Pilgrimage Through The Timbers

[Samson Option 9652]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ia1a844fNe8

He felt his face, gaudy and rimmed with wrinkles. They felt the same as the thin leathers tying his books together. He bent his knees, sore and snapping from their aged settling. They sounded the same as the floorboards of his small lodge given to antiquity. He drank a few runny drops of his liquor and mopped his chin with the curtain of his door. He slung his books, quills, and trinkets behind his back and exited the home. He breathed a sigh as a child sprung from the bush and titter-tottered his way innocently. Patting her hair, he smiled faintly and drew in his breathe to explain where he intended to leave.

His bronze greaves leaned against a wall of his home, helmet at the obtuse base between them and the forest floor. He looked back to them for a moment's passing, then kindly goaded the child to return to her home. He took the main path ceremoniously and walked it with measured steps. He neared the gates before one of the militia-men noted the absence of his usual adornment and the replacement of the hoplon shield for the satchel of belongings. He gestured for the gate, requesting the portcullis raised and exited facing the forest of Fiandria. After stepping past the wooden maw of the gatehouse, he turned and commented:

"I venture into the natural world now. I want to escape the reach of sophistic words and of that of the anarchical. I'll carve out for myself an abode where no false intellect can molest me nor any abrasive one can rub off against me. I am not one to divine this cyclic wheel of ravenous behaviors, where they pretend themselves ascending to progress or praise. I'll walk my own two feet into a literal ascension, to the highest peak and maybe then I can attain that mirthful peace.

For all we know, by serendipity, I might just return with a boon for Elvenkind. One can hope as we require it most."

[Samson Option 9652]

"To the gulch I can go now that I have moulted this skin of worldly possessions. Nothing will drag and leave too broad a track, nothing will ring trinket to trinket with just myself and a few books", Duvaindir remarked as he gave his last farewells upon gifting all of his possessions away to folks like Mith, Athe'lor, and Iyath.

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NPQCra8FEew

[Gunner 775]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.