Board Thread:World Map/@comment-24937485-20161129063822

Carrying the urn containing Mugen’s remains, and the unconscious body of Keldran, the saddened Saphira descended down to the ground to make landing in between walls made of charred logs surrounding this large encampment; adding to the outpost’s look of being abandoned and unfit for anyone to live. Built onto brimstone and other large rocks this was hardly a climate to create an outpost in, which made this location seem like a place out of fantasy. Especially with all of the massive bird-next like structures made of hay and twigs in which laid many a large egg each with a different pattern covering the shell, all of their base-colors being either green, red, black, or blue.

Looking at one of the blue eggs for a while, Saphira thought of her mother, then looking at one of the red eggs she thought of her father and looked up at the mountain in the distance from which grew red smoke just as she was greeting by a familiar and husky voice, tainted by a thick Scottish accent, belonging to a grizzled old man who was even more muscular, and taller, than Godric himself. “Well there lassy, glad to have ye back.”. He wore no clothing save for breeches torn up below the knee, so that the massive X-shaped slash on his chest would be in full sight of Saphira who remembered the story behind it.

Running one of his large, working man’s hands, through his thick white beard the beast of a man smirked and pressed his forehead against Saphira while both closed their eyes for their moment in this special way dragon’s greeted each other when they held love for one another. Saphira replied under her breath. “I’m glad to be back, caretaker, but I do so in grief.” She held out the body of Keldran, broken bleeding and bruised.

The old man laughed in a hearty way and took the boy’s body before quite roughly throwing Keldran over a shoulder before walking to one of the few shacks that made up the only buildings in this outpost..

“Aye there lady it seems like you got yourself in a bit of a pickle, eh?”

Still laughing, Keldran was ‘thrown’ down onto a bed of hay before the old man went to prepare something on the fire burning in the center of the room that spread comforting warmth. After the kettle was boiling, he took it off the fire and poured some of the steaming water into a steel cup. Then, adding some unknown herbs, he crouched by Keldran’s side again and closed the boy’s nose before bringing the cup to his lips so as to ‘force’ Keldran’s subconscious to drink the bitter but tasty contents.

After drinking, Keldran would fall in to a deep sleep. But as soon as he would wake up he’d feel his body to be close to restored; the broken bones healed; and most of his injuries cured. The marks and wounds were still there, some of them already having turned into scars. He’d hear some voices from outside, one belonging to Saphira.  