Lorgan's Notes: Death's Judgment

Every ghost who resides in the Evenacht has experienced the same thing: death. That is as much of a link as all the Evenacht's spirits originally hailing from Talis. Much of who we become in the evening lands depends on how we handle this fact.
Death, by default, is the most important transition that a deceased being undertakes. It is the end of their old existence and the beginning of their new. And to get to the Evenacht, we must endure Death's Judgment.

Research:
Death's Judgment

by our stalwart hero, Lorgan the curious

In this Research Document:

all images by Shanda Nelson
unless otherwise stated

The Tunnel of Memories

My own trip through the Tunnel was . . . not pleasant. I had thought myself hale and hearty--but I died in my prime years. I had thought myself kind, and discovered, in the memories plastered on the unsmooth rock surfaces, that cruelty plagued my steps. I, Lorgan Keldethane, a son of a wealthy Bradic noble family, taught by the most powerful mafiz in magic and mystery, was not the man I thought I was.
It's difficult to explain, the punch of shock when one realizes they are dead, and then the second punch of despair and disbelief, at the things left undone, the things left unsaid. The knowledge a loving family and a circle of friends will mourn, and you cannot console them.
To know, the new love recently kindled, had died along with me, and that she would move on, find another who could warm her heart and her soul.

The Tunnel is bare but for the memories. There are twists and turns, intersections, and one chooses which way to go. I have no idea if I experienced everything or just the most relevant bits, but my head spun and tears marred my cheeks, by the time I reached the exit.
The edges of the Tunnel shimmered with hazy darkness, and a stone entry with a single flickering orange torch met me. Behind me Rayva and Salan sat, blocking the way back, so I had no choice but to enter.

The Tunnel was Darkness's creation. The Beast had a habit of taking the most vile into confidence while sending innocents to the Fields of the Condemned. He enjoyed the pain of such endeavors, neglecting his calling as Death to Judge respectfully and fairly.

To combat the unjust declarations, Darkness formed a long, dark passage between Talis proper and the Forest Temple. He set a spell to draw the deceased to the entrance, set Rayva and Salan to make certain the spirits stepped inside, and then snagged the memories from them.

The ghosts walk through their life, experiencing the good, the bad, the pretty, the loathsome. People discover their self-image was warped by insincere memory, and struggle to reconcile what they now witness to how they thought they behaved.
It's unsettling. "Darkness cradles" my ass.

Darkness and Death have a combined charge to oversee the dead into the Evenacht. Darkness cradles the new spirit and Death judges. During the Beast's reign, Veer performed more of Death's duties out of compassion for the newly deceased. After Erse Parr donned Death's mantle, she took them back, and the normal way of things resumed.

The Forest Temple

Ghosts don't get to see much of the Forest Temple. When I passed through, I saw no priests or acolytes, either. I proceeded down a hallway with polished, pristine rock, random torches, and dozens of watercolors of beautiful scenery. At the time I wondered why all contained a soft haze, but now I know those images were of the Evenacht in full misty splendor.
Water painted them. She's a fantastic artist. Remarkable.
As I walked through the beautiful images, I felt myself become . . . less. Physically so. It was as if the weight of flesh lifted, leaving only the wispy essence of myself to continue my journey.

The last two paintings concerned me. On the left was one depicting an arched gate made of stone and painted a menacing red. The columns were square, functional, with a frieze detailing Death sitting on a throne, dozens bowing to her. The engraving, to the minutest detail, flabbergasted me.
Across from it were mounds of tall, dead yellow grass beneath a rain-darkened sky. A pathway ran down the center, a single, green-cloaked figure walking upon it, surrounded by black smudges. Filling the mounds in every direction were heads--thousands of heads. They gaped at the viewer, mouths pulled into ugly screams, eyes wild, hair wilder. Plants grew into beards, poked cheeks, wrapped around necks. I had no doubt, they all suffered horrendously.

If I had had a heart, the resulting attack would have ended me there. As it was, low growls from the vulfs sent me scurrying ahead, through a plain stone arch and into a circular room at once too large, but too claustrophobic. Columns surrounded it, with torches between each, lighting the walls beyond. In front of me was a plain black wooden chair, back tall enough to tower over its occupant. One death-white hand lay on a violent purple orb, a long-nailed finger tapping at the surface. It belonged to a black-haired woman in a simple slip dress. Power cloaked her, immense, suffocating.

Judgment

I . . . ah, well. Let's just skip over that, and focus on the fact she raised one eyebrow at me and calmly let my hysterics fade.
Soft, warm chuckling came from behind her, but I only saw brilliant blue eyes shining in the shadows.
Death and Darkness. Erse Parr and Veer Tul. Growing up around, and studying with, the greatest of nymph mafiz did not prepare me for the weight of their mantles. But, if I'm being truthful, I expected punishment. I had not been who I thought, and I deserved little mercy. I thought their weight would crush me.
I knew, somewhat, about Death's Judgment. Not that I had religious convictions, but her acolytes wrote descriptions of the process. They claimed she looks into one's soul, pulls out the most horrific and the most charming parts, and weighs what she sees.
1

If she did so, I did not notice; she was too busy trying not to laugh.
"Lorgan, be at ease. It's quite the shock, I know. But you are bound for the Evenacht, not the Fields."
She really tried to put calm and soothing into her words. A nice gesture, and one I did not deserve.
And then I was a little miffed. I was scared to the point of discorporating, and nothing was going to happen? No stern lecture? No threats? No humph of disgust?
"Do you want a stern lecture?"
No, I didn't, but, well.
"Your path walks in another direction," she told me. "Your curiosity will guide you."

2

Her gaze grew cold, and I backed into the columns, nonplussed. Fortunately for me, the look was for the ghosts who, as a group, tumbled into the space in their haste to avoid the snapping jaws of Rayva and Salan. I'm not certain what transpired between them; I heard no words, but the air chilled, the atmoshpere chilled, the warm laughter that greeted me shattered under a Darkness forboding.
Their screams haunted my nightmares for decades.
3

I can confirm that the religious claim that "Death strips the dead bare, revealing their soul beneath" doesn't happen. That's what the Tunnel's for.
Ghosts who died before Veer Tul created the Tunnel have tales of a similar soul-searching, initiated by whichever Death held the mantle. Very ancient ghosts speak of trials that took place somewhere in the Fields of the UnRedeemed, but their recollections are hazy (40,000+ years of existing means you've forgotten numerous things).

Evengates and Death's Arch

While I heard them, I saw nothing; darkness surrounded me, and when the hazy fingers pulled away, I stood before the same red gate I saw in the painting--the Evengates, the entrance into the evening lands. Only the real one was manned by a giant of red skin, tusks, horns, and a foul temper.
Other ghosts whisked past me, jerking to the side to avoid the creature. It shook its enormous spear at me and I joined them, fear taking my mind. At the time I registered nothing of the flight, but now, I realize I fled through the pathway depicted in that other painting, past the heads screaming at their ghostly brethren for surcease.
The Fields of the UnRedeemed. When Death judges one in need of punishment, she sunders their ghostly essence and their head ends up in the dead yellow grass of the mounds. Those unlucky souls wait for a Finder to Redeem them. Once Chosen, they journey with their Finder to find their sundered essences--a journey that takes them to all corners of the Evenacht.

1

We reached another gate. This one was red and black, four stories tall, and stretched along a wide road, with many arches leading to a milling throng of ghosts. So, so many ghosts. They stood in a soft grey mist, which filled a rich green forest beyond. Compared to the blight of the fields, it was the sweetest of eye-candy landscapes.
In the center of each arch floated cheerful beings with wide smiles and white robes. After the horror of the Fields, the presentation seemed . . . odd. I did not know whether to speak to them or run away, but one solved that dilemma.
"Hello, and welcome to the Evenacht! I'm Greeter Nuelle. Do you speak Keeling?"
I did, as a matter of fact, even though my native tongue was Water Nymphic. Nuelle herded me to a small group of ghosts under the charge of Greeter Amderelle. Amderelle answered our numerous questions in a calm, measured manner, and guided us down the unpaved road to a humongous city called Evening. Once we reached Hallowed Square, our orientation as newly deceased began.
But that, dear reader, is another story, for another time.
2

I've conducted research on the Evengates and Death's Arch. They preceded Erse Parr's reign by several millennia. The Evengates are so old, I did not find a date of construction, just a litany of repairs. The unknown Death who made the pact with the Astri and first brought spirits to the Evenacht may well have built it.

Death's Arch is a Hallow Collective construct. Æshren Gerant, the founder of the Collective, thought that his organization could aid the newly deceased once they arrived in the Evenacht. He formed the Greeters to guide the dead to Evening and ghostly orientation and founded the arch 10,660 years previous as a way to funnel ghosts to them.

No one (except maybe syimlin) knows when the Fields of the UnRedeemed came into existence. They are mentioned in the oldest religious texts Zibwa's adherents keep, and those texts cite other, even older texts.
It may be, the Fields are as old as the Evengates.