Marvolo's history: http://magicduel.wikia.com/wiki/Marvolo
I am the Hierophant
Imagine a river running between two cliffsides. Sharp stones make part
of each side, caressed by the small plants that decided to live between
them.
They are reaching upwards, defying gravity, reaching for the Sun and his Light.
Occasionally, a rock falls down, loosened by the growing of the plants,
the thickening of their roots, or the force they put upon the soil by
their branches catching wind and water.
Between some rocks, there are some wooden poles. They are, like the plants on the cliffside, reaching upwards.
They don’t do that to reach the light and catch the sun, but for support something: a bridge.
High up, a small wooden bridge connects the two cliffs, a narrow thing, catching wind and water.
I am that Bridge.
Look now towards the river, as you cross the narrow bridge. It runs fast and rough, crushing stone and turning it into sand.
This river, comes from the bowels of the Earth, it’s source hidden deep between soil, rock, cave and stones.
Where it comes from, we do not know. We do know though, that is is a
dangerous current, and that it needs to be crossed.
I am that connection, from shore to shore, crossing the deadly current
that wants to sweep you away into the seas and oceans, only for you to
drown.
Did you take a good look at the plants above the cliff? Did you see that
tree? A thick, rough massive tree looking over the landscape. It’s
roots dig deep. Between soil, rock, cave and stones they go, drinking
the water coming from the very source of the river.
They drink, and drink the liquid that is able to sweep you away into nothingness.
Look at the trunk, the road towards the sky. It supports the grand mass
of leaves that bask in sunlight. Oh how beautiful it looks.
But do you want to look at the leaves in the sunlight, or be in the
sunlight yourself?
Imagine you are a droplet of water. You are running in the darkness of a
cave, between stones and soil. Only to be picked up by the roots of the
Tree.
I am it’s Trunk.
I transport you to the sky, to be basking in the Sunlight, to become one
of those very leaves you were looking at. Not to gaze upon beauty, but
to be it yourself.
But only, if you become a droplet of water.
I am the Bridge between two Shores,
and the River below.
The River that runs from the Source.
The Source, coming out of the bowels of the Earth.
I am the Trunk, between two masses,
The Leaves in the Sky
The Roots, digging in the Earth.
I am the Steam
Made of Water
Made by Fire
I am the Lord
Between Fire and Water
Between Air and Earth
Between Above and Below
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