TheBalladOfMayBlue

+-+-+-+ ☆ ♫ ~| THE |~ +-+-+-+-+ ~| BALLAD OF |~ +-+-+-+-+-+-+ ☆ ~| MAYBLU |~ ♬ +-+-+-+-+-+-+ ~| THE MIGHTY |~ +-+-+-+-+-+

+∋*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*∈+ MALAFLY'S ◎ HERO COMPENDIUM ◎ BOOK I +∋*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*∈+

You may find, in modern times, a rampant self-obsession. Where kindness is not given without the pairing of a question. Where goodness wears a gilded mask to beg its own reflection.

Yet still the sun will feed the field, the beggar, and the king. It does not ask the hearts it warms what gratitude they bring. To give is in its nature, as the song is to the string.

Now greed has clouded hearts and deeds, and rainfall feeds the stone. The streetlamps, too, are desperate for a warmth they've never known. For those that shine yet loathe their light make cold the love they've shown.

Mayblu arose beneath the weight of all the world's disdain. Her spirit pressed by ceaseless care, became a diamond vein. And from that buried hurt was born a hope that shall remain.

Some give for show, some give for shame, their hearts both bound and blind. They wait for coin, for praise, for proof of what they've left behind. The lagging streets are choked with greed while Mayblu gives in kind.

The search for those to give to is itself a joyful art. Each gift bestowed with understanding nourishes the heart. The giver and receiver share a single, sacred part.

You often say "I give to those who have deserved my hand", But the river flows to all of those who thirst upon the land. The courage to accept the gift is strength few understand.

Do not wait for asking, do not seek reward or fame. The open-handed giver knew her worth is not in name. Her life became a river flowing steady without claim.

Upon those shifting banks we thank that Mayblu's in our game.