||09-16-2012 09:12 AM
A Memoir on Corruption
A Memoir on Corruption
“The life of an arrow is fleeting, built of nothing but direction and intent.”
Within my lifetime, I was told I had what it takes to be a hero. Within skill there is honor, and with honor comes duty; so the elders would say. But alas, it must seem so easy to rely only on one’s will to those who have lived a life willfully forsaken of everything but their own sweat and blood. No, I was a different man entirely. I was a prideful man and rightfully so. I possessed something of worth in life, and their duty ensured it was taken away.
Perhaps it would be best to start from the beginning. I possessed unprecedented skill with a bow in my country. The Fletcher was my lifeblood, and The Huntsman my meat and bone. No arrow of my making was incapable of the perfect shot, and I demonstrated this quite adeptly upon numerous occasions. Yet, despite my artisan skills there is more to a man than vocational sustenance and the admiration of his peers; there comes a time when deeper emotions stir within his maturing ego, and at these moments he peeks into the future and somehow ends up falling in love. My dearest love, whom I can barely suffer to remembrance despite my much changed form, was a simple woman. At the same time, she was the type of simple woman who could even make a proud man even such as I feel, on most occasions, quite humbled. I shared with her my loyalty unmatched by anything except that to my duty, and our blossoming affection gave fruit to my most precious child. Of course, it was not yet at this time I was chosen for the momentously hypocritical position. However there had been whispers, I was perhaps too caught up in the moment to consider things as gravely as I do now. But the time would indeed come…
And then it was so. After a few years of being a father, my country called upon me to become something greater. They would ensure the security of my livelihood and my family, and in return I devoted my body and soul to their stalwart temple. Of course, I accepted the request of warder with the upmost delight. I was a very superficial man back then and only saw how good it made me; how could I have ever foreseen the consequences? Ignorant as I was, I served with neither complaint nor woe while I continued living my life the way I had been raised to believe was proper. Over the course of many months, things began to change. The Noxians decided my country was under dominion to their own. When I had heard news of this, I was determined to protect the temple grounds at any cost. Like a horse trained with blinders, I could only see the road set in front of me that my maters wanted me to see. Quite simply, I was incapable of thinking I should have any duty other than to protect that temple. When the Noxians came, I did in fact protect that temple. I did so valiantly, yet it was only a greater farce to produce my most regrettable grievances. I was not there for the ones I should have truly protected.. I was not there to hold on to what truly mattered… The anguish and pain did well to enlighten me. It was then I could see the corruption. My country which had sworn to preserve me and become my benefactor is in fact a self-serving creature, as are all beings, conglomerate or otherwise. If they would have me sip the sweet poison of their corruption for so long, why should I not then choose my own?
Bursting open the seals to the temple, I relinquished my duty as warden that day and chose my own path to follow. Let what weaklings fear become my weapon, the only true curse in when a man chooses to let someone else’s beliefs usurp his own. I will gather the blood of those Noxians that killed my family, and then add the vile filth to my own festering infection. I have nothing to live for and only vengeance to bestow. So let me exchange the chains of servitude for the darkening corruption and truly feel alive.