Mole

Book Quotes

Avalia

_{T I M E : One Week After Human Arrival
L O C A T I O N : Somewhere in the Forest, Port10
I N T E R A C T I O N S : @Conscripts
T A G S :
E Q U I P M E N T :}

[+]

_N/A

It was later in the day, now, as it typically was when a hurt creature came looking unintentionally for good ole Timothy Babadil. This meant the sun was sleeping, and the moon was awake. The night was young, at least, which meant all the scary creatures were still surveying the land before making their initial prowls. Although, Timothy reckoned there weren’t any creature in Port10 that would mess with who he was looking for.

For the first time in a long time, Timothy was feeling genuinely excited about something. It wasn’t the excitement that came with a gift or festive party, but the kind of excitement that would be remembered in dear kind for a lifetime. For an Elf, a lifetime was an awfully long time, which meant this excitement was none other than what they would call extraordinary.

His lantern was singing through the brush. He was looking for large shadows that didn’t look like tree shadows. If nothing came up, he would check in-town. Although, Timothy knew a wounded orc would not fair in the town, especially at this time. Besides, the bad guys were still running around.

Time was not quite on his side, but in the other hand, time was not against him. Time just was, as it always was, and there was nothing he could do about it except keep on going. So, there was in the midst of the forest when he found Barrock.

At first, he thought about hiding and observing, but the orc was smart. There was no hiding from the orc, especially at this point. There was also no point in hiding and observing — for good old Timothy had nothing to hide nor observe. He was a Light Elf of good merit, and Barrock was the only orc around, fair and square.

“Ahoy!” He called out. It was different from the call he gave Rowan, for the time of day was different. The forest was listening different, now. The small vermin were chirping, too.

“Your friends Rowan and Aurora sent me looking for you, good ole Barrock.” His lantern chimed and shined a light between them. There was cheek in the Light Elf’s smile. He was amused to meet such a fascinating creature, and he was more than honored to give him the title or “good ole.” “They’re injured but fine. Now tell me, what can I do for yah?”

His bag swung around. The flap opened with central force and a substantial supply of medical equipment was scene peaking out. His eyes glimmered, ready for any and all responses from the good ole Barrock.

Book Quotes

A regime fully committed to and invested in a materialistic vision of reality finds a true threat in the very different Christian worldview, in which ultimate reality, to be encountered within the heart of each human person, transcends the material.

— Daniel B. Henshaw, Journey to Simplicity: The Life and Wisdom of Archimandrite Roman Braga

Book Quotes

It is a curious fact, too, that the more humble we become, the closer we are to God. Our Lord Jesus Christ said that unless we become as children, we cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven. We must, therefore, become simple and pure, like children, to draw near to God. And the source of this purity, says Saint John Cassian (ca. 360-435), is unavailable to us "unless we have first acquired real humility of heart."s The ascent to God, the climb towards the Divine, begins with the acquisition of humility. We approach the heights by attaining lowliness. We acquire spiritual maturity by becoming children.

In all times, the Fathers have represented the highest standard and served as paradigms who, when we measure ourselves against them, humble us because of the highness of their virtues and the lowliness of our attainments. The humility that we find in this process of comparison is not the humility of self-denying imitation. It is a far more intricate form of humility. It is humility that teaches us how imperfect we are, how far we are from spiritual attainment, and how untouchable the great spiritual giants of our Holy Church actually are. Clinging to this humility, we never reckon ourselves to be worthy of participation in the Divine —let alone by merely mimicking the holy. It is only in such real humility, in such a profound sense of unworthiness, that our desire to emulate the Fathers is ever rewarded by true union with, and participation in, the Divine.

An Elder said: "I prefer a defeat accompanied by humility to a victory accompanied by pride."

Abba Sarmatias (fl. 5th cen.) said: "I prefer a sinful man who, nonetheless, recognizes that he has sinned and who repents to a man who has not sinned and fancies that he is perhaps virtuous."

An Elder was once asked, "When does the soul acquire humility?"

He answered: "When it thinks about its own vices."

An Elder said: "Just as the earth never falls down, neither does the man who humbles himself."

An Elder said: "Just as the earth never falls down, neither does the man who humbles himself."

The Elders used to say that when we are not undergoing warfare, it is then that we are in greater need of being humbled, since God, knowing our infirmity, covers us. But if we are boastful, God removes His protection from us and we go to perdition.

Abba Matoes said: "The closer a man comes to God, all the more does he see himself to be a sinner; for when Prophet Isaiah (ca. 765 B.C.-ca. 701 B.C.) saw God in his vision, he called himself wretched and unclean."

— Archbishop Chrysosyomos of Aetna, Themes in Orthodox Patristic Psychology: Humility, Obedience, Repentance, and Love

Spam Discussion

Hi-hi! 👋🏻

Is it possible to give a user power to block people in Off-Topic threads, as well?

Book Quotes

@rush99999, this is really hard. The Publican versus the Pharisee. I feel like it comes in waves. For a brief period, I am the Publican, but right as I fully understand myself to be him, I become the Pharisee. Rinse. Wash. Repeat.

I read a quote about humility, once. It said something akin to how one can never be humble enough. Once you begin to believe you are humble, you are no longer humble. Maybe I can find that quote and post it.

@Neziul, you and rush are so bold with your religious quotes. It’s good!

Avalia

_{T I M E : One Week After Human Arrival
L O C A T I O N : Somewhere in the Forest, Port10
I N T E R A C T I O N S :
T A G S : @JJ Doe , @Conscripts
E Q U I P M E N T :}

[+]

_N/A

Dew pressed through Rowan’s sleeves onto the skin of his arm, carrying the weight of his sister. He needed to get her help quickly. But where was he supposed to find that?

The Syndicate could be anywhere. Any notably suitable place would be too obvious for shelter. He needed to be creative, but all he could think of was the forest brush surrounding the perimeter of Port10.

It was not ideal for Aurora, but he was not about to take any other chances. Not on her. He had already lost Vasco — mistakenly, and he was not going to let his sister slip through his grasp. He had chosen to save her, after all.

“Hold out your palm, Aurora,” their father spoke. His voice was deep and clear, like a freshwater lake. It had a life of its own, with mysteries ready to be discovered.

Meekly, Aurora held out her hand. Thin, nimble fingers uncurled to reveal her palm.

“These have been made just for you,” their father spoke once more. He placed a pair of golden earrings into her palm. Her blind eyes glittered from the cool sensation, and a smile brightened her face.

Rowan watched intently. His mouth was hiding a quiver of anticipation. They were beautiful. The light shined on them just so.

“They’re made from the same gold that forged the wedding bands of your mother and me,” the older elf said. “It’s a rare gold. This color is unique.” His silver eyes looked at Rowan. Aurora would never know the color, but her brother was destined to always notice it. “Not just the color is unique but the properties surrounding this gold. Try them on.”

Rowan could not help but feel how gentle yet strong his father was. His every movement caused a peaceful ease marked by a tremendous historical power. He wanted to be just like him. He drew in a breath and puffed up his chest.

“These will help you hear. You may not have eyes to see, but your other senses will always be willing to help.” His large hands clasped the earrings around her lobes. He brushed a hand over her hair, moving stray strands from her bashful face.

A calm look of adoration fell over their father’s face. It was an admiration that Rowan knew all too well. It was a look that once stung him but had now taught him. For, his own face often mirrored his exact look for Aurora when no one else was looking.

“Rowan,” their father’s voice was stern. “Your mother and I will not always be here to protect Aurora.” His eyes went downcast and then turned back to his son. “Her life rest on your shoulders. Never let any harm come to her.” The silver in his eyes were sharp and unwavering.

“Yes, Father,” Rowan replied. He surprised himself with how low and respectful his voice sounded. And then, he finally wondered, when did he begin to care about the sound of his voice and the sound of the voice of others? Was it after Aurora began understanding speech?

“Now,” the older elf cupped Aurora’s face. “You look beautiful — just like your mother.”

There was a small stream. It trickled through the small port and into the forest. Patiently, it continued through the forest and beyond.

Rowan placed Aurora near the stream. The grass was green and soft. Her body draped onto the ground. Her head rolled carelessly to the side. Pale with only faint breaths.

His body kneeled over his sister. His own silver hair was sweaty with fight and fear, while hers was damp with blood and determination. As he tried to catch his breath, he thought about Vasco. His fists grabbed the grass and pulled at the roots.

He knew Aurora would had preferred sacrificing her own life to ensure the safety of Vasco — or any human for that matter. But, he couldn’t let himself make the same decision. Not in place of Aurora. She was too precious to him.

And yet, he knew he made the wrong decision.

Shaking the feelings he had, he began assessing Aurora’s wounds. He thanked the gods and goddesses that he was the one to do it and not someone else, like Vasco.

The name stung him. The situation for what it was, he guiltily preferred. Did this make him weak? Was he tricky loyal to the salvation of Avalia? What would his father have done?

Tearing a piece of Aurora’s robe, he pressed it against a wound close to her chest. Her skin was still warm. He could feel her pulse. It was light and comforting.

“Ahoy!”

Rowan looked up. His reaction was more of a jolt. His body hunched over his sister. All the weakness he had been feeling quickly fled. He was ready to fight, again.

“I said, ‘Ahoy!’” An elder man stepped forward. He was on the larger size in strength and a bushy face. Although he was intimidating (was he carrying an axe?) he was friendly looking.

His name was another Light Elf known as none other than Timothy Babadil. It took almost no time for Timothy to break the ice and listen to Rowan’s story. There were two others — one being a human and the other an orc. Both somebodies came as a surprise, in a good way to Timothy.

First off, he had heard about the humans being summoned. He wasn’t dumb about not wanting to be a helping hand. He had been around for a longtime, and while he generally stayed out of meddling with powers, this seemed like a cause he did not mind bending a few of his own personal rules in the name of good.

Secondly, an orc with such an illogical temperament for an everyday orc meant something to good ole Timothy Babadil. He thought it was a sign of good fortune or the gods and goddesses trying to say there was more to this mission. Quite possibly, everyone already knew — just look how the Dark Elves were broadcasting, but for Timothy, these here was a tell tale sign that the Light Elves were going to be victorious.

Timothy mended the two younger elves gently and brought them back to his cottage in the woods. It was not much, but at the same time, it was everything the old elf had, which meant, it was enough.

The cottage looked like part of the woods. A mixture of rock, cave, trunks, roots, and leaves. Inside, the cottage was a wooden common cottage, complete with a bedroom or two, a loft above the kitchen, a living area, and a bathing place to rest and wash clothes. It was cozy in all the right ways, as if the owner had spent centuries planning how to make a perfect nest for weary travelers.

Timothy tended more to their wounds since he had all his resources with him now, and while they rested, he left a note. It read:

Gone to find our friend. There shouldn’t be too many orcs around here, especially one that’s injured. Be back when when he is. In the meantime, don’t go anywhere, as you both need your rest, and please, do make yourself at home. Your friend, Timothy Babadil

Book Quotes

Consider that the next time you give money to a homeless person, but fail to make eye contact with him or her: you are relieving the material want, but failing to acknowledge the shared humanity between the beggar and you.

— Francis Fukuyama, Identity: The Demand for Dignity and the Politics of Resentment

What Are You Listening To?

Thank you, Queen.

Avalia

_{T I M E : One Week After Human Arrival
L O C A T I O N : A Random Warehouse, Port10
I N T E R A C T I O N S : @JJ Doe , @Conscripts
T A G S : @JJ Doe , @Conscripts
E Q U I P M E N T :}

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_N/A

Time slowed. The blur focused. The ceiling was rusty and old. Patches of makeshift handiwork covered odds and ends.

His hand was touching cold concrete. An ache throbbed through his body. It beat in different forms and at various intervals.

Aurora!

Vasco was long gone. Rowan had no concern for the human. All that mattered was that his sister was okay.

His head turned. A bruised and swollen cheek touched the ground. A chill ran through him, but it quickly settled. She was fine. Unconscious but fine.

Her white hair spread around her like a halo. Small, shallow breaths were keeping her alive. There was darkness soaking her cloak. The liquid was threaded through her hair. And, although she was so very pale, her cheeks had life.

As the moment passed, Rowan sat up quickly. His muscles overcame the struggle. His hands planted on the concrete, and his body sprang upon his feet. With knees bent, his eyes darted around the warehouse.

He saw nothing but Barrock.

Rowan’s eyes sharpened and recoiled.

Blood stained the floor. Bodies scrunched and torn apart were laying limp amongst the Ogre’s chaos. There were not enough bodies, however.

This was not the Barrock he knew.

He looked back at Aurora, lying on the floor. He needed to retreat and get Aurora from the scene. But, something was nagging him. Something he had decided to leave behind and was only now remembering…

Vasco!

Again, with the same sharpness, Rowan scanned the warehouse. Vasco was no where to be seen. They had captured him.

Instead of dwelling on the situation, Rowan quickly scooped up Aurora and headed towards the exit. Dodging around debris, he told himself it was fine. Holding Aurora in his arms had its own familial comfort, but for some reason, she weighed heavier than he remembered.