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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Nthal" data-source="post: 7643693" data-attributes="member: 6971069">A Final Kiss of Mercy – Part 2  - 08/01/2019A Final Kiss of Mercy - Part 2 The Faction War was a “short war.”  The Blood War was far older, and still rages today. But every time I hear it being called ‘short’ I only have one thought. It wasn’t short enough.But I remembered it clearly…The Faction War was a mess.  The Factols had vanished.  The Sinkers and the Hardheads were fighting openly on the streets.  Ely Cromlich was arming anyone who asked for a blade.  Factions were taking sides, and blood was spilling everywhere.  If that wasn’t bad enough, it was in the middle of this, that the Blood War spilled into Sigil for the first time in long memory.  Tanar’ri and Baatezu portals opened up between different groups of Sinkers and Hardheads.  The fighting took a grim new turn as this new chaos broke out everywhere.  The Civic Festhall was a safe haven for a while, but once the fiends invaded, no where in The Cage was safe.  A large pack of Tanar’ri assaulted the Festhall, looking to take revenge on an old slight by the Factol Erin Montgomery.  But while they looked, many others paid the price.  The poor most of all.I was in a tenement off of Founder’s Fence, with my mentor, a Githerzai who simply referred to himself as “the Speaker.”  I never knew his given name, but it was he that taught me all I know about my Lord of Death, Kelemvor.  He taught me the litany’s, the precepts and the principals.  But it was on the 34[SUP]th[/SUP] day of the War that I finally understood their importance and took it to heart.The Speaker brought us to Founder’s Fence with a purpose; to help anyone we could. I didn’t have any magic then, and I wasn’t a soldier, having only a solitary dagger to my name.  But while he had no magic himself, he was a good healer.The Lady of Pain had shut the portals down, preventing anyone from entering or leaving.  It stopped the Blood War within the Cage from getting worse, but the citizens were panicked and desperate.  Violence was spilling everywhere.  And the poor sods found succor where they could.I was walking alongside of The Speaker, when we came up to one such place.  A makeshift infirmary, and we both quickly set to work.  It was grisly, messy, and it seemed to never end.  There was no priest or even or any other skilled healers here; they were all near where the fighting was, healing the solders of one faction or another.  Or the rich.  Or their faithful.But the poor, had no such access to magic or skill and had precious little faith left.  Many died to their wounds, bleeding to death or their shells too injured to continue.  But many more died to rot, as it set in driving victims to fever, chills and then death.  Those who survived through both simply sat and waited.  Everyone had lost someone or something, and all that remained were shattered memories.We helped as many as we could.  Kelemvor teaches that death should come at its ordained time and you should fight to live against things that prevent it.  That was easy, to help tend and bandage wounds.  To ease the sufferings of small ills.  But what I learned that day was harder.The Speaker had touched me on the shoulder and said to me, “There is a man in that room there,” he gestured to the back of the dingy tenement.   “I have done what I can, but it will not be enough.  He may need Kelemvor’s blessing and…your help.”  He handed to me a cloth wrapped bundle, holding something long and heavy.I slowly unwrapped Inside of it gleamed a long piece of metal.  A stiletto, long thin, with a triangular shaped to it, made of Baatezu greensteel. I trembled as I held the bundle and I looked at my mentor and asked, “The young smith, right?  I remember some of the others talking about him.”  I looked at the blade, uncertain and then I looked again at my mentor.“How do I know he’s…ready?”“Ask him.  Do not push.  Traditionally, he should ask three times for certainty.” He said somberly.  “I have shown you how to use the blade.  But for you to become a proper Doomguide…all you must do is help him pass the veil, on whatever terms he wishes.” And he again gestured to the back.I took the bundle in my hands and walked slowly to the rear of the building. “How do I know I’m ready?” I said to myself.At the back was broken doorframe, leading to a small darkened room.  I took a deep breath and I stepped inside.There laying on a bed of straw was a young man, barely older than I was.  He had strong burly arms, marked with soot and the occasional scar.  His build was clearly one of a smith, young and strong in his trade.    But now, his skin was sallow and pale, and glistened in sweat.  But his abdomen looked to be bloated.  Looking him over, I saw that his left thigh was crushed, no longer straight or firm in definition.  Blood oozed through the bandage soaking it thoroughly.  But it was the smell of that told me his time was nearly over. A rotten miasma, which was strong in the small space. The man opened his eyes and looked at me.  He then smiled with hope and started to prop himself up, wincing in pain as I moved over to sit on the edge of his bed.“An..an angel?” he asked with a raged whisper.I bowed my head down guiltily, “I’m…I’m sorry no.  I just…look the part.”He collapsed and sunk back into the straw, “Are there any…any healers that will come.”My head still bowed, “I’m sorry, but…other than The Speaker, there are no skilled healers here, and he told me that he has done what he can, but--”“So... I’m going to…?” letting the sentence trail off, unwilling to say the word.I nod slowly and quietly.“Can’t you just…take my…take my leg and—”“There is a modron with a bonesaw here, but…your leg is shattered; Just muscle and skin.  There isn’t much to saw.  You would likely bleed to death if the…”“If the what?”“If the rot doesn’t take you first.  It has…set in deep.” And I laid my hand on his forehead and could feel the heat as he burned to my touch.“So…why are you here?” he asked with a note of anger.“I…I am here to help.  I just…can’t heal you.”“How?  How are you--”“I’m…a...Doomguide.”“And…what does?...”“Provide comfort where we can.  To provide guidance if needed.  And to…help you if wanted to...”“Help me?…ah…I…I see…” he said as the implications sank in and the tears started to flow down his face.I held his hand fast, “We often don’t get the time to face death,” I said.  “But when you do, it should be on your terms.”“So…I might bleed away.  I might go mad with fever.  Or I can…ask for your help?”“Yes,” I said softly, still holding his hand with mine.  I could feel that I was trembling and hoped he didn’t notice.  And in my other hand, I still clutched the bundle with the greensteel blade within.“Does…it hurt?”“The pain…ends.  No one wants to prolong it,” I replied.The man in bed turned his head, no longer wishing to face me.  The tears still streamed down his cheek.“It’s not fair.  I…I…I didn’t get to do everything I wanted to.”“Old Sensates say the same thing,” and I gave the slightest smileHe chuckled a moment, “I guess I’ll be in good company then.”  He lay there for a while, avoiding looking at me.  “But I don’t have to?”“No.  It’s your end.  Your choice.”“What must I do?”“You…ask three times, and if I feel that you are…in your own mind I…grant you peace.”He looked at me a moment and then he asked a question as he realized something.“You’ve…never done this before?  Have you?”I shook my head, “If…If you want I can—”“No, no.  You’re fine, I guess.   Are you…alright to do this?”I closed my eyes a second and breathed deeply and nodded, mouthing yes silently on my lips.  And then I finally said, “Yes…I can do this.”“Are you…sure?”I looked at him for a moment and then I looked down at our clutched hands holding tightly.  Finding the courage, I spoke again:“It…doesn’t matter if I am or not.  It matters that I help someone in need.  It matters that I help you.”He was quiet with his tears for a moment.  “I don’t want to lay here and wait for…something.  If you can...”I shook my head affirmative and then said, “That’s one.”He nodded, “I’m…I’m glad you are here then.  I’ll do want your help.”“That’s two,” I said quieter, and I could feel my own eyes tear up.He nodded and then he turned to face me.  I knew that he was looking at his own reflection in my eyes.  Wondering what had gone wrong that it was to end…at all. “You have such…wonderful eyes.  I have never seen any like…I wish…I wish…”He then took a deep sigh and closed his eyes.“I’m ready…please.”As he closed his eyes, I shook loose the cloth from the blade, and I took at look at him as he lay there rigid, bracing himself, and grimacing.It was all wrong.  My tears flowed freely now, and I released his hand and brought my left hand behind his neck, as I leaned over him, and kissed him straight on the lips. I could feel him tense a moment, and then he relaxed returning the kiss.  In that kiss I could tell that, he forgot where he was.  All he could feel was the love from another person.  And as he let go of his concerns, I then with my right hand, thrust the stiletto between his ribs, pointing upwards behind his heart.His eyes flew open in surprise and then he released his hold on my lips and gasped.  Pulling back, I looked into his face and saw the look of what was at once surprise, soften into a faint smile, and finally a look of peace.I sat there and cried, never tearing my eyes away from that face.  The from behind me I felt my mentor’s hand on my shoulder, and then I heard him whisper in his dry papery voice:“Speed well on your journey beyond the veil,“And may the Judge of the Dead speed you onward hence,”I heard him withdraw; leaving me there alone with my raw emotions.  I was unsure what I should have felt; Sorrow?  Relief?  What surprised me was that I felt exhalted.  And while I didn’t understand why, I took solace that I simply felt. My first mercy.  My first kiss.There were others I kissed during the next several days following.  We wandered the Hive, helping.  And I kissed many.  Far too many; thirty nine in all.  Young and old.  Men and Women.  Tielfing, humans, bariaur, genasi, and githerzerai.  The worst ones were children.  Too many did I kiss, and with all of them I did I ask their forgiveness.  And yet, each at the end was the wiser and more compassionate than I.And now, I was kneeling next to another man, faced with an even grimmer fate.  Not injury to his body, not rot, but the loss of a soul to an Abyssal lord.  But now, my companions argued on what the right course was; try to save him or put him out of his misery?“This is wrong; we cannot decide this,” Beepu exclaimed.“Beepu, what you believe we could do, doesn’t matter.” I said softly.“Of course, it matters!  We should do everything we can to—”“And what about what HE wants?  That’s what matters; not what we think.” Said, barely raising my voice, letting the anger I felt through my clenched teeth.And now, I stared at Gregor with sympathy. His breathing was ragged and labored.  I leaned forward towards his ear.“Gregor…I—”“I know,” he whispered.  “They cursed me.  I’m going to…to...”I started to cry, “I..I..think so.  I don’t know…but you were talking earlier in Abyssal.”“I…I know I am done for.  Take…take me while I still have my soul.  Please…”I looked at my companions, and they slowly nodded.  Beepu clearly didn’t agree with Gregor’s choice, but he understood it and appeared to respect it.“How do we do—” Iesa started.“I’ll take care of it,” I responded softly.  I took Gregor’s hand and I leaned close to him and I whispered:“Speed well on your journey beyond the veil,“And may the Judge of the Dead speed you onward hence,”I drew out from my boot, the same greensteel stiletto.  My tears still flowing.And I gave him a Final Kiss.Session notes:In the end after we did this, I wrote a version of this mostly to explain why.  Writing that story, really is the genesis for turning the campaign into a prose format.4,123</blockquote>

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