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About Ederan

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  1. Another day, another haul. Barivam Sott sidestepped a pile of dung left to gather flies mid-street, as he made his way past the crowds and wagons folk hauled to the harbor in what was to him a day like any other. Voices and sounds rose to the air about him as he went, alongside busy cobblestone paths that shone beneath the sun's glare. Beneath his arm was a bundle of cloth tied up at both ends by a rope; the smell of blood hung about it, and so did the flies. Dead lizards from beyond Hodra's outskirts, they fetched a fair price at the market. His forehead glistened with sweat from the heavy jungle heat, but it did not bother him; he'd sweat through the padded shirt he wore beneath his haubergeon already, to such a point that even the lightest breeze felt to him refreshing. He smiled as he went, nodding at every other random passerby, unaware if they acknowledged him or not. He felt good, and the world around him did too, for all he cared. Barivam turned a corner and strode down another busy street, loaded with carts and stands, people from distant places and nearby ones; at its end he found the mouth to the harbor, and there he allowed himself a breather. With a sigh he let the sack hit the ground. A great, wet splat it made, and the stones beneath were colored a deep, crimson red; the kills were fresh as one could expect. He had, after all, traversed the length of the city. He slung from his shoulder a heavy crossbow, made from stout wood cut from the surrounding jungle. The bag of bolts at his hip carried thirty shot, all with runes etched into their arrowheads that spoke words of magic and flame, for the game he hunted did not often fit within a sack he could carry beneath his arm. At his hip, on the left of it, hung a scabbard with a broad, rounded shortsword. He sat down on the steps to a great building that he did not know, and waited for the breeze to cool him down. Absentmindedly, he scratched at his face, running the length of the pockmarked flesh with his dirty fingernails; scars, cuts, and scabs all adorned it, on top of the heavy abuse the sun's rays had laid on him. He waited with one hand on his crossbow, the other on his kill, and both feet over his snap sack; it was mostly empty, but for a few supplies and tools he used in his travels. And there he waited, until commotion struck. More like, he realized it had already struck. Barivam glanced at a gathered crowd, all close together and gawking at one thing or another. What it was, he did not know, but it wasn't any man that took to the jungles to make a living, and it certainly was not a cautious man who did. Barivam stood and slung crossbow, snap sack and his kill over his shoulder; he made his way to the scene. He made his way past the crowd, to its center, where he watched as a great, dead thing was hauled off by a man. 'My,' he thought to himself, as he pulled at the corner of one of his coarse, black whiskers. 'Day by day, this town only seems to get weirder.'
  2. Hi! I'm interested in joining as well. Do you need me to fill in a character sheet? I'm not all too sure of site etiquette just yet, so I wouldn't want to start off on the wrong foot. :P