Thud... thud... thud...

[Daimon D. Heart]

The almost rhythmic sound of a wooden staff striking the earth would become a new norm in the village. The morning brought the arrival of a new and rather handsome face, though the finer features of the fellow would be easily missed by what lies below the jet black bangs. As he slips off the covered wagon, plants his walking staff firmly in the ground, and opens his "eye" lids, it is shine of two silver orbs that can be seen reflecting the morning sun light. The stranger stands still for several moments like a sailor getting his bearings after stepping onto dry land after months at sea. It is the grunt of the caravanner that breaks the stranger's stance. Thud, thud, thud, the staff sounds against the earth rapidly with his left hand as his right feels along the side of the wagon for direction. He makes his way slowly to the front of the wagon, stopping short once the driver indicates the stranger is close enough.

As the driver hops down, the stranger unties a small pouch from his belt that clinks with the familiar sound of coins. The stranger then holds the open purse out in the general direction of the driver, giving him free access to the entire contents of the money bag. The caravanner begins to pull out his fee but gives a grunt of annoyance as he realizes the contents are copper nibs instead of golden lions. He grabs the entire pouch from the stranger's hands and peers inside to confirm every coin is copper instead of gold. After emptying the entire contents of the stranger's purse to a jar fastened to the wagon, the driver tosses the empty pouch into the stranger's hand before climbing back on and flicking the reins to stir the horse and wagon to the usual waiting spot near the entrance.

The stranger takes a few moments to feel his empty bag in his hand. He mutters no word of complaint as he slips the now empty purse into his pocket. Thud, thud, thud, the staff sounds once more as he turns in the opposite direction. He begins to move forward slowly, thudding his staff to the right and then the left as he reached out with his free arm to feel for any obstructions. A slight hole in the road causes him to lose his balance and careen into a nearby tree. Stunned for several moments, he takes his time to feel his now bruised face and nose. After recovering, he continues on his way as if the event had never occurred regardless of how those in the village may have reacted, twin mirrors ever facing forward.

Thud... thud... thud...

[Daimon D. Heart]

The rhythmic pounding of wood against earth continues to sound with the comings and goings of the stranger. Some may have wondered why the vagabond bothered to make the trip to the village and perhaps would guess him to being another beggar. However, the unexpected way he spends his days wandering the dirt roads would prove of interest and entertainment as he often trips and stumbles into, over, and under bushes, fences, trees, hanging signs, and various other objects. The humor would begin to fade during the busy hours as he would often end up disrupting the villager's work with his many accidents. Even more of a nuisance is how he always declines any assistance, proving himself to be a problem without resolution.

Perhaps that is why there was great relief with the change in the stranger's habits when a day later he began to spend much of his time sitting in a chair near the entrance of the inn. His accidents now greatly diminished, few would likely notice the way he always sits slightly hunched over with his right ear pressed into the knotted top of his staff as the bottom pressed firmly into the earth. They likely only found it strange that he still refused to carry a beggar's cup nor ask for alms. Verbally responding to any greetings but refusing any gifts of charity, his face remained still with twin mirrors ever facing forward.