You Have Focus, But You Lack Rage

by Floyd Fiftynames
Licensed Bard


The first town Lothar and his friends arrived in was no bigger than Oakshadow had been, and despite some familiar trappings, nothing felt right. So when the innkeeper found out Lothar was a tanner, and actively tried to recruit him into staying, the young brute found himself re-evaluating, right then and there, what he thought his life was going to be.

He reflected on some of the places he'd been over the last few days - walking the entire length of the scar, and viewing the depths of its black abyss, and the room at the bottom of the ruins, with it's chair of pure silver. Or, for that matter, the ruins themselves, where he encountered more excitement and adventure than he ever thought he'd experience in his entire life.

He'd seen a wizard, for goodness sake. Something the ordinary would tell you doesn't exist.  Not only that, he'd killed the wizard, bringing it down as the goblin mage tried to destroy him and his friends. While fighting the wizard, Lothar, who was taking a beating, found a place deep inside him, a place that allowed him to take his frustrations and channel them into strength. I'd like to call it a focus, but Lothar wouldn't like that. He thought of it as a rage.

While he was in his rage, Lothar felt pure. He did not think, he acted, and his actions were effective. With fury came energy, and an ability to ignore physical pain as he swung his axe to and fro, chopping down his enemies like the tree he used back in Oakshadow to expunge his anger. While he was in this state, Lothar knew he was being his most natural, his most him.

He knew he wanted to find this place again, and soon. And he wouldn't get there by taking up a job as a tanner and becoming his father before he'd lived two full decades. The answer, then, was easy.

FF