Earthsearch

He thought, as he stirred, that he'd seen signs ... traces of her steps, echoes of her voice. He rose from a troubled rest in the dark and twisted place in which he lay, and headed toward another place, a place of trees and grass, of a bright sun and sweeter air. But as his steps carried him forward, the traces faded away. His senses told him nothing:his feet had no direction in which to go. He determined to search the lands.
He went to the high place:again and again he returned to where the roses bloom. He visited a room where stars shone down on those within, and searched where wild waves swept in to the shore.
He walked the lands until his greatest enemy - time - defeated him. As the sands of time slipped between his fingers, they took also a part of his hope, his heart, his soul, with them as they spilled and wasted on the earth beneath his feet.


Firewalk

He reasoned that perhaps she had need to renew the fire in her soul. He strode beneath the earth through twisting passages to the places where mighty caverns were lit by cascades of fire. Fumes stung his eyes and blurred them with tears, though there may have been more than one reason for those tears that blinded him Sinkholes which led deep into the bowels of the earth gouted plumes of fire and smoke as he made his way past:he stood on the shore of seas of fire, the heat sucking moisture from his body as he searched, still in vain.
His own shadow swayed and danced around him in flickering red and yellow light, continually tricking him into thinking that she stood beside him. But the wavering phantasms were merely products of his wishful imagination.


Waterworld

He called on the creatures of the ocean for aid in his search. They spanned the expanses and plummeted to the depths as they searched for their princess. Some of the creatures took him with them, clinging to them as they skimmed the surface, then diving beneath the waves for a while until he needed to renew his breath.
His eyes took in sights seen by no other before. Underwater gardens where sea-flowers carpeted sheets of coral. Birdlike creatures, but with fins in place of wings soared above him. He examined the crevices within these underwater gardens, looked out over expanses of sand less arid than the deserts of the land above which was his home.
His views of this strange land were of necessity short, fragmented. His time there was limited to the time he could hold his breath. As he was led across those drowned landscapes he was all too aware that, in more ways than one, time was short ... all to short.


Airborne

He dreamed that he floated above the lands, wafted to and fro by the winds. And then he realised ... this was no dream.
Almost insubstantial, he drifted as a cloud. From his vantage point high above, he was sometimes aware of the presence of the one he had sought for so long. However he had been changed, whatever had taken the place of his senses, it was as though from time to time he would see her, hear her voice, catch the aroma of her perfume.
Should Sunrifter be too hot and bright, he would drift above her, giving some shade. Should she be in danger, anger would change his appearance and he would appear as a thundercloud. His darkness would hide her, and in place of the blades he'd once used to defend her sheets of lightning would strike down those who would come against her.
Sometimes the simultaneous closeness to, and distance from, the focus of his life would become too much to bear, and his falling tears became the rain in which she so loved to dance.

He had kept his word, remembered his promises, maintained the vows he had made and never forgotten or abandoned.

He had finally, to find and protect that one person, given all that he was, all that he had. And in that he had, after so long, found some contentment.

Disheartened ... dislocated ... discouraged ...

I'm sitting behind a barricade I built in the treasury of Old Dundee. I've lost track of how many nights I've slept here, how many more days of stalking the streets of this dark and twisted place while I hunt down the horrors I hear roaming just beyond the flimsy defence I've been able to build. In the darker moments it seems that the pile of timber and broken strongboxes isn't the only barrier that is starting to break down, threatening to give way any moment and let in the things I'd prefer to keep out leaving me engulfed, overrun ... finally beaten.

There are a few guildkin who wake often. We speak, share jokes, pass information and gossip between us ... but all too soon they go to their rest. There are others who wake for a fleeting moment, just long enough to see who else may be walking the lands at that moment. There are some who have time only for a brief word ... and some who won't make the time even for that.
The dark thoughts assail me as the horrors come again. Hack and slash as my mind is taken over by questions and wonderings. Those thoughts seem to have worn a rut in my mind, in much the same way as my boots have worn a rut in the streets of Old Dundee. Over and over, during these last few long - and often lonely - cycles of the moon, the screams of horrors have battered at my ears as questions and doubts batter at my brain.
Ellyana, I promised you that I would hold on, and hold out ... to look after the guild and our guildkin as best I can, while I watch and wait.

I'm holding on, princess, and holding out ... thought it's a long and dark solitary path I walk. As for the guild, I guess the guildkin are the ones who know how good the hands may be into which the guild has been entrusted. Perhaps their thoughts on the matter are kinder than my own.

And I watch and wait ... for the one bright light in what seems to be an ever-darkening life.

Just as you think things are improving ... something knocks you back. I woke early yesterevening for a short while, looking for replies from RoK. I planned to rest for a while, then to walk the lands on waking, to see what was going on, who was around. My mood felt lighter than for some time.
Anyhow ... things don't always go according to plan, do they? Never mind how, but that light mood was destroyed as soon as I woke.
I wasn't all that surprised to find, while engrossed with dark thoughts, that I'd ended up in Old Dundee. I headed down into the sewer there, with a vague idea in mind.
I spotted a messenger-bird flying after me as I strode along killing everything that came out to face me in the darkness. It carried a message from someone who had realised something was amiss.

We have friends in the lands. Some are friends who speak when it suits them, or when they want something. Some pretend friendship only to your face ...

A very few are true friends. And, I discovered yesterevening, the truest friend is one who will chase all around the lands to find you, to speak with you when you're down. She has my thanks.

Slightly brighter times ....

I was able to keep out of that terrible place for two full days, though it took constant effort to stop my feet from taking me there. Odd thing was, I felt lost for somehing to do. I know there are some who can sit somewhere while they talk or exchange messages with others, but I need to be up and doing something. I roamed the lands, hoping that someone would need my assistance ... hoping even that there would be a raid somewhere ... looking for anything to do.

RoK is celebrating it's birthday, and there are several contests taking place. Writing entries is a welcome diversion. I've sent parchments to many competitions recently ... and apart from the exercise it gives my mind, I've also had some small success.

Nael will be sleeping for a while ... I hope all will be well with him. But that does mean that once again, in terms of guild officers walking the lands, I'm back where I was a half-dozen cycles of the moon ago. There are guild members that wake now, the latest members who I've inducted to Twilight Serenity. It's a pleasure to have opportunities to speak with them. Some of the older members stir for a while too ... I greet them when I see they've roused, but all too often it seems that some of them have opened their eyes merely to see who is awake in the lands, and then slipped back into their slumbers.

I don't see what I can do ... as I say, I greet those I see, but I can't force them to stay awake. Must be my fascinating personality I guess, or my scintillating conversation, that leads them back to their sleep. I'll admit I'm maybe not the best conversationalist in the lands ... in fact I've been told that quite bluntly in the past ... so I have to keep on struggling to find the best thing to say to people in the different situations in which we find ourselves from time to time. A far cry from the silver-tongued rogue used to talking himself into, or out of, just about any situation! But that, of course, is Pallas the rogue, not Pallas the guild leader. Pallas the rogue knows exactly what he's about ... that other Pallas is trying to learn as he goes along ... and is becoming increasingly convinced that Ellyana made the wrong decision about who should carry the badge.

The only thing I know for sure is that I need some sort of goal, a target to aim for, something I can achieve. I don't just mean the sort of target one sets while farming or training - so much experience, or so much plat - I have to find something to justify walking the lands day after day.

Last night I rested - or tried to at least - in the guildhall. I do from time to time, but sleep eludes me there. Every stone ... every brick ... they all hold memories. For marc after marc I stared into the darkness ... listening to echoes of times long past ... listening out for her voice ... watching lest she wake for a while.

There are some I really need to speak with. Strange, isn't it? - those we need to see the most are those that we see the least. I guess it's just the way of life in these lands.