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A sad smile climbed to the corner of Grim's lip, the last rooftop of what he once called home faded behind the outline of a hill outside the city he grew up in, one cut by a dirt road. As it did, the damn smell seemed to vanish, although slowly. Without any doubt, it was still there, ever present no matter where he set foot on, yet not nearly as strong as it was Sunberth.
The fragrance of death. Though fragrance might have been a bad way to put it. Sometimes it was unpleasant, and other times it was not,it tended to assume various forms. Still being new to his mark, the raven haired boy could hardly discern what came from what. However, in time, he was sure that the would get used to it. Adaptability, be like water - his mother would always say.
Ever since he received Dira's mark, he could feel things. And not only feel, but smell, see and hear them. He would spend days simply walking down the streets, getting to know the town he was raised in again. Every corner had it's history written in blood and death, every building, every man. That however never really surprise him, seeing that in every ditch there was a high chance that a body lay face first in the mud, throat cut, and purse emptied, only now they were more noticeable. Yet, for someone new to this as he was, it was too much to take. He needed to move somewhere, anywhere. What had happened was too monumental, too much went down.
Likewise, finally finding his father, or better yet, whatever was left of him in that mindless husk, was a memory he'd not want to return to. While he had accepted his passing a long time ago, that being a wound already well healed, what he saw that day he could not ever imagine. To think that such a man, with such a strong spirit could become one of those damned things? A rare moment of anger overcame him, if only for a moment. It just wasn't...
But that was behind him.
The question where was one to move would arise next, one he pondered long about. The thought of setting sail to Avanthal crossed his mind more than a couple of times. But he neither had the funds, nor the will to embark there, now that he had a mission set in front of him. Thus, the first opportunity that would show itself, Grim would use to leave the city. Maybe someday, he will make up on that promise?
Said opportunity emerged in the form of a small trading caravan, composed of three carts, and two armed guards. The carts were, asides from being loaded with various goods, carrying several passengers, each heading in the same direction. The city of Syliras.
