Zosimos

Zosimos
[[File:{{#setmainimage:Voyaging Satyr.jpg}}|250px]]
Details
Race	Human
Birthplace	Theros
Lifetime	Mending Era
Sources

Zosimos is an adventurer on the plane of Theros.

History

Zosimos walked along the path as a thought crept into his awareness - glory and honor. What if he never achieved anything? What if he died having never gained the favor of the gods? There were many heroes in the land, and all of them burned with the desire to please Iroas, Heliod, or Nylea. Some heroes had gained recognition, some were venerated in the temples. Their feats had been so amazing and inspiring that it made Zosimos sick just to think of it. Even if he had the chance, he felt like he would never be as great as those heroes, with their magical weapons and godly favor. Where would he find such gifts? Zosimos couldn't tear his attention away from this dilemma. It ached in his heart like a thorn.

Suddenly, a stout satyr hopped onto the path from a thick shrub, and asked if Zosimos wanted to be a hero, then offered to give him lessons on being heroic. The satyr sat down in front of Zosimos, and Zosimos joined him on the ground, sitting on a nearby rock. There was something about this satyr that Zosimos couldn't quite put his finger on.

The satyr started explaining patiently that worry was the creation of Phenax, a great paralytic to rival Pharika's most virulent poison. Worrying was actually a form of worship of Phenax, as worry gave the dark god great pleasure. In other words, worrying was in fact spurning Iroas.

The satyr went on to say that deep in the Underworld, there existed a class of coinsmiths, who mint coins for use in the Underworld. Because it is everywhere in the Underworld, gold is of little value, while the ostraka, clay coins, are highly value, as they were struck from the clay funerary masks of the dead. Because the masks were a representation of who the dead were in life, and Erebos coveted the world of the living above all else. He could never return to the land of the living, so, out of spite, he forbade anyone to return without paying a dire price.

Erebos is made mortals find out what was truly valuable. No matter how much one strutted and crowed and adorned oneself with rank, status, and titles, it all became a worthless clay mask in the end. It was not about what one leaves behind in terms of material wealth, but what other things does a life leave behind? A hero would leave behind stability, peace, a flourishing world, and a place for everyone to grow.

The satyr gave a nearby vine a tug, and an amber sap dripped from its stem and bade Zosimos taste it. The nectarvine had a taste unlike any other Zosimos had tasted, and as it gently tingled in his mouth, a mellow sweetness expanded and filled his nose with berries, earth, and wine, an amazing flavor.

The satyr agreed, and said that the whole creation is a garden and while humans are caught up in ideas and concepts like glory and honor, they are missing everything that is real - the spring breeze, singing, dancing, and the taste of nectarvine.

The satyr noted Zosimos's sword, and offered him a knife as well. It was a dull, rusty knife that looked as if it had been used to cut stones from a quarry. Zosimos took the blade out of politeness and stuck it in his belt. Then he bid Zosimos farewell, and skipped off into the woods like a deer.

Zosimos sat on the stone for a while and felt the breeze blow across his skin. There were monsters in the world, and terrible gods, but it all felt in balance somehow, and Zosimos knew what part he was going to play in the great dance of creation. He knew that goodness burned within the core of his being. He knew himself.

He stood up and walked down the path that extended out before him like a thread on the loom of fate. He had been heading to Meletis, but after the encounter with the satyr, something in him had shifted. He had transformed. As he walked, he felt more and more drawn to the eastern horizon until he could bear it no further, and turned off the path.

The long grass brushed along his legs as he followed the feeling that pulled him to the mountains far in the distance. Zosimos had no idea what lay in those mountains. All he knew was the feeling in his body, in his bones, that spoke to him without words. He had followed his troubled thoughts for too long, thoughts of fear and doubt, the seeds of Phenax. Now he followed his destiny.

As he crested the first of many rolling hills that lay before him, he felt a flash of heat at his hip followed by a blinding light. He looked down to see that the satyr's dagger had become a shining sword, one forged by the gods.

Story appearances

Title	Author	Publishing date	Set	Setting (plane)	Featuring
The Path or the Horizon	Adam Lee	2014-05-07	Journey into Nyx	Theros	Zosimos