By C.A. SuleimanSample

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2 • ROAD OF HEAVEN •

© 2003 White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights re-served. Reproduction without the written permission of thepublisher is expressly forbidden, except for the purposes ofreviews, and for blank character sheets, which may bereproduced for personal use only. White Wolf, Vampire,Vampire the Masquerade, Vampire the Dark Ages, Magethe Ascension, Hunter the Reckoning, World of Darknessand Aberrant are registered trademarks of White WolfPublishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Werewolf the Apoca-lypse, Wraith the Oblivion, Changeling the Dreaming,

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The mention of or reference to any company or product in these pages is not a challenge to the trademarkor copyright concerned.

This book uses the supernatural for settings, characters and themes. All mystical and supernaturalelements are fiction and intended for entertainment purposes only. This book contains mature content.Reader discretion is advised.

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CreditsAuthor: C.A. Suleiman.Vampire and the World of Darkness created by

Mark Rein•HagenStoryteller game system designed by Mark

Rein•HagenAdditional Contributions: Michael A. GoodwinDevelopment & Additional Material: Matthew

McFarlandLatin Consultation: Myranda KalisMET Translation: Peter WoodworthEditor: Michelle LyonsArt Direction, Layout & Typesetting:

Becky JollenstenInterior Art: D.M. Foster, Eric Hotz, Tom Man-

drake, Rik Martin, Tim Truman, Kieran YannerFront Cover Art: John BoltonFront & Back Cover Design: Becky Jollensten

Author’s DedicationThis book is dedicated to Ari “What’s the Book?”

Marmell for his tireless commitment to the future ofroleplaying, and to Matt “Where’s the Book?”McFarland for similar dedication to the bird in hand.You are not only two great friends, but two of thefinest accomplices a guy could ask for — the Athosand Aramis to my Porthos.

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4 • ROAD OF HEAVEN •

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5• PRELUDE •• PRELUDE •

Prelude:

Who Would

Stand in His

Holy Place?

Prelude:

Who Would

Stand in His

Holy Place?Thou preparest a table for me in the presence of mine enemies.

— Book of Psalms 23:5

The Crusader awoke before dawn, reaching for his boots before his eyes wereeven open. A brief surge of panic swept over him as he found them missing fromtheir usual place — standing on end beside his feet (a position chosen forconvenience as well as to provide an additional level of challenge for invadingpests). As the blur of sleep faded from his eyes, however, his boots came intoview, sitting atop the rest of his clothing on an oversized, decorative cushionlying several feet away. The simple sight of his own belongings, his boots inparticular, allowed him to regain his sense of peace. It returned a feeling of bothplace and purpose to the Crusader. As it had always done.

Over the long nights since his estrangement from home, the Crusaderhad come to rely on his boots almost as trusted friends. Loneliness andhardship had made them seem allies in this unfortunate and bloody cam-paign; allies that had been there for him when nothing and no one else couldsay the same. Many times had he taken his rest without removing them lesta surprise attack catch him off guard, unprepared to stand and deliver thejudgment his office required. Their presence was a comfort to him in anuncertain and dangerous world.Sam

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The Crusader stood, fighting past the last dull-ness of slumber to assense his immediatesurroundings. He immediately discerned he was ina bedchamber of some sort, the dim light in theroom provided by a handful of wax tapers. Thewalls of the room were little more than an array ofdraped linens, sparsely decorated (likely for fear ofinward collapse) and held fast by a lengthy run ofthick hemp. A glance back to his bed showed thathe had been lying atop a quilted mattress, far finerthan the simple straw to which he had grownaccustomed over the years. He hurriedly reachedfor his clothes and dressed, his unfamiliar sur-roundings leaving him feeling especially vulnerable.

As the Crusader gazed about the unfamiliarroom, he was astounded by the number and size ofcushions around him. They were not merely on thebedding, but spread all around like decorative fin-ery. Where a piece of furniture might otherwisehave been, he found cushions in its place. Thelarger cushions doubled as chairs, tables and evenas a place of prayer in one instance — a long flatcushion placed at an odd angle on the floor at onecorner of the room. Most assuredly pointing south,he surmised. Towards Mecca.

He remembered where he was.* * *

The Crusader had taken up with a regiment outof Palermo, departing for Palestine in Septemberwhen Emperor Frederick II first commissioned thecall for Crusade. Although illness delayed the offi-cial attack until June of the following year, theseearly forces went on ahead just the same. He wasinspired at first, steeled to the idea of holy reclama-tion and proud to be part of the first wave. But thencame the excommunication of the Emperor; thenword of yet another delay, during which Frederickhad the gall to threaten Rome herself. While hisarmies did indeed join them in the Holy Landeventually, the Crusader’s regiment operated withfull independence for almost eleven months andhad fallen out of all but the most cursory contactwith the Emperor’s command.

Some weeks ago, the Emperor had orderedCount Stephen of Gotron and the other ItalianLongobards (his troops from Southern Italy of whichthe Crusader was nominally a part) to attend himin Cyprus. There Frederick had seized all the Cyp-riot fortresses and revenues for his personal use, aswas his “royal right.” Among the military, this wasseen as the final insult from an arrogant and impi-ous soul. Many mainland knights refused their

emperor’s call. Most hoped that the Lord of Beirutwould lead the Cypriots in revolt against Frederick,taking the infant King of Cyprus under their ownprotection and demanding the Emperor abandonhis claim to the Christian kingdoms. The com-manding officer of the Crusader’s regiment, a piousveteran named Alessandro, was one such unyield-ing knight. On the evening after receiving word ofthe Emperor’s command, he gathered the mentogether and addressed them.

“Brave knights, your emperor has chosen towage war not against the blaspheming Saracen, butagainst his own barons and their right good men.He has claimed the rightful domain of the Lord ofCyprus for his own, where your brothers Hospitallerand Templar face confinement, exile or worse athis hands. And still he demands our attendance.

“I say to you now: Any man who feels bound byduty to heed this call should embark at sunrise forCyprus, there to attend the Emperor in his bid forauthority over all the Crusader kingdoms. Let noman punish any other for doing his duty. If, how-ever, any man feels bound by duty to God instead,let him remain here and fight the cause for whichhe was so rightfully conscripted. All men who do sonow shall know they stand with me.”

The next morning, the Crusader was not amongthose who departed Palestine for Cyprus. Althoughconflicted, he felt sure that his place was in theHoly Land doing his part for the glory ofChristendom, not the Emperor. Here he remained,dug in alongside a regiment of “traitors” in a war ofchance skirmishes with the Moslems inOultrejourdain. Alessandro’s leadership was stron-ger than ever, but without reinforcements it seemedlike a losing battle — an impression that solidifiedinto reality.

While moving through the area south of Sidon,the regiment happened upon a small Moslem en-campment. Rather than try to move around it,Alessandro ordered a bold attack. The Saracen,however, proved more than ready for their attack-ers. The battle ended almost as soon as it hadbegun. Overwhelmed by the enemy, the last thingthe Crusader remembered was the sight of hiscompatriots’ bloodied banner and the whirringshush of wood through wind….

* * *The Crusader suddenly broke from his reverie

and opened his eyes, quickly scanning the wallhangings. He was suddenly struck by the fact thatno light shone through; neither moon, nor sun, nor

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stars, not even high above where the folds wouldleave some gaps. For the first time, he realized thatthe walls were thicker than they first appeared. Hewondered just how long he had been asleep. Was iteven the same day?

As best the Crusader could discern, the sunwasn’t on the rise yet. It was possible that it couldbe later the same evening of that unfortunate battle,but it seemed unlikely. Those bloody events seemedsomewhat distant now, however, and he felt asthough he had enjoyed a long, undisturbed rest.How, then, did he come to this place?

He reached instinctively for his chest, but foundno bending blade or protruding arrow shaft — noreven any wound, judging by how hearty he felt.Some sort of soft wrapping pressed against the skinof his left breast; it was little more than a linenbandage wrapped loosely around his chest with abit of padding. There would be no danger of thewound reopening.

Under the circumstances, the Crusader felt thank-ful. Things could have been far worse. Though he nowfound himself a prisoner of war, he had clearly beentreated with respect thus far. The knight’s gaze fell tothe pile of clothing that lay beneath his boots. Hisbattle-worn armor (what remained of it, at any rate)lay on the floor next to his clothes, but both his swordand shield were conspicuously absent. They were thetwo symbols of his office, both fashioned with thesymbol his office represented — the cross of hisSavior, Jesus Christ. The fact that it made perfectsense for these items to be removed by his captors didnot mitigate the sting of their absence. Of moreconcern, however, was the absence of his bag from therest of his belongings.

Pulse racing, the Crusader reached for the smallcross dangling from his neck and stepped to thecenter of the room. As he knelt to pray, he closedhis eyes and whispered, “Oh, Heavenly Father….”In that brief pause, however, he became aware ofanother presence in the room. A deep, rich voicesurprised him, speaking in the Crusader’s own lan-guage with scarcely an accent.

“I apologize for the intrusion,” said the manstanding at the entrance to the tent. “Or, rather,for not announcing it properly. I merely wished togive you time to finish your prayers.” The man wasobviously a Saracen, olive-skinned with roundedfeatures. His body was draped in simple, well-crafted robes that were the color of sand, and hungall the way down to his ankles. On his crown hebore the headdress common to all Moslems, and his

feet were bare as he stood at the edge of thechamber. He appeared unarmed, but the Crusaderwas sure that some thin blade hid beneath thosetawny folds of cloth, ready at a moment’s need.

The Crusader stared at the Saracen for a longmoment, his uncertainty giving way to suspicion.“Of what concern is it to you that I finish an‘infidel’ prayer to an ‘infidel’ god… and inside aMoslem temple, no less?”

“Prayer fends away indecency and evil. So saysthe Qur’an, Surah twenty-nine.” The Saracen re-mained where he was, standing just inside the tentflap with the barest hint of a smile on his face. “Itis pronounced Mus-lim, not Moslem. And this…”he swirled a hand through the air, indicating thetent and its trappings, “…is hardly a temple, myfriend.” The Saracen laughed as confusion flick-ered across the Crusader’s face, a genuine laughthat brought the fullness of his lips to bear in thehalf-light. As the last of his mirth fled, he straight-ened and bowed to the Crusader, arms splayed toeither side as if in supplication. “Your pardon,saidi.” With a soft rustle of robes and draperies, theSaracen turned to leave.

“What have you done with my things?” theCrusader asked. He had meant to sound forcefulbut his voice betrayed him, sounding weak andraspy in his ears. He hoped it sounded less helplessto his captor.

The Saracen paused, one hand hoveringabove one flap of the tent. He spoke withoutturning around. “You had to be disarmed. Surelyyou understand.”

“I do. But there was something else… besidesmy weapons.” He paused. The admission of hismissing items galled him, but there was nothingelse to be done. “A leather satchel.”

The Saracen slowly turned his head to one side,glancing back over his shoulder. “Oh, yes. Thebook.” A wisp of dread coiled around the Crusader’sheart, tightening with each breath. “Not to worry,my friend. Your book is safe.” He smiled and half-turned toward the Crusader. “If you would be sokind, I should like to have you as my guest — here,in the adjoining chamber.” The Saracen whippedopen the tent flap. Beyond it, the Crusader couldsee bright lights and flashes of rich color. “Onlyafter you have finished your evening vespers, ofcourse.” As the Saracen finished speaking, hestepped into the next room. The tent flap fellclosed behind him, leaving the Crusader in silence.

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The Crusader’s hands moved up to his crossonce more, seeking the comfort he so desperatelywanted. That his host seemed courteous was morethan he could have hoped, but mere civility couldnot ease the fear in his heart. His misgivings wereamplified by the helplessness of his situation. Tryas he might to regain his confidence, his mindremained haunted by the image of the Saracen ashe had turned to leave; although shadows hadobscured his host’s face, he was sure that the Saracenhad left smiling.

* * *The adjoining tent was a miracle of Islamic

architectural acumen. Not only was its design athing of beauty and brilliance, but the simple factof its existence — out here, surrounded by nothingbut desert — was a testament to the diligence andingenuity of its creators. As with most things theCrusader had seen in the land of his enemies, thestructure was elegant in both its simplicity andstrength. It brought long slender rods to bear asmakeshift support beams while reinforcing the ba-sic frame with copious amounts of both hemp andsand. In this way, they could drape heavier fabricson the frame and decorate them as they pleased,with little to no fear of collapse. Looking at it withfrom a tactical standpoint, this simple structurewas probably even sturdy enough to withstand adirect collision from a horse and rider.

The interior was decorated sparsely but to greateffect. There were yet more cushions, as well asseveral lavish tapestries depicting either elegantpassages of script (the Qur’an, most likely) or col-orful Mediterranean seascapes. The Saracen sat inthe center of the room on a large chair made froma single cushion. The Crusader could neither hear,see nor otherwise sense any other beings in thearea. This fact, along with his host’s lack of weap-ons, disquieted him even more than the alienationhe felt from his surroundings.

After concluding his prayers, the Crusader hadput on the rest of his knightly attire. Standing atthe entrance now, he felt both awkward and ex-posed, despite being covered in over fifty pounds ofarmor and equipment. The Crusader stiffened bothhis resolve and spine, straightening to his fullheight and clanking across the chamber to wherehis host sat. “Might I ask how long I have been heldprisoner here?”

The Saracen regarded him with no small mea-sure of amusement. “Prisoner? Whoever said youwere my prisoner?”

The Crusader started to speak, then decided tosimply return to observing his host.

“You are free to leave, Crusader. You havealways been so. Of course, I doubt you would getvery far without the benefit of your horse — astolen Arabian, was it not? You should know that itis days to the nearest town and we found no foodamongst your belongings, as I recall.” The man’sgaze was unrelenting.

Loath as the Crusader was to admit it, theSaracen was right. While the desert was a harshmistress to some, she was an merciless harridan toothers such as he. While he was confident thatdaybreak remained hours away yet, he didn’t reallyknow where he was and couldn’t with any confi-dence say that he could find shelter in time. Whilehe weighed his choices, the Saracen gestured to-ward a large cushion directly across from him.

“Please… sit a while. There is much I wish todiscuss. If you are courteous and will indulge me inthis, you have my word that I will release you — andyour horse — when we are through.” A moment’stime was enough to let the Crusader decide. He sethis bundle down and crossed to the seat his hosthad indicated. Out of courtesy, the Crusader re-moved his boots before sitting down across from hishost. He took an identical position to the one hishost held— both knees forward with the hands ontop of the thighs, ankles crossed.

The Saracen smiled patiently while waiting forhim to settle onto his cushion. Only when he wasconfident the Crusader was comfortable did hefinally speak. “Earlier this evening, you mentionedthat yours was an ‘infidel’ god. Do you recall?” TheSaracen was still smiling, his deep-set eyes focusedon the Crusader’s face.

“I do,” said the Crusader. There was somethingabout the Saracen’s eyes…. His uneasiness grew.

“Would it surprise you to know that I believethat your god is not the god of any infidel, butrather the very same God to Whom I invest my owndaily prayers?”

The Crusader’s mouth dropped open slightly.“What trickery is this, Saracen?”

“None, I assure you,” said the knight’s host,shaking his head slowly. “Christians, Jews, Mus-lims… we are all people of the book, saidi. I believein the same God as you. Is not the God that createdme the same God that created you? I simply knowHim by the name of Allah, the Merciful and theCompassionate, rather than Yahweh or God. The

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Creator wears many names, but only one face. Youmust believe.”

“Merciful and compassionate?” the Crusaderhuffed. “I’ve seen the evidence of your god’s mercyand compassion on the field of battle. Tell me… ifwe are all truly one, then why do you so resist theCrusades? Isn’t this land holy to us all?”

“Allah loves those who fight for His cause inranks as firm as a mighty edifice. Surah sixty-one.”The Saracen leaned forward, his eyes two pools ofdark cream. “We fight because their cause is notGod’s cause, saidi. It is the cause of tyranny, and ofwicked men. Your pilgrims are now and have al-ways been welcome here. All pilgrims are. But it isthose who would strip me — or you — of the rightto worship freely in this place that are God’s en-emies, and thus yours… and mine.”

The Saracen stood and walked across the roomto where the room’s sole piece of furniture lay. Itwas an oaken chest, hidden from casual view by theplacement of several large pillows in one of thetent’s far corners. Bending down he opened the

chest, its hinges creaking with age. The Saracendeliberately stood to the side as he lifted the lid sothat the Crusader could see what lay within. There,resting atop a pillow of its own, was the book. TheCrusader felt his heart drop at the sight of it.“Come. I have prepared a table for us outside. Weshall sit and discuss this tome.”

“Outside?” murmured the Crusader. The cor-ner of his eye twitched. The notion that a mortal(and a Muslim, no less) was going to be privy towhat revelations lay within the Gospel of Laodicewas bad enough — truly the thing that should haveconcerned him most — but his mind could not getpast the threat of whiling away the remainder of themorn outside. Beneath the open sky.

“Yes, outside.” laughed the Saracen. “I find itmuch more pleasant to sit under the stars at night,especially when discoursing on Heavenly things. Isthis a problem for you, saidi?”

“No,” the Crusader whispered, rubbing the tipof one finger beneath his eye as though wiping awayan errant tear. “There will be no problems. Lead on,Saracen.”

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1 1• CHAPTER ONE •• CHAPTER ONE•

Chapter One:Stages inThreefoldDarkness

Chapter One:Stages inThreefoldDarkness

And in the lowest deep a lower deep,Still threatening to devour me, opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.— John Milton, Paradise Lost

From the Gospel of Laodice, as translated by SirParsifal of the Right Knights of His Most Holy Order ofVengeance and Sir Leonitus of the Knights of Penance,appearing almost identically in the Book of ThreefoldDarkness:

On the First Darkness“In the beginning, there was darkness.From that darkness was born the Earth,Beneath the sky and all the things of Heaven.The Creator saw what had been wrought,And brought forth from this earth Man,The first of His creations with a soul.Sam

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Man, whom He loved best of all,Above even His own Heavenly Host.Man, best-loved for his pure, pure soul —A soul born of an earth born of darkness.”

From the footnotes of Leonitus:To be certain, this passage has caused no small

amount of perturbation, even among the most staunchsupporters of the Gospel. What is important todraw from this verse, however, is what it tells us aboutGod’s power. Even those of a traditional, non-Catharist conviction can respect the differencesbetween the kingdom of Earth and the kingdom ofHeaven. The latter, being the consummation mostdevoutly to be wished, is indeed inherently superiorto the former.

Anyone who has lived on this earth for longenough — and further, anyone with even a crumb ofsense — can tell you that the full measure of exist-ence on Earth can be summed up in the phrase “toiland pain.” Despite the contentions of some, however,this fact alone neither proves nor establishes Satan’shegemony over the physical world. Remember, Godis all-powerful as well as all-knowing. His domain iseverywhere and everything, even the darkness fromwhich all has sprung. Every life on this plane is atest, a chance to show God that one is worthy ofentering the kingdom of Heaven. Of course there istoil and pain. Without it, there can be no test. Andthose who fail this test — or those who fail to see itspurpose — are ultimately rewarded with preciselythe thing they have earned in their time on Earth.

Nothing.From the commentaries of the Divinist:

You see, friends? Even in the earliest chapters andverses of the Book of Threefold Darkness, the text revealsthe hidden truth of Man. Although none will dispute thatMan’s beginnings originate with God, the book suggests thatthose beginnings were humbler than most are led to believe.Note how the text specifically states that the Earth camefrom the darkness, and how it specifically avoids sayingthat God brought it forth.

One does not have to be entirely committed to Gnostic dogmato see the sense in these words. Even reason suggests the same: If theEarth was born of darkness, and Man was born of the Earth, thensurely Man is therefore born of darkness - at least in part. Thisremains the essential conflict of all those on the road. If Man wastruly spiritual in both essence and origin, he would not be consigned

to live out his days on the dark, harsh landscape that is this world.Creatures entirely of spirit (or pneuma, to use the term of favoramong my brethren) know only an environment of spirit, wantingfor nothing and being restricted not in the slightest by earthly meansor by the shackles of physicality.

This passage of text confirms Man’s duality; that he is, indeed,more humble than some among the faithful would care to admit.Was Man brought forth by God? That much would seemindisputable. But what is also indisputable is that Man was broughtforth from and upon the earth, thus revealing his flawed nature -his heart of darkness.

On the Second Darkness“The first darkness is behind,In the fog of history and of Man.The first darkness is inherited.The second, the darkness of the womb,The blackest pitch of the null world,Is the test of a new soul’s worth —When faced with its task,The place and manner of its execution,What sees the infant soul beneath its caul?The second darkness, a dark twofold,Is the dark of life itself.”

From the commentaries of Anatole:Much is made of the Gospel’s teachings of the

Threefold Darkness. To me, the words expressed inthe text only confirm what each and every Noddistknows, or most surely should know, deep within hissoul. Although each of us is taken at a different timein our lives, each one spends at least a number ofyears living as ordinary men. If one listens to thetext rather than just reading it, one understands itstimeless wisdom.

Take this passage, for instance. What simplerwisdom could there be than the wisdom of thedarkness of the womb? Every one of God’s childrenspends nine moons in darkness before he is broughtforth into the world of men. The text merely givesvoice to the knowledge that each of us keeps burieddeep within -the experience of an eternal soul wrappedin darkness before it must engage the flesh andexperience the physical world. The Gospel simplyencourages all Noddists, as faithful servants of God,to reach back- and remember.

The Saracen paused mid-recitation and looked up. Hewore a quizzical expression, leaning back in the rattan chairthat sat on the other side of the table from the Crusader.

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“Noddists?” he said. He pointed at the page to which thetome was opened.

“Yes,” replied the Crusader. He was still unsure as tojust how much to say. If his host was indeed a Saracenwarlord, then he was playing a dangerous game by allowingthis man to even see the pages that sat before him. But, ashad been pointed out already, he was a prisoner — regard-less of what the Saracen said. If he wanted to escape thiscamp with both his book and his mount, he would need topermit this violation, at least for the nonce. And besides,the Saracen had been good to his word thus far.

“Apparently,” he said, “the author believes that thereis a tribe that descends from the Biblical slayer of Abel, hewho was cast east into the land of Nod as punishment forsacrificing the first part of his joy unto God. Well, as part ofsuch punishment.”

The Saracen nodded. “Yes, I’m familiar with the story,saidi. I was just curious about its usage here.”

“Well, the author refers to all those that descend fromthe First Murderer as Noddists… presumably as some sortof reference to their progenitor’s home-in-exile.”

“Interesting,” the Saracen murmured. “Do you thinkthat he refers to all murderers when he says Noddists, ordoes he mean those of the First Murderer’s familial line?”

“Actually,” the Crusader said, his voice rising withexcitement, “there is some considerable debate over thatvery issue — it’s one of many highly interpretable passagesin the book. As you’ll see, the author often speaks in parable.It is difficult to guess precisely what message was intendedwith any given verse. From the author’s tone, however, itseems that he’s using it to indicate familial lineage. Its uselikens all such descendants to ‘children-in-exile.’

“You’ll also note that the author never names the FirstMurderer at any point in the book. More devout followers ofthe book’s teachings likewise refrain from ever giving thatname utterance or pen. You’ll see the term ‘the First’ mentionedquite often; this is the author’s only name for him.”

“Fascinating,” the Saracen repeated. “And this…author? I see no name inscribed, neither on the book’s spinenor inset upon the frontispiece…” He flipped back to theinside cover page as he spoke.

The Crusader regarded the tome for a moment. “Ithink that was intentional,” he said, his gaze shifting awayhis host’s face. “The book’s author is unknown. Only thefootnotes’ authors are known, and even then, one prefersto remain anonymous.”

“Oh?” the Saracen leaned forward again. “Why so?”The Crusader cleared his throat. “His views are…

heretical. He knows this, and chooses to keep his identitya secret,” he said, returning his gaze to meet the Saracen’s.“Because he fears God’s wrath, and he knows that hisblasphemy will bring it down upon him.”

The Saracen smiled again. “Interesting.”

On the ThreefoldDarkness“From twofold night, a journey beyondInto the darkest pitch of night most still.His welcome is the undiscovered country,The Creator’s will made manifestAnd thrust upon the earthly spirit,Making a monster of the ManAnd a Man of the monster.A Noddist he is now,Inheriting the mantle of the First.And for him, the darkness is bright,And, lo, does it become him.The Threefold Darkness now is his.”

From the footnotes of Leonitus:Here we come to what is perhaps the most pivotal

passage in the text — the one that establishes both theexistence and the origins of our kind. Incidentally, itis also the turning point in the narrative flow of theGospel itself. After this point, the text loses anysemblance of structure, becoming largely a collectionof parables, admonitions and insights rather than anarrowly focused treatise. The discussion on theThreefold Darkness remains the most sequential andcoherent section in the book, and there is much to belearned from this alone.

The passage itself is the first reference in the textto the Noddist condition. Here, the author likens itto “undiscovered country.” This seems a strange ref-erence, considering that it is a curse from God we arediscussing, until we see the next line. It points outthat the Noddist condition is God’s will made mani-fest. In this light, we see how even something thisterrible can be viewed with hopeful eyes. After all, ifit is God’s will that His own children be so afflicted,then perhaps there is a purpose to it all. Notice howthe curse, in addition to making a monster of a man,also transforms the monster into a man. This showsthe power of choice, that each Noddist is now incontrol of his own soul and, with the Lord’s help, mayfind salvation yet. The notion that Noddists maystill serve not only God but a genuine purpose onEarth is central to the Gospel and those who valueits teachings. Most Faithful credit this line of thepassage as the beginning of wisdom for our kind…and of hope.

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