Lyrist Alois Didereaux

[Moonlighter]

A crisp sheet of poetry is seemingly just left in the Hall of the Lyrical Arts, set atop the freshest seeming pile of clutter.

Ode to the Krak
Amidst the dunes and scorching heat,
A solitary Rose blooms at my feet,
In a time where life is harsh,
The road is tough, travelers parched,
there is a place a where lost souls meet,
to share with friends an ice cold drink,
the Krak des Roses, what treat,
A fortress strong, a sight to seek,
Alone in the desert's endless sea,
There blooms proud, a sanctuary.
So come and rest, weary traveler,
Find refuge here, your soul to gather,
In the Krak des Roses, haven true,
Amidst the sands, a dream renewed.

Wanderer Lynneth
Ivar 23rd 7787

[Ironside]

Wanderer,

Always pleased to read verse from someone well travelled! Tell me, have you been so far as Qadira or the Frostport?

The rolling sea and the chilling tundra both hold a kind of beauty we rarely appreciate in the Well.  I think you might find the sights inspiring.

I quite enjoyed your final stanza, especially.

Never stop writing, and never cease adventuring.

Your friend,
A. Didereaux

[Moonlighter]

A day or so passes, and then a reply arrives...

Lyrist Didereaux,

Qadira-on-the-Sea was both inspiring and humbling in equal parts. The first time I was heading there, I had not much enjoyed much the idea of entering a home of cutthroats and pirates. Once I'd found the shrine therein, I immediately understood how much of a narrow-minded fool I had been. My sister-in-faith has the right idea, and those who live, work, and travel through such a place need the protections of the Wanderer the most of all. But I ramble. The sea, of course, is inspiring too, in it's own way. The rhythm of the waves lapping at the shores is indeed infectious, and the cries of the gulls and labor-songs of the sailor can fill the heart with the desire to wander.

On your suggestion, I made for Frostport with my fellows and left many tracks in the snow. The beauty was quite inspiring, especially up in the mountains. To be able to climb up and see just how far you have roamed from home is humbling as well. One can only realize how insignificant they might be in the grand scheme of things once they've had the proper perspective, no? Of course, their tavern cannot hope to compare with the Krak des Roses, but is still a blessed respite none-the-less. After you have filled your boots with snow and suffered the biting wind, the hearth there is a gift from the Gods themselves.

I am gladdened you liked my poem. Buy me a round sometime, and perhaps I shall write you another.

Wanderer Lynneth