Ryzom

As the snows of winter fell Turke knew it was time.

The rediscovery of the old lands raised a call too great to ignore. Where there was one there must still be others out there somewhere. Perhaps he could rediscover the lakelands of old.

For some time Turke had been saddened by the turn of events in the lakelands and Atys in general. The warmongering amongst the previously allied peoples. The Kitin enemy of old forgotten while the homin of the Kami and Karavan factions fight amongst themselves. The leaders of the four homin races seemed to have little concern for the homin they lead. Or perhaps they see further than the average Tryker on the street?

His enthusiasm for the rebuilding was blunted. Why rebuild while homin postured and prepared to smash it all down again? Most of his old friends had long since left. Some Elders remained but many of those were cynical or spent most of their time enjoying the luxuries of home seldom venturing out to help rebuild. There seemed to be less and less homin about and most of the young ones seemed hell bent on war. Perhaps he was just getting old.

He knew it was time to go. Quietly he visited with his old friends and guild, far too many to name, and said his farewells. Some were sad but many were glad for the time they had shared.

Dressed in his best travelling gear, his armour, shield and axe stowed, he set off into the darkness. The snow fall erased his footprints has he went. Never turning back for fear of not being able to leave. Hoping that Nine would be there on his return.

Upon hearing of his friends departure, for it had been ages since he had visited his Tryker homeland, Zeeby was both saddened and relieved to hear the fate of an old friend. Led to the spot where Turke had walked slowly off into the darkness, he calmly and quietly asked his guide to return home with a whispered "Thank you." Staring off into the darkness beyond, listening to the waves as they gently lapped against the shoreline, Zeeby let his gaze trail through the darkness, even allowing it to flit up to the star filled sky on occasion. The same star-filled sky that had held the dreams and hopes of many suspended in the air for all to see. The same stars that had allowed the memory of his old friend to live on within. With a great sigh, but one full of good wishes and fond memories, Zeeby whispered his very posthumous reply, letting the soft, chill winds of autumn carry it away in the hope that it would reach the ears of his lost companion. No, not lost, Zeeby realized at the thought. Turke had found his own way. He knew that his one time companion would wish the same for him. Turning about, Zeeby looked back over his shoulder one last time, vowing to be there, in the Lakelands, in their home, if his friend ever returned. Then, the night was alone once more.

Best wishes Turke.
-Zeeby