Breakfast with Bertrand

[gilshem ironstone]

Ermun comes in to Bertrand's office bearing some cheese and meats from the Harpy. He bows respectfully before bring offered a chair by Bertrand, who sets aside his quill and ink.

"How has your time been in Vehl been so far?" The wizened Toranite asks, peering up at the mountain of muscle in front of him.

"Good.  I have met great challenge in the crypts next to Dragons temple.  Dead as we saw near The People's home rose up and once more Toran's Shining Hand came to help me."

"You don't say.  I was not aware any of them were operating here.  Do you recall her name?"

"Beacon Jillian.  She showed great lesson to Ermun."

Bertrand makes a note of her name. "Oh yes? What was that?"

"She showed me how to put the Light of the Mother through the still hand.  How this can be used to return dead to the Mother's Earth."  Ermun stands, and walks over to face a stone wall.  He gathers a large breath, turns his attention inwards for a moment and then with a cry strikes the wall, open-palmed.  A flash of light fills the room, and Bertrand covers his eyes.

"Yes my friend.  You have released divine energy through your hand.  That would most certainly cause consternation to the skeleton on the receiving end."

Ermun nods stoically, "My hand is Grannoch's tool.  My hands and my heart.  I make them pure and return lost souls to the earth."

Bertrand smiles, "Indeed my friend.  I hope this inspiration serves you well.  So what will you do now?"

"I will walk some ways along the Earth to the City Hempstead.  See great jewel of men.  Find new lessons from The Shaper of Stone, find new hearts to serve with my lessons.  Come back and eat more bad meat from Harpy."  The two share some laughter and idly chat the rest of the morning away.

[gilshem ironstone]

Ermun returns to Vehl after a month of travelling bearing raspberries, rice and venison. He waits on a bench for Bertrand to be free to share this meal he has brought. He passes over the experiences he has had, trying to discover the course his shamanic path is taking him.

"I know the fire that is not can enter my gloves. I can receive the strength of Grannoch's children in to my muscles and bones. But these feel as lies to the Mother's face. My father always said, 'You are shaman of the people! You are everything you need to be! Look not outside or in to the earth, but seek your true self inside and you shall feel the rapture of the Mother's love!' A powerful shaman was he. I do not see inside myself. I see only what comes to the world and what the world brings to me."

Ermun's shoulders slump as he perceives the folly of this chapter of his life. He wonders why he did not die with the shower of rock. He doubts he will ever become a true shaman of the Shaper of Stone. His fancy is snapped by the chamberlain informing him that Bertrand is ready for him. Ermun raises up his body proudly and marches in.

Bertrand is smiling as Ermun comes in with his gathered feast, "Ermun! Been on an errand of your own have you? You must tell me of it.".

Ermun felt his doubts melt away and indeed found himself telling tales of his journey to the caves in the Silkwood, the necklace he found and his budding friendship with Beacon Jillian. Indeed after that he even felt comfortable enough to seek advice on his doubts. Bertrand listened and said nothing until Ermun was quite finished. Bertrand then leaned forward and spoke on an oddly secretive tone, "You know Ermun, I have spoken with monks of the Great Leader and they often talk of a common experience. They say that when doubts, fears even triumph or exultation.  These are not the thoughts of the true self.  I think the true self thinks thoughts incomprehensible to us and so seems silent."

Ermun sat for a moment, trying to understand the words that were spoken to him.  Still unsure he nods in thanks to Bertrand.  They share the rest of the meal together amicably, talking about small matters like vocabulary and work.  When time came to leave, Ermun paused before walking out the door and offered one more thought.

"The Earth is still like the sleep of the Mother, I will seek that in myself.  Be safe Bertrand."

Bertrand nods in deference, and watches his strange friend leave once again.

[gilshem ironstone]

Bertrand sips some tea as Ermun sits silently across from him. No expectation is in the room, just a comfortable silence shared by friends. Ermun fumbles with the raspberry preserve Bettrand made with his gift from their last visit. His enormous fingers make the butter knife look more like a toothpick. Bertrand casually watches him struggle, places his tea on it's saucer and regards the mountain sitting across from him, "I need your advice my friend."

"Yes Bertrand, speak what you think.". No more expectation lay between the two than before, only a change in focus.

"Well there is a recruit I am dealing with, in the order of paladins, and he is a spectacularly gifted warrior. Strong, fast, tireless, but..."

"But his faith lacks his strength of arms."

"Exactly. And so I am at a loss. If his heart could be set afire then he could
be great, but I am not sure that it might be possible."

Ermus nods slowly and chews his morsel of bread. A thousand thoughts pass behind his eyes of glass. He wondered how one could be called to fight for the cause of faith and say no. He wondered how one could strive for physical perfection and not bring their heart on the path.  He wondered if his own heart was strong enough to become a crucible for the divine source: Grannoch's primal might.  

"Has this man been given challenge that no body can answer?" Ermus found himself asking the question as if it were a natural product of the energy of his mood.

Bertrand regards Ermus with a little half-smile, "No he hasn't, an excellent idea. I will arrange that."

Again the comfortable silence settled like a dust-spattered sun beam and the two men enjoyed another fleeting moment. Bertrand was first to break the equilibrium again, "So how goes your journey? Have you managed to quiet some of the voices in yourself? Perhaps let Grannoch speak her mind to you?"

Ermun shifts in his seat and places both of his palms flat on the table before letting the words he finds so inadequate to come out, "I am worried. I was hunting goblins near small town of Hlint. I fill my body with blessings to become like earth. My fists find goblin, his blade finds me and next I know, goblin is broken."

"You were victorious then? You doubt the intentions of the goblin?"

"No. I do not know where my mind go. I look down after battle and see many deep wounds. Feel weak. Why can I no remember journey so close to Soul Mother's grasp?"

"Well, tales of warriors caught up in the heat of battle are legion."

"No.  Battle is time for me to feel all the gifts that I have been delivered. To use the hardness of hand and know that hand is of the bones of Layonara, shaped by the Mother. When I can feel her will move in me. Do I run in terror and not even know I am afraid?"

As Bertrand feels Ermun's agitation increase, he puts his hand on Ermun's, "My friend it is alright. It is. Perhaps you and my recruit are not much different. Perhaps you need to feel Grannoch in your heart and mind as much as battle."

"What you mean?"

"If you are as Grannoch made you, perfect-"

"I am."

"Yes. So then maybe you should use other parts as much as your prodigious fists. Perhaps you need to set your heart rumbling."

Ermun, suddenly silent, watches Bertrand in taut silence. He barely seems to breathe. His fist tightens until his knucles whiten and he raises it in the air, like a vision of Rofirein's gavel. In a flash it hammers down and crushes a walnut which he quickly eats.

"You smarter than you look.

Both men share a laugh if relief.

[gilshem ironstone]

Ermun strengthening his fists in prayer to Grannoch.  Contact with the stone not only hardens his hands, but stirs his spiritual connection to Grannoch by perceiving her stillness present within the stone.

[gilshem ironstone]

Ermun enters Bertand's office and a look of concern immediately passes over the wizened Toranite's face, "Ermun, you look like a ghost!  Are you well?  Should I call for a healer?"

Ermun shakes his head on a slow, languid fashion that simultaneously describes a physical weakness as well as a still emotional state, "I have been on fast. For thirty days, for twenty more.  It has been a great learning for me."

Bertrand's attempts to veil his concern with rapt attention, "Thirty days? To what end?"

"No end, only discovery. To find what I made from.  To find what lies beyond the surface.  I have found strength that comes not from rest and work and food, but from spirit; from the foundations of creation, Grannoch's bones."

Ermun sits back in his chair like someone feeling the reward of an intense labor. Exhausted, yet filled with satisfaction.

Bertrand leans forward, amazed that this man most would call savage continues to show a depth most in the civilized world lack, "So what tests have been made of your strength?"

"I dug graves for all of The People that fell to the Mother's Favored."

"But I thought that, as a shaman of Grannoch you were forbidden from using tools?"

"I used no tools."

Bertrand sat back in his seat a moment to absorb this. The land around where Ermun was from was hard clay or stone. To do what he described was an exercise in futility and borderline torture, "My friend, how could you do such a thing?" He asked, agog, "Such a task would be like mining copper with a carpenter's hammer."

"I drew upon Grannoch's will. I let her show me how to shape the stone into a pit. She show me, I find great strength , my will is like mountain. The faces of The People flash before me. I can hear their songs. They sing Grannoch's songs of creation and I draw from the roots of Layonara, where Grannoch draws all strength from.  I do not remember how I dig so many pits, I only know that Grannoch's guides my hand, makes the deed bigger than the effort."

Bertrand sureptitiously wipes the moisture from his eyes and smiles a fond smile of a man who sees the good in the world he has struggled for. He leans
forward and puts his gnarled hand on Ermun's, seeming only a child next to the demi-giant across from him.

"My friend, The People may be buried but you are still here. I hope that you can create The People once more. It should make the world a better place."

The pair sit back and let the morning rays drift in from the water. Neither eats, but neither are hungry.

[gilshem ironstone]

The last Bertrand saw of Ermun was several weeks ago.  The world being what it was, he knew that people could be gone on missions to Dregar or Belinara for months for no better reason than a contrary wind. Something inside of him said that in this case, it was not so. He ate sparsely and as his thoughts wandered, he stared at the faint speck of a mountain that marked the Brech peaks.



Little did Bertrand know, he stared to the very heart of Ermun's experience. After the last time the odd couple had seen each other, Ermun had left the gates with a mind of testing his prodigious physique against the infectious evil of the Gloom Woods. He had meditated on a patch of earth he had personally sanctified; he felt the deep warmth of Grannoch's dynamism simmer in his core. His senses sharpened as he envisioned his journey in his mind, his reactions became sharp and lithe, his muscles taut. He sought to bring his spiritual machinations to a close with a divination of sacred sand,  asking for Grannoch's guidance in the passing of the grains through his fingers. He held his hand at eye-level and as it finished passing through his hand to the earth, he saw a figure approaching. It was large, larger than Ermun himself, and. powerful, and filled with a quiet grace: not the boisterous agility of the elves, but the gait of one who knows themself.



Ermun was silently transfixed as the figure came upon him. It was hooded, in simple robes, with a large pack and a massive hammer. It regarded Ermun and  he felt as if he were encountering a guardian of an important gateway in his life. The figure pointed at him and spoke in a guttural language which Ermun had heard but never learned. Surprise and excitement coursed through the cleric as he knew that one of Grannoch's children stood before him.



The giant figure before Ermun speaks slowly, haltingly but with a tone filled with a deeper sort of understanding.  He pointed to Ermun's holy symbol and uttered the word "Pilgrimage."

[gilshem ironstone]

Months have gone by with Ermun seeming to set down roots in the foothills of the Brech Mountains.  He lived off the land much as he always had, foraging and hunting with his bare hands as is befitting of the shaman of The People.  When he became intropective, he would make the arduous pilgrimage to the Temple of the Mother Grannoch for fasting and meditation under the supervision of the Son and Daughter of Air. There he would feel his physical connection to the Earth deepen as he sat unmoving for many days, his breath slowing to a glacial pace, his minds eye travelling across the mountains and plains and forests to the memory of his ancestral home.  The ritual bathings he was given, the yearly bear hunt he undertook alone.  

Then memory would fold under the urging of hunger and thirst and give way to visions he believed sent to him by Grannoch.  Visions of giant children burying him in a cocoon of earth and he emerging as a titan bestriding the land.  Visions of flames bursting forth from him, a scourge of rebirth consuming his old form and leaving his spirit pure amongst ashes.

His way of life became more peaceful, more languid than before.  He felt small in comparison to the world that he saw in his visions.  But he felt fulfilled, purposeful, without desires beyond his spiritual devotions.  This left his perceptions clear of the desires that often clouded him before: pride, regret, sorrow, greed.  Instead he merely felt the connection of the moment to his Mother's Gifts.

When he did need to travel, to be unrestful like the wind.  He would walk to Vehl, where he spent much of his time since he left the Hammerbound Peaks.  He would visit his old friend Bertrand, whose life was as still as Ermun's.  They shared many pleasant days, Bertrand explaining the many goings on in the church of Toran, Ermun speaking of his learning on his path of shamanism.  Ermun would always remark how steady Bertrand was in the face of so much maneuvering in the Toranite organization.  Bertrand in turn marvelled at how Ermun's presence became filled more and more with the still wisdom of the mountains that he loved.

And Ermun would go to the Arena, to stay sharp.  He encountered Yeti often enough that he could not let go of his martial skills or else, face death.  He trained with the commitment of the earth.  Slow, assured, powerful.  He trained for long hours, keeping his massive frame lean and efficient.  It was during one of these sessions that he encountered an elf, named Drexia.  She was practicing on the same dummy Ermun always used.  He marvelled at the fluidity and grace she possessed.  She was like a Zephyr in her speed, and lightning in her power.  Noticing him they struck up talking.  Ermun prompted her about the four elements and how they moved within her.  She showed him fire and wind and water.  When he asked about Earth she cast some doubt on her skill with it.  He showed her the might of Earth in his punch, but she said that Ermun must use all that is available to him.  He watched her for a while longer before going out again in to the world.

It was long before he met Drexia again.  He decided to travel out in the world  and found himself in the foothills outside Port Hempstead.  He was drawn by the rolling hills that in his eyes were Grannoch's children in a restful pose.  He contemplated the depth of the earth but a faint hiss immediately set his instincts on alert.  He scanned the horizon and saw a subtle movement in the grass, the glint of sunlight on metal told him that an attack was imminent.

He prayed deeply and drew the strength of the earth in to his bones.  His magic helm covered him in a barky skin.  The rage of fire inhabited his fists.  The clarity of air focused his mind.  The chaos of water surrounded his form. Gracefully he strode forward, holding his hands high in a symbol of peace.  He desired no quarrel, but would not tolerate these hills being terrorized for no great need.

The kobolds worked themselves up in to a vicious frenzy and before Ermun had take three steps, began to pelt the large man with fist sized stones.  The shaman feared no stone though and asked Grannoch to make him in to the form of his enemies weapon.  Before the kobolds eyes, he became a living visage of stone.  The time for peace-making had now passed and Ermun broke in to a full run towards the reptiles.  They squealed as their stones bounced harmlessly off him, and he broke in to them like a tsunami.  The first kobold was lifted clear off its feet and swung in to the one next to him.  A third kobold quailed and ran screaming.  After the Shaman had put the two kobolds down, he considered whether he should follow or not.  In the distance he heard the sounds of alarm drums, and decided that he should ensure that he was not ambushed as he left these lands.

He advanced further in to the foothills, the sounds of drums growing louder and louder.  He ran along a low ravine, and as it opened up he came upon the first resistance.  A group of kobolds pelted him with stones once again.  Some were caught up in the water blessings surrounding him, some bounced harmlessly off of him.  He heard strange words being uttered, and saw a bird of the air appear from nowhere.  He pushed his way through the slingers and barreled down on the trickster, a massive fist pummeling down on its head as it began to mutter strange words again.

The kobold fell unconscious to the ground, the bird vanished and he turned to face the four slingers.  In his charge much of his stoney shell had been chipped away by their bullets.  Ermun blocked out the frenzy about him, and fell in to the deep stillness of prayer.  The Earth surrounding him rose up and replenished his stone shell, and as he opened his eyes he saw the fear of death ripe in his enemies eyes.  He bellowed fiercely, and the kobolds broke and scattered before him.

He turned as he felt a shock of electricity course through him.  He sent his heart up to Grannoch once more and asked her to shield him from her earthly might.  As he charged the next bolt of lightning did not bear the same sting.  Some strange dog-like creature leapt on him and they went to the ground in a ball.  As the beast tried to pierce his skin with its wicked teeth, his fists pounded its ribcage, the smell of burning fur filling his nose as the hidden flame of his fists scorched the creature.

The rest of the kobolds in the war party ran to pummel him while he was down, and hearing their advance he rolled out from under the dog, its body too broken to give chase.  He came to his feet quicker than the kobolds expected and met their charge with his massive fists swinging.  He clubbed one of the reptiles and its head lolled.  Ermun felt the bite of a blade that pierced through his stony protection, and he turned see a larger kobold with wings and a wicked blade stabbed in to Ermun's stomach.  Ermun grasped the kobolds arms, and with his other hand smashed its forearm bone, they stumbled back from each other, and Ermun surged forward again.  This time his fist broke its jaw, and the kobold slumped to the earth unconscious.

Another surge of electrical energy drew Ermun's attention, and with a fierce bellow he assaulted a shaman nestled in amongst the ruins of a lookout tower from centuries gone by.  It was quickly put down, its slender build no match for the hulking man.  The last two kobolds in the war party were determined to defend themselves to the end.  They charged and Ermun smashed their heads together, knocking them both out.

Looking down at the blood flowing from the stone of his stomach, he was first struck by the similarity between that sight and Grannoch.  She was the life in the stone.  He decided that this was a message from Grannoch, and instead of praying for healing, he simply cleaned to wound and bound it.  That evening he spent beneath the stars in wonder as he witnessed Grannoch.