worldwide Free shipping.
There are many hidden passages throughout the world’s superficial crust that lead to the Groïvern. I can still remember to this day the narrow chasm in which I descended, amongst the remains of caved-in medieval sewers. Like an eroded rocky throat at the feet of the aged ashlar walls, it swallowed a small stream that barely flowed beneath those, low, crumbling arches. Despite all my preparedness and equipment, it took effort and heaps of rope to finally reach the end of the narrow passage. As I emerged from a crack in the stone dome of the cavern I lost myself to the sensory satisfaction of the Groïvern. At my feet, buried in a drape of shadow, lay a sea of rocky ridges, undulating around each other like the lines of a fingertip. In between these pointy ridges, in cracks too deep to jump into, little creeks meandered through the maze in banks of pure reddish sand. These channels, much less wide than they were deep rarely joined with each other but would rather run along the pattern in mesmerizing undulations that only water could possibly find a way out of. But above all things worthy of attention was the sound of the strong breeze gushing melodies when it ran over and through the stone formations. A sound like this could not originate from anywhere else than this colossal stone organ of chaotic construction. Unimaginably deep tones embraced crystalline melodies giving the impression of listening to the earth itself chanting in a rhythm beyond time.
Though navigation through the Groïvern’s immense caverns is a challenge of every instant, scaling ridge after ridge, I still return to these lands of no age if only to rest on a sandy mound, stare into the shallow water and listen closely to the past.
