Abtatu's lessons were learned. The desert had finished its teachings for now. The path was clear and opened. Abtatu willed the wandering child to seek out knowledge from afar for his people. They needed to know. New lessons needed to be taught back home.
Teriteqas' lone journey of forty years in the desert had come to an end. He was ragged and worn as his clothing, leathers, and weapons. Both needed time to recover and renew themselves. What he had learned was he needed to travel apart from his tribe longer and find lessons from the outside to take home. Abtatu made this new path for him and his people. He would be the original walker, the original seeker. But it was Abtatu's will that would guide him and now his own desires. This was something he had come to learn thanks to the lesson the Windwalker, Fieravene , had taught him shortly after his journey had began. Abtatu was wisdom itself and shown him the answer in a way he would not understand until now.
Where Teriteqas' feet had taken him was to this strange place called Manaan. All of the signs had lead him here. The wind blew its way. The clouds drifted favorable while he moved towards it and ominously when he did not. He had stopped keeping track of days and weeks and months and years long ago. All he knew was in its proper time he found himself before this strange and new place.
Walking through the streets for the sand elf was a harrowing experience. His tribe was the largest group of people he had ever been around and they were dwarfed by this place. He tried to put distance between him and others. He kept his body covered and as much of his face wrapped as he could. But it was impossible to avoid being bumped into by others. Every time he felt he might suddenly come under attack. He felt his sleeping jerboa snuggled in their places under his clothing were in danger. But they simply sneered at him while offering harsh words. He feared he might have been cursed by some of them. This would require he perform cleansing rituals and pray Abtatu took mercy on him.
Aimless and overwhelmed the sand elf moved through the crowds of Manaan. He was not but a resurrection plant curled in upon itself as it bounced, tumbled, and trundled along not knowing where it might end up or what might happen to it.
Teriteqas' lone journey of forty years in the desert had come to an end. He was ragged and worn as his clothing, leathers, and weapons. Both needed time to recover and renew themselves. What he had learned was he needed to travel apart from his tribe longer and find lessons from the outside to take home. Abtatu made this new path for him and his people. He would be the original walker, the original seeker. But it was Abtatu's will that would guide him and now his own desires. This was something he had come to learn thanks to the lesson the Windwalker, Fieravene , had taught him shortly after his journey had began. Abtatu was wisdom itself and shown him the answer in a way he would not understand until now.
Where Teriteqas' feet had taken him was to this strange place called Manaan. All of the signs had lead him here. The wind blew its way. The clouds drifted favorable while he moved towards it and ominously when he did not. He had stopped keeping track of days and weeks and months and years long ago. All he knew was in its proper time he found himself before this strange and new place.
Walking through the streets for the sand elf was a harrowing experience. His tribe was the largest group of people he had ever been around and they were dwarfed by this place. He tried to put distance between him and others. He kept his body covered and as much of his face wrapped as he could. But it was impossible to avoid being bumped into by others. Every time he felt he might suddenly come under attack. He felt his sleeping jerboa snuggled in their places under his clothing were in danger. But they simply sneered at him while offering harsh words. He feared he might have been cursed by some of them. This would require he perform cleansing rituals and pray Abtatu took mercy on him.
Aimless and overwhelmed the sand elf moved through the crowds of Manaan. He was not but a resurrection plant curled in upon itself as it bounced, tumbled, and trundled along not knowing where it might end up or what might happen to it.
