The truth in its navel

Sunday, September 6, 2020, our GM brought his Dark Earth campaign to a close, based on "La Croisade de la Ville Mouvement". This article relates the point of view of Isaiah Jemjhet, my second character, regarding the events he took part in.

---

---

The truth in its navel

Isaiah Jemjhet

"

Day D+120:

The fight has ended, Solaar once again warms the Stallites of Nople and Istan. The crusade has won, even though barely a few hundred crusaders survived

".

Isaiah writes these few lines sprawled over a heap of colorful fabrics, unearthed here and there in the rubble of Nople. For the Fire Keeper, comfort and fleeting pleasures amount to meager compensation for the intense frustration that has been eating away at him since his departure from Phénice. He hoped the Crusade would awaken something true, something worthy in him. Something that would let him forget that incident where a detainee escaped while under his watch. Even though Isaiah eventually caught up with him, even though his superiors proved protective, the man conceived an endless shame that pushed him to atone for his faults within the Crusade. Given how events unfolded, suffice it to say the rogue will have to indulge in his nasty habits for a long time yet.

Each of the entries composing the Fire Keeper's journal looks the same: terse, formulaic and, at best, factual. But today, while the reported facts are real, Isaiah can no longer ignore the gap between his journal and his feelings. In some ways, he envies the voluble Bellatore, who knew so well how to soak every step of his crusade with meaning. In an unusual effort, Isaiah sits cross-legged and resolves to annotate his entries, to tinge them with his true feelings in the margins of the reported facts. The exercise is complicated. Isaiah generally only expresses his feelings to court someone, rarely for therapeutic purposes.

"

Day D: I was assigned to Coléhine Waltz's pack, within the Phalange of the Sky. Of my ten comrades, seven are Fire Keepers. It is a great honor to carry the light of Phénice beyond the Stallite

".

Rereading his first entry, Isaiah shakes his head in disbelief. Three insipid sentences, hiding unspoken thoughts he now recognizes. The first, his interest in his superior, which he did not pursue as much out of propriety as out of shame. The second, his unease among his own kind, he who was forgiven so much while others would have visited the Pit of Redemption for similar faults. The third, the naive docility with which he had enlisted in the crusade, in defiance of common sense. Why had Solaar spared him, where so many worthier ones fell?

From these three miserable lines, Isaiah frantically writes "comments", three paragraphs each as long as your arm, then sets his gaze on the journal's second entry. It too oozes hypocrisy and deserves similar corrections. With luck, there will be enough parchment and Rueg ink left in the ruins of the twin Stallites to finish this "enriched edition" of the young crusader's memoirs. While Solaar's soft light sets over the Stallite of Nople, Isaiah carries on his chore by the glow of a lantern.

---

A few pages later, our young man faces the evidence: rather than curing him, every day spent walking cultivated his malaise, left it fermenting. Then suddenly, he rereads the first entry devoted to those who would become his close companions over the crusade's final weeks.

"

Day D+20: unsung heroes saved the crusade from a group of saboteurs, as we crossed the Silica Bridge. Further proof that Solaar watches over us

".

Here again, so many poorly digested emotions, hidden under the surface! Of them all, this feeling of powerlessness gnawed at him the most. Not far from him, ex-convicts graced the course of their adventure with their nobility of soul. He envied them then: on top of the training in which they excelled, Sigurd and Walgard fought better than a Fire Keeper. Ilke wielded words with more talent than he did, without even mentioning his astonishing ability to escape his enemies' gaze. As for Tybalt, he rekindled the crusaders' flame with a passion beyond him. All of them had earned their praise, and for that, Isaiah almost felt jealousy. Now that he shares their daily life, he realizes the emptiness of such feelings. The hour of a better Isaiah has perhaps struck.

The Rueg ink no longer flows. Called out by the tale of his own initiatory journey, Isaiah prefers to reread his journal in its entirety before setting down words he might regret.

"

Day D+30: I am appointed torchbearer in recognition of my merits during the crossing of the Killer Algae. I accept this promotion with humility and will assist my subordinates as if they were my equals

".

Humility! What irony! Isaiah threw himself at this promotion like a starving animal. It constituted proof that his presence was not a casting error. It also made his task easier whenever he sought comfort in the arms of one crusader or another, whom he forgot at once.

---

"

Day D+65: the army of the Damned is on our heels. The Heroes of the Silica Bridge rescued the colony, although it could not join us. In these dark hours, the coming battle will seal our fate. May Solaar lead us to victory, rather than to death!

"

Solemn words indeed, a consensual piety indeed. They betray the fear that drove Isaiah to put his faith in the Divine during the confrontation. And a fine job it did him, too, for his contempt for his own existence earned him a few lightning victories that drew the attention of the Bellatore in person. When the Torchbearer positions opened up, Isaiah was suddenly propelled into a whole new sphere of influence. And, one thing leading to another, he grew closer to the Heroes of the Silica Bridge, whom the whole crusade admired.

"

Day D+70: demoralized crusaders have been immolating themselves in chains lately. Our men are looking for signs that Solaar has not abandoned us. More than ever, we must support them. Now a Torchbearer, I team up with the Heroes of the Silica Bridge to turn the situation around. We must hold out a few more weeks, and no trial shall get the better of the Divine's children.

"

Why was Isaiah lying in his own journal? For fear someone would read it and accuse him? To reassure himself? To convince potential readers, and thus generate a self-persuasion loop? Until now, the Torchbearer was obsessed with his need for recognition. Suddenly, his responsibilities finally opened his eyes. Now at the end of the road, the Fire Keeper recognizes here a turning point that took him from a wimp fixated on his problems to a leader more or less worthy of trust. What a relief! As for his first interactions with the Heroes of the Silica Bridge, they proved particularly demystifying: these urban legends turned out to be mere crusaders, kneaded with doubt rather than conviction. Although a late addition, Isaiah quickly drew connections between his doubts and theirs. In the end, they were made to get along.

"

Day D+80: the Bellatore Letho Gdanz is an impenetrable, brilliant man, who honors us with his trust. He is open to others' ideas, though he knows how to hold his course against the torrents of proposals that rain down on him at every meeting. What a source of inspiration!

"

Isaiah winces as he rereads these lines. At the time, he tried to believe them. Among his colleagues, however, he half-admitted his suspicions. Was their undisputed leader disturbed? Did his few brilliant ideas make up for his blunders? The irresistible urge to rummage through his belongings led to a monumental cold shower, when Gdanz's megalomania transpired through his grandiloquent memoirs. Here again, Isaiah now recognizes a demystifying effect: behind the unreachable, exemplary leader hid a grotesque man, whose ravings had led whole crowds of Celestials to their doom. Yes, he concedes it now: it was at that very moment that Isaiah stopped blaming himself for his mistakes. What is his laxness worth, next to the Bellatore's madness?

"

In the end, this whole journey was nothing but a farce in poor taste

".

The Fire Keeper sets down this sentence as an introduction on a new roll of Rueg, destined to supplant the others. Pouring out a liberating bile, he strings together the barbs: "The 'Death', the 'Ermine', was nothing but a frail little albino, an adept of security through obscurantism, whose taste for secrecy nearly killed us all"; "The Baroness, a well-meaning woman who never truly failed on a personal level, proved too arrogant for her own good"; "[...]* I had heard ill of Old Growler, but I rather felt pity for him, so ready was he to do anything for recognition... even to lose his life*"; "[...] And the Phoenix? Gone missing, like the religious fervor in the face of the strange manifestations of the Dark that we fought and defeated"; "The Konkal was made up of brainwashed fanatics, adepts of improvisation, [...] its leader now cowers like a coward despite the resources he had to serve his interests"; "[...] Othero is a genius who barricades himself in his own thoughts, for fear that others might use them. His refusal to keep us informed and his disappearance cost us dearly".

Of the Crusade, no symbol of grandeur finds favor in Isaiah's eyes anymore. Like all the other survivors, he can only note how the grandiloquent speeches of the stakeholders had clouded his mind. If something has changed in the Fire Keeper, it is indeed his blind admiration for the hierarchy. He will not be caught again! The starry vault has been lulling Nople for hours. Facing the enormity of the process of questioning and rewriting his journal, Isaiah gives in. As is his habit. He slumps like a sack of rueg onto his makeshift bed, while inwardly agreeing to resume his introspective work another day. Perhaps, through rereading, he will eventually find between his own lines the man he so longs to become.