Role

Chapter 13

As I trained hard, my Guildmaster guided me in the ways of the Macalla,
Ancient techniques passed from one generation to the next in secrecy and
enigma. Yet one could not simply train in what he wanted to. It is said that
the Macalla chooses you, based on your experiences, bloodlines, and so on. I
was instructed to sit in an open area surrounded by rocks and boulders in the
Arena, and meditate on my first journey of the Macalla. My guildmates, the
rock lifters crowded around me, curious of what was to come.
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There, I drifted into experiencing my last memories before washing up in the
swamp of Ysigrath. An underwater avalanche, unlike anything I had experienced
before. Mercilessly bludgeoning my body. I remembered that I succumbed to the
force of the currents - my body relatively weak, compared to what I am today.
The experience of this meditation felt different. I was different. As I got
used to the relentless currents, I managed to find my footing in the water.
Blow after blow, I endured, but I did not succumb. Eventually, I welcomed the
challenge brought by the blows, as each taught me how to more effectively
brace myself in the face of such an adversary. I opened my eyes, I was no
longer seated. My body was flexed and braced in a position to endure, just as
what had happened in my meditations. My muscles bulging and tense, I looked
around at the arena. Broken rocks laid all around me.
"Yes, Chulzor. It seems
you are the chosen of the Avalanche." Said the Guildmaster
"Oi. And you owe
us drinks and a whole new bunch o' rocks. 'e 'dold us ter keep throwing dem
at yer!"
A roar of laughter erupted through the arena.