Firesky

The sky was on fire, and even the storm-tossed waves of the ocean were not enough to quell it. Manthiem stood, on the shore, where once had been ocean, then shore, and now ocean again. The heavens were returning what should have been to their proper place. The races had long corrupted and tortured the land to do their bidding, and finally, after years of slavery, the Rythian culture had their way. This was their land- as it always should have been. Free, wild, and untamed; the sky and earth ever at war. Wind gusted around him, as he stood in the gravelly land, feeling the sharp edges beneath his weathered feet. This was their home after all. It had been centuries since they had had such freedom. A ghostly smile lit his somber face. It was not often that he smiled, for his countenance was usually one of a stern expression, and one to be feared if the other was not in Manthiem's good graces that day. Then again, few stayed out of Manthiem's good graces and lived to tell the tale. Such was the way with the Guild. Though workmen of the earthen materials, they had their hierarchy, and it was kept with an iron fist.

Now though, things had broken apart. Fractions formed, and fractions within them. Now, as it had once been in the former centuries, it was every man for himself, battling against the very will of Mother Nature herself. Such was the case now. Manthiem had come to view the storm, the setting sun, and the white topped waves. It was always a time for contemplation, and introspection if he had the heart to. It was a dangerous step, that much was clear. To risk such utter betrayal of the forest rules, and to so reveal himself to the open winds, was to risk injury, or in the worst cases, death, but it was a risk Manthiem knew he had to take. Somehow, he had to clear out the confusion and turmoil in his mind. If the winds were at war with each other, what was to say that they would not sweep such from his mind? Such was the hope at last.

The storm thickened though, lightening flickering across the sky, reaching down to smite the earth in it's wake. The wind too, gusted all the more fiercely, stirring the waves into a frothing turmoil that slapped at the stones along the shore, testing their endurance. Thunder rumbled, quickly turning into a roar that left the eardrums reverberating for many long moments afterward. Manthiem found himself stumbling, the strong outer sea currents tugging at his feet, and threatening to steal the dagger from his thigh. The sodden blue robe clung to him at the legs, but then the wind pushed and pulled at the the upper half, threatening to blow it into the the nether-lands. Manthiem waited a moment longer, pushing his luck. The waves nearly cause him toe capsize, to full head over heals in to the water, but yet he remained.