Emilan once possessed two beauties in its life.  One was her original fertile lands which was lost way before the time Drakan was born.  Its second lost beauty would have been the very village where the boy was born.  Now both these beauties now remained as ash and tinder buried in the mud of the present.  But even in such a state humans, like insects, have continued to thrive despite such harsh changes.  Drakan was an example of this change though under different circumstances.  He was Dragon-Slayer, a single grain of a wheat field filled with over-ambitious kids, cocky veterans, and the smaller but worthier of groups (which he felt more connected with).  If you were to look at him though at first glance you could easily be confused by whether he was an assassin or a merchant even.<br/><br/>Drakan at this moment though seemed more like a guest at an inn; he wore a kimono to cover the entirety of his body save for the left side of arm and chest, given the nature of his….arm.  His right hand held a pipe for which allowed him to smoke a certain flavored weeds, something that wasn’t of his normal practice.  The innkeeper however was very kind, which probably gave away due to her old age.  Nevertheless it was a gesture that Drakan took to heart, rewarding her with of course money for the rent, and an undisclosed gift for their future troubles.  Drakan seemed like a young healthy man, roughly 5 foot and 9 inches, a fine tone of body considering his human origin, hair black and glossy like obsidian, eyes like amethyst, even the left side of his face bearing a tattoo of a wyrm, which was all the same to him.   Wyrms were no different than dragons, and like dragons he would put them down permanently.<br/><br/>The only remaining bastion of beauty being the sun had slowly passed rising over the horizon.  By the time Drakan could see a clear view of the sun (without seeing it directly) he knew all too well that it was time to depart.  Stripping himself of his kimono, he moved to his undergarments and the first layer of clothes which were of light normal clothes.  The second layer would be his armor which he always kept by, in his case next to his bed.  With his armor finally assembled the third layer of clothing would be his traveler’s cloak which was masked in a crimson red color with gold trims.  His sword already kept in the scabbard then proceeded to be attached to his satchel, and his steel leggings and foot guards would finally be attached.  Of course a salesman couldn’t be without his backpack full of wares and a small portable table to assemble a small kiosk from which he could conduct his business and trade.<br/><br/>Making sure to account for everything that he had brought with him he nodded acceptably to finally depart from the inn.  In order to leave inn it was required of him to exit via a sliding door that led to a corridor connected by multiple doors which seemed to lead to other rooms.  Of course the door he needed would be at the entirely opposite end of the corridor.  This door let to the innkeeper’s guest hall where she had resided during its opening hours.  The old lady had been humming a fine tune up to the point where the silence had been broken by Drakan’s presence.  “Ah, you are leaving the?”  The man nodded to her in response to her question.  Of course a natural look of disappointment sketched itself onto the woman’s face, the motive being her innkeeper technique of attracting more business. “Be careful out there dear, there are a lot of dragons running about.  I would hate to lose a potential future customer.”  The old lady let off a soft but notable giggle knowing the man was more than capable with dealing with dragons.  Drakan smiled nodding to her as he heading outside to the wasteland that he lived in.<em>Now then which direction shall we go?  Perhaps East…..?</em><br/>