((The posts in this string take place as least three years ago))
Chris reached the crest of the hill and glanced down at the town below. His eyes closed briefly. There was no noise. It was if all of the townspeople had given up hope. A hand moved up to his now fully grayed hair.
He remembered the first time he had arrived in the city. He stood at this very hill, a young adventurer eager to make a name for himself. He was stronger then, as he had not yet discovered the ways of magic that he now weaved into his fighting techniques. And though he was called headstrong now, he was much more stubborn in his youth. He took every challenge thrown before him without hesitation regardless of the result. Often it resulted in grave injury. In fact he had probably stared more at the rock ceiling of his room in the Stronghold than anything else.
Strong, yet weak. Silent, but so much to say. He was complex. There were very few who understood his true nature. Even amongst his closest of friends. He'd never been much of a leader and normally preferred his own company than that of any other. To those he called friend, he would gladly die for. To those he called brother or sister, he would give his very soul. For Zara and Spera, no cost was too high.
A rush of sadness overcame the seasoned veteran. His age was becoming more and more apparent. With each passing year he grew a little weaker, yet a little wiser. And with Wisdom came one realization. Rhydin was his home. And he would stay until the town collapsed. There would be no more mistakes on his part.
The wind briefly blew the knot of his red headband west, causing the tail to flutter in its currents. A moment later and he began his descent.
((Reprinted with the writer's permission))
Chris reached the crest of the hill and glanced down at the town below. His eyes closed briefly. There was no noise. It was if all of the townspeople had given up hope. A hand moved up to his now fully grayed hair.
He remembered the first time he had arrived in the city. He stood at this very hill, a young adventurer eager to make a name for himself. He was stronger then, as he had not yet discovered the ways of magic that he now weaved into his fighting techniques. And though he was called headstrong now, he was much more stubborn in his youth. He took every challenge thrown before him without hesitation regardless of the result. Often it resulted in grave injury. In fact he had probably stared more at the rock ceiling of his room in the Stronghold than anything else.
Strong, yet weak. Silent, but so much to say. He was complex. There were very few who understood his true nature. Even amongst his closest of friends. He'd never been much of a leader and normally preferred his own company than that of any other. To those he called friend, he would gladly die for. To those he called brother or sister, he would give his very soul. For Zara and Spera, no cost was too high.
A rush of sadness overcame the seasoned veteran. His age was becoming more and more apparent. With each passing year he grew a little weaker, yet a little wiser. And with Wisdom came one realization. Rhydin was his home. And he would stay until the town collapsed. There would be no more mistakes on his part.
The wind briefly blew the knot of his red headband west, causing the tail to flutter in its currents. A moment later and he began his descent.
((Reprinted with the writer's permission))