Illarion.org

Es war schon finster. Vom Schiff stieg eine kräftige Gestalt. Nicht sonderlich alt auch nicht mehr so jung. Der Mann ist scheinbar recht fertig von der Überfahrt und hat einen Drei-Tage-Bart. Missmutig wirft er seinen Sack mit Habseligkeiten über den Bord und macht sich auf den Weg in die Stadt. Er wechselt ein paar Worte mit den Seeleuten am Hafen und trinkt dann ein paar Bier in der Taverne. Dannach widmet er sich dem Schwarzen Brett der Stadt. Ein Grinsen überkommt ihn, breiter und immer breiter zieht es sich. Bis er sich fröhlich pfeifend eine Unterkunft sucht.

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It becomes dark. A well-built man leaves the ship. He isn’t really old,but even not the youngest anymore. He seems to be very exhausted from the travel. Morosely he grabs his belongings and heads to town. He talks with the seamen at the port and drinks some beer in the tavern. After that he goes to the board of town.An evil grin comes over his face and gets more widely, until he turns and goes away whistling to search a billet.

Within the centre of trolls bane stands a man whos exterior is a complicated mesh of armour but who's feelings beneath are a turmoil of chaos.

Watching the citizens of the town pass him, the man thinks upon the past and the future, what was and what is to be. But within these thoughts come a stark reality, the promises he has made, and the duties which he has promised.

The mans hand clenches about the sword by his side and he slowly walks from the town towards the docks, his mind upon finding the man who has recently arrived to this isle. The man who has a past to do with the one whom he has sworn to protect.