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Air. Earth. Fire. Water. To many, these words are no deeper than the indention made by the quill that wrought them to page. For many moons this was the case for even myself. Gusts of wind, pebbles on the ground, the flicker of the flame that lights the way, or the soothing of an ice cold bath after a long day. A moments glance or idle thoughts would only take one so far. In my travels, I happened across a horned-Mystic. He would be the one to explain just how little I truly knew. "Show me what you have seen." I asked. His kind eyes hardened, as he glanced me up and down, I felt as if he was looking straight through me. He began to rummage through his satchel, his hands eventually released from the cluttered mass clutching a dusty scroll. "Familiarize yourself with our Tomes and their teachings. Meditate on their meanings and symbolism, look upon yourself and assess, which element calls to you?" He spoke softly, yet, resolute. I accepted the scroll, and sought out for my answers. I returned to my abode and immediately began scouring the dusty parchment. Many moons of Druid tales, teachings, and customs. The slow realization that this world around me is not as simple as it seems. Eventually, I came upon their teachings on the Elements, and aligning oneself. I took these questions to heart; "Was I passionate as the fire?", Did I "flow gently as the water?" These words ignited me, and so I set out to discover myself. My journey of Fire lead me to the local Fox dens. Here, I followed the fox tunnels deep below the surface, until I found myself in a cave almost consumed by Lava. I listened to the magma rage, watching as it coalesced on the breeches, transforming to jagged obsidian. Dew drops falling from the cavern ceilings, only to vanish before they hit the floor. I began to understand the fire and it's purifying touch. I left feeling somewhat rejuvenated, albeit covered in ash and soot. My journey of Air began at the Western gate of Buya. Stories of the winds are as old as the kingdoms themselves, it's no secret the Vale is often on the receiving end of these gales. I made my way by the shrine to Chung Ryong, across a bridge, and ended up atop the hill of the Great Gate. I sat atop the steps and closed my eyes. Feeling the wind as it rippled through my hair, down my collar, and off. I questioned, would I ever feel that same wind again? I listened to the nearby trees, leaves rustling, as they swayed with each gust. I wondered if the wind ever felt the same indecisiveness that I often felt. Like a stone in your throat - that would not budge. How reassuring it would be, to know even the wind questions whether it should blow. My journey of Earth brought me back to a familiar place. Not far from town, a little of the beaten path, would lie the Sunken Tree. I would often find myself here, whether it be during a Scouting Trip with my brethren or simple security checks to verify no unwanted residents were setting up shop near the Circle. I sat and listened to the crickets hum, the ravens cry, sprinkled like seasoning in to the eary silence of the glade. I observed the Sunken Tree, unwavering in it's grasp to land, even as the shore itself slowly eroded in to the water. How many centuries had passed by, the tree stable, as the world would shift around it. I too, wish to look back in my later years, even if only to see how far my roots had spread. Part 1 -To be continued- | |