“Sent away before the destruction, ha! The only reason I was sent away is that Duke Rose is a greedy tyrant who needs an heir, not a stepson with an unorthodox satyriasis! And if Mother had tried to stand up for me, she would be here too! What good would that do? She’s as useless as Lord Were!” It occurred to Bastion that maybe he shouldn’t be talking to himself, especially not insults about his new Lord- but that wasn’t until he heard a high pitched gasp and a window slam. He looked around quickly to see where the person who overheard was, however, he could not figure that out until a scowling woman pushed an orange and brown drakkin on to her porch. Bastion groaned and rolled his head back on his neck when he watched the lady give the creature a kick and point in his direction.

His groan was drowned out by the screeching din that followed him up the street. Head pounding, sweat pouring down his face, and dirt now covering every inch of his body, he decided he better make it to the river to clean up his cloak fastener and cufflinks and to appraise any other items he had to sell in order to have the materials necessary to live as a barley picker in the land of Estyria. The screeching ruckus of a drakkin followed Bastion every step he took as if he had a brand on him. Of course, Bastion knew from his creature courses that it was because of his smell. He smelled like a foreign place, so they felt he was an intruder. A Drakkin once was used, when trained properly, to weed out spies or to warn of invading armies, who in a large group could be detected by a trained Drakkin at least a day in advance. As much care and training were not given to these beasts, but they instinctively let out a warning about the smell of wheat and coal that wafted off of him. Given a day or two his old towns smell would be replaced with the scent of barley and salt, and he wouldn’t be distinguishable to the drakkins, who rely on scent more than sight. He didn’t want to wait though, he wanted it to stop. Now.

The sudden silence around him made Bastion stop and look around. At first, an eerie warm feeling spread from the base of his neck and down his spine. Bastion turned to see the closest drakkin around hobbling back up to its porch. The sensation spread and tingled out. He stood there for another moment and came to the conclusion that the creature stopped merely because Bastion had passed beyond its territory. Imprudent beast, Bastion snorted, still watching the creature as it sniffed a spot on the porch, turned in a circle and lay down, tongue loping out of it’s scaled mouth. This drakkin was tan with darker brown and occasional green splotches on the muzzle and belly, it’s yellow eyes reflecting like cats eyes in the afternoon sun.