Upcoming Events

Collapse

There are no results that meet this criteria.

Announcement

Collapse
No announcement yet.

With Vilest of Wyrms to Dwell

Collapse
X
 
  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

  • With Vilest of Wyrms to Dwell

    1372 DR, The Year of Wild Magic
    Northern Sword Coast


    Saren woke up with a start on the bed of a small ship cabin. Cold sweat ran down his back as he sat up on the side of the bed. He groaned and rubbed his forehead, hoping that his headache would subside. The pain had been a common occurrence in the past year and Saren had only but a suspicion as to what caused them. That suspicion was part of the reason he had boarded this ship to a new land. The cabin had little in the way of amenities, but there were worse places - and he had spent countless nights in many of them, Saren thought. He stood up slowly and donned his green tunic and boots. Searching for his pipe, he decided to take his belt and sheathed longsword with it.

    As he walked up the stairs leading to the deck, he noticed that quite a few people were also standing by the rails of the ship that morning. We must be almost there, Saren surmised with some amount of dread. He was glad that he would soon be on solid ground, but thoughts of uncertainty and anticipation had plagued him the whole trip. I don't know why I'm here, he brooded - or do I?

    "It's a beatiful morn, aye?"

    Saren's train of thought was halted as he heard one of the other passengers speak to him. He looked at the whelp of a man leaning on the rail, he was a decade or so younger than Saren, with short brown hair and clothes the color of bright Tethyrian purple. Saren walked up to the rail and began to light his pipe while gazing past the bow of the ship. Land it was, they would be arriving to the port in a few minutes. He took the pipe out of his mouth after taking a few puffs. "Beautiful enough," Saren responded to the other man.

    A spark of recognition flashed in the purple-dressed man's eyes. "You're the one who played the lute and sang a few ballads last evenin', aren't ya? Ah, it was a fine show. Sure was more fun than lyin' around in a dark, dank cabin, I tell you. I'm Colban, by the way." He offered his hand to Saren, which he shook after a brief pause. "Saren," was the curt answer and a simple nod for the earlier compliment.

    Colban pressed on regardless of Saren's obvious apathy for this particular conversation. "So, why are ya travellin' to Sundren? I'm here on my uncle's business, good trade to be had here, they say." Saren gave the man a pensive glance before answering. "You could say it was divine inspiration," Saren replied dryly. "Oh, you a holy man?"

    Colban's question elicited an ironic laugh from Saren. "Far from it, friend, far from it," retorted Saren with a sarcastic smile. "Ah, well. I should be goin' and pack my things before we get kicked off this ship. Whatever is it that you're lookin' for, I hope ya find it." With those parting words, the younger man turned to leave.

    Saren kept staring off into the distance as Colban left and brought his pipe back to his lips. He looked down and pulled up a necklace from under the collar of his tunic. Saren ruminated on the unusual pendant hanging on the necklace chain. It depicted five varying dragon heads, each a different color; red, green, blue, white and black. His eyes took on a grave edge, yet a wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "That is my hope as well."
    Character: Saren Wydgardt
Working...
X