Garryn sat in the quiet of his friend’s home, his mind a storm of thoughts. The crackling fire in the hearth did little to soothe the tension in his shoulders. He should have known that leaving the throne wouldn’t mean leaving behind all the burdens that came with it. He’d abdicated for a reason, seeking a simpler life where he only had to answer to himself. But the world, it seemed, had other plans.
His gaze shifted to the small, makeshift nest in the corner of the room where a young griffon lay, bandaged and weak. The poor creature had taken a blade meant for him. The assassins had come in the dead of night, silent and swift, with murder in their hearts. Garryn had fought them off, but not before his griffon had been wounded, and the attackers had fled.
He hadn’t had the luxury of chasing them down, not with his companion bleeding out in his arms. Instead, he’d focused on keeping the griffon alive, nursing it back to health as best he could with what little he knew of healing. The bird’s sharp eyes were now dull with pain, its once-strong wings folded in defeat. Seeing it like this tore at something deep within him—this griffon was his responsibility now, and he’d be damned if he failed it.
But Garryn knew he couldn’t ignore the broader threat. Someone had sent those assassins, and while he no longer held power in Tantervale, it was clear that his past wasn’t ready to let him go. He’d sent out messages to his friends and allies, hoping they could shed some light on who was behind the attack. The list of suspects was long, but he couldn’t fathom why anyone would still care about a dethroned dwarf who just wanted to be left alone.
Sighing, Garryn leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He’d given up the crown, the titles, and the responsibilities that came with them. All he wanted was peace, a life where he could raise his griffon and live on his own terms. But peace, it seemed, was not something easily earned.
He’d wait for word from his allies, but he wouldn’t just sit idle. Once his griffon was on the mend, he’d find out who was behind this and make them regret ever crossing his path. He might no longer be a king, but he hadn’t forgotten how to fight.
@Jareth
His gaze shifted to the small, makeshift nest in the corner of the room where a young griffon lay, bandaged and weak. The poor creature had taken a blade meant for him. The assassins had come in the dead of night, silent and swift, with murder in their hearts. Garryn had fought them off, but not before his griffon had been wounded, and the attackers had fled.
He hadn’t had the luxury of chasing them down, not with his companion bleeding out in his arms. Instead, he’d focused on keeping the griffon alive, nursing it back to health as best he could with what little he knew of healing. The bird’s sharp eyes were now dull with pain, its once-strong wings folded in defeat. Seeing it like this tore at something deep within him—this griffon was his responsibility now, and he’d be damned if he failed it.
But Garryn knew he couldn’t ignore the broader threat. Someone had sent those assassins, and while he no longer held power in Tantervale, it was clear that his past wasn’t ready to let him go. He’d sent out messages to his friends and allies, hoping they could shed some light on who was behind the attack. The list of suspects was long, but he couldn’t fathom why anyone would still care about a dethroned dwarf who just wanted to be left alone.
Sighing, Garryn leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He’d given up the crown, the titles, and the responsibilities that came with them. All he wanted was peace, a life where he could raise his griffon and live on his own terms. But peace, it seemed, was not something easily earned.
He’d wait for word from his allies, but he wouldn’t just sit idle. Once his griffon was on the mend, he’d find out who was behind this and make them regret ever crossing his path. He might no longer be a king, but he hadn’t forgotten how to fight.
@Jareth
09-10-2024, 12:03 PM
