Ink, Fire, and the Northern Shore

Originally written on April 29, 2024


Create a panoramic, atmospheric landscape illustration in a 16:9 aspect ratio, rendered in a detailed, painterly style reminiscent of classic fantasy art. The scene depicts the rugged environment of the "Northern Mountain Coast" at early morning. Feature dramatic, rocky cliffs with sheer drops, varied ledges, and rippled rock faces plunging towards a restless, deep blue sea with visible waves crashing against the base. Nestled on a green, grassy plateau near the cliff edge, depict a small, distant coastal village or settlement consisting of sturdy, wooden A-frame and cottage-style buildings that blend naturally with the surroundings. Include a mix of vegetation: some lush greenery and rounded trees suggesting sheltered areas near the settlement, transitioning to hardier, wind-swept coastal trees clinging to the higher cliff faces. The lighting should be soft early morning golden light, with sun rays potentially breaking through lingering sea mist that clings to the lower cliffs and water surface. The overall mood should be vast, slightly wild, beautiful, and evocative of a fantasy world closely tied to the sea and rugged terrain. Crucially, there should be absolutely no people, figures, or specific identifiable characters visible in the scene. Focus entirely on the natural environment and the settlement as part of the landscape.



Abstract:
To start, Kindred, a young man, lives in a coast fantasy town. There, he studies hundreds of different books everyday that he buys with his money earned from working as a farmhand. In addition, along with reading books, he writes down his thoughts. Then, collating knowledge overtime, an impressive enough personal home library sprouts from his efforts. Ultimately, with this library, he will understand the world.

Chapter 1 - Checking In
Kindred slammed his hands against his desk, making sure each word came in strong, his fingers gripping the quill like a master bait-fisher.

He looked around and began to notice a strange scent in the air.

The burning of his library.

He ran and burst down three double-steps before leaping, gripping the wooden railings and then going back down gently before jumping from the 8th step to the ground. He went out and saw the side of a cliff with various ledges and circular rippled rock faces. In the vastness, the rock separated him and a large village-looking A-frame house on green grass and nice-looking round trees with a ton of tropical vegetation.

He needed to get there in time, because he came from his small retreat cottage and was now hoping to reach the library, which lay behind the aforementioned house.

He immediately took the path by the side of the cliff and went to the other side, reaching the house.

There, he saw friends of his, a family of six, through the window, and it was currently evening relaxation for them. He knocked on the door.

They opened it.

"How are you doing Kindred?" said the mother, Linda Reyes. "It's been a while, hasn't it? What have you been doing these past months?"

"Writing an average of 4,300 words everyday for 74 days?" said Kindred Maven.

"Good, it's nice to see you're still working on your writing," she said, nodding.

Kindred's voice was rough, but he softened it up by clearing his throat a little, even making a bubble-like sound.

He then said: "Yeah... I've been studying a lot, and I've been making plans to work with researchers and scholars hopefully to make some real progress."

"Okay. It was nice seeing you again. Why are you here?"

"I smell the library burning? How did you guys not smell it?"

"Huh! Really! I thought it was just my cooking!"

"No, it wasn't! Can we go now!"

"Yeah! Let's go! Get the buckets, Matthew, Mark, Adrian!"

Her husband, John, was already heading outside with two buckets of water he got from behind the house. His boys followed, bringing large buckets of their own.

They headed alongside Kindred, bringing the water to the library, where they saw a figure there.

Fire was floating at the top of the man's raised left hand, and then he promptly made it disappear.

Kindred stared, stopping and lowering his bucket to the ground. The parents and the children did as well, staring in silence before whispering to each other.

The man looked at them, tilting his head. "It's nice to see you guys. I was hoping to understand why the building is burning. I'm the one who burned it, but the reason for it was because it was already burning with blue fire."

Kindred nodded. "So what should we do?"

"Just please stay there and let my fire burn away the blue fire. This will take a while, so please be patient and relax for the meantime. I apologize for the inconvenience, and I appreciate your understanding."

"Okay..." Kindred said, confused why a man would be here burning stuff. He knew about blue fire and the mechanism of burning away blue fire with a specific kind of flame magic. However, he was just in shock a little because he was expecting to spend hours extinguishing a burning library. It was indeed burning, but since this land was large, he did not expect one of the soldiers of the lord of the land to be here so quickly.

The man in front of them was this soldier.

The man handled the rest of the work, and after Kindred and his friends returned the buckets of water, they had a strangely relaxing sleep after sweating themselves out that much. The physical journey was long and beautiful with walking through the jungle.

The next day, the day moved slowly, with Kindred waking up with his head close to the ceiling of his bed. He got out of bed and looked around, his head in a daze.

He had a long dream about men kissing other men.

"Dafuk?" he said before looking outside, worried about what happened yesterday. "Okay... I... think... we... are... good..."

He lay down on the floor.

Dazed for a while...

Wait a minute.

He got up immediately and put on his clothes, bolting out the door.

The door closed with a bang.

Later, there at the site of the burning library, he was shocked.

A group of adventurers were inspecting the site, and wizards were helping magically repair the library.

"Omagah!" Kindred said.

After settling down and getting comfortable, an adventurer walked up to him, saying, "Hi, we're here to help make sure that the place is safe."

The adventurer's name was Brandon. He smiled. "I hope we're not bothering too much. There was only supposed to be soldiers here—from your lord."

He looked at one of the soldiers who had his hands crossed behind his back awkwardly.

The soldier was getting talked down by an older man.

The older man was also in a group of thoughtful-looking men with some wearing adventurer clothes. 

Brandon brought Kindred back to him: "But one of the soldiers, Markus, learned that there are a lot more dangerous implications about this instance of burning. Don't worry, we'll handle things for you. If you want to ask us any questions, just go. I'm currently confused as well, but I can give you the scope of our operation. For now..." He grinned.

He glanced at the wizards reparing and adventurers standing around and sitting on their haunches.

"...I apologize for the inconvenience, and I appreciate your understanding." He bowed slightly, making noises with his armor, strapped items, his belt gear and potions, and his sheated sword.

He then walked away, while Kindred nodded perfunctorily.

Kindred paused, frozen in polite posture and expression; before he looked around with a squint. "What... the... hell..."

Meanwhile, some of the wizards were talking.

"Hey, you see that guy," said one of them. "He's one of those scribes. Why is he here? Isn't he supposed to be writing?"

"This is his personal library, doofus," said another. "Get it together. I know the girl hitting on you broke your heart. I know you like men, bro. Shut up and focus."

"Bruh, stop exposing me like that. I like feminine 'men', not men. There's a difference."

"Bruh, stop lying."

"Bruh, you're the one lying to me."

"Hey, dudes, keep quiet. Boss is coming."

Kindred heard that, and he had another 'watdafuk' moment, but he did not think too much, leaving and sitting down and waiting for the library to be accessible again. 

When the library finally completed, Kindred sighed with relief, entering the library again. "Thank goodness. I really wanted to just be back, thank goodness. I love this place like hell." He placed his hands against a raised wooden surface and rubbed his right hand across it, the rectilinear texture rubbing back.

He checked his rubbery hand, and a warm smile appeared on his face. Groups of writing equipment fell upon a table, his hands quick to catch them from the shelves.

He did not think the wizards would repair everything, so he was not that surprised.

He sat down immediately and placed his hands together, stretching them and struggling to grab the quill. The satisfaction of holding the quill had to be saved for later.

So he stood up and watched the bucolic setting outside, his mind accepting offers for more literary and intellectual stimulation.

Time passed, and the vastness of the land expanded.

After settling down, he placed his first word, "bucolic."

The word exploded like hundreds of vines stretching and attaching to various points in the forest, injecting the biological structures with sustaining fluids that rendered everything one cohesive entity altogether.

He wrote a phrase, "red dull signs spread disparately across the land."

The phrase sundered the morn, crafting within it dynamics of beauty that stretched further and further unto eternity until it closed harmoniously. Booms widened like overstretched taut fabric beginning to break; hundreds fell upon the earth until their colors faded like a stream of water trickling down a rough rocky and grassy path unto terrestrial assimilation.

Kindred later stopped, stowing his writings away for now.

He went outside, excitedly watching the sky.

He went a long distance to a nearby inn, where he removed his purple cloak and sat down near the entrance.

He greeted one of the regulars, being one of them.

"How are you?" said a regular named Sam.

"Good," said Kindred. "How about you?"

"Good, good. What's going on with you lately? Anything interesting you want to share?"

"Nah, things are simple right now."

"Really? How simple? 

"Nothing crazy's happening."

"What do you mean? Interested in interesting things?"

"What do you mean? I'm interested in simple things—"

"I mean adventuring."

"I'm not going to be a part of any adventurers any time soon.

"Really? Unfortunate."

"But I could watch them from the safety of my abode. I will do that."

"Okay then. But what if someone wanted you to be a part of their adventurers?"

"So yeah... about that... if anyone dared drag me, I might not like it, but I am open-minded. Who knows where my journey may take me?"

But for now, he world would grow smaller and smaller, but he would watch it from his viewpoint—the viewpoint of a scribe.

Chapter 2
A scribe had his peculiarities. From another angle, it was said that anyone would draw because sight was most intrinsic to the human being. But when it came to the scribe, they were spoken of as if they were heavenly swords sheathed and shackled in the hands of a ruler or lord. They were associated with regal matters, so anyone that did not fit the category were cast like meager paltry things.

For many people, this was sufficient material basis for jurisdiction.

That was why Kindred was one, if not a esteemed member, of the Discreet and Highly Praised Scribes of the Nothern Mountain Coast. 

With time, Kindred became accustomed to his stature among them, which was what pressed him tightly against the northern coasts, therewith unable to pack a bigger punch laden with his soul. He became tenacious with the quiet rummage of study, like men biding their time for the apostle's awakening.

In here the world vastly remained with a solemn organization, a calibrativeness shackled with a fullness-seeking mind.

His heartful mornly start remained. He was soul-tried. A been-there man he said he was, and a figure shodded with noises. From there above, the ridded sky lines refined these noises quietly to a stop. From here, the clouds previously levitated. And it was likened to magical incantations true spoken tacked with a bountiful fray-like wide-awakeness. Furthermore, he let mighty, laughter-hued gobble belie his confidence.

He clad himself with a scribe's equipment, and he drifted up to the door. He was likened to a man-wearing hat, nonsensical in basis, but with the confidence of something that dared to exist. That was his scribe-ness, a nature-state impervious to the kingly men who weren't scribes.

Kindred watched the sky, his heart blazing with glory. If he knew just how beautiful the world was, he would be utterly incapable of the defences utilized by those who had come. His heart would then be incapacitated, like a man snorting fumes from a magical structure. These were his inevitabilities.

But as for the specificities associated with these newfound perceptions, they mattered little when contrasted against his momentary actions.

He picked up a sword, understanding the details that pervaded its being. Like a man being bolstered, the sword spoke life, thrusting itself when the man that held it did so. In so acting, the sword expressed its existence as a man with a newborn child.

Men would use this for destruction, but he for life.