Path of Fate

Information on the Path of Fate and its members
ripshaw
Posts: 32
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm

Path of Fate

Post by ripshaw »

Sitting in his newly acquired quarters, Rip is deep in thought. Absently twirling his talisman of Fate around on the table, he peers off into nothing. Running over the events of the past night, he tries repeatedly to find answers to any of his questions. He had spoken to Gunna_Kill_Ya a couple of days ago about the Path of Pain. Going over the conversation he could still not quite piece together any clear answers. Gunna was a being as old as he was. A commanding presence in the lands, whos mere outward appearance demanded caution and respect. While Rip did his best to ask the right questions, all were met not with straight answers but more questions from Gunna that not only validated the Rangers thought process, but added yet more inquiries. He had left that meeting more confused than enlightened to say the very least. It was not Gunna's purpose to do so, he knew. Yet when Fate or destiny is the topic, it seemed like each beings views were both right, and monumentally incomplete.

When Sliper approached him to ask if he had chosen a Path, he was not entirely sure which direction was best suited to him. His own thoughts confused him just as much as any people he had talked to on the subject. He had chosen to join the Temple of Fate on the grounds of discovering whether each being in this world had a purpose. Are we all led along by some unknown power, to destinations none of us would expect? Or do we choose our own paths, and fate is simply the story left behind by our lives? Being a soldier for just about his entire life, the Ranger had seen some pretty unexplainable things. In fact, war rarely ever made sense. Usually the rich or powerful squabbling over some issue or other, dragging their subjects into hell. Yet that power, that undeniable power which does affect the lives of so many cannot be overlooked. In the end, he had chosen to follow the Path of Fate.

Sighing, he lets the talisman drop and come to rest on the table top. He would continue to follow his curiosity and study the nature of destiny. Maybe, if he could uncover the right information; he might somehow be able to use it to his advantage. Although, knowing your path.. Would we all be so quick to just follow it? Grunting in frustration at never being able to follow a line of questioning without running into more questions, he quiets the turmoil he called a mind and goes back to what he was doing.
ripshaw
Posts: 32
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm

Re: Path of Fate

Post by ripshaw »

<error>
Last edited by ripshaw on Tue Dec 12, 2017 8:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.
ripshaw
Posts: 32
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm

Re: Path of Fate

Post by ripshaw »

About an hour after dawn, the Devardec harbor begins to bustle with the business of the new day. Upon hearing a shout, the figure dozing in a chair at the end of an empty dock bolts upright. As he looks around, he seems to remember where he was. Chuckling could be heard from the water below the pier. Rubbing at his eyes the gnome reaches down with his free hand and lifts a small hourglass off the wooden slats. Peering at it sideways a second, he focuses on what is left to run. "About quarter of an hour left Rip. That will make two since dawn." he says to the air in front of him. Nodding to himself, he leans back in his chair and resumes his nap.

In the water below where Grint is sitting, the top of 8 heads can be seen floating. Rip smiles to himself as he watches his friend begin to doze back off. Arm and leg muscles burning, yet trying desperately to subdue the intense cold he felt from his neck to his toes. Every other morning since joining the Dev navy, the ranger had been treading water. Beginning at dawn when the sea was its coldest, he would jump into the water. All the books he had read explained that above all else, a captain of any ship must be an amazing swimmer. Since joining Fate, he had incredibly aware of the power of destiny. He seemed to see the pulls and pushes everywhere; but the ranger was still in the infancy of his understanding. So he was stuck wondering at every decision. For the time being, until he grasped the concept better Rip had adopted a credo his father used to say. "Luck favors the prepared." He figured that since he cannot be certain of any outcome, training would help to best keep him ready. "Almost two hours boys." he mutters to the heads floating around him.

Thinking on fate.. He looks at the individual faces around him. All doing their best to keep from shivering as well as stay above water. What an enigma these boys were. He had met them on the beach, while they were working on the carpenters crew. All hired hands for grunt work on the site. As hard as he tried, he could not quite understand at what point he began assembling a crew. But sure as shat, he knew that is what was happening. Maybe it was them seeing him at the site everyday, or the fact that he had helped them dig. Rip shrugs to himself in the water and blows some air through his lips, causing bubbles to form in his face. He had to admit, that looking through these new eyes about the workings of fate he was taking everything for signs. When these men had asked him why he trained so hard, all he had replied was "I want to be a good sailor. " and just like that, there were 5 heads floating in the harbor. With each day, the number had grown. What was drawing them to him? No matter what it was, it was too intriguing for him to not want to see where it leads.

"Alright boys, 2 hours. Get your arses out of the water!" Grint's voice comes at them from the pier. As he waits his turn at the ladder, the ranger continues his line of thought. He had not sent them away, as he probably should have. For some reason they had chosen to train with him, bond with him. They, Had chosen. Far be it for Rip to change their minds, Not anymore. For better or worse, every man choses his own destiny. These men had decided to tie theirs in with him and it was comforting to have them around. He had alot to do with a Navy to oversee and he knew that he would need people to guard his back. "Luck favors the prepared" he whispers to himself. Training and vigilance. As he climbs up the ladder, the gnome throws a wool towel over his shoulders. "Grint my friend, I am going to need you to find me a master swordsman." he says through shivering lips. "I want to start training with the sword, and the lads can join me if they want." Too cold to wait for a reply, the ranger makes off up the pier.
ripshaw
Posts: 32
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm

Re: Path of Fate

Post by ripshaw »

Lately the currents of Fate have been strong. So many things were transpiring in the Rangers life that it was hard to keep track of what choices were his, and which were created by the interference of others. Sweating heavily and keeping pace with the Master of swords, Ripshaw tries to concentrate over the rhythmic "ting, ting" of two swords clashing. Since joining Fate, he had begun trying to catalog how he influenced the world for better or worse. Accepting his position as Admiral had immediately wrought change in the lives of so many people. He had never realized in the past how much certain decisions could affect those around him. Hiring the Architect and by extension his foremen and team of carpenters, had brought wealth to places where it had once only been dreamed about. By needing so many materials for the project, it forced Devardec to trade with other organizations and by extension strengthening bonds for future endeavors. These large influences had then trickled money and wealth down the line to increase the quality of life to all those involved. All positive change caused by one decision of "who to hire".

Unconsciously, Ripshaw ducks and moves fluidly to his left. Striking out with his right hand he catches the Master across the chin. Calmly he braces as the Master wipes at his mouth and then levels an angry glare his way. With a grunt of effort, his opponent doubles his onslaught and Rip can tell anger has now become a part of the masters attack. As the dance ensues, Rips mind drifts back towards Fate. Not all his decisions had brought good tidings. Some of the men who work on the building teams have troubles with drink. Increased coin, meant increased boozing. Tavern fights had become a regular occurance in the city and robberies have also increased. No matter how he tried, the ranger realizes that he could not always control the good or bad that came from what he decided to do. All he could truly control was how he interacted with the world. Whatever else happened, was no longer his responsibility. People were people, good or bad.

Suddenly Rip senses the wall at his back, he puts his foot up behind and pushes off. He uses his momentum to dive into a forward roll. Coming to his feet behind the Master, Rip uses the flat of his blade to whack the Master across the arse. Standing still, sword point to the floor he waits. A growl and then a fierce attack from his dance partner and suddenly its no longer a game. Ripshaw meets the eyes of the Master he is sparring with and realizes that he had somehow crossed a line. Bending his knees he prepares for what he knows is coming. Meanwhile, in the infinitesimal moment between attacks his mind wanders to the 8 men standing against the far wall. A look of awe across their faces as they watch the spectacle of his match. In that moment, he decides that those men were worth all the negative his decisions had created till this point. Another growl and a savage flurry.

Each of those men had followed him soley because he had provided them with positive influence. He had done nothing but worked hard and refused to adhere to class or stations stamped upon him by nobility. Respect given for no reason, had always brought it back ten fold. Now, as they stood staring at him as if he were some god or mythical being he wanted nothing more than to continue their education. Even though he could not truly understand what it was about him that inspired them, he now was glad for that power. Each had practiced hard at whatever he threw at them. From swimming, to swords, to languages and writing. Each had vigorously tried to gain his approval. In so doing they had earned their very own self respect, which grew into confidence. Watching them help others around them, stand up for the weaker workers and do all they could to emulate what they had learned had been nothing short of a miracle. What was most exciting was watching how each of them had in turn started to influence others around them, in ways that began with him. By far his greatest accomplishment since being aware of how his string tangled in the flows of Fate.

Leaning backwards, he watches a sword tip whistle passed where his face was. A smooth side step and a spin, his leg comes around and takes the legs out from under his red faced, out of breath opponent. As he finishes his spin, he is on his feet and the tip of his sword is but a hair from the throat of the downed Master. Realizing suddenly how intense the man is looking at him, Rip grasps how real the situation had become. Bowing to the man on the floor, Rip drops the sword from his left hand and spins on his heel. As he leaves the room, all is deathly quiet.

Rising to his feet the Master Swordsman is furious. He begins yelling at anyone who will listen. "Why would he hire a master to train with swords, if he has already surpassed any such need of training!?" he exclaims. "I do not appreciate being rediculed!" he continues. A haggard gnome rises from his seat in the corner and looks at the Master with a small smile. "The trainin is for the Lads. You insisted on sparring with him, its your own doing." Grint explains. "Hes lucky I did not kill him! I could have, were I so inclined! the Master screams a retort. Chuckling from the gnome causes one last growl from the man. Grint simply states, "You could no more have killed that man wth a sword, than you could move a mountain with a spoon. I have seen Ripshaw kill and I have never seen any better at it. Ive not seen him bested ever! Not with any weapon." As he begins to walk away, Grint says over his shoulder "In fact, the Ranger isnt even left handed." Winking at the boys still standing in awe, the gnome follows his friend out the door.

Return to “Path of Fate”