Chapter 27

The Teachings of a Hermit

The sun begins to rise on a calm spring morning. As the light rays reach the blades of grass, The petals of flowers begin to open, revealing their vast colors. Slowly, the insects begin to silence themselves as the avians begin to chirp, waking the others to sing and fly as the morning starts. As a light breeze approaches, pushing the plants in its elegance, a man sits with his legs crossed atop of a stacked rock pillar. Multiple rocks are stacked and scattered around him. His upper body, which has no garments adorned, and is plastered with marking and tattoos. On his right arm, back and left arm is of sleeved of a dragon wrapping around him. His chest shows various flowers of red dahlias and green leaves. He wears blue metal gauntlets with gold lining the chinks of them that allows him to move them freely. His pants are slightly baggy and are tied with red ropes with an on his waist and ankles. The ropes on his waist ties onto a buckle with a symbol of a lotus. White linen are attached to both ends of his hips and a large white linen cover his front and back. He has long flowing hair that is just as long as his body if not longer, and it is tied in a fairly long ponytail with his face uncovered by two tied strands on his front for him to see.

The man is meditating and breathing softly in the cool breeze. His knuckles touch each other in front of his stomach, and his eyes are closed. He looks calm and weightless, but behind him, he carries a fairly large grungalo shell. The Grungalos are large reptiles of the crag mountains, slow moving, but powerful. Though their carapace shells are made of very hard keratin, as they go about their days digging into the rocks for food and shelter, the rocks attach themselves and grow like stalagmites as they sleep for days too months on end as they burrow into the mountains creating caves from their staggering might. He carefully balances the shell and his own weight on top of the pillar of loose rocks with delicate ease. Channeling his inner thoughts and his aura, he begins to slightly glow with incandescence. The light emanating from his body is yellowish white and come off of him in waves. The air seems to be reverberating around him from the waves as it prolongs, and he begins to levitate slightly above the pillar but only a few inches. His eyelids and eyebrow twitch slightly, and he slowly drifts back down to the pillar. He lets out a deep, but soft sigh, and he rolls his shoulders and neck, opening his eyes. He exits from his sitting position and hops down from the pillar and lands with grace. As he turns his body to face the pillar, he extends his index finger and barely taps the pillar as it collapses like nothing, as if it was not capable of balancing on its own for long. He smiles and begins walking towards the river path that is walked frequently by others, he heads towards a nearby town a few miles away.

This town is on the outskirts of the crags, it borders the desert and plains that meet each other at the river delta. Sporting tall spires that were shaped and molded by winds, the territory is in control by the desert lamian people. As the man follows the river path, he gazes upon the spires. He remembers when he used to climb them when he was younger to train his agility and endurance. The wind carves small notches into the rocks for better footing, which any experienced climber used to gain height and overcome the climb. As he reaches the village, he enters the market area that is layered with many stalls. Merchants selling assorted spices, dried salted meats, exotic clothes, and assorted liquids with vials galore. He heads to one of them too buy the dried meats, some bowfallo jerky on a stick. Bowfallo are large Quadrupedal herbivores. They look like a cross species of a cow and a bison. They have thick hides and adorn a large head plate and horns. Most are found in the mountains and in the marshlands, and the lamian people there trade to their sister tribes in the desert with their hearty meats. The man sits in the shade and eats his treat for a small breakfast. He watches the people of the town do their daily motions, basking at the routines of the many races of people in this small town.

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As the morning passes, a band of travelers begins entering the town. They are a bit rowdy, laughing and chortling at each other. They are cloaked to shield themselves from the sun, and some carry weapons. They walk pass the man under the shade and enter the tavern of the village, shuffling in one by one. The man does not pay any mind to it for some time, until he hears the voices inside the tavern get louder and louder. A commotion is brewing inside the building. He finishes his last meat stick and clasps his hands to pray, thanking the goddess for the meal. As he gets up, he places the sticks in his belt as he strolls into the tavern for a drink. The group that entered first are all rounded around a table. Cheering and drinking to the two sitting at the table, seemingly playing a competition of arm wrestling. The man heads to the bar and take a seat, his back facing the large group as he taps his fingers down to order a drink. A glass is slid to his hand that is filled with a smooth beverage, a wine of fermented rice and sugar, his favorite.

The two men in the arm wrestling competition are at it fiercely, the crowd of travelers around them are betting with the bronze and silver coins in their pockets their symbols of the sun and the moon on each face. The largest of the two slams the other's wrist into the table with a large smack and flexes his muscles in victory. He stands and high-fives the people to his right and left, he leans back down and scoops his winnings with a grin and laugh. "Come on boys! This is too easy. Every time we play this game, I am always the one that wins!" He slaps the back of one of the guys next to him, "You have got to find some stronger guys than this lot!" The large man scans the room and notices the man with the giant shell on his back sitting at the bar. He notices the coin bag to his side and grins. He points out to him. "Hey you. Shell man! Fancy a little wager?" The one with the grungalo shell turns his head slightly as he gets called out as the large traveler continues. "How about a fun game of arm wrestling for a bit of coin? You could win a hefty sum if you are able to beat me." A grin comes out of the large man as he boasted that statement. The man at the bar turns his head back to the front and downs his last glass and pays his tab. He stands and slowly removes his shell and leans it on the bar wall. He turns to the group and smiles. "Well, if you insist, I will be more than happy to play this game with you."

The loser of the last game stands and pulls the seat out for the man with a smile, the group all smile and murmur to each other. The man's ears perk up as he hears one whisper to the other. "This will be easy". He sits down, and looks at the man across from him. The other man smiles and waves his hand to his pile of coins on the table to his side. "How much are you willing to wager?" The man pulls out a single silver coin and slides it to the larger man. "Will this be enough to start the wager?" The larger man nods and places a silver coin from his pile, and he then outstretches his hand. The man also extends his hand and clasps the one of the larger man. One of the other travelers wraps their hands in some rope and begins a countdown. As he says go, the larger man begins to pump his muscles and start to try to pin the wrist of the one with the shell to the table. To the crowd's surprise, it is not budging. The larger man is confused, and he looks at the face of the other, and he sees that he is not really exerting much effort in his expression. With one quick motion, the one with the shell slams the larger man's wrist into the table. The larger man is in shock and so is the crowd who is silent at what they just witnessed. The man with the shell slides the 2 silver pieces to his side and smiles. "It looks like I have won that round, shall we, go again?".