I haven´t written much before, so this is probably pretty crappy, but here goes(notice the original name):

The Island of Avalon

Staring into the black of the sky the man on a boat sighed, and sank his paddle into the water once more. It cut through the sprinkling waves with weight of a thousand stars, and as he pushed the boat onwards he felt his tens of thousands of years on his shoulders as if the pain had just been there yesterday. There are no stars in the sky, nor are there clouds. He knows this is where the peace awaits, the finish of something that began so easily, so simply with but a sword and his bare hands. Now, in this endless sea it all is supposed to reach its end.

The man’s hair is grey and long, battered and splintered, yet enduring. His robe is dark blue, without a stain, yet covered in blood of thousand races. The boat is small, barely enough to hold the man afloat, and yet it slides peacefully through the water. The paddle sinks once more into the ocean, and the man remembers his path, the redemption that awaits on the other side. The deeds that were needed, the moments of sweet victory and sorrow that have kept him alive, and delivered him here, to the other side of everything. The man understood a long time ago that within his reckoning there would be no other place for him but this.

He turns his eyes to his right hand, its fiery form and six fingers. It has been granted the force of a hundred suns, and still it has no strength in this place. It does not burn the paddle, doesn´t even leave a mark. His body is weak here, it can barely keep the boat moving despite the softness of the ocean. There is nothing left for him in where he comes from, he has known and finished his purpose, and now he has abandoned himself to this place, in search of a path of meaning.

In the distance an island can be seen. Against the black sky he can´t see anything but the edges, and still there is no doubt in his mind that it is the place he has been seeking for millennia. As the shore draws closer the castle atop the rocks becomes clearer, every push of the paddle brings out further detail in the infinite complexity of the towers that reach the darkened sky and beyond.

Years pbum as the boat draws closer to the never-ending island, but without hesitation the man carries his pain, and keeps moving the boat, sliding towards the only possible end he can ever know. Finally, with the last draw of the paddle, and still without warning, the boat touches ground, and the man sways in almost surprise that he actually has reached the island of his dreams. Cautiously, but without fear he steps onto the ground, feeling grabble under his shoes, adjusting slightly as his weight is being held by it. With one step at a time the man start moving up the small path, seeing his target far up on the mountain, where the castle stand in eternal glory.

After a long time he reaches the gate, thousands of feet high and wide. Slowly his burning hand reaches for it, when the man feels a moment of doubt. He knows this is the last place where he can find meaning in his life, where the purpose might be restored in a sweet end. After the moment he touches the mbumive gates of iron and wood with his hand, and without the slightest of pushes the gates open, revealing a mbumive hall, lit with candles on all sides. In the far end of the hall there is a small door, open. In that door there stands a figure, surrounded by light emanating from behind the door. The figure is looking at the man, and soon, from the end of the hall, a godly voice is heard.

“Who are you?” The voice shout, flickering the candles flame. The man readies his voice, and answers with as much power in his voice as he can muster in this place.

“I am a bringer of horror to the mortals, I am the Persecutionist…”

“What are you doing here?”

“I have come in search for the promised…”

“Do you know what is goatse?” The man is startled by this question. He has now been interrupted brutally twice, and the figure has not moved from its spot.

“I do not understand the meaning of this ´goatse´, but…”

“Leave, there is no place for you here, you are yet to see the light.” The figure shouts from the distance, and turns away from the man. Without hesitation the man takes one heavy step forward, and replies.

“I demand to know what this place exactly…” before he is able to realize what is happening the figure disappears from the doorway, and a blow is delivered to the man. His feet take off from the ground, and weightlessly he is send spiraling down the mountain side. With the last life in him he hears the figure shout.

“This is the Island of Avalon, ****. Now get the **** out when I say so.” The figure is left standing alone to the gate, as another voice is heard from the doorway.

“Hey Fae, whats taking so long?” And the figure answers.

“Nothing, Donbee. Just another ****ing noob.”