3. _ _ _ _ Land

_ _ _ _ Land


  • Prelude - I

    _Far away
This ship is taking me far away
Far away from the memories
Of the people who care if I live or die

Starlight
I will be chasing the starlight
Until the end of my life
I don't know if it's worth it anymore

Hold you in my arms
I just want to hold
You in my arms

Our hopes and expectations…_

    “A few more days…” he said, his voice whistle as he thinks and muses into the night air.

    “Just a few more days and I’ll see her again…Silmamin, Mela en' coiamin. I was foolish to turn away, to have listened to those I thought were my friends.” His voice is lyrical, though a dark bite dances through it as he speaks to the night. “Ignorant short sighted fools,” he nearly growls though gritted teeth, “so typical of their race. I should have known better! But I trusted them, trusted that they would go back as they said after we repaired the boat…”

    He slams his fist upon the railing of the ship, looking up to the night sky as the lights of the stars twinkle and dance around Selune. A single tear trickles down his cheek, highlighting his delicate features as he peers into the icey water.

    “Amin hiraetha mela en' coiamin. I was to weak, exhausted myself to quickly against those pirates…those animals!” His voice rises, the blood pouring through his veins quicker as he remembers the afternoon. “But bless the Seldarine, for they sent a maia to my side. She told me much that I did not want to hear…what they did to you, how they took such pleasure in you being quessir…” His voice breaks slightly as the words come to his mouth, the images the priestess showed him flashing through his minds eye once more. “…but she also showed me how brave you were Silmamin, how you escaped, and how I could find you! To be with you again, veru’melar, together once more. Nothing will stop me this time, we will be together again, I swear it upon all the Seldarine.”

    He wipes the tear away, picking up his staff as he moves to head back under deck, giving a slight curse off his nimble tongue as he hears the loud raucous men’s revelry there.

    “This will all be worth it soon, I must remember that. I am coming my dear, I will not lose faith…”


  • Prelude - V

     _End of passion play, crumbling away
I'm your source of self-destruction
Veins that pump with fear, sudden dark is clear
Leading on your deaths construction
Taste me you will see
more is all you need
you're dedicated to
how I'm killing you

Come crawling faster
obey your Master
your life burns faster
obey your Master
Master_

    One by one they board as he watches with a sinister grin underneath his cowl. Herded like cattle they pile onto the boat, grumbling all the way, but willingly accepting it. He knew they would, there was no doubt in his mind. So many of them were simple-minded creatures bred on stubborn views of a world they only wished was so black and white. He rose above it however, became something more, and it would be his windfall.

    He knew he’d need to crowd in as well, though he’d wait for the end and had assured through certain measures it would not be quite as uncomfortable. Still, perceptions had to be maintained if there was profit to be made. And oh, was there such a chance for that. Besides, this kind of start to the trip would only lead further to his goals being accomplished.

    With a look over his shoulder to his mentor, who gave but a single nod before disappearing into the darkness of an alley, he strode forward and pulled down his cowl. The sinister grin now replaced with one of unimaginable kindness. He moved up to an older gentleman, placing a hand on his still stout strong shoulder.

    “Come now friend, let me help you up that ramp. There is much opportunity for us where we head and it would be most unfortunate if you were to slip and fall on this wet ramp.”

    The elder looked at him and gave a pleasant grin and a nod, accepting with a bit of stubbornness the help.

    “I have no need for it, I am perfectly able to walk. But I see your intentions are good young one. You have done well finding us this chance.”

    He smiled that friendly smile and feigned humbleness, all the while wicked thoughts danced within his mind as he thought of just how well he truly did. His words danced over his tongue.

    “It was truly nothing, no different then any other would do. Let us just hope it all works out and the opportunities we hope for come true.”

    The elder gave a nod as he entered into the packed ship, moving to his cramped spot with the rest as he says over his shoulder. “I’m sure they will son, I’m sure they will.”

    He down the ramp, waiting his turn and continuing his guise. Quietly, he remarked in constrained dark glee, “More than you may ever realize…”


  • Prelude - IV

    _Like we always do at this time
I go for mine, I got to shine
Now throw your hands up in the sky
And if you feeling' me now then put your hands up in the sky
And let me hear you say hey, hey, hey, ooh
I'm good_

    He raised his hands as he spoke to them, looking over those he’d call family, and seeing their eyes focused on him. He knew them, all of them, one way or another. He spoke their common tongue, he shared their common dream, and he has their common hope. Standing at the bar now, them all watching him, knowing what was to come he felt compelled to speak.

    “Mates, lads, it’s been a hard time, don’t ye doubt it. We been bustin our arses day in, day out, for these blasted men that got no care for us and our kind!”

    A loud roar goes up at the exclamation, and the eyes of all in the tavern turn to the one speaking.

    “But that won’t be happin’ no more, ye ‘ear me! We ‘ave a chance for a new life, a new beginning! You’ve all seen tha fliers and I know many of ya be comin along with me on the journey. To those that don’t, we drink ta ya all and to the hope you change your for ya to change you’re fortune’s. To those that be comin along, we drink to a better life for all o’ us in the grand city beyond!”

    Drinks are raised, mugs clinked together, as he smiles across the room.

    “Each an every one o’ ya I look at as family. We came up through this together and we be joined. No’un can take dat away now. I’ll miss all ya that stay, as will the rest of us…don’t ya be doubting. But tha ones dat be comin, we got a change for sumethin different. A new lease, a good and prosperous life. The poster’s said it be a city o’ great possibility, and indeed it shall be. Dem farer boy’s already said they’d make use of our trade and our skills…dats more to say then this damned city.

    So join with me, my friends, my family, my kin…in this drink and a toast. To a better life, to a new life, in the grand city o’ Peltarch!”

    Alcohol is downed by the gallon and the festivities go in through the night like only their kind can do it. He looked on at them all throughout, smiling, and holding onto his dream. This time will be different, this time there will be hope.


  • Prelude - III

    _Work It
Make It
Do It
Makes Us
Harder
Better
Faster
Stronger_

    The smell of salt fills the air as the caw of the seagull rings through the morning air.

    • Slash -

    They stand in rows, swords out, light on their feet. The captain belts out orders.

    • Parry -

    The commands ring through the warehouse as they move in unison, as one.

    • Thrust -

    Beads of sweat roll down past their temples, being pushed yet another day. Training, preparing.

    • Repeat -

    The drill repeats, the movements replay, the men continue their training in the lines.

    Many of them came from the streets, others pulled from mercenary ranks, and all relatively undisciplined. They have drilled for tendays now, their instructors beating and yelling the skills into them. First they fill the lines, work their strikes, again and again. Then they spar, pairing up, testing each other. A number of them have fell from this section of the training; the bodies were found by authorities the next day appearing victims of muggings. Finally comes “the courses”; a construction in the warehouse of narrow passages and many obstacles they had to traverse and fight through.

    They know little of what they’re here for, besides the promise of gold or of power. That is enough for many of them. And thus they train.

    • Slash -

    They accept the screaming rants, the superficial beatings, the grueling hours.

    • Parry -

    They ignore the heat that bears down upon them like a collapsing ceiling, leaving them gasping for air and drink.

    • Thrust -

    To simply concentrate on the training, to hone their skills, so they can claim the gold or attain the measure of control and power they seek.

    • Repeat -

    They all know they will be returning the life blood to a dyeing being whose legs have been plucked.


  • Prelude - II

    Bend me shape me misdirect me
It's all the same to me
Look at all this useless talk
Look at all this useless talk
Look at all this useless talk
Upon the cross

You look at me but you don't see
Understand I'm a sinner
Don't corner me
Don't lecture me
Raise your hands you're a sinner

    His hand trails over the marble board, finger-tips rubbing against each other as he contemplates. Resting comfortably in the satin cushion of his chair he thinks and prepares, weighing each possibility and outcome. Stopping his hand suddenly, looking across to the opposite side of where he sits as he speaks, his voice dark and brooding…

    Cretin, the world was at his disposal and he threw it away, rejected it. I knew his sin, I knew the horrible deed he had done. And the most laughable part of it all was the fact he himself caused the actions which led to his act of betrayal…which led to her being taken away from me.

    He stops, pondering a moment, letting his head roll back while closing his eyes and inhaling deep to take in the scent of the smoke around him. Slowly he opens his eyes again, intently looking across once more.

    Not just him though. No, the fool of a man is partly to blame but not all. It is all these people, these fake men and women who prance around with their masks on, prattling on about the most empty and hollow things imaginable only to prop themselves up. They socialize and perform this act with the devotion of a religious zealot, always playing their little games in hopes of using one of their “peers” as a rung to step on as they climb their pathetic social ladder. They are the ones who lured her into their world, who emptied her once beautiful and alive soul simply to make her an empty husk; a whore in body, mind, and soul and nothing more.

    It would only then be fittingly ironic that I indulge their sinful ways, if only to quicken the arrival of the point where the devil comes to collect …

    …moving his hand down, grasping his black bishop and moving it swiftly, smacking it into the opposing pawn and sending it flying off the marble board and slamming to the wall. A wicked smile beams across his face as he looks back across the board again…