[b]Lennard[/b]

Lennard slowly woke up this morning with the taste of insalubrious rum which still abruptly stained his mouth from the night before of heavy drinking, another night that deserved the utmost disdain and ignorance which served as an escape from his delusional reality that was his former life. It was the anniversary of the attack on the 'Skyreacher', a large vessel battle-airship Lennard Bronnard Elias Kliemer the Third once belonged to when he was serving his country during the Great War 5 years ago. A ship that crash landed behind enemy lines. Lennard, as well as 5 other survivors out of the 2000 who served and worked on that ship, was the sole survivor of that crash and one of the only few who survived the insuring events that took place afterwards. A eventful memory in which Lennard tries hard to forget. 

He could not remember his dreams, nor would he want to for his drinking had simply helped permit any memories of the past that could ever creep up on him as this served as an excuse to elude from all pangs of the reprehensible past that still haunted his memory. The crushing memory of severed ties between friends as he had to watch them die during that terrible event. 

Lennard opened his heavy eyelids to  breathe in the conscious, fresh air the morning would bring and caught the glimpse of the morning sky he saw from the window of his room aboard his air vessel. Across from him, was his paneled window which overlooked the yon, crisp valley and deep cliffs of the misty vale below. A peaceful sight for a concerned, disturbed mind as sunlight soaked the pale morning sky with a small, charming delight. Beside the window, there lay a upright Piano made of cherry wood, a gift given to him as a gift from a dear friend (and fellow musician) from the music capital and on top there stood a statue of a long dead composer (who probably would be best if his name wasn't revealed) with long messy hair and a disdained, serious look on his face. The piano was the instrument Lennard admired the most, not just because it had a long history to his life but a place where Lennard can escape to in order to groan, suffer, and pour his despair at. He always held high confidence in his playing abilities and would sometimes play drunk in the taverns where he receives his drinks, surly the Piano was in all regards, both a symbol and token of expression. 

While on the other side of the window, a map of the entire known world hung from his wall along with some blue tacks that marked the places he has ever been while the white ones represented the places where he would like to visit and the red ones, places he would most likely not want to visit. Mainly due to most probably: imminent death from vicious pirates who loathed him on that side of the world, from utter boredom, or from the Gods knows what lies beyond the treacherous fog which only a brave few have traveled deep enough into and come out with both inspiring and galvanize tales of danger and mystery. Tales which aroused feelings of exploring and delving into the unknown in search of adventure and what  spoils that followed. [i]Wanderlust[/i] they called it in the olden tongue, a feeling which also sparked thousands of other adventurers or opportunists to travel into the fog. Maybe one day, Lennard thought, he too could travel and his dreams of delving into the unknown could help him escape from the false, delusional world of pain and misery that plagued Lennard's mind from what he experienced in war. An escape from false reality. But little did Lennard know that these coveting desires would come true, and with such unexpected haste...