Four Scrolls : The Fisher King

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3Soy9tSlTM

 

 

((Something I been meaning to do before I went on hiatus. The actual story text will be in the spoilers, the rest is just role play. Please enjoy and props to you if you read it in its entirety.))

 

The snow stopped falling earlier in the day. The Waldenian people were tucked away in their town houses, families huddled together by their cooking pots to beat back the cold. A man of short stature wrapped in furs walks down the cobble roads of Vanderfell almost aimlessly. This was no longer familiar land and the roads he once knew now had split offs that would make the non seasoned traveler lost.

 

He makes his way towards a more dilapidated building that was eerily familiar on the outskirts of town.

 

'Elendil Bookstore'.

 

The man shakes his head and exhales. His breath condenses and rises up. He stares at it in a moment's daze before entering the book store. The sound of broken glass crunches beneath his boots as he approaches the counter. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he lifts himself over the counter. It creaks under his weight. He had frequented the bookstore enough to memorize what genre each shelf behind the counter held but most of it was barren - perhaps there were many trespassers after it closed. The man runs his hand across the shelves, blanketed by dust and cob webs. He reaches for a book: 'The Book of Horen' but places it back in place. The man thought those after him may need seeking salvation more.

 

Kneeling down, the man reaches for one of the cylinder capsules. He opens the top and a puff of dust blows into his face. But inside was a scroll.

 

After brushing his face off outside, the man takes a seat on the steps and begins reading.

 

 

Four Scrolls : The Fisher King

 

“Our Heavenly Father loves you, brother Brundt. The stars are his watchful eyes that light the night sky so that you do not stray from the path we call life. He allows you to see with His eyes as you walk through the darkness and towards what He has planned for you. It is He who created all you see before you from nothing when all that was present was the abyss and his shining light.”

 

Father Pietro embraced me tightly and I wept over his shoulder. It reminded me of mother, but in a fatherly sense. But my father never showed he cared. I believe he did but showing such raw emotion was not common of the men in our village. This feeling was foreign to me.

 

“But you must understand, only the Creator and his promise of the Seven Skies are eternal. Nothing else lasts forever.”

 

His words rang true. Though the idea was still troubling. I tried speaking with what words I knew of Pietro’s language at the time but none could escape my throat. The Father remained quiet, holding me in his embrace until I matched his silence. I wiped the tears from my eyes before leaving Father Pietro’s hut that night. I dared not let the villagers see me in this state.

 

-------------------------------

 

It had been four months since we met Father Pietro. The lack of prey had pushed us hunters to the outskirts of the known land, going as far west as the mountain range. Our chief said our people once crossed the mountain range from the west in search of an Eden where prey was plentiful and the waters were clean. On this particular day, our people lived in anything but an Eden. Passing the mountain range was unheard of. Curiosity had peaked many of our peoples’ interests for generations but no one was able to find a safe passage to the other side. This lead many people to believe the mountain range was the edge of the world and that the journey our ancestors took to get here was but a myth.

 

After a failed attempt to pass the mountain range to find a source of prey, we began to descend down and journey back to the village. That is when we found Pietro. Face down in the snow, a man with hair as white as what he laid in was unconscious. He wore ragged robes and upon turning him over, we stared in amazement at his long white beard. Flakes of snow were trapped in its curls. He’d been here for quite sometime - appearing lifeless. Something was magnificent about the old man though. Perhaps it was the feeling of serenity expressed by what appeared to be an endless slumber. His finger moved - engraved into the ring it wore appeared to be a man in a boat. Koschei, one of the accompanying hunters who held Pietro nearly dropped him back into the snow.

 

“Se opp, Koschei! ((Watch it, Koschei!))” I shook my fist as him. Realizing there was a chance to help this man, we made great haste back to our village. Against my better judgment at the time, I neglected to tell our chief and took Pietro into my place of rest under my care. I immediately regretted tossing out my second bed. This did not stop me from forfeiting my own bed to the old man though. I was anxious to see the man wake up which made me jittery while I prepared a light broth. The old man did not move once.

 

Before I laid my head down to rest on the dirt, I resoluted I would bury Pietro under the old oak tree that loomed from highland overlooking the village.

 

I awoke to a warm sensation enveloping my place of rest. I opened my eyes slowly as my vision adjusted. The bed was empty. My body shot up from the ground. Before me was the old man squatting next to the cooking pot with a lit fire under it, stirring the broth I made the night before.

 

-------------------------------

 

“Have mercy!” I remember Pietro shouting as the oak branch made contact to his bare chest. The man executing the punishment upon the chief’s orders grinned maliciously as he continued the onslaught.

 

-------------------------------

 

“Hva er meningen med dette? ((What is the meaning of this?))” growled the chief. His birth name was Sigli, fathered by a hunter much like I was. Many moons ago he was picked by the people to lead the village based off his skills in hunts of past. He believed in remaining rooted to tradition. Koschei had told the chief about Pietro this morning. No one had met an outsider for generations so the cautious nature of the chief was justifiable for the most part.

 

“Please, call me Father Pietro. And may God bless you.” responded the old man. He walked up to the chief and traced what I now know as the Lorraine Cross on him. Immediately after, the chief raised his right hand and smacked Pietro across the face. The old man was grabbed by the back of his robes by the chief and dragged outside. He put up little fight when he was hung upside down by his ankles from the oak tree I had planned to bury him at.

 

“Sjef,jeg ber deg.Vennligst overs mann! ((Chief, I beg of you. Please spare him!))” I pleaded with Sigli. He looked to me sternly for a moment in silence. The intensity in his eyes portrayed an almost annoyed look in response to me.

 

"Klippe ham ned. ((Cut him down.))” the chief ordered, looking to the man beating Pietro. He turned back to me. “Han er ditt ansvar Brundt. ((He’s your responsibility, Brundt.))”

 

Pietro was cut down and dragged over to me. He looked up to me with what appeared as sincere happiness, relief. Although he could not understand me, I sense he knew that it was my doing that had him spared.

 

-------------------------------

 

“Are you feeling better, brother Brundt?” inquired Father Pietro.

 

“D-dah. Thank-you.”

 

“It’s sounding much better, brother Brundt. Keep up the practice.” Pietro smiled at me before taking his morning walk. The village was still getting by with just enough food, but lives were claimed already. The chief had grown somewhat tolerant of Pietro since their first time meeting and has allowed Pietro to teach our people what he knew. Pietro spoke of a Heavenly Father that created everything. From the stars that light up the night sky to the trees that shield us from the high sun. He even created Father Pietro and I. If only Inga could know of this God.

 

Eternal rest give to her, Lord: and let perpetual light shine upon her. Offering it in the sight of the Most High.

 

 

"Raigeki!" The voice is youthful but with a coming of age sense. The man looks up to see a young man run briskly towards him for an embrace and puts the scroll back in its capsule.

 

"Adrian..-you've grown vedy much." The man looks over Adrian's shoulder during their embrace and nods to the young man's uncle, Quinlan. For some reason, the young man's change drifts back to the bookstore and Adrian lets go - perhaps noting that the embrace was long enough.

 

"I don't think I have a room in Eagle's Nest anymore." 

 

"Ye need a place tae stay? 'ere ye go." Quinlan reaches into his pocket and holds out a key. The man takes it hesitantly. There was a slight hunch this key was given to fair maidens the Adunian pulled from late night tavern escapades. He knew it was rude to assume such though and pushed it to the back of his head. 

 

"Thank you..-friend." 

 

Quinlan and Adrian continue on their way speaking of days gone by. The man clutches the scroll in his arms and goes back inside of the bookstore. He returns to the shelf that held the scrolls and indiscriminately takes the rest of the capsules. There were only four left, totaling five. The sounds of people laughing outside startles him and he looks out the window frame from the shadows of the dark book store. Merry makers. They were leaving the Blue Moon Inn, strong ale and Waldenian schnitzel heating their beating hearts. The man stays inside the book store until the sunsets, squinting at each capsule. They were numbered off one through five, little to his knowledge prior to taking the first scroll. With what little light was available, he begins reading the second.

 

“Father..-” I reached out to touch Father Pietro’s shoulder. His eyes were closed, tracing the cross on himself. He placed his own hand on Sigli’s motionless body.

 

“Brother Brundt, have Koschei help you tend to the sick.” He says while cupping a rag to his mouth. “We need to dispose of him soon.” He reached over to close Sigli’s eyes.

 

-------------------------------

 

“Jeg vil ha ham ut. ((I want him out.))” Sigli said after pulling me aside by the river bank. Over the past year, Father Pietro began preaching the word of the heavenly father he credited for our people saving him. He spoke of god’s promise that man would see a place known as The Seven Skies where we would live on, past this life. The idea of reuniting with loved ones past enticed many of us to learn more, abandoning the Gods of Old. We spoke in fragments of Pietro’s tongue to each other when passing by one another in the village. All this time, the chief was watching silently. Perhaps he was becoming more agitated - we have not been able to save much for the Winter as we had planned since last year. There was no quick fix in the foreseeable future either meaning a repeat of the famine.

 

I was not sure how to respond to the chief. He didn’t speak to me about Father Pietro again after that, but I could tell whenever he watched him, he was not pleased.

 

It was when the air became cooler did something strange happen. Many people became sick and did not leave their homes. Father Pietro would go to every house, cooking broth for our sickly villagers. When he was near them, he wore a rag over his mouth and nose. He said he did this so that he would not get sick and it appeared to work. I felt an obligation to help the old man and with some persuasion, Koschei finally agreed to join in.

 

“Brystet mitt er i brann… ((My chest is on fire)).” A young boy told me while I cooked broth in his family’s hut.

 

Koschei looked to me and shook his head. “Faren har ikke kom tilbake.((His father has not came back.))”

 

I would meet this boy two more times before the Heavenly Father took him in his arms.

 

-------------------------------

 

Koschei coughed on to the ground, making a sharp bow. A buildup of yellow phlegm shot out from his mouth and splattered on to the dirt. He grunted, clearing his throat. “Father need help?” He spoke. Father Pietro said Koschei sounded the clearest out of most of us when he talked in the ‘common’ tongue.

 

A lump was forming in my throat and no matter how hard I tried, I could not clear it. It was accompanied by a sweet taste that hung in the back of my mouth. I knew I was getting sick. Koschei had already began coughing. The rags did not help us but they helped Father Pietro. Perhaps God favored him.

 

We buried the dead near the oak tree they beat Pietro from a year ago.

 

-------------------------------

 

“The Creator spoke to me!” Doors may have been nonexistent in Father Pietro’s land. He shook me with urgency and I woke up with a startle.

 

“Father..?”

 

“East is Eden! East is Eden!”

 

-------------------------------

 

I looked back, pausing my row as the river carried us off. Our vessels were made from the shelters of the deceased and departing. The village was almost completely gone now. I brought small furs for a young one with me though they would serve no purpose now. Father Pietro put up a cross near the river bank. Before we began our voyage to parts unknown, we prayed.

 

O Almighty and merciful God, who hast commissioned Thy aenguls to guide and protect us, command them to be our assiduous companions from our setting out until our return; to clothe us with their invisible protection; to keep from us all danger of war, of fire, of beasts, of fall and bruises, and finally, having preserved us from all evil and especially from sin, to guide us to our heavenly home. Through Horen The Divine, our Lord.

 

 

The lock was a funny one.The man somewhat hoped Quinlan would be home as entering another man's home without being let in felt inappropriate. But he wanted to be alone as well. He cups his mouth with his hands and directs his breath to the frozen lock. Finally the key unlocks the mechanism and the door creaks open. As expected, no one was home. It felt late to be out this long, but the man remembers winter nights came earlier in the day. 

 

He looks to the cooking pot and begins preparing a tea from the cabinets of the household. The jar with the tea leaves read 'Macecatcher Grey'. How cultural. It wasn't long after that the man poured the pot of tea out in the snow. 'To each his own but any sane man would find this tea as ****' the man thought to himself. He reenters the town house and resumes reading. 

 

During the voyage, I finally asked Father Pietro why he tried helping the chief.

“The Heavenly Father asks we hold forgiveness in our hearts else we are filled with malice instead. He also didn’t kill me like I thought he would. If it were not for him telling you men to go to the mountain, I would likely not be here.”

I didn’t ask about anything else. I continued to practice Pietro’s tongue with Koschei each night we camped on the river.

The grassy plains would fade, giving way to sand separating our ancestral home to the vast expanse of salty water Father Pietro called the sea. Father Pietro smiled and looked to the ring he wore engraved with the man on the boat. We were to set up camp on the beach. I was not accustomed to feeling the grains of sand between my toes and my body tingled at the new sensation. Young ones sat in it and at times threw it at each other as they would with mud back in the village. Mothers would have to brush it from their hair.

Other than the children, we were near clueless what we were to do next until Father Pietro spoke up.

-------------------------------

“We need some of this!” He held it up into the air, presenting it to a group of us he had lead back inland on a short walk. He called it hemp nettle.

From this hemp nettle, we made nets which we tied to the rope we brought from home. And in our boats, we made sail out towards the sea. We were high in spirit.

-------------------------------

I heard Father Pietro weep in his tent last night. Koschei’s death troubled me for I had known him for so long and he left Bardur behind who would have died if Koschei did not give him what little he caught in his net. But I think Father Pietro took it worse than me.

The next morning I awoke to shouting outside. I groggily crawled out from my tent, planting my hands firmly in the grains of sand and turned my head to see Father Pietro attracting a crowd.

“Brothers and sisters, East is Eden! East is Eden! God tells me this!”

When the crowd dissipated, I spoke with Father Pietro alone.

“Brother Brundt, if you listen hard enough, you can hear God speak to you.” He looked to his hand at the ring. I opened my mouth to speak but decided it was unimportant. East was Eden and Eden awaited.

-------------------------------

Only the old man’s piercing stare could catch what he saw through the thick fog that blanketed the expanding sea. Nothing was within horizon sight and here, rising from the depths, was a rocky outcrop rising seven men high. In the middle of the rising stone columns was a deep pool with vibrant colors of life in its depths. Passed the sounds of waves crashing on the east facing side, ‘clicks’ were heard when we looked between the rocks. Life.

It took a long time. We had to sail back and forth back to the mainland for wood, water, and other supplies. Father Pietro told us in the end it would be worth it. We built our new village against the inland facing side of the rocky outcrop. It rose above the waters below upon numerous stilts bundled together.

Father Pietro casted the first net.

Give us Lord, our daily bread.

Please know that we are truly grateful,

For every cup and every plateful.

 

 

"Hey, Raigeki!" A loud knocking is heard at the door. "I saw you leave and go back in to Quin's house. Come on out!" There's a ring of excitement in the voice.

 

"I'm busy Mallory, go away." The man groans. It was getting a little too warm in the house and he began to sweat. He walks over to the counter and dries his hands on one of the rags so not to ruin the scrolls with his own body perspiration.

 

"It's been so long though. Just come on out. Maybe we can find Theodoric and grab an ale."

 

"I said /NO/." His voice was raising as he spoke.

 

"Getting senile with age, are we? Tch. Acting as though I'm a stranger." Mallory shakes his head in annoyance.

 

"Leave me be." Exhausted, the man takes a seat back down and lays his head at the table he read from.

 

"Nien!"

 

"When the fawk did almost everybody heeyah start speaking rike that? Even Jack-..." His body had shot up from the table to respond but he stops himself, his brows furrowing. There was an odd silence.

 

"Hey...-I'm sorry." Mallory takes a step away from the door. "When you're feeling up to it though, seeing you again would be greatly appreciated. Really." The man listened to Mallory's steps as he wandered back into the city. He takes out the fourth scroll, running his hands through his hair.

 

Years of plenty. Father Pietro told us the names of the fish we caught and had us remember them. My favorite was the monkfish. The old man told me it got its name from what he wore as an acolyte though I’m still not sure what that is. I liked the monkfish because of how different they looked and how tender its tail was when cooked properly. I also liked scaring Bardur with the monkfish in front of his friends.

“Ikke gjør det, onkel Brundt! ((Do not do that, uncle Brundt!))” He shrieked. His friends giggled in response.

“In the common tongue, Bardur. And you’re coming of age in a few years. Your father Koschei is shaking his head in shame from the Seven Skies watching his son wet himself over a fish.” I chuckled loudly while Bardur swung his fists my side.

-------------------------------

Father Pietro called our village ‘Piscatoris’. It came from a tongue much older than his own and he told us it was fitting for we were Piscators, fishermen.

We lived seven years in Eden before we overstayed our welcome.

One of our fishing trips went eerily wrong that day. Fewer in number upon return and nothing in their nets, the men returned with a capsized boat and spoke of a behemoth rising from the depths of the sea that drowned most of those on board. Father Pietro’s calm demeanor disappeared, giving way to a stern expression.

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We rowed our boat in the direction of where the men went to fish. Father Pietro held in his hands a barbed harpoon. It wasn’t long until we saw water shoot from sea.

“Straight ahead, brothers!” Father Pietro shouted over the roar of the waves. And then he prayed.

Creator of man, Overseer of all things right,

Whose powers none can resist,

Save and deliver us, we beseech,

From the hands of our enemies,

By granting us dominion over them,

Show us the path to victory,

That we might produce it in Your undying name.

Father Pietro leaped up just as the whale opened its mouth. I had never seen anything more darker.

I awoke to a wooden board hitting me on my head. In a panic I clung to it when I noticed I was floating in the sea. My heart began beating faster  and I looked up to the sky. The sun had not changed its position much and using said position, I swam back in the direction of Piscatoris using the wooden board for support. It was the longest swim I would ever take at that time.

-------------------------------

The village had collapsed on the behemoth. Its blood expanded across the waters surrounding it.

“Father Pietro!” The old man was within my sight in the crimson waters I swam into. I went to his side and looked at him. His forehead was covered in blood, but it was not the blood of the whale. It was his own. My hand gripped his and my heart sank deeper than the seas we made our lives in.

“Brundt, in!” I turned around seeing Bardur reach out for me. My people had gotten into the boats and were abandoning Piscatoris. I looked to Father Pietro but it was hard to focus in this panic and treading water became increasingly difficult, becoming impossible. We went under finally as I gave way, dragging Pietro down with me. Then I saw his ring. The ring with the man in the boat.

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Father Pietro was not of our world. But he brought his world to us. Even in his late years, he was strong. Perhaps that is why we did not bother to choose a new chief after Sigli died. Our boats remained still in the now placid waters. I looked back to the water finally but saw Father Pietro was gone.

“What do now?” Bardur looked to me with sullen eyes.

I looked around to those in my boat and then to the others. I then looked to the ring I wore on my finger. Pietro’s ring. This was an ever changing world. I thought of Inga and our unborn child, the young boy and his father who never returned. I thought of Sigli and Koschei. Bardur was still young but he looked very similar to his father. I thought of Father Pietro and all those we lost from where we started. Closing my eyes, I asked the Heavenly Father what he willed.

“Eden is East.”

 

Great canyons of red greeted us.God bless our Fisher King.

 

O Lord, we call upon You in our time of sorrow,

That You give us the strength and will to bear our heavy

burdens, until we can again feel the warmth and love of

Your divine compassion. Be mindful of us and have mercy

on us while we struggle to comprehend life's hardships.

 

Keep us ever in Your watch, til we can walk again with

light hearts and renewed spirits.

 

 

There was one last capsule. The man carefully rolled the fourth scroll back up and returned it to the capsule he pulled it from. He opens the last capsule, but there was no scroll. Something rocks at the bottom of it as he shakes it. He turns it upside down, dumping a brass ring on to the table. Upon closer inspection, the ring is engraved with a man in a boat. The man holds it in his hand to the candle light at the table. The man was fishing.

 

'Perhaps Koneneme is doing the same thing?' He could not help but smile at the thought.

 

The door to the house creaks open and the man slips his finger through the ring and tucks his hand into his pocket. His heart almost skips a beat, though he is not sure why. There was nothing to hide. He thinks of asking Quinlan for some journal to copy the scrolls into.

 

"Prevyet kommrad Raigeki." The Lord Kastellan Rilkor says in a formal tone. He follows Quinlan, Adrian, Mallory, and Theodoric inside. "Welcome back."

 

((Just a few quick things. I googled translated the Norwegian so it's probably very, very wrong. Sorry about that. Almost all of the character names in the story were from Runescape's Fremennik race. No relations but name. Credits to Sultan's 'Book of Prayer' thread for most of the prayers. I thought they were really nice. Credits to this White Rose Google Doc someone showed me for the 'Prayer in Time of Tumults'. It was also nice. Thank you for taking the time to read this.

 

--X https://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/110444-book-of-prayer/ ))

 

[Zhulik 3559]

With beauty towards the east and hell at my back, I stride forth with great pride and vigilance. Rod in hand I shall take from the sea of which fills it, in turn it shall fill me. The fish is a nefarious creature, one which eludes the hunter. However, I am no hunter. I am man and it is my destiny to conquer those of an inferior stature, it is merely evolution. When the fish deplete and the oceans dry, too will my spirit.

The sea is my livelihood, the sea is my birthright. 

[WuHanXianShi14 0]

The room was dim in the Campbell household. Quin had turned in earlier to dwell on his own thoughts, his broad shoulders casting a shadow on the room behind him as he huddled on the rocking chair directly in front of the little fireplace at the end of the room. The flickering flames made the shadows dance along the walls, a perfect setting for self reflection.

 

Quin had only one thought on this mind, holding an ornate delicate cup in his hand. The thick calloused fingers of the burly soldier almost comedically in contrast with the delicate porcelain. He takes a sip of the macecatcher grey, wiping his mouth with a low grunt. In the final chapter of his life, he would turn to a new frontier. And with that, his thoughts drifted to the sea.

[Sae 1]

The brown fox hair was a stark contrast to the white snow, wrapped up around a boot for warmth. The soft snow crunched as a figure emerged. The canvas was white no matter which way you turned. The only shape in this desolate winter land was a single igloo; an igloo and the figure that owned it. She had lived on the ice for over a year, now, and each day she emerged and scanned the horizon, stopping with her eyes squinting towards the South.  

 

She stood there. Sometimes for a few seconds, other times for nearly an hour, staring off into the empty distance. Thinking. Solving the issues in her head from her utter solitude.  Despite the lack of sun she had kept her olive tone and her almond eyes held a rigid stance. And then she turned, just like every other day, heading back into her hut made of ice.

 

Inside was a crate, sitting next to a hole that was bore through the foot-thick ice beneath. She sat onto the crate and dropped a line into the icy water below, letting the cold air coddle her with its icy grip.  And then she fished.

[Stump 709]

Ellian strolls quietly around Aesterwald, an old fur wrapped around her shoulders snugly. A non-seasoned traveler.. She gets absolutely lost. Though in a stroke of luck, she finds herself also in front of the bookstore. The man hadn't arrived yet, and the young woman who oddly enough didn't look a day over twenty stared at the bookstore. It seemed all too familiar to her as well, though after a moment she choked up.
 

Ellian emitted a few sniffles, lowering her gaze to the snow until she heard footsteps. Dashing to the nearest cover, she hid, wiping her eyes in silence. Upon looking up to see who had come, her light gray eyes widened and it took all her strength not to call out. Continuing to huddle behind the fountain, Ellian merely watched the man enter the bookstore, and eventually she left for Petrus, hugging her shoulders.

[Sujamma Addict 514]

"Old n'stubborn."

Tomas fiddled with his half-empty mug of Waldenian lager as he sat down next to Theodoric in the Blue Moon Inn.

"Say something?" questioned the youthful Sargent only to be met with a low grumble, "Nothin'." Hamlen nodded, scratching his scar-ridden face when he heard the young voice of a derka enter with Ser Otto Arius, "What are we doing here ser Otto?" the knight grinned, patting him on the head, "Boy, I'ma teach you how to really be a man. Waitress! A keg of ale please!"

 

Upon looking back to his own mug, Theo would notice Mallory coughing profusely, placing a fist over his mouth.

"You alright there?" 

The decrepit old Ritter would give off a curt nod before finishing off his drink and slamming it against the table, "I'm foine lad, just..." He lets out a deep sigh, "Thinkin'."

"About?"

There's several moments of silence before he stood up followed by his companion, "Let's go check on t' vault alright?" Before Theo could have any chance of speaking, Mallory was already making his way outside where he spotted Rilkor, Quinlan, and Adrian.

 

((Well-written story and welcome back!))

[OhDeerLord 673]

It was late, and a lot had happened on the day Adrian returned to Aesterwald. He reunited with three people, and was only glad for two. As he cast his line out to the familiar waters he thought fondly of seeing his Uncle and Raigeki again, the two the only men in the young man's life who seemed to be a permanent fixture, even if they left for time to time. He had come to accept that, and he himself took his own leaves. He chose to not think of the third meeting, shifting his gaze down to the broadsword beside him before he feels a tug at his line.

He reels in the catch, and casts out again.

 

He felt once more the peace of his younger years, how simple his happiness was: a flask of water, warm bread, a torch for light, the sound of the sea. Nothing else.

[Arctic_Guard 1068]

Rilkor still wonders why Raigeki had disappeared for so long, and then returned to invite him to Aesterwald and disappear once more until this day. Raigeki had been his guardian out of the dark that was his past. Rilkor had risen through the ranks of the Imperial Army up to becoming an Ensign upon its final days before it was disbanded with Raigeki's guidance. He then been offered to join Aesterwald in it's goals and had become Lord Kastellan and Steward of Vanderfell. Non of which would have happened if Raigeki was not there to offer Rilkor a career and to guide him through the obstacles that is the world. Rilkor will never be able to repay Raigeki for what he has been given, for Raigeki is the most honorable man he has met. Rilkor would follow with him when ever he had a chance in what ever Raigeki would need.

[Reckless Banzai Screamer 15456]

((A lot of people have been telling me they've enjoyed the story. I'm still on hiatus more or less until I get a new computer. See you on the boat for the sequel!))

[Lita 677]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.