Zaron walked out of the mini-tower, the dragonborn equivalent of a church. He is now a paladin, sent out to scout potential conquests and retakings of lost lands. The idea took some time to start to truly sink in, but now was the whole different life set of thoughts. Sure, now he truly had a life of fullest honor, but it felt strange to him. Almost alien.

Zaron turned his head the moment he heard the familiar crash of his old friend, a priest who he grew up with.

"Awful cheery for this early in the morning, Kix." Zaron stated, his deep voice echoing his size.

"I missed you getting initiated into the paladins?" Kix's voice was close to Zarons, but the slightly higher pitch spoke of how he was just a bit smaller.

"Yeah. You're about an hour late from the start of the ceremony."

"What did they assign you to do?"

"Dangerous scouting. Need to know what all the other races are doing on our old lands, and if we could possibly take new lands. If we're lucky, we might get some slaving back. Hit us hard when it stopped so long ago."

"You know what the Library has marked as dishonorable."

"Why is it suddenly so? I do not question such things when I am doing, but when I am not, my mind wanders."

"Couldn't tell ya, but do try to stay on the ancestors good side. I would like to be able to visit a nice, war realm when I visit you."

"Will do."

And with that, Kix flew off with only a nod to Zaron. No longer stopped, Zaron began a march to the smith. A few hours later, and Zaron was equipped for his duty to the Tower and house Kal. With a visit back to his house, Zaron grabbed his travel gear. It was simply a large sack carrying food and a tent, a canteen, and several scrolls written in the old dragon tongue. Nothing that would slow him down.

After saying his final goodbyes to all his fellow dragonborn, he was now leaving the claim that he had grown up in to go to a nearby town owned by the Leo Crest. He sighed slightly as he began walking down the road to said town.

Leo Crest... These people disgusted him. Full of pride and "valor". True, many of them could best him in swordplay, but they were so... limited. Denying themselves the blessings of magic? Madness. He sighed and took a bite out of a just ripe pear he'd purchased. Their crops were certainly good though. He ate the pear and began walking down the streets, staring into a map in his other hand. This town was simply another stop in his journey to a Silver Stream academy of magic. His mission was personal, but simple. Steal any tomes or records of magic he could find concerning the effects of magic on the human body. He frowned and looked at the small patch of black skin on his wrist. It was apparently some kind of... arcane re-bound effect, caused by the direct application of his magic to his own body.

As powerful and useful as his magic was, and as often as it kept him alive, it was also apparently killing him, oh so slowly. He clenched his fist in frustration, destroying his pear in the process. Sighing and shaking his head, he shook the fruity flesh from his hand and kept walking, searching for a nearby inn.

Zaron was looking about as he walked into the town he had been trying to reach. He was used to the lands of his people where magic was something you used if you had it, usually for things like coating yourself in an element or healing or begin stronger than you are. Here, however, there was not magic. No people out on the streets throwing fireballs in the air to practice for combat. No magic. It finally came to Zaron. No magic.

As he continued walking, Zaron did not see Rajan, stopping only slightly when he felt something hit him. Or more correctly, him hitting something. The dragonborn looked down at Rajan, who to him at this point, seemed to be a strange man with a strange spot of black skin.

"I am sorry for not seeing you... human." Zaron spoke, hissing out the word 'human.' He continued with "You should have been looking where you were going. I have little patience for your kind."