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Buland

The Autumn Voyage

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I'm not quite sure how to introduce myself, since I have been an active member in the past of not just this forum but also The Library in general (back when there were two subforums; RuneScape Stories and The Library). I have written and completed two stories on this forum (Fall of Geilinor and The Dark Essence), both of which have received thousands of views.

 

It appears that even after my years of inactivity I find myself back here for a reason unbeknownst to myself and I am glad. This place feels like a treehouse from childhood and it does feel good to be back (or at least to try to make a comeback). I don't hope to be a hot topic or for my story to get thousands of views. I just require a platform to express my love for this browser-based gem of a game from my childhood through my thirst to write and Sal's gives me just that - with an added bonus of wonderful people!

 

This story is still a work-in-progress but you can sure expect intriguing and engrossing characters and a vast, unfolding plot that will surely captivate you and make you want to read more and more! Thank you for taking the time out to read this.

 

P.S. I will edit this post with the prologue and the first chapter of The Autumn Voyage as soon as I am done writing it.

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Welcome back man. Can't wait to go on an autumn voyage.

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Prologue:

 

The seas were rolling their highest tide. The wind was blowing its widest gust. The salt from the waves touched the lips of the sailors aboard the wooden construct meant to stay afloat, which only managed to do the bare minimum. It was autumn. The wind wasn't supposed to blow so wide, nor were the waves supposed to rise so high. It was almost unlikely. Almost because there was a likelihood of it happening, but almost because it never did. This was the first time it ever happened. Winds blowing in autumn. Leaves falling gently on ground, but the water being pushed hurriedly through the wind on sea. The sailors aboard the wooden construct have been through one too many violent storms. They've seen it all. The rising tide, the salt in their mouths, the water in their boots, the rain, the waves, the longing of the flesh of another, the warmth of the fresh grog. The sailors were swaying amid the storm they'd never seen in all their forty-six years. The whole lot of them.

But the autumn voyage wasn't the only fascinating thing about the time. Much like the wooden construct afloat the waves of salt, there was also another construct afloat a sea of demise. The construct of the heart is a much harder voyage to fare through. Sophia, a young maiden in the palace of Varrock, sat on her bed in contemplation as she awaited her summoning. Today was the day she would be summoned for the matter of the heart. A union of royals made only possible through the prearrangement of a higher supervision. She sat next to her supposed meant-to-be, and she gave in. She couldn't resist the allure of the autumn voyage. A voyage, which despite all protest, if made is one worthy of making. She made it. She sat next to her supposed husband, and she didn't love him. But he was good. He was equally caught in the web of influence of higher powers. He only meant good. She succumbed. They thrived.

And so, the autumn voyage went on. The sailors held onto the ropes for dear life amid Poseidon's rocking. They had to reach their destination no matter what. They couldn't fail to the open sea. Not when more than half their journey was already covered. Even Poseidon couldn't offset Guthix's balance. Everything is meant to be; the right place, the right time. If only we could realise. The sailors didn't.

Sophia had two children with her beloved husband. She was a proud mother of a structured daughter and a chaotic, younger son. The wind changed direction. What seemed progressive started to prove regressive. What appeared a blessing, only seemed like a curse. Sophia was trapped. Not in the conforms of society or familial responsibility. She was trapped in her own desire to nurture. What is a girl to do? Does she break, or does she sail onwards in this autumn voyage we call life? She laid back, relaxed, and went with the vicious current of her life. She didn't let any of it wash over those around her. She breathed in the water on her own, never drowning another. Just like the autumn leaves, she made her voyage to the rotting soil. She fell, in hopes of a blooming spring, but she gave herself.

The Autumn Voyage sails to the Spring Shore.

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