The young woman crawled backward on her hands and knees. She stumbled and the bandit- perhaps Half-Elven by the looks of him- closely quickly. Sarmoya could see the sneer beneath the cloth hiding his cowardly face. He could see the bloodlust and greed in the bandit’s eye. He also knew what that bandit’s eye did not catch was him. He did not spare a moment to consider how brazen one would have to be in order to not notice one of River’s Rest’s tallest citizens marching down South River Road in full plate armor.

The woman gathered herself to scream. Instead, she watched wordlessly as the bandit’s eyes went from displaying malice to surprise, then nothing at all. Her own eyes followed a katana’s blade to its wielder. She dared not move. Sarmoya quickly wiped the blade clean and slid it into the scabbard at his side. “You are safe. Are you all right?” He extended a gauntleted hand toward her. “Were you hurt?” Recovering from her shock, the woman started to scramble backwards again. Her face showed no less fear.

Sarmoya paused a moment, then withdrew his hand. “Please, forgive me if I caused you fright. I mean you no harm. I shall take my leave.” He quickly turned heel and walked away. No need to make things worse for the poor woman. He understood. She did not see someone who saved her. She saw a Krolvin, the scourge of the island, taking her for his own. He understood. That woman was not the first to react in such a way. She was not likely to be the last. But it had been happening less often in previous months. It was impossible to not see him on his constant patrols here and outside the Citadel. When reports of Grim circulated, he always investigated.

Having Krolvin blood did not make one a savage. People seemed to start to understand that. Did people accept that? Did people accept him? It was hard to say. Perhaps it was not for him to say. He turned to his left, toward the dull distant roar of a waterfall. He saw the stares of children clutching their parents in fear. He saw the glares of men who looked at him just the way that woman did. He did not acknowledge them. He could not acknowledge them. These stares were there en masse when he first arrived in the town. They were there for month. Years. Again, they seemed to be less.

Then the Green Lady appeared. Then Krolvin ships once again loosed hordes of pillagers on the lands. And it was as though Sarmoya had stepped back in time. Suspicion was as high as ever, and much of it was aimed at the Half-Krolvin who dared to walk the streets of the town undaunted. His armor had a small dent on the side where a young man hurled a rock at him. He did not acknowledge it. He would break the Krolvin. He could also break human’s ideas of people like him. Missions do not move in linear fashion.

He removed his helm at the base of the waterfall. A meditation was what he needed. Too many thoughts makes a blade hesitant. Should he wear a mask or cross-guard while on patrol? No. Honorable men showed their faces. Should he appeal to the Guard Captain? No. He did not trust the man after his latest inactions. Sarmoya was alone, which he always was, one man standing against a tidal wave of chaos, mayhem, and pain.

The wave will break against him. More stones will come to make the wall stronger. He has only to demonstrate his character.


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A quick flick of Wyrom's wrist sends a dagger into flight!
The thorny barrier surrounding you blocks Wyrom's attack!
One of the vines surrounding you lashes out at Wyrom, driving a thorn into his skin! Wyrom flinches slightly.

Thank you! I intend to do more of these. I want to explore this medium more as a way of expanding my roleplay.

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A quick flick of Wyrom's wrist sends a dagger into flight!
The thorny barrier surrounding you blocks Wyrom's attack!
One of the vines surrounding you lashes out at Wyrom, driving a thorn into his skin! Wyrom flinches slightly.