Sulthon Ni'Shaang

My people came from Garlon. I hear you civilized folk call it Wulris, but that name means nothing to me. I was a boy when we left, but my father tells me tales of the old lands. It started when a dragon appeared in the sky, flying low at night. Then merchants, or messengers visited the lords and judges, even went to the Dwarves, I heard. Money flowed, in coffers and through the ships. But when everyone thought this dragon fellow wasn’t all bad, the shaman and priests disappeared from each clan; one by one. And then their apprentices. That was when my father took us West and I’ve heard nothing else from the old lands, be they alive or dead by now.


“And I say why not join him? Wise folk whine and wet themselves over the Unlife, but do nothing. Do you think these prissy lords and ladies have a clue? Or a chance? There is only one place where the Iron Wind does not blow: and it’s in the Dragon Lord’s domain.”

As my wife has said, we are caught between the hammer and the anvil. The hammer: Lorgalis and the legions of Ulor, and the anvil: The Red Dragon. No matter which gains the upper hand, we will not survive.

It sickens me. My people are pawns in the chessboard that is the Unlife and the Dragon Lord. I fear the day will come when there will be nothing left of my proud people.


Sulthon Ni'Shaang

Quest for the Crowns Rangersyl