My name is the Traveller.  The name I was given at birth is lost – at least, I still remember it, but I prefer it to remain lost.  I have, at various times and in various places, been known as Vishla, Shorna and Tollanis, but I always revert to the Traveller when I move on.  I was born in a small village lying at the head of an obscure mountain-dale, and I grew up herding sheep and goats and dreaming of adventures in the wide world.  When I achieved my dream, though, it wasn’t quite what I’d expected. 

By means of magic I blundered into, I stopped ageing at about thirty.  I can still be killed or die of disease, although my body heals itself better than most, and I suspect this is part of the magic that keeps me alive and young.  My extended life is both a burden and an opportunity: the burden of seeing friends and lovers grow old and die, cities crumble and even ideals fade, and the opportunity of finding new loves and new dreams, new lands always over the next horizon.  On balance, the burden is worth the opportunity.

I don’t always travel.  There have been times when I’ve spent whole lifetimes of my companions (and sometimes more) living in one place, growing to see it as home.  In the end, though, my wanderlust always overcomes me, and I move on again.  What I really crave is to travel the world, seeing new places, meeting new people, and enjoying quiet times with friends and lovers.  Somehow, though, it doesn’t always work out that way.  The world is full of injustice and oppression and, though I’ve sometimes tried, I can’t shut my eyes to it and turn away.  So I embroil myself in seeking to right wrongs, encourage just rulers, even fight wars when I must, though I hate the necessity.  I’d like to think that I’ve saved more lives than I’ve ended, but I really don’t know.

I have regrets, of course, but a life without regrets is a life not lived.  I believe the world is fundamentally a good place, and my extended life has given me opportunities that few, if any, have enjoyed.  I’m happy.  Most of the time.