As the young man stands viewing the situation that unfolds with eyes of a soul older than most can fathom, feelings of distrust and anger rage in his heart. How does he approach this? One could say you reap what you sow and Oh how he longs to reap! After all that is what he does right? Damned to forever trundle on, devoid of the devotion and compassion granted. His mind plays upon the anthropomorphic scenario played out before him. It goes as thus;

The swan of his desire cavorts with the young stag tall and majestic derived from the oaken grove. Through out countless existence does this dance play. The gnarled and scarred boar watches as his heart strings are tugged this way and that, longing to strike out. “Why does this cosmic game endeavor to strike me?” He asks. Silence is the answer to his quarry. And they wonder why he defies them. Around and round the swan and stag reel in the heavens that are the universe in his collective conscience. Sure his den is her nest. Yet she has another nest perpetually in the soul of that stag. Loathing and disgust consume him.

“Why the stag” he says “Stags they run and hide, but me I fight”. As if in answer the trees sigh to him. He lay down to sleep and, as if some divine spear was hurtled into his heart, he awakens and at once knows.

“Of Course!” he exclaims. It is a matter of station, it always has been. “I am gnarled both inside and out, twisted by my fear and hate!!” Beauty deserves beauty he muses, and so his resolve set, strikes out into the shadows.

The young man jolts to consciousness and sighs. Gazing out at his most precious of treasures he hardens his heart once again. He kisses his inspiration with fondness and tender care, taking his leave. He dons his armor, gathers his shield, and starts to reach for his sword. “No” he says. “You shall remain here.”

With iron will and steadfast resolve, he leaves his prized sword, wading into the fray with only his fists, so as to let it decide whom should truly wield it.