Chaotic Tides: Embracing the fury within.

[Filatus]

*Unfolding a piece of parchment, Hardragh writes a few things down.
Every word has but little meanings on its own he reckons.
Though what better means to express one's own deeper thoughts and feelings.*

[SIZE=18]"As a wave I feel, moving ever forward,
towards a jagged rocks lined shore."

"The closer I get, I rise looking onward,
to smash myself in fury, it is the life I explore"[/SIZE]

Words close to my heart. Or at least I believe them to be.
In it I find a deeper meaning that hints to how I find purpose in my life,
how much I enjoy whatever fate throws on my path.

I had doubts about my move to Mistone.
Away from the sea and the life I enjoyed so much.
I reckoned nothing could be more vast than the Lady of the Sea's domain.
Still I learned life throws challenges at us wherever we go.
Through these challenges we grow in life;

Setting ourselves apart from the person next to us.

Moving forward in life, it's a common phrase,
though behind it lays a much more complex meaning.
Is there a difference when you are not exactly sure where you are heading?
Who will achieve more in life, the person who has planned every step in his life,
or the one who lives life at its best, grasping opportunities where they appear?

[SIZE=18]"It will take a long while, but the time will come,
that before the night, I no longer have the old energy.
And in vain plead for gentle words."
[/SIZE]
The doom that awaits those, who will cling to what they worked for,
paying no heed to the tides of life.

[SIZE=18]"Those who fight the waves will eventually drown in its fury."[/SIZE]

[Filatus]

Meeting Muireann



There has always been a nostalgic feeling about my life on Krashin. At the same time I never looked back.
Though still, from the day I left the crew at the Leringard docks there was something missing.
Are people shaped by the elements around them?

I like to believe it is just that.

"Nurtured among adverse elements, roots grow deeper."

I see this in Muireann as I see it in myself. Coming from Bastil and knowing her childhood,
I know she has seem more adversity than I and it shows. Meeting her was a refreshing experience,
and it was through our talks that she kindled my love for and devotion to Lady Doom.

The faith was always there, though she managed to give a new meaning, or better understanding to it.
From that moment a new path had opened up to me, one that may take me to find my eye in the storm.
Though by now I must admit, it seems this path runs uphill the entire way.
But I would not have it any other way.

"We want the strong to survive, if he is not strong, then he is not worthy."

Words from the temple, brought by Muireann.
It is uncanny how fate in the long run seems to move like poetry.
The very thing that threatens my existance, is what brought me close to Muireann.

Yet at the same time this very plight,
might stand in the way of the path that she has shown me.

"By hunger guided, children weep,
evil intentions masked by innocent youth.
That what was foolishly given, they will keep."

At least, until I find that hellspawn. And I'm sure I will,
with Muireann's aid.

[Filatus]

Becoming a Voice of Mist - A path shrouded in fog



"Agmundr, where do song and tales meet devotion?
I wonder now, whether your answer would influence my choice."

"Wherein lays the secret to absolute devotion?
Through what is told, or through the thoughts behind the Voice?"

It's been a few years now, since Muireann showed me I could become a Voice of Mist.
Much has happened during that time and sometimes I wonder whether I have been getting any closer to achieving it.
Doubts about my devotion and commitment have plagued my relationship with Muireann,
but still I like to think I came out on top each time.

Meeting Kali undoubtedly complicated things, though I suppose that's only natural.
When you set out to keep two good things there's a fine balance in dividing one's attention.

I have prayed, I wrote lyrics showing my devotion to Lady Chance.
Do I proof my devotion with that? I do not think so, but how does one proof he is willing to make sacrifices?
Especially when he's never been in the position to make them.

Though.. I can think of one sacrifice I made. I suppose redefining my relationship was for my own good.
Still sometimes I yearn for how simple things used to be.
But the tide moves me only forward from here. I will not look back.

I have asked Muireann to find a Voice. I feel there's only so much I can learn from Muireann.
She is a battlepriest first and to spread Mist's word by tale and song, I will need a better tutor.

[Filatus]

Roots unearthed or refound?




Muireann and I once spoke about our backgrounds.
I mentioned how I walked away from it and didn't look back.
Still.. she said that one should still feel pride in his origins and she was right.
I do feel pride in my past, my upbringing and Krashinite blood.

I do not regret walking away from Hunter's Reach,
away from my parents and away from the future others had in store for me.
Although feeling pride in my heritage, I would never be caged like that.

Still, the directions I took,
always seemed to take me further away from those very roots I hold dear.
I wrote before about missing something and how Muireann made me realize that.
Playing a key role on that moment that would influence my life.
Not that I would empower her with these thoughts..

but I realize it, which is was matters.

My journey in life was never straight with a clear goal in sight,
but like a river meandered its way looking for the path of least resistance.

As it picks up pace now is the time to claim what is my right,
the fruits of my labour, a chance for a greater existance.

Looking back, my path like a river,
seems to have meandered its way back to where it all started.
Yet it is larger now and those who attempt to cross it, risk being drowned.

[Filatus]

Reflections in solitude



*Leaning against the wall, Hardragh looks around as he sits on his bed at the temple of Mist,
not far from the Leringard docks. Not the place he'd normally stay, but Muireann's advice seemed sound enough.
No telling what might happen during sleep while hungry beasts lurk, waiting for signs of weakness.
But he also knew it would be for but a short while.*

*He could never be caged like that for long and with the passing of days the paranoia,
instilled by the demons' seemingly unquenchable hunger, would fade away, like it always has.
But for now he finds peace in it, as he takes a crumbled piece of parchment from his packs
and writes down his thoughts of the moment.*

The storms nature blesses us with, are but one manifestation of how Mist is trying to challenge us to grow.

Hardship, adversity, anything that challenges us;
it does not not only come in the form of rough weather or the dry soil people try and grow crops in.
They can come in little challenges, like the occasional moment I bump into Sallaron.
The one with the sharpest wit at that moment, always walking away refreshed,
leaving the other feeling hollow for a day at least.

Or the somewhat bigger challenges in life, like keeping my peace with Muireann.

Yet Kali challenges me in a way unlike any other.
A worthy adversary she would call me and in a somewhat disturbed fashion that might be true.
I do not think I could think of anyone else, who could hurt me more like she could.
And perhaps she thinks the same of me in return.

Intoxicated words have revealed veiled feelings, more refreshing than the deepest sleep could.
Good knowing we keep each other sharp in a game with increasingly higher stakes.
Can the stakes at some point become so high, that the game transcends its orginal playful nature, I wonder.

As weeks grew into months and months into years, I find myself looking back.
Time has passed as ever, in its steady pace, uncaring about the erratic pace with which we move through life.
A glance into the past at a younger self. The future is as fickle as Lady Change and not to be predicted.

"A young figure leaps off a boat and walks off into the crowd on the Leringard docks,
thinking his chances of life to be ever yonder.
He was so sure his way was ever forward. If on one faithful day I were to run into him, should I apologize, I wonder."

"One road as opposed to many branches, I would not nudge him, neither left nor right.
Even he shouldn't find his way without a fight."

[Filatus]

A Maiden's Voyage


 

My first encounter with Braonan was but a brief one in light of the amount of time I have waited. And such a pity I ended up telling a tale I knew too little about, but I did the best I could. The meeting although short, brought with it one important lesson learned and in the right tale, perhaps I could spread this lesson. A sailor's tale it would probably be given the inspiration, but in it, a thread that applies to talented individuals everywhere and a lesson they should learn as I did.

As the Maiden's Breath purposely sailed into a squall, I couldn't help but notice the performance of the crew. And it brought back memories of my own years spend on the large Almoran Ocean and the unforgiving Great Northern Wash. Though my old crew was nowhere near as trained as the crew of the Maiden's Breath.

It made me rethink the concept of individuality and how Lady Fury would look on it. Even a group of the most talented thrown together, can be surpassed by a group of less talent but where each individual forms an integral part. The most weathered sailor alone can not man a boat. He is as much dependant on the rest of the crew as those in charge of scrubbing the decks, when facing the unforgiving storms of the sea.

At sea you are stuck with each other. This dependency changes on the mainland, where it can shift like the tides, but in essence the same still applies.

Perhaps it would finally win me Braonan's support and allow me to take some large strides on this uphill road I travel.

[Filatus]

The Proud Mariner’s Fall



This is a tale about a man called Broken Jean, a name double-earned in life and after. Broken Jean the mariner, or Jean Bart was born long ago in Fort Vehl, in a family with a long tradition of sailing. He always felt the calling of the ocean, as his father and his father’s father before him.

The sea fever called him at an early age, as he joined a merchant ship to fill his desire. Finding that only the cold winds of the sea could cool his fever, he knew he had found his calling. And over time he started to develop a deep love for the endless seas and ocean and the Lady who governs them.

When waiting at home for the next voyage, the sounds of waves breaking on the shoreline would forever keep him calling. And he found no peace on land, biding the time to set out again.

One day, he joined crew on a ship anchored at the Vehl docks, which intended to set sail for Kartherian. A course was set out through the fog-plagued Silent Sea, to pass the mysterious Serpent Isles and finally reach safe port.

The crew set out with good hope and word of calm seas ahead. But fate struck and none of them would ever see Kartherian, except one and his name to this day is Broken Jean. With the strange shores of Enderal in sight, disaster struck as their rudder broke. The wind gained in power and waves as high as houses smashed against the ship’s flank.

They could not stay their course, tossed and turned in the storm, the ship but a child’s play in the hands of mighty waves. Further and further they moved from their course. Jean clutched the ship’s railing and saw far off, black jagged teeth. As if the sea was about to devour them and take them to its depths.

The ship groaned in agony as she met her end. Her hull burst to pieces as it smashed against great coral reefs. Waves broke on the ship unrelenting, till finally she gave and with it the crew was left to fend for themselves in churning waters. Jean looked out on mangled bodies floating amid flotsam and the broken remains of a once proud ship.

Seeing his crew in despair Jean did not cave. Willingly, he dove into the treacherous water, clutching a piece of broken wood. Every inch towards safe shores dearly bought, as he cut and broke himself on treacherous coral. Fighting through great pain as the salty water burned his open wounds he fought on unrelenting, till finally all went dark.

A bright new morning Jean found himself safely washed ashore. Having been spared his crew’s fate. He looked out on the sea and knew he had survived the Broken Corals. But to his utter amazement he watched it creep further and further back, the entire reef revealed. To this day such a low tide has never been seen again.

With renewed vigour, Jean stood and walked between the reefs. He saw it as Lady Doom’s reward for having weathered the storm. He wandered across the seafloor, taking in the sight of the great coral reef, no longer hidden by the sea. Skeleton remains of skips long ago shipwrecked creating a ghostly scene.

Breaking off a piece of coral, he walked back to the shore, climbing a large cliff. He cut into a piece of wood that was washed ashore. And in it he carved from his vantage point the entire reef. The moment he finished, the sea rose up once more, to reassert her dominance over the soil she gave up momentarily.

He took the wood carved map with him when he made the long walk back to Vehl. Ever walking in range of the sound of breaking waves. Back in Vehl, it took not long for folks to hear tales about the sole survivor of that fateful voyage.

And Jean took his new knowledge to his advantage. Hiring himself for great coin to those wishing for the fastest route around Mistone’s southern tip. Over time Jean no longer needed the old map he once carved, knowing the coral reef from mind. And he burned the old piece of wood, with its knowledge so treasured. And in doing, he prevented anyone from ever taking the knowledge he alone had earned.

Over time his name grew more and more and he became renowned as Broken Jean, master of the Broken Corals. As his name grew, so did his price. And as he grew more and more successful, so did his arrogance and pride. He claimed himself master of the sea. Denying what the sea had given him.

On the start of one voyage, still on the docks, Broken Jean made a boast to the crew he had joined. And all there at the docks could hear it. He claimed whatever crew he’d sail with... he would weather any storm. Taking confidence in himself over the people he would work with.

As they neared the treacherous Broken Corals, Jean took the helm and guided the ship through the reef as he had done many times before. A weak wind suddenly grew in strength, waves grew in height as the sky darkened. Rain fell and lightning struck, but Jean would not turn. He steered the ship, confident of his own abilities.

Further they sailed, greater the storm did become. All of a sudden the helm broke lose and Jean could no longer hold it. His hands broke as he tried to hold the helm and he knew there was none left who could navigate these waters. He leaped from the water into the dangerous waters, even before the ship was lost.

Jean struggled against the waves, trying to make his way to safe shores. Every time he thought the shores to be closer, a wave would pull him back. He clutched the corals with broken hands. The violent water around him churning red with the blood of his many wounds as the coral cut him deep.

Inch by inch the pulled himself closer to the shore, thinking freedom to be in close range. Then, when his hope was at his highest a wave took him high and he watched his doom before him as the water parted. Revealing a rock as black as a moonless night, Jean’s hope finally broke. He was smashed against razor sharp rocks, salty water washing over him as if the sea herself was pinning him down. His broken body held like a scarecrow, bleeding from many wounds and his broken hands got bound with seaweed to the claw-like edges of the rock.

His bones broken and hope shattered he watched as in the distance, he saw the crew he had abandoned. A raft of broken wood and rope they had made. And he wept as he saw how one sailor would clutch another, fighting the waves together. For in it he saw his folly and he called out to the Lady of the Sea, screaming for forgiveness.

The survivors brought tidings of what they had seen. Broken Jean’s broken body and the cries he uttered. Even now it is said that on rare occasions with low tide, those that risk the Coral Reef with light boats would see a broken figure bound to black rock with seaweed. And words of warning he would shout. Warnings not to scorn the Tempest and not face the sea’s wrath alone, but face it together.

[/FONT]

[Filatus]

The tale I’ll tell is but about a simple harp once mine. Once bought from a stranger at the docks on Raven’s Watch, of lesser lineage and but of copper made.

But what I tell you now is true, I give my word. This old copper harp of mine, now rests in a dark dragon´s hoard.

Already a veteran harp from many years of whaling under the eyes of Lady Doom it endured. I took it with me to Mistone afterwards, by fortune ever lured.

Riches sought by merchants; a deal with a dragon one day was sought. And an expedition was formed, to see if the Dark Plague could be bought.

And so it came to be that an opportunity for fame or other was presenting. Thus, me and my old copper harp offered our help and faced the dangers unrelenting.

Dangers we faced, unspeakable foes, a slash with a blade, would be answered by a storm of cutting ice. Onwards we fought against imaginable odds, to hope to deliver the dragon his price.

Elvish magic, combined with dwarvish steel and human valour, proofed a force to be reckoned with. In the brunt of it deadliest of all strangely enough, a fallen paladin who had lost his honour.

In we leaped my harp and I, lightning lept in return and the cold burned deep in its deathly embrace, doing the storms of the northern seas proud. Against unimaginable odds me and my harp managed our pace and at last were greeted by a voice booming and loud.

There deals were made, before the eyes of the Dark Plague soft words were spoken and tribute was given while a soft-spoken elf and a kingly dragon had their says. It was there that me and my harp parted separate ways.

Having weathered years under the eyes of Lady Change, the harp earned its final rest in the hoard of the Dark Plague, amidst rubies fair and diamonds bright. Freely offered by my hand and accepted by a draconic ruler, of all which his majestic wings would take him to in flight.

Now I ask of you, how many can claim a treasured possession from when you were young, was given in tribute to a creature; who was old when the very world was still young?

[/B]