The Plight of the Damned [eulogy held during an event]

OOC:

A short eulogy held during one of the covenant's congregations, recorded and stored. You may ICly acquire a copy from the relevant sources if you so wish.

IC:

When I first embarked upon my journey of self-revelation, the truths I had come upon were unfathomable to my young soul. To know that the fate of our fragile lives could be controlled - that we would walk upon the fringes of death and not fall into its dark abyss…. How could we, mere mortals, toy with the powers of fate?

We grew up in a world where we were taught to live in fear: fear of sin, fear of control, and fear of death. To justify our existence, we prayed to the heavens above for forgiveness… or worse, we pleaded to the hells below for mercy. We lived in a state of purgatory, leading blunted, pointless lives in an endless cycle of birth and death.
And yet, wars continue to be waged as the vanity of mortals impels one against another, waving delusions of righteous benedictions; struck by the divine forces above, or the fiends below and beyond.

But in the annals of history, kingdoms have risen and fallen. Civilizations have toppled across the years and plummeted to such depths that no signs remain to tell of their glory. And the people that inhabited those nations, do we remember their names?
A select few, perhaps, etched down by the golden ink of nobles and highborn, and sealed with the blood of men whose names we have lost. Are we so cursed to our mortal coils as to embrace this hollow round of existence?

The fault, however, has always been ours.

If you look to the hand of fate for guidance, forever it shall lead your way. Pray or plead to whichever gods you worship, and forever you shall live in fear of sin. Many cultures have an obsession with enigmatic, divine forces, living by the doddering words of their priests and soothsayers. If you look to easily submit yourself to other powers, you will never hold a measure of power yourself.

Herein lies a great misconception that our enemies hold: that we have simply enslaved ourselves to a more atrocious, appalling master. We propagate this to demoralize our enemies, but it is a lie.
We are bound to our master through a covenant; he offered us freedom from our prisons, and in exchange, we serve his will – a will that sees us rise above our humble beginnings, and rule this world in his name.
The loyalty our master commanded from us was simply our personal ambitions. No prayers, no rituals, no righteous benedictions; we had to only reach out to our darkest, deepest desires, and our master would warmly covet our journey to see them met.

Kingdoms have fallen by his judgment, races wiped out like excrements from a boot! And all of them have risen from the ashes again, basking in the eternal glory of his shadow.

But before he was deified, our master too was bound to the shackles of fate, jailed by the infernal demons that seek to see this world burn. He tore free from his bonds, and ever since, he has defied the powers that seek to condemn us. He understands our struggle; better yet, he lived it! Is a wise, great ruler not one who understands the plight of his subjects?

It was easy for us, then, to flock to our master when his prophet, Kel’thuzad, came preaching across the townships of Lordaeron. We chose him, as he benevolently chose to grace us. The measure of power he held was real; we could sense it, taste it, and feel it with every crevice of our souls. And to command it ourselves, we had to only kneel to a king who cared.

Alas, fate is cruel. Our king has fallen. His empire now lies in ruins. Must we live in fear again? Must we doubt, and look to the heavens or hells for guidance? No.

It was easy for us to pledge ourselves to our master, because we knew, like us, he was susceptible to the hand of fate. When he tore free, it only made his reign greater – his power, more profound. There were no messianic lies.  No deceit.
As such, we can live with the clear conscious that as he bent death once, he can do so again.

We shall all be cruelly tested. There are many powers in this world that would see each of you hindered, but you have taken your step upon the lonely path ahead; an unholy pilgrimage that began when Kel’thuzad was cast out into the frozen wastes as a mortal man. The journey does not end here.

By braving the dark gifts of our cult, we each possess a breath of power, tempered and hardened by our cause. Follow in the footsteps of Kel’thuzad, and see yourselves elevated to a stature fitting the attendants of a king. Transcend your mortal bonds, and take your place in a world we will shape.

Raise high our ideals, my orphaned brethren, and bring low our foes. Fold their broken into our number, until all serve the Frozen Throne.

Signed,
Barthmolio Baahl