Dedicated to Zaire, Speaker of Kula

"It is our calling, our duty and our birthright to leave this world better than we found it. Some days that requires sowing seeds and tending to the flock. Some days that requires slaying an orc or ten.

One hand gives. One hand takes."

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Your home. Your fortune. Your children, your partner. Your livelihood. Your career. Your faith in mankind.

No matter what you've lost. No matter what you think you've lost to those above, and how much you have left to give, don't let them break your spirit.

Step on their boots.
Spit in their drinks.
Stick a thumb in their eye.
Borrow, beg or steal what you can.
Curse the dogs with your dying breath.

Defiance. DEFIANCE.

Defiance in the face of injustice. You are never and were never their lesser, and they only win if they fool you into believing that.

One hand gives. One hand takes.

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[Left at the Ramparts, at the camp of the Khan]

'If you don't like living here, why don't you leave?'

It was half rhetorical, half command, not meant to be taken seriously. Because life beyond the Well, beyond the waters, is meant to be horrible. Taxing. Defying death with each moment, hour, day stolen from the grips of those who would claim it. And because of this, the average refugee within the Well becomes more willing to allow their liberties to be trampled. Their rights to be stripped away, their wallets chipped and nicked and scammed by those who claim to be speaking for them while never meeting their eyes. Because they fool themselves into believing--

There is no other choice. Certainly no better choice.

Let this camp, and others like it, at other thresholds that walk the line between the civilized and the Wyld, prove that there is another choice. It will not be an easier one. It will have its own trials and troubles, with few comforts and harsh qualifiers. But it is possible for man to live governing himself without need of Legate or Assembly or League. No matter how short that life may be, it will belong to him and no other.

That is surely how the Gods have intended it.

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A transcription of a sermon delivered from the Speaker's Mound on Nisah 5th, IY 7788. Copies are distributed in Hasheema's Hope and the Coffee House, as well as the Gutters below.

Name's Jerrod Felch. Speaker of Kula. Appreciate you folks coming out, and apologies if I kept you waiting. It's been my firm belief that Kula belongs to the people, and the people belong to Kula. Those who seek to speak on Her behalf have a responsibility to tend to what She loves best-- the earth, and those who inhabit. But that's a shared responsibility, see. We all share that burden. That weight. In this place, Ephia's Well. Some believe it to be one of the most important places on the Disc, due to the people here, the life-giving waters, its fortifications. I could go on-- even if those people might be a bit conceited about their place in the world. But the point is-- that just means that weight is even heavier.

Which is why our leaders, our Legates, beyond them, in Baz'eel, up and down the line of Osman IV...ought to be people we can place our trust and our faith in. Our lives. Because of how precious life is, eh? Not something you toss about as easily as dinar. You follow a man, you ought to be ready to die with him.

Ought to be.

With the election looming, and the chance to choose a new leader to guide our flock for a time, let us examine the Leagues and those who would champion them. Who would a fresh-faced refugee select, without having a sack of dinar pushed into their face while being ushered towards the Pyramid?

I'm a 'member' of the League of White, so we'll start there. Self-examination is important, eh? People ask me– why do I holler and moan when I ought to instead try politics. Run a campaign, buy a Voice, change the system from the inside. It's attractive, I admit. But Domnhall Guivarch dashed that idea for me some time ago. This is a man who, upon being re-elected, swore to 'destroy Marcellus Saenus.' He wants to punish the Purple Legate and their League fer their role in a great many things, if you stop to ask him. The Red Hill. The Gutterdemon. The Thirst Demon. Lot for them to be held accountable for...amd Domnhall hasn't forgotten them. But-- he's at the top of the Pyramid. Holding the reins, so to speak. And he's been no more effective at doing anything about this than one of the Voiceless he wants to uplift.

Comments from the crowd: that Guivarch has 'sold out'. And what's this got to do with Kula?

Kula asks us to be shepherds of Man, miss. The folk who seek to lead the Well ought to be shepherds of men. But Guivarch proves to me that the game is rigged. Trying to make any changes from inside the system is a fool's errand. In his own words, he's a man who wants to be known for keeping his promises-- even the shit-deals-- which empower those he would not.

The people he would oppose are even worse, frankly. The Purple rally behind Marcellus Saenus, a so-called priest of Izdu, whose lies of omission have cost more than one man their life. I won't bother reciting those names when others better suited to it have done it before me. Suffice to say that Saenus believes he knows better than the rest of us, and when his decisions lead to bloodshed, it's always someone else who pays the ultimate price for it. The victims of the blood plague who limped here from Red Hill. The victims of the Gutter Demon released by the Torchbearers, who won his enthusiastic backing. The victims of the Thirst demon, what spirited him off below. How in the unholy hell does he manage to look at himself? Does offering a few poor bastards a Voice, and the rest of us a library we didn't ask for absolve him of his sins?

Comments from the crowd: who does he promote, then-- before the questioner is hushed too silence.

Still got one League left. And for lack of a clear runner, we'll look at Radislav Ludovich. Former BOOT of the Fourth Legion. Sworn to the Wroth though one wonders if that ought to be former as well, considering how his old position left him in a good spot to take vengeance on behalf of all those victims I was naming. The man who once hunted the Torchbearers fer releasing that evil beneath our feet now hunts for a merchant to aid the Gold. I've seen him stalking the gutters with bodyguards in tow, haunted by a ghost with the name of Mari Blacke. Something amiss about the man. Perhaps he's fleeing some vengeance yet to fall on him. But I imagine his plan will be the same as every other candidate's. Offer enough dinar until questions like mine get drowned out.

So what are we to do? Is this the part of the sermon where I declare myself to know better than the rest and announce my intention to run fer Legate?

A pause for laughter. No one laughs.

Nah. As I said earlier, the game's rigged. Guivarch will tell any who will listen that if he can juuuuust get another White Legate into office, he can banish the Voiced system, set up an assembly, and everything will be so much better. He's fooling himself and anyone who would listen to him, because the current system works fer everyone in Baz'eel, along with the boots who enforce it. They'll do their best to convince you that there's no other option but to take it. Take what you're given, accept the suffering of your fellow man. Take what you can get, and don't look too closely at the blood in the water. The truth is, I didn't come here with any fancy solution for you. I'm not a politician or a philosopher. I'm a man of faith. And I firmly believe that we don't need to deceive ourselves into thinking-- this is how we ought to live.

The most valuable resource in Ephia's Well isn't water, it's people.

Take back what belongs to us-- the people. Take back your liberties, the right to go where you like, say what you like, drink as you like. If that's outside the Well, then follow that-- outside the Well. It's harsh, it ain't easy, but it can be done. It ought to be done, because otherwise, this slow descent into compromise and complacency will kill you. And in Kula's eyes- life is precious.

I've spoken my piece. Appreciate you listening.

Questions are entertained from the audience as the crowd dissolves into discussion on a great many topics. The crimes of Marcellus Saenus, real or imagined. That Felch should run for Legate, or support someone with better principles. On the possibility of life outside the Well. Of how one fights an institution. Of who is responsible for the lives lost in the expedition beneath the Gutters. Of how the Janissaries would act if crimes were reported, and no small amount of examples of when they did not. Eventually the gathering disperses peacefully.

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A transcription of a sermon delivered from the Speaker's Mound on Nisah 23rd, IY 7788. Copies are distributed in Hasheema's Hope and the Coffee House, as well as the Gutters below.

My teacher once said to me– the truth transforms, but it's rarely in plain sight. Often it'll take a few questions to smoke it out, and only when those questions are persistent and probing. It's why I try to make a point of speaking to just about anyone, especially those I dislike, because the process is ultimately beneficial. Lately, these conversations have revolved around the price of a Voice, and how it should be earned, and who and by what means it should be awarded to.

What determines the worth of a man? Is it the sweat of his brow, the weight of his purse? Is it the strength of his faith, or his tenacity in the face of the elements? Defiant Kula has Her favorites, of course. The gardeners and grove-tenders; those who uplift and nurture life in its many forms across the land. The poor, the unlucky, the oppressed– when those without are provided for, She smiles. It stands to reason that in Her eyes, worth is not something meant to be demonstrated or seized. It is, perhaps, a quality we can lose over time or through our own actions, as opposed to something we can gain. But all men are born worthy under Her gaze, under the Wheel.

So then it follows, what makes a man unworthy? If you listen to the bellows, you'll hear all kinds of assertions on that. Those who 'squander the opportunity given on drink or drug' and fall into debt. Those unwilling to spend long hours in the Souk peddling wares for whatever dinar they can get. Those who break the 'Sultan's peace' for one reason or another and land in the stocks, or worse– the lion's pit. Those unwilling to pay 5000--4000–3500 to their 'keepers' for the right to say 'treat us better'. Can we as a society agree upon this, to begin with? That the type of people who are so quick to label another man as unworthy deserve that label themselves?

No matter what crimes a man commits– against himself, his fellows or the Gods– I do not believe he is beyond redemption. But redemption is a matter best kept between that man and his Spoke, and the trouble comes when we interfere, and place ourselves in the middle. Debt bondage, conscription– this is no way to rehabilitate a man,  in anyone's eyes. The lash and rod are preventative, not restorative. A man can set his life to rights through service and communion with their God, and the presence of a Speaker makes it that much more possible. The Gods alone are capable of caring for us, wholeheartedly.

We men are given to baser instincts, baser urges. We exploit. We cheat. We steal. We kill. We stumble, fall and expose ourselves to our neighbors at the worst possible moment. Place a 'criminal' into the power of another man, and it is a certainty that that man will suffer. Not because it is just. Not because it is obligated, for their education or betterment. But because they can. This is the power imbalance that exists between those who have, and those who have not. But we are not just our worst nature. We can also be our best selves, that which is closest to the Divine, the Wheel. The State is obligated to oppose this form of rehabilitation-- morally, spiritually, ethically. Debt bondage, conscription or otherwise.

Thanks for listening. Said my piece.

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A tale from Alkab and of the Wyld, as told by Richo


At the end of the world, sits an almshouse, visited by all. Those who enter are given what they need, for that is their duty. One day, a man comes in to claim his share. His sandals are loose, straps hanging, from rotten glue. Instead of sitting with his fellows, he stalks to the dunes outside to feast. At the threshold, he slips, spilling his share. His sandals broken, he storms back into the almshouse, furious.

"I hunger! I hunger! Why, O Gardeners, must you let me starve?"

Pointing to a woman with a broken back, he shouted,

"Give me her share, o Gardeners! She does not walk, while I run! Surely, my need is greater than hers."

And so the Gardeners came, resplendent in Her bounty, borne, of the Earth. Flowing, like water.

"YOU ARE ALL THE MOTHER'S CHILDREN. YOU ARE ALL BOUND WITHIN HER COVENANT. IT IS NOT YOUR PLACE, BEGGAR, SINNER, TO TAKE THE SHARES OF OTHERS."

And the man with the broken sandals was humbled and ashamed and apologized, for his wife had borne him several children, and she, with her injury, could not care for them.

And the Gardeners listened and listened, and in this place, made a new Covenant. And as the man with the broken sandals left, he knew for now and ever...

That those within Her Garden would never starve.