[center][h2][color=7ea7d8][i]Altim[/i][/color][/h2]
[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3043778][img]http://i.imgur.com/HNsAfUM.png[/img][/url]

[color=7ea7d8]H E   I S   R I C H   I N[/color]   [i]K I N D N E S S[/i]
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	When Altim found the boy at his feet, the legend himself was at first puzzled. That boy, who so indignantly rejected the paradigm of destiny laid by his elders, reminded the adventurer of a time long past, when Altim himself ran from home to avoid a fate not of his design. The boy nearly moved Altim to tears, but he remained resolute and cool-headed for the child's sake. He crouched to meet eyes with the boy, and he wiped the salty, stinging tears from the boy's eyes. He said, [color=7ea7d8]"Cry not, young one. You control your fate by virtue of your freedom, and your freedom is inviolable."[/color]

	Sniffling, the youth nodded, and his crying lessened.

	[color=7ea7d8]"Remember this. Altim's wisdom was not realized through subservience. He pursued his dream without putting enmity between himself and his elders."[/color] At this, Altim stood again and, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder, made his request. [color=7ea7d8]"Let us see your father. You should not be here in the forest alone."[/color] He looked down at the child and gave a warm smile, an oath of protection. It would not be proper for Altim to abandon the child in the forest, with whatever beast lurked in the shadows.

	The boy smiled back and nodded, and he grabbed Altim's hand to lead the legend back to the village in the direction the boy came from. Altim knew that the detour would delay his reunion with the violin, but he paid no mind to helping those in need. The village itself was a little closer to the temple than it was when Altim lived, a change that Altim owed to the passage of time and the growth of civilization. Thank the gods as well, for in its previous location, the village would have caused much more delay to his travels. Along the path, Altim made small talk.

	[color=7ea7d8]"Who are you, little one?"[/color]

	"My name's Daither, what's your name, mister?"

	Altim chuckled. An odd little name, but likely a popular one in the current era. [color=7ea7d8]"My name is Mitlamai,"[/color] he replied after a short period of thought. The name was a pseudonym to protect Altim's true identity, and on this brief excursion, giving a fake name could do hardly any harm. They spoke more about simpler and more childish topics—the types of songs they liked, the instruments the boy favored, among them. The village came into view while they were speaking of animals and colors.

	When they arrived at the boy and his family's humble abode, Altim gave the door three firm but unintrusive knocks.