[Monkeyboy_McGee]

Ruatha was sitting in his house, a nice little cottage positioned on the mouth of Zormite's cove. He gazed about at his vast array of largely useless belongings, most of which were bristling out of overburdened chests. Over half the house was covered in these large, splintering old chests which had seen many a day, many a move and even a few fights in their time. He was actually quite fond of the useful old things, as without them his house would really be overrun with stinking ugly things.
He sighed, closing his eyes for a while as he scratched his beard. This was where he lived, where he had always lived, yet he felt a great sorrow, a shadow, gradually tightening its grip about his heart. There was nothing he could do. He knew that all around him, and all about the archipelagos, bad things were happening, and things were unfolding rapidly, revealing many vile things which were completely out of his control. He would have to find the reigns of these things and forcefully take control, or else his belongings, his home, his entire world that he held so dear would be lost to decay and destruction.