Fragments of the Godman

[Caecilianus Cathari]

A small booklet is left by the town board:

Excerpts and Annotations from the Books of time
-A Godmen-

All ink dribbles from the mouths of the magi on to the page of formed words.

All blood trickles from the wounds of warriors, scars forming pride.

All sweat collects at the underarms of laborers and its saturation forms their craft.

All art derives from inspiration of a unity, its seperation formed these forms. The art of cultivating such unity is known as an act of a Godman.

Godmen do not exist, and all that exists does not.

The rift between art and unity does not exist.

...and I hear the mages speak in mystical tongues

The breadth of logic, the feast in which the magi partakes partially, is at constant battle with the whole. Insofar as much, it is in constant battle with itself. Extended, the magi's words are as mystically inclined as the babble of the child.

And yet the child speaks volumes.

Priestly magic contains more wisdom than that of a mage. Its knowledge, fundamentally lacking.

Consequently, the magi depends on divination of the priests, which must answer to the magi's mind. An eternal war sprung from the contingency of the seperate. Only merged, can they be reconciled. Though this act just as soon admits their destruction of each's respective purpose.

A magi does not imply morality, he is it. A Gift from the Gods must inherently be good. Though, further inspection may disprove this, but to which point a man concludes only indicates his beliefs.

A workers duty may be the only wordly moral one as a magi intends to not operate in said world, nor does the priest. Though, the duty to be a moral persons is too great to relief oneself of. Most who strive do not achieve. Only the modest, only the earthly, may claim this feat.

A true enlightened will not crave these things.



A true enlightened will not exist.

[Caecilianus Cathari]

Excerpts and Annotations from the Book of Self-Awareness
-A Godmen-

The self is a hinderance to the pursuit of the magi and the priest. The current state of self never truly changes.

What one wishes, one gets. The observance of the adverse is the reason you read books as such. You know to falter and to not at the same time. It is you who chooses, and you who cares. Both states are only as one in the eyes of the whole.

A magi cares about self, yet wishes to partake in enlightenment. A magi is foolish.

A priest cares about others, yet wishes to embody holiness. A priest is foolish.

A craftsmen cares about art, yet wishes to create divinity. A craftsmen is foolish.

A laborer does not care and is as closest to his true nature. A being which is earthly cannot ascend to higher orders. Let the laborers have this earth, the art, the magic, and the formed Gods.

Let the craftsmen have his piece of heaven, let the priest have his parishoners, let the magi have his feasts.

The care of oneself is the highest form of foolishness, the care for others is a close second.

[Misjbar]

A tall woman, enclosed in a grey silken robe strays by the town board, a town which she hasn't visited in months, perhaps years. She picks up the stray booklet, thumbing through the pages.

She reads some excerpts, some lines here and there. The slightest of smiles appear on her lips. She then takes the booklet towards the nearest river, it runs through the town itself. She lets it slide into the muck, the smile upon her lips growing more sinister.

"I can't have such blasphemy in this world."

The words escaped her lips before she even thought about it, a giggle following suit.

[Caecilianus Cathari]

Two more booklets appear, neatly stacked

[Caecilianus Cathari]

Excerpts and Annotations from the Books of Morality and the Twelve
-A Godmen-

A magi and priest are of a higher caste. The action without potential. An attempt to construct the act of deconstruction. A magi and a priest strive for higher morals. Their proclivity to any other, to a true magi or priest, is evil.

Evil, in form of magi or priest, is more earthly than the truer of the two.

Let the laborer bicker with the magi, the magi is at fault. Let the magi bicker with the priest, the magi is at fault. Let the priest bicker with the laborer, the laborer is at fault.

The priest is always at fault.

Gods do not exist.

[Caecilianus Cathari]

Fragments and Notes of Particulars
-Godmen-

To Himself(1),

I've made said circle, and have done so
perfectly imperfectly, and each's opposite.

To Himself(22),

Of each particular sense,
and each stimuli which leads to
the sensations of the divine,
not one can be found to cater to both
Finite and infinite

Only the latter may a particular conclude
that it is of greatest inspirations
and may he stumble upon his one sense
His sense of Life.

To Others(15),

The Ox and the Lion,
Both existing to lineate
Of Law, does a group look
and the other to insurge

Each grand struggle belongs to the Ox
and the Lion to its impedence
The Lion lies down
The Ox dies.

To Himself(165),

All in existence, does one but search for
that which isn't
Its finality is for the incremental
Between Formed and Whole

It is here Us sit
remind Me of myself
For when the truth engulfs all
We will cease to be, again.

To Others(97),

I bring to you all that was given to us,
Our pace shall never exceed its,
yet until then, we plead for you
May our prayers be heard
So that you may become wizened to such
of all that is
and isn't

These similarities only recognize the inconsistencies
it is then you are brought down to self
I beg, come join myself again.

To Himself(229),

All that exist is,
and all that isn't must be,
For everything is holy.

[Fooser]

A new parchment appears, it seems different from the others.

The Godman and the King


One early morning, a Godman walked the town, to see a stir on the road ahead, a man getting quite a scorning. The Godman approached with caution, to find a peasant being condemned by a local priest. "You refuse to live my ways, enjoy your petty worldly days," the priest said aloud. The townspeople gathered at this spectacle, asking questions of the priest, asking for his guidance. Recently arrived in town, he sought to save the immoral people who lived there.

Telling them of their future doom, the space around the priest quickly ran out of room. Worry swept across the faces of the people. "Thou are not holy," he told the people, one after another. "Your ways must be reformed". The Godman looked on, behind the crowd, in thought.

In a dramatic act, the priest raised his hands to the sky. "Follow the true Gods! Tanora's water! Bragon's fire and Malachin's slaughter!" The people gasped as the priest's voice boomed over their questions.

Finally, without further hesitance, the Godman cried out, "The way you behave like you do, has proven to us all that you are not true." The surprise among the crowd again grew. Turning to the man who dared question the priest.

"All is holy, knowledge, thought and senses, things of which you consider lowly." Now silent, the priest stared at the Godman with a vile rage. "Don't worry, the king shall find you a nice cage!"

The Godman was spat at, beaten and heckled. The priests eyes narrowed and darkened, his nose shriveled up, like an old diseased rat.

He was brought before the king in chains, he showed no emotion though he surely had great pains. "Leave this man here, I will deal with him. Righteous justice is not given on a whim." So the king said, and the people dispersed.

The enlightened king sat and spoke with the Godman for hours, about his plight. Before they both knew it, it was late into the night. "I must say sir, on many of your points I concur."

What the two spoke of in detail is not known, or perhaps it is, and just isn't shown. The King let the Godman flee before the moon went back down, the very next day he would remove the priest from the town. As for the Godman, he continued his ways, moving to a new home, to continue his non-existent existence.

[Bellringer]

The parchment speaks truly. The path of a priest, or of the religious in general is hard one. We must show the world what holiness is, that they might grasp it by the hand, following wherever it leaves.

That, is the magic of the Godmen.

~Anthony Carthusiana, Expleti of the Credii