Entering the city proved to be a challenge in itself. One he just wasn’t in the mood to deal with after the days he had just endured. He was hurting. Exhaustion had taken it’s toll, and his stomach was cramping for a hot meal to settle it’s own anger. Garron sure as hell didn’t want to have to deal with the several damn guard posts littered everywhere, and having to deal with the high-and-mighty mentality some of the guards wore openly upon their sleeves. Just that little bit of power over the citizens went to their heads and they wasn’t afraid to practice it religiously.
Garron fought the urge to bonk some entitled heads together and scream timber like the foresters do when cutting down trees, then watch the guards fall in the same manner just so he didn’t have to deal with them. The mental picture of the action kind of lightened his mood a bit while a snicker echoed behind tight lips. What tended to irritate Garron further was that many of the guards knew him from past visits, and the diplomatic convoys his mother often led as a Ranger, but they always enjoyed poking at him every single time, nevertheless.
Hours seemed to creep along by the time he finally made it through the last checkpoint and stagger into the square. The cities interior was bustling and full of life. It always was that way, but the feel of the atmosphere had a different tone this time around. People of all walks and trade filled the area, and a intoxicating smell of seasoned meat roasting on a spit wafting in the air tugged teasingly at his flared nostrils. His stomach tried to overtake the feet, carrying him along to where the smell originates, when the corner of his eye noticed a man approaching his flank. This took Garron aback momentarily, for strangers rarely ever approached the Alpine man if only because of the sheer size of his body. He did tend to intimidate without any intention to do so. But, if they only knew, he was more of a gentle giant that enjoyed helping people rather than a testy warrior always ready to squish heads like grapes.
As the man approached, Garron noticed that there had been a different aura about him, and his walk boasted a practiced form that only comes with a lifetime of walking the path of a warrior. Garron instantly held high respect for the man before words ever danced the air. His rhomboid birthmark also sensed something different about him, for it began to glow a bright white light of which Garron has never seen before. That baffled him… The man glows just like that too, and unknowingly to Garron, his wounds also began to slowly heal upon his approach. Viridian eyes went wide at the thought and the new development his birthmark cast. A commanding voice then met his ears, shifting attention of the eyes to cast into the interesting eyes of the man speaking. Garron has never had interactions with a man of this caliber and his mind stumbled to find a proper address to not be disrespectful to him or his station. He always tried to be curtious, respecting someones title and position. This man’s origin was lost to him, leaving the Son of Winter to stand there like a fool for a moment before he offered the man a bow of honor.
“You are kind, good sir, but there is no need to fret over my current condition. As I’m sure you know in your adventures and battles, my wounds and bruises are superficial. They will heal with time and a little cleaning. My name is Garron, and it’s an honor to meet you.” Garron said with a soft tone, tinged with a bass his voice carried. “I certainly appreciate your asking and kind nature.” He never was one to admit more serious of injury. Pride of a warrior.
Garron’s posture stiffened a bit at a thought concerning the state Concordia was in at this time, and it sent a cringe throughout his large body. “Concordia is more-so dangerous these days for traveling. Something is going on to send it’s creatures and people into a chaotic fury. I tell you, good sir, if you’re in the mood for any training, or adventure, now is a challenging time to test your mettle.”
