Dashal woke up with a start. He had been leaning against a tree near Lake Aidaur, watching a group of children play amongst themselves, and apparently had dozed off. He found himself now lying down beside the roots of the trees. Brushing off his shirt as he got up, he noticed an older looking man just on the other side of the tree drifting off into his dreams.
Dashal sighed quietly and headed for the lake, hoping to drink some water out of it. He had heard people carried water in bottles or capsules, for quick drinking, but he was never cut out for even adequate technology. "Never liked it, probably never will." he thought to himself. Absorbed in his thoughts, Dashal hadn't realized he had gotten so close to the lake, and almost walked right in. He stopped abrubtly and knelt down, cupping his hands underneath the water. As he brought his hands near his face, some of the water spilled out onto his light brown shirt, and trailed down to his plain, brown pants. He was a simple man, wore just the barest clothing he needed, save his elven mother's golden cloak, and used his magic to aid him with nearly everything he did.
The cloak itself stood out, in any crowd and on any person, but moreso did it stick out on him. His clothing was barely of a peasant to wear, and yet he had a cloak woven out of pure gold cloth that had a silver insignia in the middle, that of his ancient families magic.
Before he lost himself in thoughts again, he took a gulp of the water in his hands, wiped his mouth, and started off again in search of people who needed his help.
|