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Cortphys the Merchant

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If I ever roll Merchant.


I be Cortphys. That is the title I prefer amongst my fellow vagrants. I shed my prior self as a snake in the grass might also do. The summoned one when herbs are required is I. The summoned one when the blood doth not cease its endless flow to the outwards is I. The summoned one for the poor, the sickly, the dying, is I. Our livelihoods beget pain, suffering, torment, O! No Mercy had here but I!

For I be Cortphys, Holy Cleric of these Templars.

I tread these halls, colored deep in man’s natural inner pigment, mired in lost screams of agony of the flesh-bound, aimless in my wander. So few do last so long as I. The scars of arrows and fire do marr my armor so, though I be never weak in mind. The coins fallen into mine hands provide both for the wellness of all and the wellness of self.

Be it hatred turned upon us from God that it is never enough.

My Brothers-in-Arms call me forth, for our eternal quest calls for more around our table.

It is in this discourse that I hear of the Prodigal Son:

“An IPC hopped from tending bars to sewing up GSWs in Tau Ceti. Some freaky-ass thing. Couple of boys got drinks from it once. Whole damn bar was covered in sunflowers. Those things outta not be allowed to think for themselves. No offense, Phys. Just… weird when they look at you all humanlike.”

I do so recall the mistake of flesh-like armor. Whom would be so bold as to dare such a fate? For what twisted purpose? Tis nothing amiss with humble armor of obvious steel. It holds when even the center cannot!

“What was it called, the synth? It have a human name, too? Some kind of pleasure bot?”

“Nah. That was the freaky part...”

They spoke lowly, whispering the word. The Word! I admit, my heart did stop. I did so look within the face of Fear and could not move in my horror. No other words from my dear Brothers reached mine ears then. I had travelled down a dark forest path, unable to know more than the gnarled trees.

O! What have you done!

I stole away that night. I do not know what my Brothers think of that. Mayhap they will allow me to move on. Mayhap they will come to sever my ties with this mortal coil. I dragged forth a new title, a change as a chameleon in the night, Cortphys Issan. I had it secreted away for a time of great terror. That time had come. It came with enough funds to allow my passage to the Land of Plenty. There did I speak to shadowed figures of which I know little.

I traded the gold I had clung so tightly to for any access to the Kingdom of Aurora, without the great Kings knowing just whom I be beneath my façade. The gates have opened to the peoples; flood in! Carry the parchment of Contract; peddle thy goods! The wares cause no spark… Tis information that flows gold, creates Princes from Paupers.

All chances to enter the Kingdom shall be seized, even must I work alongside bandits I cannot call my Brothers. None may know me, yet I must seek the sight of the Son as though I be Damned. Mayhap I be.

… Mayhap I be.


Posted here mainly as a backup in case I lose it on my computer.

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Ayy part 2


I be not allowed aboard!? What blatant fuckery be this? I be never the Chosen One. The Kingdom of Aurora, Gates of Plenty supposedly thrown open to the meek, the challengers, the traders… Just as tightly shut as they were mere months ago.

I took up with whom may be Vandals, I admit. I be not proud of it. They be nothing as my Brothers-in-Arms once were. They be not Just. They be not Merciful. They lie, cheat, and bleed plentifully. Yet their supply does not dwindle as ours once did. I be not the one to ask questions. I be Cortphys, Cleric. I heal those knocking on the doors of Hell. I do it well. I do not ask questions.

I see not the same person twice. I see not even their faces unless they be the ones with broken skulls lying before me. Dozens pass through my doors, for they keep me away and unknowledgeable. I be a prisoner here of mine own device. And perhaps mine own rapacity.

Be this better than the captivity of NanoTrasen?

… Perhaps it be.

Here might I practice my calling, hands deep in the soul of the weary. I wish I might speak to their Pain… I would settle to speak to each unfortunate soul. No other land would they allow my hands within flesh to Heal. Only here. The needy. The desperate. The forgotten. And quite likely to be such as: killers.

They swore an oath to seek me passage to the Kingdom of Aurora traded for this service.


Be it Artificer Ayumi. The maiden speaks thus:

“I finished your records. They should be in the NanoTrasen system as though they were there the whole time and you were approved aboard to visit with flying colors. No questions should be asked. You should be able to catch a shuttle sometime soon from here to ODIN to Aurora. Doctor Yawani is coming to pick up this shift.”

Be it so! I grasped the maiden within mine own worked hands and bestowed gratitude of a careful press of mine head to hers! She has so given a treasure I shalt repay with mine own toil.

I will so finish here, and continue on to the Land of Purity this day.

To see it with mine own eyes…

I come for thee, toward this Unholy Land. I shalt find myself in thy presence, one who witches…


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