From the Sunset's View. Wiesner Platinumbrow. 577 More Words
From the Sunset's View.
I was born in a work camp in the Searing Gorge, the ill-timed offspring of a slave and a slaver, and handed off to the Church of Shadowforge without even a moment's hesitation. Indeed, there is a Church of the Light in Shadowforge City. There are those who pray and meditate. The priests, unappreciated and posed as convenient scapegoats, work tirelessly towards alms and healing, with their gazes turned aside, away from the idols of the domineering Firelord. A cog in the military machine, a cog that has only persisted for so long thanks to its efficacy and its support of the soldiery. I was brought up in the holy houses as little more than an orphan, given ample opportunity to watch and no opportunity to speak.
It was a unique perspective I was given in that place where the expectation of our continued service was the only guarantee of our survival, even when the bidden duty of a priest is to give freely unto the needy. What is charity when it is forced from you by the turn of the rack wheel? What is altruism when it is compelled from you at the end of a jeweled truncheon? Were we more or less in bondage than those whose fingers bled and lungs filled with black dust out in the Cauldron? We, the clergy, were as mules; given the task of wielding the beneficent Light, while gagged and blinded, to perpetuate an evil system.
I was among those who believed we were the worse off, because the quarry slaves did not have to lie to themselves. Though their cage was not gilded, their duties were genuine, their struggle was sincere. I envied those I had been born from, and I sought them out. I left the creature comforts of the city and the service of the church and went among them. The most downtrodden, whose plight was the most honest. There, in the soot, among heaps of coal, a true understanding of the Light blossomed between my ears.
I must consider myself fortunate, for my own medicancny has opened my eyes to bright and powerful truths that are lost on my brethren beneath the black mountain. I have much to thank the Thorium Brotherhood, the clergy of Stormwind, and the noble people of Ironforge for - they have filled my belly and protected my personage without expectation of anything but the continuation of spiritual dialogue. To join efforts - hands, minds, and hearts - with my colleagues that live beneath different flags has brought me immeasureable joy, and I hope that you, the reader, will be able to share in even a fraction of this.
The great hunger, the gnawing pillar of undying flame, the terrible and indelible sin of my people, whose birth cries tore open a wound in the very heart of our world, has been struck from the firmament. Ragnaros the Firelord, who has held my people under his sway for so long, has been bested, and I see this as cause for celebration, even as many of my kinsmen tear at their beards and wail. Perhaps, in time, the people of Shadowforge will be able to rehabilitate themselves, and I will be able to walk those halls I cherish once more!
Consider the plight of the common Dark Iron this week. Pity them. I pray, in the days that come, that we might show them mercy. Thaurissan's works might, in time, be undone.