Where do I even begin?|
Sometimes, death is a way of life. You see it so much, in one form or another, that it becomes mundane. Sometimes, even in the midst of such an existence, a death can still have a profound impact. Such was the case with my friend, Jacques.
He was taken from us today by Mortedamos, who used his final act to sacrifice Jacques to the Well of Souls, just as Mortedamos himself became its victim. His fall into the Well was sudden, and not a normal death; we were not even left a body to grieve over. Whatever has happened to him, I know only that he is no longer with us, and it is that for which I grieve.
On this arduous, often infuriating journey, I have encountered many rare and wonderful things, as well as things evil and perverse. I had come to expect anything in our travels (a god playing darts in a tavern with a beautiful three-eyed dwarf? Nothing new.)—I had never expected to see Jacques die, beyond the aid of our spells and ministrations. He was not a risk-taker, yet he was not coldly calculating; he simply always did what he felt had to be done for the greater good. This time what had to be done was to give himself to save the rest of us.
And save us he did. Without his sacrifice, it is doubtful that any of us would have walked alive from that pit. It leaves me, though, with a curious hollow sensation. He won’t be coming back. Ever. I don’t pretend to know how the others feel, but as for myself, I feel that I’ve lost more than just a friend and companion in adversity. I have, in a sense, lost a mentor. Jacques was the first human who showed me that not all humans were filthy, barbaric scum. Indeed, he showed me that humans can be just as noble and cultured of spirit as any elf. It was his sacrifices, his open heart, his courage in the face of all the dangers we’ve bested that showed me humans have the same potential; they just have less time in which to achieve it.
Without him, our party is in jeopardy, for we’ve lost our moral center. We are lost in a storm, trying to keep our way, and our group may splinter under the weight of our several vengeances and our views of our moral obligations. Jacques had a way of bringing things into focus for us, in that respect. It, and he, will be missed.
Our paths are now separated, however. He must walk his, and we must walk ours, and none but the gods, perhaps, can know where they will lead us. Wherever yours has taken you, Jacques, I wish you easy rest and good cheer. Farewell, my friend.