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Message: <blockquote data-quote="ExDis" data-source="post: 888662" data-attributes="member: 10799">Adventures Beyond the Edge - Jaresh's JournalJaresh's Journal - Entry TwoFor six years I had lived and studied at the academy. Learning the ways of balance and discipline, through drill and practice and reflection. My experience defied easy description, being both too simple and too profound for mere words to contain. And now I face the next step in my journey. As an acolyte, I had begun my studies with no idea of the purpose or pattern of the tasks that I was asked to perform. It was primarily physical labor, performed in specific and demanding patterns, and repeated to near infinity, and if my attention wandered, there was always a senior brother available to provide "encouragement". I later realized that these tasks served to toughen my body, and condition the reflexive movements that I would later use as building blocks for more complex techniques. As I began to develop some mastery of these movements, as determined by periodic testing, I was given other tasks to complete, and later, philosophical ideas to explore. This was the cycle, repeated many times, with each iteration using the building blocks provided by the previous cycles to construct new capabilities to be developed and tested. Like the forging of a blade, I was heated and folded and heated and folded, over and over and over again, until, like a blade, I was flexible and sharp, and ready for whatever the world would bring.Periodically, individuals or small groups from other schools, some very distant, would visit. These occasions were always cause for celebration, for they briefly broke the routine, providing exciting diversions by way of tournaments. All above the rank of acolyte were expected to attend, and the discussions of techinques and strategies could last for days afterward. As with so many other things, a pattern soon became apparent; with tournaments falling roughly on the solstice days. The fall tournament was, in my estimation, the most interesting, both for its large turnout, and because it coincided with the annual arrival of a most interesting visitor. He was a trader of sorts, pulling a small wagon full of very odd and interesting items. The trader himself was old and gnarled, and looked like nothing more than a man-shaped mass of twisted roots, covered with strange tattoos and given clothing. As to his origins and background, rumors abounded, with the most popular being that he had once been a master at a school not unlike our own, before taking to the road. He did not speak, at least not to the likes of us; but if someone managed to impress him with their performance at one ot the tournaments, he would, after mixing various mysterious ingredients from the contents of his cart, create tattoos of stunning beauty and complexity upon them. All of those who so benefited swore that some portion of their own art had improved as a result, either a strength had been further enhanced, or a weakness addressed. The first that I actually saw was a design of interlocking bears, copied on both of the recipient's biceps - his physical strength increased markedly thereafter. Another that particularly impressed me was a stylized oak tree, slightly larger than I could cover with my hand; in this case, the tattooee's (?) skin became noticeably resistant to damage. Oh how I yearned to win one of those for myself. However, as fate would have it, my best performances did not occur at the fall tournaments, and I remained unadorned by the mysterious stranger's work.It was this very subject that was on my mind as I went about my assigned tasks one morning. The fall tournament was coming up, and I had nearly convinced myself that, should I successfully execute a flying spinning heel strike, and should that prove to be the decisive blow whereby I won the match, perhaps that would be sufficiently impressive... I was fairly certain that I could manuver one of the less experienced acolytes into position for such a display... But my reverie was interrupted - by a summons to the Council Chamber. This was a serious matter; I could count the times that I had been summoned to that chamber on the fingers of one hand. How bittersweet then, to be told that my studies had reached a level where, in order to continue to grow, I must venture out into the world and seek my fortune. To be frank, I did not want to go, but the Masters were adamant, and would not be dissuaded.I packed my meagre possessions, and the next morning set out down a trail that, I had been assured, led to a road, which led to a city. Having never been to a city, and further, having no idea what my proper position within such an organization was, I viewed the prospect with some trepidation. However, that was where I had been told to go, so that was where I would go. What an astounding surprise it was, then, to be set upon by hobgoblins within an hour of reaching the road. I was able to incapacitate one, but while I did so, the other moved behind me, and I woke up in chains, last in a long line of wretches being marched down the road. Thus did I make it to the city - not in the fashion I had originally evvisioned. There was, however, little question what my status was to be - and it could not be lower. My fellows and I were hustled onto a huge boat and taken to another city, where I was moved into a different group, marched en-masse onto a platform, incoherently shouted at for a few minutes, and marched off to another boat - ship, I'd heard them called. We were chained in the belly of this ship, with some other slaves; destination unknown.</blockquote>

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