Ways of the Gods
First Day of the Fifth Month 293 AC
For a time your role and Bloodraven's are reversed as you recount to him what you learned in Sothoryos, of the tyrants of the jungle and the strange people who dwell in their shadow, of the Serpent-kin whom you reunited with their god, and finally of Venthar and its grim portents. You speak of the lightless passages winding down through the black stone until they opened into some stygian realm where the dark-hearted builders of the city likely still dwell to this day.
"The ice, the seas, the very ground beneath our feet..." Bloodraven sighs. "Sometimes I wonder how men managed to spread over so much of this world and make it ours with all the horrors waiting in the shadows."
"Shall I conjure you a mirror then, my lord?" you ask, your tone light, though the thought behind it is in deadly earnest. "Bold warriors and wise sages, warlords and statesmen fill the pages of history beyond the scholars' count. Men are not weak, we are not prey to inexorable fate, nor puppets of some greater power."
"Worry not, I was merely making an observation, not falling into despair." The Last Greenseer shakes his head, the gesture accompanied by a soft creak of the roots behind him. "For all my vices that is not one to my taste."
For a time there is silence as each of you ponder the truths you have learned and all the many questions still yet to be answered: "What do you know of R'hllor the Red, whose priests so boldly proclaim him a foe to the Great Other, the light against the darkness?"
"Here the gods know little and visions serve me less for the power of the Red God is in the east, his temples guarded against prying eyes of birds and beasts," Brynden Rivers replies slowly. "Yet when I was young I learned something of their ways and powers, of their god's flame behind the shrouds of smoke cunningly wrought. He is not and never has been a kindly power, but he is cunning and patient, knowing much of the secrets of men's hearts that He might tempt even those of honest and kindly temperament. Make allies with his faithful if you must, but swear no pacts to that one."
"What of Azor Ahai and the sword Lightbringer, then? Was he the Last Hero by another name?" you probe, though knowing that you spoke more to the sorcerer than the voice of the Gods, for they knew little of Essos and its people.
"Another very... suggestive name," comes the confirmation. "The Last Hero, whose proper name not even the songs of the Children recall, is known to men as a great hero, yes, but also as the
last of that breed. The tale speaks of a world diminished. A great hero faced a great evil, and in the end both passed into legend never to return. By contrast Azor Ahai is said to return, to rally the faithful, and bear the Lord of Light's flame in the time of great need."
"The evil did not pass from the world," you point out. "We are faced with it even now."
"Of course not, because it is deathless where men are mortal." The lines upon his face deepen as he ponders the matter. "It seems to me that the tale of Azor Ahai, the hero who is
fated return to save the world of men again in its darkest hour, bespeaks of nothing but reassurance to an old fear. Of that fear did the Faith of the Red God forge a tool, promising salvation for obedience. To hear those words from a slaver's mouth does not fill me with confidence."
"These thoughts do not run far from mine. Let us speak then of other hopefully more kindly powers," you continue. And so you speak of what Waymar was able to tell you of Father Sky, of his sister Ysilla's link to something that may have been the god, even of Mya Stone in whose veins might flow Elenei's blood.
"The Greenseers of old did not care much of the gods they supplanted, and so of Father Sky and Mother Earth I can tell you but a little," comes the reply. "They seemed kindly and cruel by turn, and each in their own way concerned with shows of strength and cunning, the patrons of a warrior people, though without the zeal the Andals would later bring to the task. There is precious little chance to find any lore of them through most of the Seven Kingdoms, for the dominion of first the Old Gods then the New would have worn down their standing stones and seen their tales lost. The Sistermen alone of all the First Men did not come to worship before Heart Trees, and so perhaps upon that island you may find more of these eldest gods of men."
"Do the Old Gods count them foes?" you ask, cautiously.
"The Gods, just as the Singers, cared little for what the newcomers worshiped, and far more for the sharpness of their axes upon root and limb," the ancient seer replies. "Should you find some remnant of them and wish to make some use of it I wish you good fortune, Your Grace."
The matter settled you move on to speaking of Ymeri's pawn upon the Frozen Shore explaining what you have found and what you had learned from your new subjects. While Bloodraven found the desecration troubling he admits to preferring such newcomers over service to the Others. "Their power is faint, their grip feeble, but yes there have been other spirits seeking worship among the Free Folk, mostly fey things though none strong enough to consecrate a sorcerer priest as this Ymeri was."
What do you do next?
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OOC: Not a lot of hard information this time since most of the questions were outside the Old Gods' sphere of interest. You ended up telling Bloodraven more than the reverse, at least for this segment.