The Traveler’s Poem…
Oh Wunduniik, the Traveler bold,
Crossing lands both harsh and cold,
Whose boots have kissed the trails of Skyrim's reach,
Whose heart has heard the silent tales of each peak.
In the land of the Nords, ancient and fierce,
Beneath the gaze of the Azura’s ghostly pierce,
You wander 'amongst the whispering pines,
And climb where High Hrothgar, aged with wisdom, reclines.
Through ancient ruins, cloaked in snow and lore,
Where echoes of the dragon shouts fiercely roar,
You stride, with courage as your gleaming shield,
Past Sovngarde's gates, where lost souls are healed.
Across Tamriel, a tapestry so vast,
From arid dunes where Alik'r winds amass,
To fog-lad swamps where Hist trees sleep,
Through fields where Cyrodiil's golden sun does creep.
By every city's bustling gate,
By shadows where thieves and outlaws wait,
By taverns warm, where stories flow,
You, Wunduniik, amongst them all, a face aglow.
Seeker of the unknown, chaser of the sky,
The moons, Secunda and Masser, softly sigh,
As you dance beneath their opal light,
A traveler, whose heart strings pull with mirth and might.
And Dwemer secrets locked in age-old stone,
And Daedric plots in whispered tones,
All these you chase, to understand,
No realm too vast, no mystery too grand.
For home is not a single place,
But scattered 'round in time and space,
In every inn, in every heart,
In every end, and in every start.
Oh, Wunduniik, the Traveler fair,
With restless boots and wind-kissed hair,
Beneath the skies of Tamriel's embrace,
Eternal wanderer, forever in grace.
