Hollow's Last Hope

The Water Wanderer

He finished his prayer and opened his eyes.

He was waste deep in the water shallow water of the river bank, holding completely still to minimize the ripples. He slowly looked about and took in the new morning surroundings. He beheld the oranges and golds of the sunrise, the still winds and the unswaying trees, the rocks and their colorful mosses, and thanked the Storm Lord for another clear day.

He glanced down as his own reflection in the calm waters of the river he nealt in. He knew what he would see, but he looked anyway since it would change nothing. He was in a shadow so his pale green skin looked almost black in the reflection on the water and was indestinguishable from his long black hair. It almost matched the color of his left eye which was naturally blacker than night though he saw quite clearly thru it. His right eye, completely missmatched, was a black slit cats eye in a field of red. His other left “eye” stared straight back at him, the orcish ceremonial tattoo that took up half the side of his head stared back at him balefully.

He regarded his gaunt face for a moment and in a rush swept both of his hands down into the water and splashed two handfulls on his face and in his hair. He wouldn’t have too much time before the barge was underway upriver.

He stood to his full 6’2" height and stepped back onto the rocky shore. He shook the water off himself and put on his clothes. His armor was in a pile leaning against a rock and his trident was thrust bottom first into the sand under the layer of rocks on the shore. The silver tines were just being toughted by the light of the dawn and glinted brightly as he rolled up his bedroll and stuffed it back into his backpack. He finished his packing quickly, they would be finishing breakfast at the main camp by the boat that had brought them this far. The men he travelled with were not comfortable in his presence. He wasn’t sure what bothered them more, the fact he was a priest of Gozreh or the fact that he was a half-orc. Staying out of the main camp was a poor option, who knew what gathered in the wilds here, but it was better than dealing with the stares and whispers.

However, the barge master was more than happy to have him since he could divine the weather and predict when they should hole up or when they could safely travel the river. It certainly was not the most impressive boat he had ever served on but the barge master had coin to pay and he was terribly short of coin at this point. Even clerics had to eat, and he was down to a only few gold pieces left.

He plopped his helmet on his head, shouldered his pack, grabbed his shield, and pulled his trident out of the rocky soil. They were scheduled to be at the dock near the town of Falcon’s Hollow this afternoon and the barge master would not want to be delayed. This was one boat Red Eye couldn’t wait to get off of.


Zandu Zandu

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