The Doomguide’s Lament

Quincy was a tired, old man who couldn't let go of what he loved.

As it had turned out for him, it was his greatest shortcoming. The Doomguide of Kelemvor held so tightly onto his friends that it led to disaster and ruin. In his mind, he knew it wasn't his fault, but for the first time in his life, he couldn't do anything about it.

As Quincy stood in the mausoleum, staring down at the faces of two dead friends, he felt a great pain in his heart. Dorian Amberhelm was like a son to him, and he'd tried so many times to bring him away from the great troubles that pursued the man. Thomas Felmarr was a faithful paladin to Torm, and died saving their lives. Doomguide Lyonsbar saw no better way for things to have played out, but it still gnawed at him... what if he had not done enough? What if he had not acted in time? What if there was still some way to make everything right? No answers called out to him, begging him to find them. No great being stood at the horizon of his mind, beckoning him to perform a task to bring them back...

All Quincy had left was Vivienne, and her chances weren't any better. The gentleman loved her as a father would his daughter, and looked out for her as best he could... but even here, his hands were tied and he could do nothing.

The old man cried, that night. As rain battered the roof of the culthouse, he sat in the unlit, musky kitchen, head on the table and a glass of wine in hand. Tears stained the wooden surface and his drink went nearly untouched.

The next morning, he stood up, dusted himself off, and went off to work. Quincy began cleaning the culthouse's main shrine, sweeping the old boards and dusting the statues dedicated to the Judge of the Dead. Soon, he moved to the mausoleum, where he did the same to the mossed stones of the floor. The slabs where bodies were placed were wiped down and cleaned for the next poor souls.

It seemed the priest had finally settled into true priesthood. Over time, he seemed happier... and more patient. He had learned, in the end, that death is not an end.

It was a new beginning.

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