Memory Lane

[Dio Astóre 69]

Many stories begun and ended here, on Lord of the Craft. If it were a book we would be certain that the item could render a person unconscious, given a good wallop to the back of the head; won't be starting this thread by going back to the first chapter, but somewhere further along instead. You are welcome to come along, looking on the paths that to here had led.

New shores far from home. A young Mali'aheral and his Elder arrive at the Sanctuary of Wilven, where past and present meet to greet an uncertain future and farewell the sails and mast.

Forgotten grounds feel the weight of new feet as eager parties gather, relishing fresh opportunities and struggling to affirm their own place.

Wicked webs woven do not lightly offer release from their tangled clutches. Order against chaos; by end of dawn the revived Heial'thilln is born and no enemies made.

Where masks are worn by the spider and fly; little light for the deep-dweller eye. How to speak with the brood-mother without them nor tongue. An errand only for what is.

Silver branches upon an ashen oak; woods and ash together spoke where the immemorial shared. Words were given and sharp ears received their wisdom.

From the face of the crag stone fallen lay as oath to a city named in thought: eternal gray. Curiosity dances with whispers unheard, ears that listened uncertainly.

Across the sheer blue that saw many lose themselves to memory. Beards only grew longer and axes dug deeper into the earth, where two pale were led.

Celebrations return into the air; voices breath in unseen happiness. Masses for a couple, a couple for the world, words of the world for all.

Behind mountains of thin mortar lay concealed paradise cradled in the grasp of a small hand. Asul smiles, though it always did. Perhaps stronger today.

A step too far or a hand too near. Both. Theft of a Mali daughter wrought determined woe upon a single spirit that others trusted. Whom among the rabble knew more?

Two families meet, one whose home lied distant. Culture was indulged in and an aged throat found itself a familiar audience.

Privation within privation on an estate met on no terms of grave importance. Casual company kept clears the heart to match the Spring in the garden.

[Birdwhisperer 1174]

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