Time stood still in the city of Kranesh, a small lawless town tucked away in the hills of Myrland. The morning mist fell heavy on the city with rays of light cascading into the silent streets. The mercenary convoys were still a ways out of town while the priests had only just risen to greet the day.
Ziqiri, a Khurite native with a lingering hunger for adventure, lay motionless on the ground in an alley way. A black hooded robe adorned his body and covered the majority of his features save his hands and feet. A silver ring on his finger indicated that he was no ordinary commoner, but not much more could be gathered as the inscription atop it was foreign to most. A bald headed priest leaned over his body, inspecting for injuries mostly, when he saw the rise and fall of his chest. The priest breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he stood up and straightened his own robes.
"Get up now, it isn't wise to rest in a place like this. The mercenaries will arrive soon and they aren't the type to greet with a smile." The priest said in a stern but compassionate sounding voice. Ziqiri didn't move a muscle. The priest kicked him gently in the side and then a little harder on the leg.
"Mmghhm" Ziqiri grumbled as he sat up and shook his head. His hood fell down to his back as he rubbed his eyes and looked up at the old religious man..
"Ah, he wakes!" The priest exclaimed, "Do you know where you are?"
"Mmghhm..." Ziqiri moaned once more before looking around and smiling, "Kranesh..." He rasped as he pulled himself to his feet leaning against the wall behind him.
"Yes, and if you know that, then you know it doesn't have the best reputation for being a friendly place" The priest said, matter-of-factly. "Let's get you off the streets now, follow me." He added, taking Ziqiri's arm and pulling him along the first few steps.
The two walked around the corner to a small building with a wooden roof and stone walls. There were baskets of discarded clothing and tools lining the walls as well as wooden crates and barrels. They pushed into a door that kicked up a small plume of sand and dust as they entered.
"Don't mind the smell, that's always been here... mind the rats though, they bite." The priest said as he opened the shoddy curtains, letting light flood the room. "I trust you're thirsty? I assume you were drinking in the evening, you have no signs of being beaten or robbed."
"I would appreciate some water... Why are you doing this? I could be a thief.. or murderer. Why help a stranger you met only moments ago?" Ziqiri asked as he grabbed the mug the priest sat in front of him. He drank a few heavy gulps then slammed the mug back on the table. "What if I were one of the mercenaries you seem to fear so much?"
"Ha! You look more like a missionary than a mercenary my boy! Don't toy with me I've seen your type around and passing through on many occasions." The priest replied as he sat some bread and fruit down on the table. He pushed them towards Ziqiri then clasped his hands together. "What are you looking for?"
"Nothing..." Ziqiri mumbled as he tore off a piece of bread and snatched an apple off the table. "Er.. mm... purpose I suppose." He said as he popped a small piece of the bread in his mouth. "My father was a great adventurer that discovered new lands, new opportunities... I only wish to live up to his legacy." His head dropped as he slid the mug back in front of him and swirled it over the table.
"My boy..." The priest started, "You need to write your own story, forge your own path in the world. Living in your father's shadow will bring nothing but disappointment and shattered expectations. Your heart will be your compass and your mind will be your guiding light. Use your gifts to create your own legacy.. use them to find happiness in this land." The priest smiled and grabbed a medium sized leather pouch from a basket in the corner. He made his way to the table and reached inside.
Ziqiri watched wide eyed as the bag started to glow from the inside and the priest pulled out a small dark stone. He placed it on the table, still glowing with a strange blue-green hue, he slid it in front of Ziqiri and whispered softly. "Don't lose it, don't trade it, don't sell it or break it. You will keep this until we meet again my boy and it will help you see your path in the world." A flash of light burst from the stone as Ziqiri's eyes lit up the same blue-green color and he shut them quickly. His hands over his eyes, he shook his head then opened them and blinked frantically. The light disappeared from the stone and Ziqiri as it lay on the table, obsidian and still. His vision returned much sharper than before. He could see things through the dust without having to squint and even the morning light seemed less harsh. His hearing also improved as he could hear rat paws scratching the sands outside the walls. He could smell the fruit on the table with a whole new perception of the sweet and sour aromas. His body felt invigorated like he had just swam in a cool lake. He liked this feeling..
"Now get yourself washed up, we can discuss your travels until the mercenary convoy heads back out of town and you can make it to Tindrem. I cannot guarantee your safety so you must move quickly. You may need that.." The priest pointed to Ziqiri's katana; He had somehow hidden it until now.
Ziqiri smiled and looked back up at the priest as he slid the stone into his pocket, "Thank you. I can handle myself." He ran his fingers lightly over the handle of his weapon then covered it back up with his robe, "I appreciate everything you've done... I will repay you one day but I must know your name to find you in the future."
The priest turned around to look out the window as hooves and shouts could be heard from the streets. The mercenaries had arrived and were making quite an entrance. They hollered at the windows and through the alleyways as they made their way through the main road to their respective trading partners. Their voices carried throughout the town and into the priest's small unassuming home. The priest then smirked and turned his head before responding, "Serrus. My name is Serrus."
Ziqiri, a Khurite native with a lingering hunger for adventure, lay motionless on the ground in an alley way. A black hooded robe adorned his body and covered the majority of his features save his hands and feet. A silver ring on his finger indicated that he was no ordinary commoner, but not much more could be gathered as the inscription atop it was foreign to most. A bald headed priest leaned over his body, inspecting for injuries mostly, when he saw the rise and fall of his chest. The priest breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he stood up and straightened his own robes.
"Get up now, it isn't wise to rest in a place like this. The mercenaries will arrive soon and they aren't the type to greet with a smile." The priest said in a stern but compassionate sounding voice. Ziqiri didn't move a muscle. The priest kicked him gently in the side and then a little harder on the leg.
"Mmghhm" Ziqiri grumbled as he sat up and shook his head. His hood fell down to his back as he rubbed his eyes and looked up at the old religious man..
"Ah, he wakes!" The priest exclaimed, "Do you know where you are?"
"Mmghhm..." Ziqiri moaned once more before looking around and smiling, "Kranesh..." He rasped as he pulled himself to his feet leaning against the wall behind him.
"Yes, and if you know that, then you know it doesn't have the best reputation for being a friendly place" The priest said, matter-of-factly. "Let's get you off the streets now, follow me." He added, taking Ziqiri's arm and pulling him along the first few steps.
The two walked around the corner to a small building with a wooden roof and stone walls. There were baskets of discarded clothing and tools lining the walls as well as wooden crates and barrels. They pushed into a door that kicked up a small plume of sand and dust as they entered.
"Don't mind the smell, that's always been here... mind the rats though, they bite." The priest said as he opened the shoddy curtains, letting light flood the room. "I trust you're thirsty? I assume you were drinking in the evening, you have no signs of being beaten or robbed."
"I would appreciate some water... Why are you doing this? I could be a thief.. or murderer. Why help a stranger you met only moments ago?" Ziqiri asked as he grabbed the mug the priest sat in front of him. He drank a few heavy gulps then slammed the mug back on the table. "What if I were one of the mercenaries you seem to fear so much?"
"Ha! You look more like a missionary than a mercenary my boy! Don't toy with me I've seen your type around and passing through on many occasions." The priest replied as he sat some bread and fruit down on the table. He pushed them towards Ziqiri then clasped his hands together. "What are you looking for?"
"Nothing..." Ziqiri mumbled as he tore off a piece of bread and snatched an apple off the table. "Er.. mm... purpose I suppose." He said as he popped a small piece of the bread in his mouth. "My father was a great adventurer that discovered new lands, new opportunities... I only wish to live up to his legacy." His head dropped as he slid the mug back in front of him and swirled it over the table.
"My boy..." The priest started, "You need to write your own story, forge your own path in the world. Living in your father's shadow will bring nothing but disappointment and shattered expectations. Your heart will be your compass and your mind will be your guiding light. Use your gifts to create your own legacy.. use them to find happiness in this land." The priest smiled and grabbed a medium sized leather pouch from a basket in the corner. He made his way to the table and reached inside.
Ziqiri watched wide eyed as the bag started to glow from the inside and the priest pulled out a small dark stone. He placed it on the table, still glowing with a strange blue-green hue, he slid it in front of Ziqiri and whispered softly. "Don't lose it, don't trade it, don't sell it or break it. You will keep this until we meet again my boy and it will help you see your path in the world." A flash of light burst from the stone as Ziqiri's eyes lit up the same blue-green color and he shut them quickly. His hands over his eyes, he shook his head then opened them and blinked frantically. The light disappeared from the stone and Ziqiri as it lay on the table, obsidian and still. His vision returned much sharper than before. He could see things through the dust without having to squint and even the morning light seemed less harsh. His hearing also improved as he could hear rat paws scratching the sands outside the walls. He could smell the fruit on the table with a whole new perception of the sweet and sour aromas. His body felt invigorated like he had just swam in a cool lake. He liked this feeling..
"Now get yourself washed up, we can discuss your travels until the mercenary convoy heads back out of town and you can make it to Tindrem. I cannot guarantee your safety so you must move quickly. You may need that.." The priest pointed to Ziqiri's katana; He had somehow hidden it until now.
Ziqiri smiled and looked back up at the priest as he slid the stone into his pocket, "Thank you. I can handle myself." He ran his fingers lightly over the handle of his weapon then covered it back up with his robe, "I appreciate everything you've done... I will repay you one day but I must know your name to find you in the future."
The priest turned around to look out the window as hooves and shouts could be heard from the streets. The mercenaries had arrived and were making quite an entrance. They hollered at the windows and through the alleyways as they made their way through the main road to their respective trading partners. Their voices carried throughout the town and into the priest's small unassuming home. The priest then smirked and turned his head before responding, "Serrus. My name is Serrus."
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