The Archivist's Pen

A few days after a botched-up IOP, I met a friend along the stairwell, early in the morning. Once again the evil spirit of self-loathing hath taken me, in part due to certain posts by people about their awesome IOPs, or disappointments about their so called "failures" (Argh! I forgot to address the symbolic relevance the capital letters in the Poem mean to the overall theme of Life, Death and Torture in my twenty-third content slide! NUUUUUUUU~!)

Anyway, I met that friend. And said to him unto the heavens: "God, why do my presentation skills suck so much!?"

To which he replied (the friend, not God), "well, everyone screws up their presentations sometimes"

"Well, everyone I know didn't"

"Everyone you know being?"

"You know, (insert name), (insert another name) and of course, (insert named name)"

"That's different...those people are well...er" he paused, looking at me, "well, one's a entertainer, the other's a dam good Speaker." As for the third, neither of us needed to say anything. He just well, was.

And as I read their blogs today, yesterday, and perhaps tomorow, I can't help but to think back to those descriptions; And wonder.

I wonder how childhood friends of the King used to feel like?

I am...privileged. Very, very privileged. I live in a place, a very secluded, isolated glade - a Garden of Eden, so to speak - surrounded by people, friends, classmates, each and everyone one of them an exemplar of society. Of themselves. And each and every one of them, I know and consider a friend.

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In DnD, there is always the standard party. Warrior, Cleric, Rogue and Wizard. The main Four of the fantasy archetype - the same Four that almost all Heroes are based on today. Each with their strengths, powers and abilities, all equal in their own special way. Some would say when such archetypes were made, they broke the mold. Every single hero, class or idea that came after was mostly a variation or combination of these four.

Indeed, for when the mould was broken, someone found the pieces. And glued them together, not knowing which was which. And from these shattered pieces a fifth archetype was created, one which lingers in the background to this day. A warrior, a thief, a wizard, a cleric. All of them yet none of them, a pale shadow of the Four.

And like a shadow he follows, writing everything down. Speaks well? Some do. Others just remember their deeds in song. Reading, writing, recording everything down. A follower, always watching; for what is an adventure if no one tells the tale?

Jack-of-trades, ad-hoc member and sai-kang warrior extraordinaire; Friends and family, meet the Bard.

Fifth party member of the Four.