- Messages
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- Character Biography
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Cerak At'Thul
One of the things Jor-Daben had told him before he left was, "Your path will lead you to many friends, and just as many enemies. Its hard to learn from someone that knows you are their enemy though." It was the old man's way of telling him that he didn't have to draw swords against everyone he disagreed with. The rest of the world wasn't like the Wilds.
Kill or be killed wasn't always the rule of the day, sometimes waiting and watching could serve one far better than fighting. Thorn had to take those lessons to heart. The city, Cerak, was known as a pirate's dream. Some people called it the Capital of Crime at Sea, others the Slaver's Port. Thorn was no slaver, and he wasn't about to go out of his way to help them, but no your prey was something every hunter learned early in life. Best way to know a man was to walk alongside him.
The ship Thorn had booked passage on wasn't a slave vessel, he wasn't that progressive. The captain had been asking for hands at the small smuggler's port he had found off the coast of the Allir Reach, and Thorn signed his mark on the page. Six coppers a week plus meals. Two coppers removed for the expenses his bird would incur. Geron had been more than a little offended by that deal, and if the pirates could have understood the buzzard they would likely have ended up paying him as a crewman too.
While at sea the pair didn't do much, the pirates were more concerned with delivering cargo they had already acquired to the markets in Cerak than they had been at finding more of it. By the captain's math, they had been at sea six weeks before making port at Cerak, though he only had half upon making port, claiming the rest of everyone's pay would be up once he sold the merchandise and paid some fees here and there. Thorn shoved the coin into his pouch and sinched up the leather bag, Geron on his shoulder, shield and bow across his back.
Surprisingly enough, he wasn't all that special walking through the docks. Already he had spotted a half dozen hooded swordsmen in the city and he wasn't even really keeping track. Slave traders dragged along new stock towards the markets, a grimace passing across the weathered man's features as his eyes pulled away from the appearance of the poor unfortunate souls who had been captured only to be denied death and forced into servitude instead. His heart went out to them, but there was no way he could afford one with the copper and silver he had, and there was no chance one man was going to be able to free that many malnourished bodies.
Know your prey. Walk in his footsteps and know him.
Thorn shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the shield and quiver on his back, and started walking towards the market area. No reason he had to stand by and watch these people get treated like cattle just waiting to be slaughtered. Geron fluttered his wings, his mood a little sour from having been trapped at sea for so long, but his curiosity was building about this place and bleeding through the bond he shared with the ranger.
Akasha Du'vuema
One of the things Jor-Daben had told him before he left was, "Your path will lead you to many friends, and just as many enemies. Its hard to learn from someone that knows you are their enemy though." It was the old man's way of telling him that he didn't have to draw swords against everyone he disagreed with. The rest of the world wasn't like the Wilds.
Kill or be killed wasn't always the rule of the day, sometimes waiting and watching could serve one far better than fighting. Thorn had to take those lessons to heart. The city, Cerak, was known as a pirate's dream. Some people called it the Capital of Crime at Sea, others the Slaver's Port. Thorn was no slaver, and he wasn't about to go out of his way to help them, but no your prey was something every hunter learned early in life. Best way to know a man was to walk alongside him.
The ship Thorn had booked passage on wasn't a slave vessel, he wasn't that progressive. The captain had been asking for hands at the small smuggler's port he had found off the coast of the Allir Reach, and Thorn signed his mark on the page. Six coppers a week plus meals. Two coppers removed for the expenses his bird would incur. Geron had been more than a little offended by that deal, and if the pirates could have understood the buzzard they would likely have ended up paying him as a crewman too.
While at sea the pair didn't do much, the pirates were more concerned with delivering cargo they had already acquired to the markets in Cerak than they had been at finding more of it. By the captain's math, they had been at sea six weeks before making port at Cerak, though he only had half upon making port, claiming the rest of everyone's pay would be up once he sold the merchandise and paid some fees here and there. Thorn shoved the coin into his pouch and sinched up the leather bag, Geron on his shoulder, shield and bow across his back.
Surprisingly enough, he wasn't all that special walking through the docks. Already he had spotted a half dozen hooded swordsmen in the city and he wasn't even really keeping track. Slave traders dragged along new stock towards the markets, a grimace passing across the weathered man's features as his eyes pulled away from the appearance of the poor unfortunate souls who had been captured only to be denied death and forced into servitude instead. His heart went out to them, but there was no way he could afford one with the copper and silver he had, and there was no chance one man was going to be able to free that many malnourished bodies.
Know your prey. Walk in his footsteps and know him.
Thorn shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the shield and quiver on his back, and started walking towards the market area. No reason he had to stand by and watch these people get treated like cattle just waiting to be slaughtered. Geron fluttered his wings, his mood a little sour from having been trapped at sea for so long, but his curiosity was building about this place and bleeding through the bond he shared with the ranger.
Akasha Du'vuema