The First Great Epiphany

[SethWolf 1388]

The First Great Epiphany

Tales of the Nameless Wanderer

 

Spoiler

 

 

A man with no name sat in a dark forest of pine nettles and tall fir trees that seemed to stretch all the way up into the sky like boney fingers grasping for the clouds. A fire was lit before him, and he watched the flames lick up at the desiccated pheasant that sat skewered above the flames. His eyes watched the embers dance up into the night sky to join the stars before reaching to a waterskin. 

 

It had been some time now since he had become a stranger to all he once knew. He felt marooned, a single castaway on a barren island in the middle of a great and vast ocean. In his past life, that had been much the same. He had never been capable of making human connections as others had, and that deficiency had always left him to feel misbegotten.  

 

Yet, now even the things he knew to be familiar were gone. 

 

The orchestra of chirping crickets and frogs continued to fill the air. 

 

It dawned on the wanderer then, that this was the first time in his life that he had not known war. Out here under the canopy of the trees he had found his first true sleep in decades not plagued by terrors. It was peaceful out here, hidden away and secluded with nothing to bother him or beg his attention. He could simply be, and in being he found himself capable of introspection. 

 

Who was he, then?

 

A blood-soaked beast who would kill without a second’s thought. Through violence, death, and carnage he had found a sense of purpose. A beautiful, shiny shield to protect him from the harsh reality of what he was doing. Yet, when his purpose was taken from him he found himself unable to ignore the reality of his actions behind that protective cloak of purpose and duty. For the first time in his life there was nothing standing between him and the mirror that he had to face. In that mirror of his mind’s eye, he saw only a murderous villain who was drowning in the blood on his hands. 

 

The revelation caused tears to silently fall from his cheeks as the walls came tumbling down. 

 

But he found that without the influences of his past life tugging at his soul, he had come to know peace, and in peace the wanderer found the means to explore something lost to him. The tears that streaked his face were his salvation, a thin glimmer of hope that a man was still in there, somewhere in the depths of his soul.

 

The wanderer was capable of change.

 

The path before him now seemed much more demanding of him than he had previously anticipated. A journey that would force him to dive into the very depths of his own soul. 

 

The wanderer extinguished his campfire, and climbed into the canopy of treetops to find another night of peaceful sleep, to continue upon the treacherous path that was now taking him into deeper waters, into an unknown abyss.

 

[Frostdrop1 871]

Somewhere, a hapless father camps, too, under the unfeeling stars. Without rest, his mind wanders to the lost and the future.

No longer content to be enclosed in the depths of a lonely city, a daughter takes blade to the wilderness and bow to the wildlife. And then, for hours, hands gloved and daintily folded she waited at the mouth of Valdev's bridge. In future days, she brought blank books on which to write as her heart grew heavy.

[Knight of Elken 488]

Sir Milonir of Whitehall missed the man he called friend. Day after day, after day after day, and his comrade, his liege lord, was not to be found. Days turned to months. Yet with each day, strength returned. Yet with each month, clarity, confidence was restored. His resolve to develop his strength was like an endless fire. All in the name of being worthy of the title he had disgraced with his laziness, his gluttony, his stupidity. Bodbmakos was right all those years ago.

Yet, he too was changed, like Walter. He too was malleable, like Walter. He would become the First Sword that House Weiss needed, their pillar of strength. Walter had given him motivation - a thing more valuable than gold. He was the fuel for his fire. The living legend, the First Sword, looked to the horizon. He awaited the day of his return. Walter would find a pillar of strength upon which he could lean on when he returned. A friend.