The Human Condition

A Daily Response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Natural

Part Three! If you haven’t already seen ’em, here you can find Part Two, and Part One, but I don’t think they are a must read in order to understand the story. In addition to trying to continue this story every  day, in relation to the Daily Prompt of that day, I am also using this as the perfect time to experiment with the writing styles I spoke of here, as well as any others I may or may decide to bowl with.

Bran Windrider 

“There are a few things natural to the human condition. Growth, connections and faith are just the three that I am most familiar with. Our desire to grow is the reason why our cities rise and fall in endless cycles. Our wish for connection brings us towards others. And our craving for faith, to have something that we can fall back on, to have something that we can have an unwavering belief in allows for us to be strong in the face of danger. Some men believe in a primordial creator that still guides them to this day. Some men believe in the power of the weave. Others will call upon the belief in science. Me, I believe in myself. Not one of us can deny that we are the product of divine intervention. The gods were bored so they created our lives to play with. Who can blame them? We still owe them everything, that is why I serve them. I want to say that that is another aspect of human culture that is natural to the condition of man, but I look at the destruction wrought before me and I am led to severe doubts on man being intrinsically good. 

Hanariel Avana

It was as I was leaving the Cathedral of Grand Cleric Anastasia that I felt the life-force of my charge start to stabilize. Bran had awoken. I broke out my white and red feathered wings and charged up the mountainside until I reached him. There was something off. Something different. In my time surveying the nearby lands something about him had changed when it shouldn’t have. I was only due for my next report at the end of the month, 19 days would be more than enough time to run a detailed analysis of what I should have observed. Dismissing my responsibilities once again I turned my attention to the view that lay before me.


I looked out at my city. The place sure had changed. I knew my pilgrimage had taken me longer than I planned but I had not thought that we would have been put to war in that short space of time. I was glad that I was not there. If I was sent out by the Church then I had the Revered Mother’s permitted to not attend the battle. All I had to do was feign ignorance and I’d be fine. I strolled over to a ledge, below the cloudline, on the mountain face. The winds were weaker here so I did not need to strain my eyes so much to watch the battle. Resting my staff down next to my left, I put my pack on my right and let my feet dangle off the edge of the rock.


The ten Reavers were led by an archpriest. He wore heavy plated armour with grey and red robes draped over his whole get-up. He actually looked kinda ridiculous. This tiny man in massive armour with wizards’ robes? It just didn’t work for his figure. His motions were flustered and his casting hindered by that bulky armour. If he weren’t so afraid of the Templars then he would stand a much better chance against them.

Turning my attention to the battle as a whole, I watched as the waves of purple and silver Templars surged up against the moss covered rocks that were the green- and orange-garbed Reavers that blew away ten men at a time with each swipe of their fist. It was a beautifully picturesque scene. Like the bodies of man were recreating the beauty of a savage ocean.


The tide was turning, the rocks were holding their ground better than the steel ocean had predicted. There was a cry from one of the three men able to hold their ground against the Reavers. It was Grand Marshal Erik, the Exalted. A great beam of light burst forth from the Cathedral I would have to return to. It shone on all of the Templars and gave them renewed vigour. That was that faith thing I was speaking of earlier. Even if the clerics who were too fearful to join the battle could only heal them from afar, if the foot soldiers believed that they had their power backing them up then they could worry less about the loss of their own lives. I mock those clerics and that false prophet of the Reavers, yet I should not judge. I guess that is another feature natural to the human condition since it is the reason I await the end of that battle, cowardice.


photo credit: No War via photopin (license)


2 thoughts on “The Human Condition

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