Post by The Returned on Nov 18, 2013 0:11:32 GMT -5
A flawed traveler had returned home after a long absence. Once, he had adventured among the people of Sosaria. In multiple guises he had caused joy and pain, but all would agree he had left a mark upon the world.
Of those that once knew him, few that he encountered knew that he had once been something more. An instructor. A spokesman. An arbiter of justice, even granted the ability to travel between shards. But that was long ago, and quickly his name and deeds had faded from memory.
He arrived at the gates of his former home, curious to see what had become of his friends. However, the gates were barred and a guardsman stood in his way. He did not recognize the man, but he saw him for a dullard. Once, he had trained these men, and had taken pride in their skills. With a sinking heart, he began to realize that instruction itself could also be lost to time.
He asked to be granted entry to his home, but he no longer knew the codes that used to grant entry. Similarly, his credentials had long since been lost to time. He answered every question he could, and to a more reasonable soul, it would have been enough. Certain answers were beyond his memory, but he kept hope that with enough correct answers, he would eventually get to speak with the Captain of the guard.
It was with great pain that he realized that the training he had once provided had been invalidated by time and apathy, and that admission to his home was denied him. The guardsman eventually ignored him, acting as if he could no longer hear the requests.
And so the traveler turned away.
"Fuck them," he thought. "There are better places to be if they can't even open a goddamn gate to someone who wants to come back to this shithole."
And so the traveler once again walked from his home, consumed with his own thoughts and memories.
And then he stopped in his retreat, surprising even himself. A memory had returned.
Of those that once knew him, few that he encountered knew that he had once been something more. An instructor. A spokesman. An arbiter of justice, even granted the ability to travel between shards. But that was long ago, and quickly his name and deeds had faded from memory.
He arrived at the gates of his former home, curious to see what had become of his friends. However, the gates were barred and a guardsman stood in his way. He did not recognize the man, but he saw him for a dullard. Once, he had trained these men, and had taken pride in their skills. With a sinking heart, he began to realize that instruction itself could also be lost to time.
He asked to be granted entry to his home, but he no longer knew the codes that used to grant entry. Similarly, his credentials had long since been lost to time. He answered every question he could, and to a more reasonable soul, it would have been enough. Certain answers were beyond his memory, but he kept hope that with enough correct answers, he would eventually get to speak with the Captain of the guard.
It was with great pain that he realized that the training he had once provided had been invalidated by time and apathy, and that admission to his home was denied him. The guardsman eventually ignored him, acting as if he could no longer hear the requests.
And so the traveler turned away.
"Fuck them," he thought. "There are better places to be if they can't even open a goddamn gate to someone who wants to come back to this shithole."
And so the traveler once again walked from his home, consumed with his own thoughts and memories.
And then he stopped in his retreat, surprising even himself. A memory had returned.