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Exile
01/02/2005 9:53 PM

Read OOC first.


The rain poured down, battering all of the unlucky travelers to be caught in its rampage. Koran had been lucky enough to land a spot at the "Shark Hunter," an inn located in the harbor of Tyrel.

Sore and travel weary he made his way back to his room to retire for the night. He had spent hours down in the commonplace feasting and talking with the sailors, citizens, and mercenaries. It seemed he had come just in time to see Lord Stannos' daughter wed to the heir of Green Vale. Just another political marriage between two low ranking lords Koran thought to himself when he first heard the news. It was of no importance to him, he had no business with politics, or lords for that matter, if there wasn't something in return for him involved. The other gossip was only of shop owners and local love interests.

So there he found himself in the darkness of his room. Lightning would occasionally flicker and thunder boomed, but there was no need of concern. Though for some reason he could not sleep. Koran got out of bed and clumsily made his way over to the window.

Down below the drunkards who could not make their way home laid in the road, some right in the center. It made no difference, the city guard cared little about the harbor.

Koran looked out across the sea and thought of what awaited him in the morning. Even though he didn't know what that would be since he awoke every morning as if the day was an adventure, so he wouldn't be waited down by expectations.

The lightning stormed overhead, sending shadows across the room and lighting his face long enough to make out his features. Koran was clean shaven and his brown hair curled around his ears and neck. His yellow, hazel eyes peered into the harbor with a ferocity. He had only seen at the most 20 winters, and looked very much his age.

Propped in the corner lay his sword "Ender," as it was often called in his grandfather's time. Though now its memory was little more than that of dragons. The short sword was very slim, barely half a hand's width with an ornate silver blade. The hilt was made of obsidian, cool to the touch, with a intricatly carved cross-guard, weaving in and out on either side of the blade. Ender seemed to fit Koran perfectly whenever he wore it, which had not been that often since he came into the port city. He walked slowly back to bed and lay down, inviting the darkness of sleep to overtake him.

Koran awoke to the sound of hammering and shouting. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Outside sailors were hard at work on a ship that had ported during to night, it seemed they run into a reef during the nights storm.

After dressing, Koran made his way down to the common room and grabbed a piece of bread and cheese. Pushing the door open, he made his way out into the dockyard and was greeted by the smell of salt water and course voices. He made his way down the docks.



[Edited by Exile on Thursday, January 6, 2005 2:36 PM]

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