T'was a night of old, when knights were bold, and many a pauper played.
Old women in hovels, and children in streets, who were called to but
strayed. The moon hung high, in that wicked sky, and the stars forbade
such a tall tale. A single traveler shouldered his pack, gathering his
strength for the trail. As the wind bore cold upon his back, his memory
brought upon he, a time of sun, meadows wild, when one could travel
about free. Eternal night was pitched upon...this somewhat hellishly odd
land. But without the lust of battle and trust, t'would all seem very
bland. But was not only his thoughts, nor was it only his blade. His
innocence, his life, his soul itself...these things were beginning to
fade. But a crystal light shone down upon him, it's light growing from
faint to dim...'till it burst with a light of such true holy might, it
would do well to banish this night. But as the jem grew faded and the
traveler's heart jaded his continued his march to the damned. This odd
quest, a queer sort of test, a challenge was set upon he. Sighing his
lifeless cold breathe, he gazed upon all there was to see. A mind lost,
a battle won, and yet a war not quite finished.

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Lleian, in the year 116 MA.