So, you want to know the story of our guild. You want to share in the trials, the pain and the glory. You want to hear about the relationships we formed, how much we cared for each other. How we’d fight for each other. I’ll tell you about the threads that intertwined us and bound us together.
We’d begun as the rebels of a guild led by a corrupt guild master. It was evidently clear that our fellow members’ possessions were not safe. Most of them were caring, they considered their disappearing products as donations to the guild they dreamed they were building. The harsher side of me saw it as gullible and vulnerable, but these were traits of honest people. I put my faith in the trust that we were building.
There was only a handful of us. At a time, I’d opened the doors to try to help us grow, but perhaps that was never the solution. We’d grown together, sharing in experiences and endeavors, helping each other where we could. Then at a certain point, we started to grow apart. I believe the trust remained and therefore, the names stayed on our roster.
To be honest with you, it may have just been myself that grew distant. I asked what was wrong, I tried to find the broken strings to tie back together, but the response I got was that it was all in my head. Perhaps it was all just my over sensitivity. Still, when I looked to those I called my friends, I would see their backs, and out of respect I would continue on alone. Not always and when we were together the banter felt genuine, yet somehow, I felt disassociated.
Over the years, our members came and went. Even with our door closed, if a soul of worth found themselves in our web, we’d honor them as our own. Likewise, as friends departed or found their time otherwise filled, we remembered them and left their lockers, empty or not, untouched in anticipation of their return. As I reminisce on our adventures, it feels right to start with a particular memory that always seems to bring me tears of joy when I revisit.