Becoming One's Own Ma-- Jamoura (Solo)

[Sharth]

Spring 1, 511 AV

Sharth looked back at his hometown with sad eyes, as he descended the large worms that served as stairs around the Gate Trees. Ten days ago his mother died in a fight with another female. He shook his head as he looked away, toward the forest through which he'd be trekking through. He knew his people were a calm, docile race. But his mother was one of those rare few that preferred the beastly side. She had brought her untimely demise on herself. He hadn't learned much in his few centuries on Mizahar but he did know his people were no longer beasts. Caiyha had blessed them, and they had changed. If they wanted to survive, or even flourish, they must continue to change. And that was why he was leaving his home of the last 350 years. He wanted to leave the stifling nature of the home his mother had created as she raised him, and even after he'd been grown. He'd never managed to find a female mate, but he was still young. He wanted to travel the world, see all of the sights, learn things he couldn't learn here.

As he neared the forest floor he saw a fellow Jamoura standing guard, in his armor made from what appeared to be beetle shells. He knew this one well, and he walked over and the two embraced as friends.

"You're sure you want to leave? There's always room for you here," he asked. "You're father left you a gift, in case you decided to leave." As he reached around the side of the tree Sharth considered the emotions coursing through him. He knew his father sure, but he never had any real attachment to him. He was a respected leader among his people, and didn't necessarily abandon his mother and him, but was a rarity. He was probably ashamed of her. After all, she was just a beast.

He shook it off as the Gate Guard appeared with a large quarterstaff. It was about three feet taller than Sharth himself and appeared to be about five inches in diameter. It was made of polished redbrown wood. It had vines, adorned with thorns and leaves carved along it's length, wrapping around and around. He knew this to be a symbol of Caiyha, the leaves representing the life she could give and the thorns the pain she could inflict if disturbed. As he was handed the quarterstaff, he felt it's heavy weight. He knew he would be able to carry it with relative ease, but to races not as strong as his own it would appear incredibly heavy, almost like a small tree. His hand closed around it, his grip perfect, much to his surprise. "He carved that especially for you."

"Thank you, this will serve me well. I'm glad to have a piece of home to help me on my journey." He turned and looked out the road that carved through the forest. His journey would be long and difficult, but he would endure, and learn. He took one step forward, and turned to the guard, "Tell him thanks. I will return before long with many tales of the world and all it's inhabitants." And with that, he walked down the road, until Spires faded into the very trees that it resided in.