The Rise of Rahn
In the past, across the Sapphire Sea, a hero arose. By his determination and spirit, the hero chose to perfect himself in body, mind, and spirit. He strove to cleanse the blemishes of his existence that mortal life forced upon him. Well respected by his peers, the hero extolled his path in life to those around him, beseeching them to forego the banalities of mortality, and seek the path to perfection.
His life was well known even to the Gods who saw him as a shining example of the heights a mortal could achieve. One God in particular, a dark God, took great interest in the hero, watching him very closely and studying the effects of his self-purifications on his soul. The machinations that ran through the God's mind are unfathomable to mortals, and ultimately He chose to travel to the hero and test his resolve. Dressed as a simple travelling philosopher and academic, He met the hero on the road between two cities.
"I say, good sir, to where do you travel on this humid day?" stammered the academic to the hero.
"Rest is for the weak, learned sir, as you must well know. Was it not persistence and will that gave you the insight into the world that you possess today? I travel to ensure my spirit does not grow dull, and that my body does not grow weak."
"Ah, I see. You choose to model yourself after that hero, the self-righteous one," spat the academic. "Are you certain you have his will to maintain his stifling philosophy?"
"I am quite certain, knowledgable master, as it is I who stand before you!" The voice of the hero was unstrained, neither with pride nor disdain with the line of questioning. In his travels he was quite accustomed to those who did not believe in his ways.
"Ah, I had no clue I was in the presence of such greatness. My humble apologies, your excellence. If it does not bother you so, and if you would have the moment of time to spare, would you care to sit beneath this shady tree and speak to me of your travels and tribulations. I know little of what drives you to perfection, and I wish to know more."
And so the hero agreed and they sat for a few hours discussing at great length the path to perfection. The academic would attempt to pry a hole into the hero's logic, and the hero would, every time, brilliantly defeat the attack. As the sun drew further down in the sky, the academic posited one final question.
"Why do you not seek the path of ascension, to become a truly perfect immortal?" The sweat on the academic's brow dripped onto the ground in the afternoon heat.
The hero paused for a moment, unsure of the intent of the question. "It is the path to perfection that is beauty to my eyes, not the state of perfection. To always improve oneself, against constant odds, that is victory and achievement."
"It is your mortality that is the blemish on your soul which separates you from perfection! Do you not see that?" The academic stared deeply into the eyes of the hero, testing his resolve.
"I will not be swayed, kind scholar. I do this only for the purification of my own soul, and ask nothing in return. If my path is difficult, I shall walk it proudly. I do not ask the same of any person who does not wish the sacrifice." The hero, his spirit intact, sat firm and his eyes did not budge from the face of the academic.
"Then it will be your folly. Your soul will never be pure, and I will show you the corruption in its depths." Revealing His true form to the hero, the dark God towered over the hero. "I will show your pitiful soul the perfection best suited for it." Pulling the mortal hero's frame with Him, the dark God travelled across continents and oceans and once finding the ideal location, cast the hero into the mouth of a steaming volcano.
The hero's body weak from the damage caused in the fall, he could only lay there looking back up at the skies above him. During the flight across the oceans, he had seen much he had not imagined about the world. It was much larger and much more rich than he had imagined, and from the heights he soared, he knew he was nowhere near his home.
The inside of the volcano was steamy and hot, and he laid on a small slab of rock jutting from a pool of lava. The walls reflected the dull glow of the lava and he could hear in the distant the hiss of water hitting the liquid fire. The heat from the lava below singed his back, and as he struggled to rise, he saw before him the dark frame of this unknown Immortal. "You want your soul perfected so badly? Then I shall hammer the kinks of out of it." Raising a glimmering ethereal hammer, the God struck down on the weakened form the hero, striking not his physical shell, but his very soul and existence with the blow.
The blow tore through the hero's stability. He struggled to maintain composure and sanity as his soul was bruised from the strike. Lifting his head from the rock he could see the God standing above him. "Here I shall forge your spirit into My form of perfection!", boomed His voice as He chained the helpless hero onto the rock. Once again, the dark God raised the hammer, and struck down on His prisoner. The anguished scream of the hero rang out amongst the Putoran Hills, echoing as far south as the village of Jaru.
The pain was horrible, but the hero suffered from then on in near silence. Daily the torment was struck down on him, and nightly the lava pool would rise to heat his stone slab to boiling temperatures. But the hero would not relent his spirit, nor would he perish from the agony and torment.
For many years this went on, until one day the punishments ceased and the anonymous Immortal did not reappear. The hero waited, chained to his prison, and as the time passed he began to meditate to perfect his mind and to try to discover the falseness of pain and anguish. During these meditations, he began to hear a faint rhythm in the distant recesses of his mind. Strong and powerful, the rhythm throbbed in his ears and in his head as it invigorated his spirit. As his meditations continued, the rhythm grew louder, and through the strength of his own will and his focus upon the rhythm, he perceived neither the searing heat of the lava nor the pain of his burnt flesh.
The beat consumed his soul, and soon it matched the very beat of his heart. Once the hero had made the realization that the two sounds coincided, he looked about himself and noticed his mortal form had expired. He had transcended mortality through determination and the act of purification and he now stood the perfect example of existence, an Immortal.
Grabbing the hammer of His torture, the Immortal strode with a fury of fire from his prison, erupting the volcano to seek his torturer and to take his place in the Garden of the Gods as Rahn, God of Fire.
The Last Testament of Rahn
(from HELP RAHN)
In the year 160 of the Midnight Age, the Essence of Rahn was torn from Him and His influence on the world collapsed. Like the Lord of Truth, His order and shrines were lost to Aetolia. For posterity, we keep His philosophy below:
Into the depths of the fire, to the colorless portion of the flame, must the ore be thrust. For without the scalding heat, a simple metal will remain impure. Without the impetus to better the material, sullied and imperfect shall it remain forever.
Thus it is with the soul. Without the flame of conviction and dedication, a mortal may never seek perfection. Only through the pains of labor and relentless improvement may a soul obtain its purest state.
Conviction alone is not enough to reach the epitome of self. While faith is the fundamental tool in reaching closer to perfection, ability and practice are integral to success. One must believe, as well as learn to wield oneself as the master smith's hammer, rendering perfection unto the world.
Perfection is not obtained without sacrifice. For in the process of forging, metal is torn and bent and defeated as it moves to the shape of the smith's intent. The scars and pains of improvement are carried for a lifetime, each a lesson and an urging of the spirit to ascend towards perfection. Let it not be said the sword chooses to forge itself; its destiny is painfully exacted by the will of the creator.
Those who seek to smelt from their spirit the flaws and tarnishes of mortal existence must begin to study the flame and its power. For only through
purification in fire can one shed the chains of mediocrity and imperfection.
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