midorino
Member
The sun had just risen over Zamor city, bathing everything in soft yellow. The light hit the city’s great stone walls in a way that cast a looming shadow over the rickety wooden shacks, pressed tightly together along the outside of the city. These houses were where the poorest of the poor lived. Those who couldn’t afford any land within the city’s walls, but couldn’t afford to leave the city. In one of those houses, was a young, night-elf man.
His name was Nol. He was an exceptional night-elf in that he’d never even been in a forest. He’d lived in these city slums all his life. But today was the day he would change that.
He was packing travelling provisions into a small, worn leather pack. There was little more he could put than some days worth of dried meat, a skin of water, a pouch of coins, and a bedroll. In case the situation turned sideways, he had a wooden bow, and a dagger. He looked around for anything else he’d need to bring. His eye caught the sunlight shining off a small, metal amulet.
He picked it up in his hand. The amulet was his mother’s. It was one of the few things of hers that he managed to save when she died. The rest was burned, for fear of her belongings also carrying the plague that took her life. He placed the amulet into his pack. It was a reminder of why he was doing this.
After securing his pack to his back, he left his slipshod home and began to make his way out, to the main road that led east, to Hirven, the closest port city. Among the crowded shacks and busy paths, he spotted an odd sight: a blue avian of sorts, surrounded by a number of the slum’s residents. He was too far to see them clearly, so he made his way closer. By the looks of the expressions on the men’s faces, this wasn’t just going to be a friendly chat.
His name was Nol. He was an exceptional night-elf in that he’d never even been in a forest. He’d lived in these city slums all his life. But today was the day he would change that.
He was packing travelling provisions into a small, worn leather pack. There was little more he could put than some days worth of dried meat, a skin of water, a pouch of coins, and a bedroll. In case the situation turned sideways, he had a wooden bow, and a dagger. He looked around for anything else he’d need to bring. His eye caught the sunlight shining off a small, metal amulet.
He picked it up in his hand. The amulet was his mother’s. It was one of the few things of hers that he managed to save when she died. The rest was burned, for fear of her belongings also carrying the plague that took her life. He placed the amulet into his pack. It was a reminder of why he was doing this.
After securing his pack to his back, he left his slipshod home and began to make his way out, to the main road that led east, to Hirven, the closest port city. Among the crowded shacks and busy paths, he spotted an odd sight: a blue avian of sorts, surrounded by a number of the slum’s residents. He was too far to see them clearly, so he made his way closer. By the looks of the expressions on the men’s faces, this wasn’t just going to be a friendly chat.