Purpose By: JR Byron

The tides always turn my friend, The older man spoke to me from beneath a dark blue cowl, most of his face hidden behind the shadow it cast. Just as you threw yourself into the waves as the monsoon season began in Shunsen, you must once again venture into the unknown. A penetrating chill seemed to emanate from the very stone that comprised the ancient archways and sheer walls of the lakeside castle. As we sat in almost complete darkness, save for the few sconces which dotted the walls, I began to wonder how I had come to this place. I remembered so clearly the city of TajRael and the woman I had met there, Ziphara. I remembered the lavish estate on the outskirts of the Gem of the Mireshan Wastes and the well hidden slave tunnels below. Together we fought, when our guile had failed us, back to back with dagger and sword, into depths and catacombs the gods had all but forgotten. It was there that we found a place where the sword of Minbouken was needed the most, a place where innocent men were forced by their betters into a life of servitude and exploitation. Far beyond the seclusion of my island home I began to learn the truth behind my masters teachings, I had only begun to see what Minbouken must mean, to the people of Koros and more importantly to me. But it was as we began to make our escape, one which seemed quite unlikely, that my memory begins to fade. Memory Karius, is a truly magnificent thing. It is how we live the days that have long since passed us by, and more so it is how we revisit the friends and loved ones we have lost, or that have been lost to time. He stood slowly, extending a bluish gray hand against the arm of his chair to provide leverage. And yet memories themselves are easy to manipulate, for those who feel so inclined.

I could feel the swell of impatience wash over me, the very impatience which had forced me to treat my Oread rescuers in such a disrespectful fashion, and had tossed me head long into combat with two unknown individuals in a back alley of TajRael. I breathed deeply the cool damp air, taking solace in just how crisp it felt. As he moved from the dim hall into what little more light the overcast weather provided I could see more of this man, who spoke in such a cryptic manner. His robes were simple, but tasteful, subtle blues and grays accented what would otherwise seem to be very average robes for an individual with an inclination towards magic. They flowed quite freely as they hung from his delicate frame, as though they weighed nothing at all. But there was something about him, in the way he spoke, and the way he moved, that led me to understand that this man had great confidence in his own ability, he would not fall easily. How much have you learned in your short time away from home samurai? His voice was taunting, as if he wanted me to draw. No doubt you have seen that your lessons were not meant for every arrogant man with only selfish notions in his heart. I sat in silence for a while longer, allowing the slender gray figure to continue. You have lost much in this life Minbouken, born to the desolate streets of a fishing town; you had found yourself a new home, only to have it stolen from you. Not even the greatest Korosian poets would refute that fate dealt you a cruel hand. But you see, it is a fool who thinks fate would deal any other. His insight appeared to be the only encouragement the skyline needed to unleash what it must have been holding back for weeks, as thunder rumbled amongst the hills sitting just beyond the lake. It is so often that men of this world place the blame of their somber lives at the feet of Gods; beings who, beyond listening for their own entertainment, could care no less for the affairs of man and elf than they do for the quarrels of ogre and goblin. The slim figure reached his hand out the window allowing what few raindrops had begun to fall, to pool gently in his palm. He breathed deeply and pushed back his hood revealing what appeared to be the face of a Drow; a sharp angled chin and nose, with long white hair. But as he turned I began to notice he was not just Drow, for the features which all mortal men had been taught to fear were adorned with subtle accents that were very much human; a softer brow line, one which hadnt been forced into permanent scowl, and very blue, human eyes.

The inaction of man is the sole culprit in his own undoing Karius. He continued, turning back to the window as raindrops began to dance on the placid surface of the lake below. To sit, docile, and blame fate for your misfortune is for a man in a row boat to blame the wind that he hasnt moved. This world is not the only which exists, nor is it the first, nor will it be the last. Time has always existed samurai, we have always existed. We exist here and now, and yet we may exist somewhere entirely different, as men we would never recognize, or perhaps a mirror image of ourselves. And all that I have told you may seem overwhelming; or you may think it just the ramblings of an old man who has spent far too much time on his own, which is at least in part true. He paused for a moment, reaching slowly into the folds of his robes and retrieving a key, crafted finely of aged metal attached to a chain around his neck, he gazed at it, turning it over and over in his hand as he continued. But what I can tell you is that there is significance to who we are and the things we do, and that notion is more relevant to some than others. Fate and destiny are words that pious men throw around as if they were stones of inspiration which may inspire whomever they strike to greatness. But for as often as the two are used interchangeably there is, I believe, a fundamental difference between them. Fate is, as I have explained to you, the result of mans inaction. Fate finds men who have resigned themselves to helplessness. Destiny is the eventuality of your choices. Taking a deep breath, the very solemn halfblooded mage looked again to the lake, and pushed the ancient key back into his robe, as if it almost pained him to do so. All men will have a fate Karius, it will find them when they are old and feeble lying in their bed waiting for illness to take them. Great men will find destiny, not because they were born to, but because they have chosen it for themselves. In this regard a world is no different than a man; the destiny of any world is shaped by the will of the men who seek it, and your master chose you with this very knowledge in mind. In retrospect I should have shown more restraint, but I allowed myself a single outburst.

What my master knew seemed to be of very little importance when they razed Shunsen. I shouted spitefully, as if I could somehow have harmed such a stoic individual with my words. If he had truly wanted Minbouken to shape the destiny of Koros, surely he would have something to save the only hope left for it. The half Drow smiled as he looked at me again and the rain beat down harder on the castle roof. He did. At his last words I felt a sickness tear through my core over me as memories flooded in from that night again. With such clarity they flashed before my eyes; the way we had been woken, how the fires had already begun to burn. I remember drawing my sword to join my brothers as the iron goliaths of Aso-Miran descended upon us with shield and sword. For the first time however, I remembered my master, pushing Sevren and myself away from the rest of the students, away from battle. As I tried to push back he looked sternly into my eyes, saying not a word. To Sevren he said only: Karius must find his way to the mainland, protect him, protect our sword.

Protect our sword.

You see Karius. The deep voice of the Drow echoed through my mind, tearing me back to reality. Your master understood that it was his destiny to protect you. Because you have it within you to shape the destiny of this world, should you so choose. I should have felt honored, to know that so many other great men and women had sacrificed themselves so that I could carry their legacy, yet I felt only guilt, and shame. The same feelings I had once felt as I surrendered myself to fate in the sands of Miresh, how could I, one person, be worthy of such a sacrifice. My guilt and self-loathing had cast me down a dark spiral, I felt as though I was falling beyond the reach of any help as I asked him.

Why does this matter to you? A half Drow, in a castle thousands of miles from a school you may never lay eyes on, in a world that will never accept you? Why do you care? He leaned inward from the rain outside and began walking towards me I care about this world, because I choose to. When he reached me the half Drow leaned closer and placed a hand on my shoulder. It is in my belief, that the men capable of shaping this world have little choice in the matter. We will shape this world through our acceptance of destiny or fate; this is the only choice we have. To be presented with such a choice, with so great a scope, and such dire consequences, is in my opinion no choice at all. Gather your resolve samurai, self-deprecation, although you will at times be unable to escape it, does not suit you. Minbouken began when the first master journeyed from his home into the world, so pull yourself from doubt and tell me what it is you have learned. I took another deep breath of the cool moist air and swallowed hard, forcing the thoughts which sought to tear me apart from the inside out of my mind. I have learned many things I began, pulling the sword from my belt and placing on the old wooden table in front of me. I have learned that Minbouken cannot be defined by one mans terms. To some, it is an axe which cuts down all corruption and despotism that comes before it, one soul at a time. To others Minbouken is a dagger, which slices at the enemies of free will where they are most vulnerable, and seeks to bleed them dry. To me, Minbouken is as it must be, a sword. It is a delicate and precise instrument, and one which I now understand, was forged to strike at the heart of the tyranny which plagues Koros. The honor of the Minbouken School is lost, swallowed whole by an empire which seeks to devour the rest of this world. In my very soul I wish for vengeance, I need to know that my brothers did not die for nothing. But this is a dream I cannot realize. Minbouken is not the sword of vengeance; it is the sword which bears the weight of the peoples hope. I will find those in Koros who have engineered the oppression of her people, and in their

deaths the people will know that the sword of Minbouken is once again worthy to bear that weight. He pulled his hand away from me as I finished speaking and stepped back to the window. Perfect. He said simply. We are not heroes Karius, perhaps in the centuries to come men will learn of what we have done for the sake of our worlds. Whether or not they do is in the long term, irrelevant. We are a means to an end samurai. And the end, I assure you, is worth it. I nodded slowly, retrieving my sword from the table. So then, I asked. How does one begin to shape the destiny of the world? You will head for Daggermarsh, one of Ursas most impoverished cities and a reservoir for remnants of the shattering. There is one among this shambling semblance of civilization who is in need of your sword, one who is perhaps like yourself, inclined to shape the destiny of this world. You would do well to protect her, as you would protect any other who deserved it. It was a strange sensation that rushed over me once I heard the mysterious half Drow offer me his instructions. Though I had never before met him his words filled me with a sense of purpose, a sense that had been absent since I had washed up on the shores of this continent. I needed no further direction, no further advice. As soon as he had finished speaking I stood up from the old wooden chair and moved towards the door of the chamber. There will be others samurai. He shot quickly before I could reach the door. Im sorry? Regardless of his own strength of will a man cannot shape the destiny of an entire world alone Karius. He smiled; reaching again into his robes, clutching what I could only assume was the same key, although he did not remove it this time. You will find others like yourself in Daggermarsh, souls with the force of will to restore Koros to the glory it once knew. Value your companions and their words. You may disagree with them, vehemently so, but believe me when I say; there will come a day when you long for even their most dissenting of opinions.

*** Just as my memories of my exodus from TajRael are shrouded in a sort of mental fog, so too is my memory of my journey to the crossroads outside of Daggermarsh. Although the geography would have indicated it was a relatively short trip, and that the castle itself must have existed on a lake that sits just inside the borders of Aso-Miran I have no recollection of either my journey there, or here. Strangest of all the kindly merchant who awoke me as I lay, vulnerable on the side of the road had traveled the roads between Aso-Miran and Ursa many times and had no knowledge of a castle which sat upon that lake. Maybe centuries ago He told me, with a look of sheer confusion on his face. Sure folks dig up all sorts of trinkets and stones, some of the older scholars would tell you there was a great big castle there a long time ago but that would have to have been even before the sundering. I did not question beyond that, I did not need to. Strange as the circumstances leading me to Daggermarsh had been, I now understood why I had been sent from my home, and what it truly was to be Minbouken.