Cecilia Lindström/Introduction

“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour
all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness,
nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”
— J.R.R Tolkien

I Awoke underneath the boughs and canopies of the World Tree. It towers over my lands, trunk stretching into the firmaments and roots digging deep, briding the divides to the Otherrealms. I left my home hoping to find Enlightenment, a wanderer without a destination, a searcher lacking a quest, a knight errant with neither stirrups nor lance. I have begged for alms with the dervishes of Anatolia, and I have hunted with eagles in the mountains of Kyrgyzstan. I have danced at weddings in Phnom Penh, and I have whispered secrets to the spirits of the Grand Canyon.

They were the ones that told me of Yggdrasil's sapling.

The Martyr's Tree.

Ah, such wonders this place holds.