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The Dissonant Poet (Closed Journal Open to Commentary)

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[Hellloooo! So, I had the need to release some creative thinking and I figured there's no better place to simultaneously do this and (hopefully) give everyone some strange glimpses into Razeyha'li Venyhs "The Poet"! Most posts will just be simple musings of things or of a memory. Some posts will be snippets of a journal, the sky is the limit! For all intensive purposes this is a closed RP thread. If by chance you want to have a character meet Raze just PM me. That way you can be added to this collection after I write something about it! Any links posted below are suggested listening. Happy Reading!]



Suggested listening for all three musings:



Someone asked about his mask:


"A face is nothing... it isn't a now nor a future; it is a past, a marking of happenings and chances and betrayals and admonishes. It is a sight of the lost, or the lonely in the night. It is a edict of the just and the staunch or the mask of the pained and cruel. A face, merely a thing, a little thing that when whisked away can slaughter a family. Can mutilate a love once pure. This face, this piece of carcass, you wish to see is merely a sliver of all these things. A slice of what is to be seen within that has choked down a man's dead soul leaving behind this shell and the aberration that you see before you. 'Neath this mask are the ashes of memories. Forgive a Poet whom won't allow you to suffer their image.




Someone thought it would be a smart idea to threaten him:


                "Ask a beast to show something and bared claws is all that lay 'neath the thin guise of his grin. Ask it to speak and it will release a roar so as to mark the moment as warning with the subtly of boarders you encroach upon. Such is its way, the beast of Word and of Will and of elements thrice before you. Such the way his fangs find prey and he bathes in the knowing of one more befallen a Burning Poet's purgation. Worry not defiled soul... forgiveness is in all. Forgiveness as from a monster hidden in the plain sight of masks and robes as the one before you. Declarations and visions attuned and left to flutter the air in whimsy above you mind... surely so. Allow him though one more word of caution to your error. Remain here moments longer to linger your filth and this beast will merely laugh as you burn."





Regarding the Twelve:


                "Worthless husks companied only by the incarnations of hollow and vacuous hearts of the hopeful and the weak willed. Upon our sights and our conditions thought so little as to be diseases upon their homeland and egress forced upon them to escape the clutches of the very same illness. Sheltered in hiding and captivity attuned only to those whom upon they through a droplet of their attention to whilst the others of prayer and faith and devotion rot on their needs in pleading cowardice. Of what beauty did they create? Of what upon this ground was not forged by the hands of us, the warring rubbish they sought to escape from? Nay... Nay no Twelve rules over a beast. Nay do they give it task or command.  Nay for a Poet's power is in Word and Will and in such each one by one denounced for their pitiful attempts to be above all else.  Speak not a word of them for favor is their least deserving sound."

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[Raze suffers from very strong flashbacks. Here he's looking back to the night he left his family with his lover, the night he came up with the idea, and the night that same lover stabbed him so he couldn't go with her to the last battle...  Suggested listening for this post below!]






"What is so difficult to underst-"

"She's not one of us! What's so hard to not understand?!"

[align=center]"Where will you even go?"[/align]

"How are you going to even get there?"

"We'll manage."

[align=center]"MAN.... Manage?You'll... manage?"[/align]

"You're just going to continuously be the family mistake aren't you?"

[align=center]"Stop it Raz'a."[/align]

"Why should I, Zey'to?Why should I?!"

[align=center]"He's your brother! Reason enough."[/align]

"He's leaving us with not a clue of what's out there to go I dunno frolic in the forests with some... some... outsider!"

"More frolicking then you do."


"See?! He doesn't even care. Now I don't have to. Fine go run off and get killed."

"Why care when you two don't?"

[align=center]"Why wouldn't we care?"[/align]

"She's not one of us. Think about it Raze! It was worse enough when you started this ridiculous... Bard... business. Now you want to shame your mother by leaving?"

"You didn't defend us."


"You're killing your mother. You're destroying whatever respect her name has left. You worthless arroga-"

"Are you going to get out of my way?"

"Why don't you make me Bow-boy?"

[align=center]"ENOUGH! Both of you shut up. You're brothers... try to remember that. Raze put your bow down you're not leaving right now. Raz'a... go simmer down."



"Their faces have been blurred continuously rubbed away from thoughts and memories. Yet still a haunted night when the wind is too cold to open a window and the hearth too high that it makes the lonely choke on air. That night is seen, the first steps together, the sound of her voice. The smile that will never be seen again. All lost still in the shifting sands of loss. Goodbye my brothers."


                As the waters flowed by his feet, the sound of trickling accompanied by the brushing swoosh of the sea colliding with a slowly eroding cliff face keeping him company in this thoughts. The poet could merely raise a hand to his face  grasping the ornamental carved oaken mask and pry it away from its usual resting sanctuary to allow the sea breeze to cut against his skin. The sliding of wood from his grasp offered it no protection as the symbol of his purpose fell to the ground clamoring with a booming thunderous bang that only he could hear.



"No... no don't say that. Just a little longer and they'll come around."

"We need to stop this Raze... We need to stop pretending like we can be somethi-"

"We are something."

"Stop it! Your mother's right this is childish. We're better than this."

"She'll come around. You'll see."

"And what if she doesn't? What happens when my tribe finds us here one night? Then what?"

"Then... We'll leave. Together."

"Leave where? Leave how?"

"We'll manage... Please just trust me."

"I love you..."

"Yes well I love you more so let's just not think about it, ok?"

"Yeah... you probably do."

"Oh... you are such a cruel woman."


"When could have it been a goodbye? He wandered in wondering at the thought. When was it all forgiven so as to watch her leave through that door? When. When were decisions made without a voice to give them power? When was loss acceptable? To burn ever more with questions unending and streaming along in each drop of rain and each spring breeze. To burn each image  and each memory with a stain of red then caked with the burial of loss."

"The people are getting restless... it's coming soon isn't it?"

"We'll be long gone by the time it does. Come on we don't have time to spare."

"I want to help them."

"There's nothing we can do."

"That doesn't mean we should be running away."

"What are you saying...?"

"I'm saying i'm going out there. I'll volunteer with one of the militia battalions."

"Well if you're heart-set on getting yourself killed then I guess I'm co-"




"When did a knife become your love? When did I become its sheath?" Words were spoken out to the sea as though a shadow of a ghost could hear them and yet again, none answered him.

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[Wanted to show off the "evil" part of his Lawful Evil alignment.:evil: Suggested listening begins mid-way through the post so be sure to start it when you actually get to it! Happy reading!]






                Most nights were simple things in the Poet's life. Most were sleepless hours scrapping across his consciousness as he studied or wrote. Some night were heated with the company of others. Others still were the relinquishment of pride where sleep was so longed for that complex tinctures were grabbed from the nightstand drawer. Suffering one such night he would cloak himself in a heavier robe, sliding the hood over his head till the ears slipped into place. Boots would be wearily stepped into and his symbol of purpose, that precious wooden mask of his would be clutched from the nightstand only to be placed upon its pedestal and hide the woeful face from the world.



                The night air was cold, no doubt carried in by the sea breeze that was intent on blowing against the fabrics of his hood. The cold was nice though a welcomed temperature to do battle against the ever-warmth of his skin. AS he stepped onward, the aches of his neck forces him to roll his head back as he released a purposeful breath into the air releasing a spray of tiny ice crystals each glistening with the moonlight. With the caught sight of one extremely confused Elezen likely a dockworker the Poet would off a small respectful bow of his head to the man before continuing onward.


                His stroll lead him through the markets and through the cork-screw of silence that was the central spire of the port town and much to his regret he found no one or thing to catch his attention and alleviate his wandering thoughts and then from just around a rounded corner tucked away at the end of a curve.... Fated silence gave the Poet just what he sought. The barbaric gruff of a pirate... no... two as a second voice commanded someone to hold still. A third raised his voice, wisdom amongst the lowly animals of the world.


                "Hurry up." His voice was particularly shaky knowing well the poor decisions his crew mates were making. 





                He paused, boots thudding ever so softly as he turned his head to the right down a darker section of docks where clearly a ship had been docked. 

Brimstone slowly billowed from the Poet's mouth before he was forced to open it unleashing a puff of spark and embers into the air. With clenched fists he shot himself forward leaving a brief trail of the same brimstone in his wake before he turned a corner and upon him was the face of one mangy, if wise,  Hyur urchin.


                The mixture of horror and surprise on his face was quickly taken from him as the beast that had caught them was no merciful man. There was a moment of silence as the lookout tried to breath but it was already too late. The Poet's fist had already reached its mark, crashing first into the Hyur's midsection and then igniting to unleash a point blank blast of concussion and flames that curled around his body marking his shadow with the corona of retribution before he fell to the ground...


                The others watched his crewmate collapse to the ground his corpse smoldering with the remnant of heat that was left in him as his dead flesh cooked itself. The others were, one Duskwright armed kindly with his lance already in hand and one more Hyur  whom held a Lady Miqo'te against a wall as she struggled for freedom and for words the gag she sported wouldn't allow.  Not soon after the woman was thrust to the ground to be exchanged for a sword. Within second the Poet's arms were engulfed in the churning rage of his inner Flames. The eyes of his mask erupted with the golden and white billows of his wrath.


                "Suffer your reckoning .." He groaned out as black smoke and sparks burst from his lips in delicate puffs.  The taunt worked well; the lancer of an Elezen came charging forward aiming for the Poet's midsection for a quick kill whilst his last ally remained behind. The rush of air would have been felt as  the spear rushed just passed him as his body turned allowing the Elezen to double the pike back around for a second swing. The Poet however would be taken by surprise again instead waiting for the Elezen to full extend his strike before grasping the pole arm and unchaining a torrent of lightning that crawled up the shaft and into his metallic gloves until he let go and fell to the grown as well.



"Undeserving of a monster's mercy..." The embers were spit down at the second urchin before the pole arm was stabbed down into his heart that is had so ached for in his hands. The jolt of vibrant purples that traveled down the weapon once more left the stench of cooked flesh to permeate into the air even more. "Run now... take flight and cross the oceans by morn- lest you wish to see me again." The last remaining Hyur looked in dazed fear of the sight before him. With little else of an option as he watched the cloaked Poet approaching with his eyes slowly dimming back down to a masked lifelessness.


                He made the wise choice; dropping his sword and running passed the Poet to get away and live another day but alas there is no mercy for the wretched. With a swing of his arm the Poet raised a icy palm backwards and from the ground a bright light would flash fracturing ice would rise up and as he released out one last frozen-hearted breath into the air. He shrilled out his last breath as his body was impaled by the frozen spike blood dripping down the angled spire of ice that now cradled his lifeless body just above the ground. The silence encroached the two remaining as colder black eyes fell upon the woman.


[align=center]"Fear not the hand of a Poet M'lady. Forgive the beast before you for these acts you had to bear witness to.

You'll find no harm in the comfort of my arms, nor any worry in the shelter of my words.

Take upon your form this cloak and allow yourself decency

whilst a Poet carries you to your home."[/align]

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