Tarren Evenpath
02-21-07, 07:04 PM
((And intro that is open for a couple people who want to go a'Goblin Huntin' with me :)))
Tarren stepped off the boat, nodding his thanks to the captain and winking at his daughter when the large man turned away. The girl giggled and blushed, as girls often do, returning the wave shyly. Then she hurried away, likely to tell her friends of the handsome black-haired stranger who had boarded her father’s ship.
The young wanderer stepped onto the docks, observing the hustle and bustle as goods and people were transported on and off ships. After spending so long in solitude the movement of people felt so foreign and claustrophobic. For one brief instant he longed for the mountain sanctuary he had called home for so long…
That place is gone. Burned to the ground. The reminder was sharp and curt in his mind, the voice of his father. He nodded and began to walk down the dock. His walking stick made a thumping noise every time it hit the wooden boards, the only noise that came from his person. His feet slid silently across the ground, almost appearing to glide rather than walk, and while the soft cotton of his loose garments made a gentle whisper when they rubbed together, it was far too soft for any human ears to hear.
Movement through the town was simple enough; No one questioned him as he walked down the main road, although he drew quite a few young girls’ gazes. One or two of them he graced with a charming smile. Once they realized he’d spotted the, they looked away. The bold ones would hold his gaze until he passed, sometimes giving flirtatious smiles of their own.
He paused only once, when he saw a young teenage boy holding a doll over a young girl’s head. The girl was jumping and crying, begging the boy for the doll back. She pleaded with the bully, telling him that her mother, who had since passed on, had given her the doll. Still the cruel child held it above the girl’s head laughing.
Tarren strode over with powerful stride. He grabbed the doll from the boy, giving him a frigid glare. The boy stopped his taunting and looked up at Tarren’s muscled form. He looked for an instant like he was going to make trouble but decided against it last moment. With a snide remark, the boy rolled his eyes and left. Tarren let him go.
He crouched down in the dirt and offered the girl her doll. It was small and well-made. He smiled at the girl and she cocked her head.
“Thanks mister!†She exclaimed, breaking into a smile and throwing her arms around Tarren in a strong hug. “Thanks a lot!†She released him from her grip. “What’s your name?â€
Tarren reached into the dirt and traced his name into the dust with one finger. The girl stared at it for a moment.
“T…Ta…ren. Tarren!†Her forehead scrunched up in concentration as she gazed at the letters. When she finally figured it out, she beamed a smile at him. Tarren returned it, ruffling her hair gently. “What’s the matter? You can’t talk?â€
Tarren shook his head.
“Well why not?â€
He smiled, shrugging, and opened his mouth in a silent laugh that he had become accustomed to in his years of silence. Apparently the girl thought it was funny because she laughed right along with him.
“Lyssa?†The voice cut through the laughter like a knife.
The little girl looked up at the man who stood in a doorway of a nearby house. He had a haunted look to him, a look Tarren recognized. It was the look of someone who had lost themselves in an addiction.
“Yes pa-pa?†The girl responded hesitantly, fear slinking into her voice as a cat slips discretely into a room.
“Get away from that man. Come here.†There was a drawl in his voice and to Tarren he seemed drunk.
“Yes pa-pa.†She got up and shuffled meekly to the man’s side, looking over her shoulder only once to whisper “’Bye†in a sad tone to her new friend. In the scared eyes of that young girl he saw a flicker that made something inside him squirm. The flicker was forgiveness. She forgave him for not doing something to save her from the monster who had once been her father.
Tarren watched her go and turned walking toward the Zirden. He needed a drink. His imagination played tricks on him and he could see the man beating the poor girl as she begged for him to stop. He needed a stiff drink.
When he reached the arena area he approached the man who sold drinks. He pointed to a bottle of the stuff and slapped some money onto the table. The bartender, who had seen far stranger things, didn’t ask questions. He gave the wandering monk the drink and returned to his business.
Tarren knew he stuck out with his loose airy clothing, the traditional garb of his people, his bare feet and carved walking stick. His shaggy dark hair, sparkling blue eyes, and handsome face drew the lady’s eyes, but he didn’t want them at the moment. Instead he took his drink and moved to a shadowed corner.
The men in front of him were discussing a recent goblin raid in the town. Apparently his younger daughter had been taken. Tarren listened intently, the alcohol burning in his throat as he drank it down.
He couldn't save young Lyssa. That thought burned in his mind. Maybe he could save this other young girl...
Tarren stepped off the boat, nodding his thanks to the captain and winking at his daughter when the large man turned away. The girl giggled and blushed, as girls often do, returning the wave shyly. Then she hurried away, likely to tell her friends of the handsome black-haired stranger who had boarded her father’s ship.
The young wanderer stepped onto the docks, observing the hustle and bustle as goods and people were transported on and off ships. After spending so long in solitude the movement of people felt so foreign and claustrophobic. For one brief instant he longed for the mountain sanctuary he had called home for so long…
That place is gone. Burned to the ground. The reminder was sharp and curt in his mind, the voice of his father. He nodded and began to walk down the dock. His walking stick made a thumping noise every time it hit the wooden boards, the only noise that came from his person. His feet slid silently across the ground, almost appearing to glide rather than walk, and while the soft cotton of his loose garments made a gentle whisper when they rubbed together, it was far too soft for any human ears to hear.
Movement through the town was simple enough; No one questioned him as he walked down the main road, although he drew quite a few young girls’ gazes. One or two of them he graced with a charming smile. Once they realized he’d spotted the, they looked away. The bold ones would hold his gaze until he passed, sometimes giving flirtatious smiles of their own.
He paused only once, when he saw a young teenage boy holding a doll over a young girl’s head. The girl was jumping and crying, begging the boy for the doll back. She pleaded with the bully, telling him that her mother, who had since passed on, had given her the doll. Still the cruel child held it above the girl’s head laughing.
Tarren strode over with powerful stride. He grabbed the doll from the boy, giving him a frigid glare. The boy stopped his taunting and looked up at Tarren’s muscled form. He looked for an instant like he was going to make trouble but decided against it last moment. With a snide remark, the boy rolled his eyes and left. Tarren let him go.
He crouched down in the dirt and offered the girl her doll. It was small and well-made. He smiled at the girl and she cocked her head.
“Thanks mister!†She exclaimed, breaking into a smile and throwing her arms around Tarren in a strong hug. “Thanks a lot!†She released him from her grip. “What’s your name?â€
Tarren reached into the dirt and traced his name into the dust with one finger. The girl stared at it for a moment.
“T…Ta…ren. Tarren!†Her forehead scrunched up in concentration as she gazed at the letters. When she finally figured it out, she beamed a smile at him. Tarren returned it, ruffling her hair gently. “What’s the matter? You can’t talk?â€
Tarren shook his head.
“Well why not?â€
He smiled, shrugging, and opened his mouth in a silent laugh that he had become accustomed to in his years of silence. Apparently the girl thought it was funny because she laughed right along with him.
“Lyssa?†The voice cut through the laughter like a knife.
The little girl looked up at the man who stood in a doorway of a nearby house. He had a haunted look to him, a look Tarren recognized. It was the look of someone who had lost themselves in an addiction.
“Yes pa-pa?†The girl responded hesitantly, fear slinking into her voice as a cat slips discretely into a room.
“Get away from that man. Come here.†There was a drawl in his voice and to Tarren he seemed drunk.
“Yes pa-pa.†She got up and shuffled meekly to the man’s side, looking over her shoulder only once to whisper “’Bye†in a sad tone to her new friend. In the scared eyes of that young girl he saw a flicker that made something inside him squirm. The flicker was forgiveness. She forgave him for not doing something to save her from the monster who had once been her father.
Tarren watched her go and turned walking toward the Zirden. He needed a drink. His imagination played tricks on him and he could see the man beating the poor girl as she begged for him to stop. He needed a stiff drink.
When he reached the arena area he approached the man who sold drinks. He pointed to a bottle of the stuff and slapped some money onto the table. The bartender, who had seen far stranger things, didn’t ask questions. He gave the wandering monk the drink and returned to his business.
Tarren knew he stuck out with his loose airy clothing, the traditional garb of his people, his bare feet and carved walking stick. His shaggy dark hair, sparkling blue eyes, and handsome face drew the lady’s eyes, but he didn’t want them at the moment. Instead he took his drink and moved to a shadowed corner.
The men in front of him were discussing a recent goblin raid in the town. Apparently his younger daughter had been taken. Tarren listened intently, the alcohol burning in his throat as he drank it down.
He couldn't save young Lyssa. That thought burned in his mind. Maybe he could save this other young girl...