The Black Shroud
“You cannot lie to nature. It will eventually force you to be honest.†That is a family proverb. My mother speaks it often, but I only learned its full meaning recently.
Nature demands things from us. If we choose to deny it, we die. It is that simple, and that strict. I must kill to eat, I must accept that I am never fully clean and I must be selfish at least part of the time.
![[Image: nknLFeN.png]](http://i.imgur.com/nknLFeN.png)
The path to being a good person is not pretending that I would not harm a gnat, or that I am selfless; it is killing only when needed, following a code of conduct and learning to commit occasional acts of charity. Beyond that, people can do nothing more without putting on a falsehood. A falsehood that would soon be destroyed by the forces of nature within us all.
![[Image: TvUeqm8.png]](http://i.imgur.com/TvUeqm8.png)
My home is the Black Shroud. Some call it the Twelveswood. Even after being struck hard by the fires of the calamity, the Black Shroud is still vast, and still intricate. But the vastness it still has is nothing compared to what it once had. The Twelveswood is like a large beastkin that has been dealt a bleeding wound. If the wound continues to bleed, the beast will eventually die.
![[Image: 897v68H.png]](http://i.imgur.com/897v68H.png)
![[Image: 7iKJ92h.png]](http://i.imgur.com/7iKJ92h.png)
![[Image: qaQD3Kg.png]](http://i.imgur.com/qaQD3Kg.png)
![[Image: 3sP9aQp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/3sP9aQp.png)
Even after a cycle in Gridania, I still do not understand, nor place my faith in, the Elementals. Other places in Eorzea survive without Elementals, so why are they so important to the Shroud? The Gridanians swear by them, and would do their bidding; everything else be damned by Rhalgr. But me, I place my faith in the Twelve, and bow to no other power.
![[Image: GJxyNkE.png]](http://i.imgur.com/GJxyNkE.png)
![[Image: A2F103g.png]](http://i.imgur.com/A2F103g.png)
![[Image: MvmDE8c.png]](http://i.imgur.com/MvmDE8c.png)
![[Image: rQSiAAO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/rQSiAAO.png)
My sept, and many others, must survive in a dying forest that is no longer able to support everyone who calls it home. Everything we have done, we did for our survival. It is no longer enough. The Ixal are like scavenger birds that see weakness, and attack. Their raids, Gridanian laws and the desperate groups trying to eek out a living in Eorzea are all adding to a hardship my kin cannot bear for much longer.
![[Image: zTaw9Yz.png]](http://i.imgur.com/zTaw9Yz.png)
![[Image: qiK4d9b.png]](http://i.imgur.com/qiK4d9b.png)
![[Image: O7wfvkk.png]](http://i.imgur.com/O7wfvkk.png)
![[Image: 7BuIaMX.png]](http://i.imgur.com/7BuIaMX.png)
That is where my story began. As one of the scouts in my family, I set off into Eorzea to find resources, and mayhaps even new hunting grounds for my group. I plan to make many ventures to many lands.
“You cannot lie to nature. It will eventually force you to be honest.†That is a family proverb. My mother speaks it often, but I only learned its full meaning recently.
Nature demands things from us. If we choose to deny it, we die. It is that simple, and that strict. I must kill to eat, I must accept that I am never fully clean and I must be selfish at least part of the time.
The path to being a good person is not pretending that I would not harm a gnat, or that I am selfless; it is killing only when needed, following a code of conduct and learning to commit occasional acts of charity. Beyond that, people can do nothing more without putting on a falsehood. A falsehood that would soon be destroyed by the forces of nature within us all.
My home is the Black Shroud. Some call it the Twelveswood. Even after being struck hard by the fires of the calamity, the Black Shroud is still vast, and still intricate. But the vastness it still has is nothing compared to what it once had. The Twelveswood is like a large beastkin that has been dealt a bleeding wound. If the wound continues to bleed, the beast will eventually die.
Even after a cycle in Gridania, I still do not understand, nor place my faith in, the Elementals. Other places in Eorzea survive without Elementals, so why are they so important to the Shroud? The Gridanians swear by them, and would do their bidding; everything else be damned by Rhalgr. But me, I place my faith in the Twelve, and bow to no other power.
My sept, and many others, must survive in a dying forest that is no longer able to support everyone who calls it home. Everything we have done, we did for our survival. It is no longer enough. The Ixal are like scavenger birds that see weakness, and attack. Their raids, Gridanian laws and the desperate groups trying to eek out a living in Eorzea are all adding to a hardship my kin cannot bear for much longer.
That is where my story began. As one of the scouts in my family, I set off into Eorzea to find resources, and mayhaps even new hunting grounds for my group. I plan to make many ventures to many lands.
