Today, on Sabatsday, on the 15th day of the month of Empress Marcia, on the 468th year since the Crowning of Emperor Leonhard I. 

I, Ludwig Johan Rappmeister, am penning what would look like to be one of my last entries within this journal. A full life I had lived and I can feel it in my bones through my recent and constant pains serve as a reminder that I am perhaps not long for this world. Despite that, in my current infirmity, I have found myself reflecting upon quite a few subjects of interest, and lately, one particular word most often comes to mind with me.

Hero. The word itself is capable of conjuring certain images into the minds of many who hear of it, though granted, it would very well depend on the perception of each individual who would hear it. If one were to look past the semantics of the word itself and were to ask each and every person what exactly a hero is, what would appear on their minds?

What exactly is a hero? Some would conceptualise a hero as a mighty figure, a being of near-mythical and epic proportions capable of such drastic feats of ability, power, and conquest that they had left their mark upon the various records and histories of the world. The great heroes that had freed mankind from the vile tyranny of the Elves, they who had thrown off the yoke of slavery and had in turn become masters of their own fate! Truly they would be considered exemplary pillars of greatness, paragons of virtue, not the least because they themselves had transcended beyond our mundane living into the very stars, becoming divine themselves. It would be apparent to most that such incredible feats be worthy of the title of Hero. In fact, it is the very truth that most of our scholars would agree with such a notion, appending the name of an entire Era by the name of ‘the Heroic Age’ after them. To the common layperson as well, the answer appears to be quite simple and he would look at the person asking of him such questions to be in turn quite daft.

Misfortune befalls us however, as such as most things in life, things are rarely ever so simple. Such a seemingly instinctive answer would belay from us a far deeper discussion in regards towards the term ‘Hero’ itself. For if we were to ask deeper with the example of the Heroes of Old, the Saviours of Humanity, it is true that they are considered heroes by Humanity, but what of their Elven foes? What of these fair folk from whom they had wrested so much power from? What the race of men may see as the beginning of their golden age and their rise to power, the Elves would in turn see a dark chapter within their own proud lineage as the start of their rapid decline into oblivion and obscurity. The current Elven Kingdoms, States, and Lordships would suffer not the very mention of Soterios and his lot, especially not as ‘Heroes’. To them, the so called ‘heroes’ were far more akin to cataclysmic sentient disasters hell-bent on destroying and laying to waste all semblance of what they had considered the pinnacle of civilisation. So from such a simple observation, it is readily apparent to us that the appellation of ‘Hero’ is greatly subjective. As one man’s rubbish be another man’s treasure, so too would it be that one man’s hero be another man’s villain. As we had stated before, it’s all a matter of perspective.

But all this to say, we have yet arrived at the main crux of our current semantical dilemma. We have established that a ‘hero’ to one person does not then mean that they are a hero to all peoples, rather that as is true in the observable universe, there are many sides to the same person depending on who perceives them. However the very definition of ‘hero’ in and of itself eludes us still. Looking at it from an etymological standpoint, as the word is descended from the ancient Anthroian tongue, it originally meant something akin to ‘Protector’ or a ‘defender’ of the people, be it of a people, a person, or a state. Although obviously, such a narrow definition of term would be expanded upon by later writers, authors, and philosophers.

As was written by Helios Archiologos, the ancient Anthroian Philosopher and Poet of the Anthroian Court of Alexandros the Conqueror about his master in his Magnum Opus, ‘the Alexandriad’, “...and so Noble Alexandros had achieved a feat that would rival even those of Soterios the God-King in his conquest of the world. A man born truly of this world by a mother and father of mortal means, by the right of his own blood, sweat, and tears had achieved a splendid conquest once only thought to be possible by the grace of the Divines and the Theanthroi (God-men) of Old. Destroying by the might of his own arm all notion of doubt and uncertainty in his prowess, Great Alexandros attained for himself through right of might, the same title of ‘Heros’ that the Theanthroi were given, an apotheosis of his own making.”

Compounding upon such a notion by Archiologos, another philosopher - his own student - Kleon of Thanaria stated in one of his treatises on the philosophy of the Warrior that, “...Any man who would call himself such, regardless of their lot in the mortal plane, would do himself justice in the eyes of the Gods to emulate the Heroes and strive to pursue for themselves that very noble title as was achieved by our Great and Glorious Autocrat. For what is a hero if not he who strives in all his ways to achieve Glory, Honour, and dignity within this life?”

And so thus is the case for most of the Ancients in regards to a hero. A hero is he who through feats of great valour, ability, and fortitude accomplishes a deed of great note, whose achievements transcends the very thought of the mundane life of a simple mortal. In short, a hero is a great figure whose feats would go far beyond the realms of their own being and in turn transform them into an idea, a paragon, and even to some a ‘beacon of hopes and dreams’. This is also - on the other hand - why the ancients had no qualms with figures of lesser moral character being glorified and exalted so long as they achieved such transcendent feats. Great Soterios himself did indeed free the old Inferi from slavery but on the backs of the corpses of tens of thousands of slain Elves - men, women, and children, the old and infirm. It didn’t matter to him so long as liberation was achieved. But do the children of man remember such feats of cruelty? I’d think not, but I believe my colleagues among the Elven scholars of Magnia would beg to differ very strongly.

 But why then do the people of today’s era attach a sense of moral ‘virtue’ - at least to our own sensibilities of what virtue even is - towards the appellations of who we would now consider heroes? I may not be able to speak for all the peoples of Orbis, but at the least, to us here living in Terradome or who hail from its lands, the pinnacle of all Heroes both in achievement, character, morality, and virtue would be none other than the Blessed Saviour Himself, Iesous Christos, the God-Man, Son of God and God Almighty Incarnate in Flesh from whom all Graces flow. The deeds of the Theonthroi may have carried weight for the worldly ancients, but it is only the Word Incarnate who gave salvation down to our very souls. In only three years of ministry within the world, the Son of Man shook the world of Orbis to its very core as his message spread like wildfire through the lower rungs of society before after centuries of persecution did it rise up to infiltrate even the elites of society within the Augustan Imperium until eventually the Blessed Emperor Anastasius declared the Religion Legal and he gave himself to be baptised by Saint Philemon of Dromaeras. When his grandson, the Emperor Theodoros ascended to the throne of the Imperium decades later, he made the religion the state religion by the Edict of Moni which dawned the New Imperial Era.

Thus the faith grew rapidly even unto the farthest reaches of Orbis in a salvific zeal to spread the Holy Gospel to all the peoples, races, and nations of the world. All this zeal showcased by the Lord’s chosen would further lead many a blessed missionary to remote places, none more so than our current efforts to bring the good news to the people of the Hallack in the continent of Neacordis. The continent itself is heathen land, made up of the accursed Mohammedan Idolaters in the South and Eastern reaches of the land while Pagan Idolaters dominate the Northern and Central parts of the area. Only the Western regions of the continent come close to having any semblance of recognisable civilisation, safeguarded by the efforts of the Newlander colonists, though their tumultuous relationship with their former overlords in Feldonia has left them strained for resources and further isolated from any aid and if the rumors floating about by the merchants have any semblance of truth, the Snake-men of Nagania and the Raja of Vishnayas would be looking to attack soon and Lord have mercy upon his children should that ever come to pass. 

But in spite of all the political intrigues that plague the rest of the continent, the Hallack content themselves in a state of practical isolation from the rest of the world in their simple villages and hovels deep within the jungles and hills of Neacordis around Lake Allen. Despite their outwardly more simple and some might say even savage means, the Hallack possess a ferocity yet nobility of heart that I dare say only few other peoples could muster. With only their wit and strength of arms they have repelled numerous incursions by their surrounding neighbours. A people very prone to infighting, clan rivalries, and petty land disputes but nevertheless are quick to unite against any foreign power they perceive as a threat. They have neither been bent by the Gods of the Hindan Rajas nor the False God of the Moslems, but all that did was fuel the righteous desire amongst my brethren to spread the Loving Word of Christ to touch the hearts of even the most stone-hearted of savages. It was due to this zeal and our desire to help the Reformation of the Church from the corrupted clutches of the so-called Pope in Sanctum did we set out many years ago from our beloved Empire to these wild and untamed jungles. 

I will not lie and say that my faith had not been tested throughout the years in these lands. The aid granted to us by the council of Newlandia had been scarce and they arrived on an ever decreasing lifeline which was rendered depleted not too long after we had crossed over to the hinterlands of the Hallack. When we began this journey, there were half a dozen of us missionaries, but now I alone have yet to be granted release from this life and into the everlasting city. That only means I still have a task to complete within this life that the Lord sees me fit to keep my countenance upon the mortal plane…

In my decades in these lands I… I have seen too much. When we had first landed upon the shores of the Arus river, we were met with suspicion by the locals but we had persevered regardless of the adversity. We had a local who was fluent in the Feldonian tongue guide us for the length of our initial landing and we spared no effort in learning the local tongue. Soon enough, after familiarising ourselves with the local populace of the fishing villages along the stream for the first few months, we managed to gain a handful of converts to the faith as we slowly but surely started a growing community. However, as always to strengthen our faith, the lord continued to test us.

Word of our activities had reached the ears of the local tribal leaders and they had perceived our missionary work as some sort of threat to their political power and so they had set out to forcefully cease our activities. The families that had accepted the gospel into their hearts were rounded up and slaughtered by the dozens, men women and children as sacrifices for their profane blood rituals while me and my brothers were captured, bound, and put under captivity… The druids and sorcerers of the Hallack took interest with us missionaries and thought we had contained some sort of secret arcane power and so in line with local tradition, I saw my brothers taken before me, dragged to the middle of the main village of one of the Priest-Kings of the Hallack and there…

When I saw my mentor’s throat slit and his body butchered like that of a swine with the rest of us kneeling close to his corpse with knives at our throats as we were forced to watch the sordid ordeal. Some of the Priest-Kings’ sorcerer's continued on to drain his corpse of his blood into some stone vessels while others prepared an altar with heated stones and some spices upon it. Though I know Father Johannes is now among the saints in Heaven, I can not help but to feel my heart wrenching as I remember the gruesome images of that day when we saw him cooked like some common beast as the Priest Kings and their retinue took part in some unholy communion upon his flesh.

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With that gruesome scene in mind, the rest of us were kept in captivity for the next year as our numbers dwindled further and further as we fell to similar rituals. On the eve of the first year of captivity as I had continued counting my days to keep my mind sharp, it was finally my turn to be martyred. When they had brought me out of my captive hut, I had steeled myself with prayer as I repeatedly recited the Lord's prayer within my heart and my mind as well as supplications towards the Blessed Virgin and all our fellow saints in heaven above - a practice which I am sure some of our more radical brothers within the reformation would find abhorrent. But nevertheless, as I knelt while preparing myself for the cut that would bleed me dry from my throat, it never came. 

By either a stroke of luck or misfortune depending on one's perspective, a dungeon break had occurred near the settlement where I was being held and just moments prior to my execution, a small army of large, hairy, ape-like demons with glowing red eyes and fangs as sharp as a tiger’s with each demon-beast standing at around seven to eight feet in height known to the locals as the ‘Homang’. In mere moments, the village was sent into a frenzy as the Priest-kings, their warriors, and their sorcerers quickly stepped up to deal with the situation. In the commotion, none had the time to spare any attention towards myself. While I had thought to use this God-given opportunity to make my escape, fate would have it that I had caught sight of a child no older than ten years old who was quite the distance away from the other warriors of the village who were fighting off many of the monsters. In their effort to fight off the majority of the Homang, some beasts managed to slip through the line of warriors and two smaller ones were rushing towards the child.

The child couldn’t put up much of a fight as he was quickly pinned down by one of the homang while the other one was right behind him looking to turn the child into a meal and even managed to sink its fangs to the child’s shoulder causing him to scream in pain and agony, unleashing a shriek I would expect more from a banshee rather than a boy of ten. I saw that in the distance a man who I knew to be one of the Priest-Kings look over in horror as he saw the child in the grasp of the monsters. Seeing this, with a quick prayer in my heart and not a second thought after, I rushed towards the boy with whatever piece of debris or rubble I could get my hands on as I slammed into the beasts that were tackling him. 

I did not know much in terms of combat or fighting, but I knew enough to know that every second I bought in regards to my intervention would grant precious time for any other warriors to notice the situation. I had gathered enough mana within myself to put more force into shoving the demons away and with the beasts caught unawares, I managed to slam them back for a little distance. Immediately my attention was focused on the boy who was bleeding profusely from his bitten shoulder and was quickly losing colour from his body. Though I wasn't as good as the surgeons and doctors of the Imperial Capital, I still had adequate training as a healer from experienced mentor's within the church and I used that training to quickly infuse warm mana into the boy’s wound to disinfect it and clean it of any poisons or malevolent elements from the demon's bite. After doing that, I had focused on stopping the bleeding by clotting up the open wounds and the blood vessels that were damaged though unfortunately I did not yet have the skill to repair the wounded flesh so I did what best I could to tear off a piece of the boy's clothes and use that to bandage the wounded area.

As I was doing all of that, I had yet to notice that the Priest-King had already rushed towards us after slaughtering the monsters that had assailed the boy previously and with his bloody frame from the blood of the monsters he had slain, he approached me and the boy as he knelt down next to us with a worried expression. I did not pay much heed to this as I was still focused on the boy who was still pale from the shock of blood loss and was still breathing raggedly albeit weakly. I spared no effort in expending my mana to heal the boy and stabilise his condition until eventually with audible prayers and hymns to beseech the Lord for providence and mercy, the boy finally calmed as he opened his eyes towards me and then the Priest-King next to me. When the boy finally muttered the word, “Amang” which I knew to mean ‘father’ in the Hallack tongue, I finally heaved a sigh of relief before handing the boy to his father as I felt my strength finally leaving me as I was slumped on the ground weakly.

Eventually, the situation around the village had quieted down as the warriors and sorcerers managed to subdue the remainder of the Homang demons and salvaged the dire situation. In the aftermath of the disaster, I noticed that many of the Priest-Kings and sorcerers were looking towards me with mixed expressions, some with scorn, others with curiosity, while some only gave hollow looks devoid of any light. One of the Priest-Kings who was among the more brutal of my captors looked towards me with great indignation as he blamed my presence for the disaster that had just unfolded and that my sacrifice was required to appease the spirits of their Ancestor-Gods. But just as they were about to apprehend me again, the younger Priest-King whose son I had just Heald stood up and raised his hand to stop them. With a loud booming voice, the Priest-King whom I would come to know as one of the most Powerful of his age - at the brink of becoming a six star blademaster - Raja Parhal Portibion Sigumogo, King of Goria, declared to the rest of the Priest-Kings that I was his honored guest and the savior of his only son, Tuan Parulian Nasilua Sigumogo. From that day onwards, I was no longer a captive of the Priest-Kings and was formally a free man, but I knew better. Though I was free in name and effectively so in the areas under the Influence of King Parhal, outside of those lands, I was still little better than an unwanted foreigner to be expelled from the Ancestral Lands of the Hallack. But regardless, to this day I thank the Good Lord for his providence in that I was saved from earthly peril.

King Parhal had me cleaned and clothed with some of the best fabrics the Hallack people could produce, with their colorful ‘Ulos’ weaved together by very skilled artisans before he had asked me to come with him to his Home village of Goria. Lacking in any other means of survival as well as with renewed zeal that the Lord had chosen me alone to survive amongst my brothers, I felt the calling that my job was far from finished. Soon enough I was made an honorary advisor to the Village Court of Goria and he allowed me to preach the Gospel within his domain so long as I agreed to use my knowledge and training to also work as a healer and a teacher within the village. 

At first the Village shamans and sorcerers were apprehensive to my presence there but though I am first and foremost a man of God, I have always been of the belief that knowledge is neutral and at the source of all knowledge is the Supreme Being Himself for it is written, ‘The Fear of the Lord is the beginning of Knowledge’. I spared no effort in learning what the Hallack peoples and their learned men of shamans and sorcerers could offer me. Knowledge of herbs, remedies, of the arcane. I also spared no effort in establishing philosophical dialogue with the court of Goria and found that besides his martial Prowess, King Parhal showed a natural talent for rational thinking and logic that I would think - given the proper training and instruction - he might even give the Magisters of the Imperial College a run for their money. In my efforts to foster a proper education in the village, I had one of the houses in the village converted into a school for children. Much like his father, the young Lord Parulian was also very gifted and talented in matters of Logic as well as martial Prowess and I was given the honor to bring him up in his education on the Imperial model. I was also given the permission to impart to the young princes and noblemen in the school proper morals of Christian conduct and the basics of Christian Theology. 

Soon enough, after a couple of years in my efforts of mission work, perhaps in fear of the lack of any news from me, I had caught wind of news that a second missionary group had arrived at the riverbanks of the Arus, funded by the Protestant Princes of the Empire and partly by the Church of Feldonia. Hearing this news, I immediately asked permission from King Parhal to meet with the missionaries and to safely usher them to Goria which had proven itself as a safe haven for my efforts. And so with the king's assent, I had welcomed the missionaries into the Lands of Goria and the true process of Christianization of the Hallack would start in earnest. I was appointed by the King to head the missionary efforts in the realm and though many of my more radical newer brothers were apprehensive about my perceived ‘Syncreticism’ with local customs, seeing the children and people accept me as one of them began to convince the other missionaries that we are called to spread the Word of God, not the Culture of the Empire, therefore learning the local customs and infusing Christianity within the preexisting framework was the true Key to reaching the hearts of the people, so long as the core concepts and scriptures of our faith remain unchanged. And with their arrival, the school that I had operated for the past two years was expanded and now also doubled as a church. I still remember the date to this day, on Christmas day, the 25th of the month of Decimus in the 445th year after the Crowning of Emperor Leonhard, we held our first official mass. The twelve of us missionaries became the backbone and foundation of what would later on become the ‘Huria Kristen Halak Protestan’ or the ‘Halak Christian Protestant Church' and I was chosen by my brothers as our Church’s first Ephorus (Archbishop). Our first mass was attended by the foreign missionaries and our helpers who had been baptised along the way.

By the grace of God Almighty, Three years after the establishment of the church - On the 16th birthday of Lord Parulian -, King Parhal finally gave himself to us to be baptised into the Faith and into the church along with the rest of his immediate family followed as well by most of his court and nobles in a mass baptism in what is now the village of Tardidi. Though I truly believed that on that day the Hosts of Heaven held a joyous feast in celebration of the salvation of the Royal Family and Court of Goria, the devil works always like a lion on the prowl. When news reached the wider Halak world and the neighbouring Halak villages and Kingdoms of the conversion of Goria, it was as if a flame was lit and the other clans became hostile towards Goria, viewing our realm as traitors to all the Halak. This single action of conversion would spiral into three years of war and conflict until on Easter Sunday of 5E451, King Parhal had decisively defeated a coalition of nearly ten thousand men with an army of not even half that number. The decisive victory on the plains of Haumarara not only guaranteed the safety of the Realm’s christians but also cemented Goria’s position as the premiere power in the Halak lands. The following year, King Parhal gathered all the Priest-Kings in a grand council and managed to get himself elected as the first ‘Hulubalang Nabolon’ or ‘Great Warlord' of all the Halak. At his election, he gave me the official title of ‘Ompu Tuan Guru Eporus’ and along with my title he gave me the Right and assent to marry with a noble lady of one of the Clans of Goria, Si Boru Duma Nataruli of the Sinatua clan. A beautiful and lovely woman who was equal in intelligence with any scholar I've known. Through our holy union, the Lord has saw fit to grant me a child who was born a year later in my 40th year alive. A beautiful daughter who I named Serena. Not long after my daughter's birth, my beloved student and Prince also fathered a child. The King's first grandchild, a strong baby boy of which I was given the highest honor of bestowing upon the child his first name. And so after a day of fasting and prayer, I had given the child the name Josias so that he may one day lead and rule as righteously and as greatly as the Ancient King of God's Chosen peoples. And so only a few months after the birth of my daughter, the newest Prince of the line of King Parhal was born, Tuan Josias Panuturi Hatigoran Sigumogo.

Now it has been near sixteen years since then and the children are continuing to grow strong into their majority. They represent a new hope, the first generation of the Halak to be born and raised within the Faith and the Church. I have high hopes for this generation as I sense a plan in store for them by The Good Lord, especially for the dear Prince Josias… I can feel it. If ever there was someone destined for greatness and the title of Hero, that would be him… yet along with that assurance and hope, I can not help but feel that a darkness is looming. Perhaps I am overthinking things and am I desperate need of prayer to calm myself, but… Lord preserve us always. I am tired now and I believe my work in this world too is coming to a conclusion though I know It would pain my family if they ever heard me say such things. Regardless of which, I shall continue to remain steadfast in my prayers. Whatever the future would hold, may God always be with us.