Postby Pallas » Fri May 22, 2020 8:51 pm
Imagine for a moment you can soar up into the sky and look down. Beneath you are Valorn, Kilican, and Ethucan – the three lands of Trinald. I am there flying high with the ‘rifter, gazing across those lands. Now follow my journey.
I let myself drop downward, limiting the range of my view. Below now is Valorn, the land in which we mostly live and fight and breathe, and pass our marcs in combat or in play.
I glance at the mighty waves rolling past Caernivale, a magnificent sight which can mesmerise me for marc after marc. Favoured place. Yes. But the favourite? I think not. I drift across lush grasslands where a wind will move those grasses in a green imitation of those waves, but again I move on.
Majestic mountains with a coating of snow and ice, sparkling in the rays of the ‘rifter – or carved by howling winds into fantastically-shaped crags. Once more I drift to another place.
I drop lower and again the scale of my view is curtailed. Dundee and the area round about the town is below now. The bustling streets, the calls of traders, inns and restaurants – all these are, again, places I frequent.
North, and east – and now the focus is a guild hall. Above the gate is carved ‘Twilight Serenity’.
I drop lower, now hovering just above the gardens. And there a cleric, a soft smile on her face, tends to the blossoms. She gazes at her handiwork through brilliant emerald eyes.
I drop to the ground, becoming corporeal now as my journey ends. Within the hall I call home, alongside the green-eyed cleric – this truly is the best place to be.
The joke is on the bloke who never spoke a word at all
But whose dreams lay unrevealed 'til they were rotten ...
Lindisfarne 'The Things I Should Have Said'