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Message: <blockquote data-quote="xenoflare" data-source="post: 1596440" data-attributes="member: 12431">Masters and MistakesHaagen River, 7 miles south of Selskar ValeAlone in the middle of the freezing river, Master Yang stood and meditated.He cleared his mind of all distracting thoughts, of all irrelevant details, and focused on his quest, of seeking the One.He saw -him-, but the One was running from him, running further and further away. The One was so close now, and just a day ago, he had positively sensed the confluence of unique factors, the ineffable configuration of chi that marked the presence of the One. Then why is it, Master Yang wondered, that my prayers and meditations seem to come to naught? They have guided him thus far – and now that he had come close to his goal, why has the quarry suddenly disappeared? How could he have sensed the One if the One was not present? If the One was indeed present, then why was he still on this fool’s quest – indeed, was not everything supposed to be resolved the moment the One was found?Did I miss out anything? Anyone? Any factors at all, that I’ve overlooked?And as the monk contemplated, carelessly losing focus and spreading his mind into the realm of discursive thought, a horrible vision came to him, of fire and thunder raging across the land, of a massive two-headed beast composed equally of shadow and flame striding and plundering across the blasted ruins of Dominaria. Vast legions of steel-carapaced, corruption-swathed abominations staggered along in the Chaos Lord’s wake, visiting destruction and unearthly horror upon all that they surveyed. He saw himself fighting against these forces, and he saw himself trampled underneath their bone-spurred feet, crushed into infinitesimal fragments, with his spiritual essence distilled and distorted. He saw himself rising up from the dead as a minion of the tide of Chaos, and laughing mindlessly as he unleashed horror after horror upon his own world.Bazim-Gorag… and with his coming, he heralds the Time of Fire, where the World will be consumed in merciless burning.  They … cannot be stopped, not by the likes of me. I need the One! Is this my imagination that fools me, or is this a vision to guide me?Master Yang shuddered, stopped his meditations, and slowly stumbled his way back to the riverbank. Shaking his head and walking slowly back towards the campsite, the ascetic was still lost in his doubts, and even his razor-honed reflexes did not notice the smelly old man walking drunkenly towards him, lumbering with neither agility nor lucidity. **The two men walked smack into each other with somewhat less grace than the crashing of two rage-blinded rogue elephants. Master Yang managed to call upon his long decades of training to regain his inner centre, and was able to stand upright, while the inebriated gentleman, as burdened as he was with the weight of his alcohol, both consumed and unconsumed, could only fall back lamely.Many bottles were smashed, much alcohol was wasted, and lots of angry words were exchanged. It was all in all, a rather one-sided exchange.“You… you… you… murderer of BABY GRAPES! Despoiler of innocent glassware! Soul-less aberration that prefers PLAIN WATER to HONEST ALCOHOL! How’re you going to pay me back, huh, HOW ARE YOU GOING TO PAY ME BACK, YOU BALD CHICKEN FEATHER GORILLA!” the prone man sputtered forth his words in an amazing flurry of senselessness, syllables and saliva.Master Yang was perplexed, and decades of internalised training and indoctrinated respect for the elderly again guided his response to the unlikely situation. Sheepishly, he bowed and extended a hand respectfully to the sloshed senior citizen, to help the old man up.The monk’s bemusement increased tenfold when instead of receiving the drunkard’s hand in his own, he found a bottle of Shivan Firedrake’s Old Brandy.“The only way you’re gonna pay me back, you speckled old hen, is to sit down with me in this Wee-Jas-forsaken burnt-down fairy ice wonderland and drink! Nobody’s going to run away from Arthur Wainwright, no sirree, not when there’s drink to be drunk and drunks to be tossed into the drink!”Wainwright’s old eyes sparkled with insane glee and self-loathing; as Master Yang beheld his pitiful form, the younger man saw a holy symbol of Fharlangan, Patron Deity of Roads, slung haphazardly around Arthur’s neck.“Hmmm… It is my most sincere and greatest of regrets, please accept my apologies since I have caused you such trouble and distress, oh Priest of Fharlangan. It is not my intention to…”Arthur’s vitriolic outburst drowned out Master Yang’s meandering contrite reply. “Look I’m not asking you to pay me money, just drink with me you bloody slimy foreign idiot, ok I’m foreign here too, but that’s not the point, sit and drink, and don’t call me a priest of Fharlangan, I’m not a priest of that useless geriatric patron of walking sticks and wagon-sized wenches!”Master Yang looked at the pendant around Wainwright’s neck meaningfully, and the old drunkard followed his gaze. “Oh, this trinket? THIS TRINKET MEANS NOTHING!”With that, Arthur Wainwright reached for the necklace, tugged it off, and tossed it into the hoary depths of the Haagen River.“Gods, prophecies, demons and evils, who cares about them anymore? The world’s going to end, and there’s not a thing anybody can do about it! Fharlangan didn't do a single thing to stop those damn slaad from killing my family, from destroying my business, while i was doing his thrice-cursed work! Keep roads safe my speckled hen's old speckled ass! Why bother! Just drink and let the world kill itself, at least while you’re sloshed, you’ll be so goddamn unconscious and stinking useless that you won’t make things worse! GAH! DRINK, DAMN YOU!”Master Yang thought of his past doubts, of the Darkness that strides the land, of the Darkness cloaking his own will and mind. He thought of the lives that his own hands, sworn to protect life, had so easily taken in his indecision yesterday, of the sacred oaths and vows he had broken so easily in that moment of weakness. He thought of the age-old quest he had followed, to seemingly no avail to find this phantom One, of the mockery that had befallen his steps every single day of his life when he had embarked upon this fool's errand. And he thought, most of all, of the unstoppable juggernaut of the Firebringer, of the vision he had chanced upon, and of the impending fate of cremation that awaits the world.“Yes... you speak most wisely, Mr.. Wainwright? Gods and prophecies… what use are they at all now, to this world?”Yang nodded slowly, and his hand clenched around the bottle surely, as he popped the cork, and started to drink.**</blockquote>

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