Skull and Shackles

Ramul: Ramul's Story

The air smells of salt and spice. Even boxed, the contents are aromatic. It’s been three days at sea to Port Peril. Manaket and the sands of Rahadoum have nothing left for me.

Father was a being of water and magic. Mother hid me away for that. I was not meant to walk among men. There was a temple in the desert that was once lush and fertile, but now was merely a godless house where monks trained to be there physical best. The temple was accepting as anywhere could be for those like me. The fed me and provided shelter, so long as I could work. I could tell I was secondary, not allowed to train with or meditate with the students. But it was a life of moderate acceptance for which I was grateful. And I picked up some basic forms from watching them in my spare time. We stayed there at the temple for many years. But being mortal in a land where the Gods neglect, she had taken on a harsh sickness. Inevitably, she died.

After mother’s death, I made my way to the coast. Upon entering Manaket, I could tell why she tried to protect me. I only spent a few months there working at the dock before catching a ride to Botosani. The people there were better, but it was still mostly the same. I needed to leave.

Merchant ships will hire fast, but I know not where my future is. Many of these sailors are just like those from my entire life: untrusting, suspicious and hateful. From Port Peril, I can make it to just about anywhere.

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