Tales of Nethera 1: The Dragon and the Witch

Rain poured down in sheets from the dark looming clouds above. So dark that it looked night even though it was the mid afternoon. Sitting under a tree, Ethan sat alone. He watched the rain as if it mesmerized him. A flicker of light shone above as lightning streaked across the sky like bright, white veins. The flicker was then followed by the sound of thunder. It was a soft sound, not too loud like the occasional sound that was like a canon being fired.

Ethan sighed and reached to his left. He grabbed his shield, the one that had kept him safe since everything went wrong five years ago. The image depicted on the front was that of a gold dragon flying high in the purple dawn sky, breathing fire. It was quite the glorious shield, though it was now adorned with scuffs, scratches and a couple dents. A sign that it had been used for its intended purpose.

He closed his eyes. He remembered seeing the golden dragon proudly displayed on big banners in the massive halls of the manor he once called home. Then the image of said banner set ablaze filled his mind, as well as the screams of the people he cared for most, the sound of men shouting and- BOOM! Ethan's eyes bulged as he jumped a little. He cursed under his breath at the sound of thunder, though was slightly thankful for the intervention, as if the god of storms did it purposefully.

Ethan sighed and looked up. "I don't think this rain will let up anytime soon," he scratched his chin a little. "Well I guess I'll just have to trudge through the rain then."

With a yawn and a stretch, Ethan stood up. He grabbed his shield and tucked it under the large black cloak he wore and put the shield on his back. He then reached a down a little to his right where his sword was leaned against the tree. He held it for a minute and unsheathed the sword just a little from the scabbard, revealing the blue steel that was hidden. He then sheathed it and attached the scabbard to his belt, flipped the hood of his cloak over his head and started to walk down now muddy road he'd been walking since he was 13.

Ethan knew that from his map he was nearing a village, Troutstream. Troutstream was a large fishing village along the Plentiful River, named due to the fact that fish were always plentiful. Even in the winter months a man could fill a barrel full of trout, salmon, bass, and other river dwelling fish. It would be a good place to get food, supplies, and hopefully find a blacksmith. Ethan looked down at himself. He wore dark brown leather armor. It was alright, not the fanciful metal that he used to wear back home, but the leather made him a bit more flexible.

He trudged on, his boots occasionally slipping on the slick mud. Ethan cursed each time he slipped. He looked back, hoping that a wagon would be coming by down the road and hoped perhaps someone could give him a ride, but it was always risky. The last man he hitched a ride from tried to sell him to a flesh house. Ethan believed the man mistook him as a boyish girl. He was always teased about how much he looked liked his late mother, the Lady Alice Drakian. He had her pale blue eyes and brownish, black hair while he had his father's large wide body, though he wasn't as muscular as him. Ethan had hoped to gain some muscle when he was living with a group of mercenaries for a while, but alas he never he bulked up a little.

The rain started to clear and Ethan was thankful that it was night was starting to fall. he made his way up a hill and when he reached the top he could see the village of Troutstream ahead. The village was light by torches and lantern's from what he cold see. He made his way down and after another few minutes passed through the town's gates. The road was muddy and dirty. Wooden houses lined the left and right of the street. Ethan looked at some of the signs that were hanging over the door's of some of the houses. The first one had a loaf of bread painted on it, a baker, the other had a deer on it, a butcher possibly, and the last one had a red lion with a tankard of ale next to it, an inn.

Ethan stepped inside through the door. The main room was empty, not a soul in sight. There were some tables to the right with unlit candles in the centers. Ahead of him was a desk with a few candles that were lit. Ethan approached the desk and tapped the little bell that hung from a little metal stand. From a door a little to the left came out a tired looking man who didn't seem very pleased. When he saw Ethan he frowned more.