Now now, @Daeviin, the path to wisdom and enlightenment is often fraught with loose stones, and some are destined to trip on occasion. Some of the best lessons are only learned the hard way, or, if not that, they are still hilarious to watch.
Even as the plot thickens, so many flies are caught in the molasses, that sweet dripping promise with a bitter end.
Now into Coldharbor we delve, a place of nightmares, where dreams go to die.
So funny, keep them coming. That last comment about being reported for leveling for money was good, didn't even have anything to do with what happened.
There are two types of people who strive for power.
Those who get up without hesitation and charge ahead triumphantly, and those that wait, using the corpses of the antecedently triumphant as a path forward.
As it is, we are humble folk, curious as to where such a path will take us.
So with great innocence we wondered, could we have two successful plights in the same night, only an hour apart?
The answer,
dearest friends,
is yes.
Where will our journey treading upon these poor, misguided souls take us, and how far? As curiosity grows, so does our knowledge, tact, and capability; as a world of understanding is literally laying itself at our feet.
For each step these marmots take, for each desperate form that leaps off those scorched walls, we become brighter, and better.
Our power grows.
Yet we remain patient, for the confident spider does not allow their web to become filled with more corpses than can be consumed.
What is life free of the fear of death? They say the price of freedom is death, but, how can you pay a formless thing? The true price of freedom must be something tangible, something we understand.
Something that can be spent.
The true price of freedom is life. And there are those who run into the arms of the Formless One willing.
Maybe run isn't an accurate enough depiction for a trip into the void. Swim, perhaps?
We shall see, in time.
But presently, let us enjoy some wholesome competition and sport.
The forms, leaping heedless into the air, the wind pulling at their clothing, their eyes only at the terrain rushing towards them like an eager predator.
What do they think in those last seconds? What are their emotions? I find death so interesting. They say as death draws near, time comes to a stop.
So do their corpses.
Should not all forms of beauty be appreciated? Why allow death, with it's inherent and shy beauty, to linger in the shadows in shame? Why not welcome it, embrace it, and share it with others?