1 Summer, 513 AV Roads go ever, ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea; Rhuryc's deep baritone caroused along with the fauna of the Bronze Wood, his solitary tone caught up in a myriad of melodies interwoven into the solace of his nature driven path. An assortment of clinks and hi-jinks kept a steady percussive beat from various arrangements that the swordsman wore about his person; leathers kept his flesh concealed, gloves, a hefty, long tailed coat, set above a worn tunic and breaches beset by dirt and travel. At his side rested a sheathed bastard sword and on his back, beneath the assorted gear, a steel shield lay strapped to a single shoulder. He embodied the vagabond aesthetic, unshaven and with long, unkempt blond hair. Over snow by winter sown, And through the merry flowers of Sum, Over grass and over stone, And under mountains of the moon. He stepped along the off beaten path, his countenance alight with a jovial grin. The area was familiar. The trees wove with a cool breeze, the sun alight within the blue noon sky, and the lot of it together brought Rhuryc some means of peace. Years had passed since he was last within territory of his home city, a welcome, safe place that spurred his steps ever onward. Best of all there was a bed waiting there for him. His own bed, in his little hovel with its lackluster space and decorations. No matter. It would be a palace for tonight. Roads go ever ever on Under cloud and under star, Yet feet that wandering have gone Turn at last to home afar. He sang and allowed the fresh summer air to fill his nostrils. The crunch of flora beneath his boots, the deep browns and greens of the wood itself, it was all a symbol of peaceful tidings - for once. He passed through a particular thick cropping of trees and slipped by a particularly annoying thicket and into a clearing he was accustomed to, one that he oft favored for training and the occasional oddity. He paused and raised his gaze skyward. In the distance he could see the towers of Syliras, almost shining in their prideful glory. Mayhaps he would make it yet. |