Post by Hica on Dec 21, 2006 17:45:30 GMT -5
A massive form moved in front of the doorway, nearly blocking the light. Hica stepped within the tavern, drawing a hand across his scarred face. His horse, tied up outside, stamped nervously. Hica hated leaving Sashay along, but as long as no one bothered her, it should be all right. He'd been meaning to break her bad habit of striking out at strangers, yet he couldn't bring himself to. If only he could show that kind of spirit in his life.
Some had questioned if Hica was even human, to which he took minor offense. Just because he was larger than the people here, and had unusual coloring for these parts didn't mean he was less than human. The marking winding across his back was merely a birthmark, and not a tattoo proclaiming he belonged to a cult. People were so closeminded these days, and it all because he looked a little different. Some days the man wished he were back home, where everyone was like him. Yet most of time he had no desire to return.
Fetching up a chair and eyeing it critically, he dared to sit. The wood creaked in protest, yet held. If it had broke, it wouldn't have been the first time. People often blamed him, though he found it hard to see how it was wrong to sit down. Crimson eyes were cast over the scene, the red refracting light and seeming to faintly glow.
He wondered if the Dragon Elite really could be found here. Several people had said yes in response to his request, but that didn't mean they were right. His mind streched back to when he had first seen a Dragonrider. Awe unlike any he had ever felt filled him. A desire awoke in him to find one and make it his own, to have such a glorious mount would be beyond belief. It certianly wouldn't be easy, yet Hica felt a drive to try. It had been too long since he had a reason to live, a reason to be more than an escaped slave with a bloody past and no future. He needed to take that spark of emotion stirring within him, and reclaim his shattered life.
Some had questioned if Hica was even human, to which he took minor offense. Just because he was larger than the people here, and had unusual coloring for these parts didn't mean he was less than human. The marking winding across his back was merely a birthmark, and not a tattoo proclaiming he belonged to a cult. People were so closeminded these days, and it all because he looked a little different. Some days the man wished he were back home, where everyone was like him. Yet most of time he had no desire to return.
Fetching up a chair and eyeing it critically, he dared to sit. The wood creaked in protest, yet held. If it had broke, it wouldn't have been the first time. People often blamed him, though he found it hard to see how it was wrong to sit down. Crimson eyes were cast over the scene, the red refracting light and seeming to faintly glow.
He wondered if the Dragon Elite really could be found here. Several people had said yes in response to his request, but that didn't mean they were right. His mind streched back to when he had first seen a Dragonrider. Awe unlike any he had ever felt filled him. A desire awoke in him to find one and make it his own, to have such a glorious mount would be beyond belief. It certianly wouldn't be easy, yet Hica felt a drive to try. It had been too long since he had a reason to live, a reason to be more than an escaped slave with a bloody past and no future. He needed to take that spark of emotion stirring within him, and reclaim his shattered life.