(OOC: Allo, Kaanta. Long time no see. Hope you're on AIM, got an interesting story to tell you. Anyway.. hope there's room for an old fighter and his son to rescue their homeland.

)
It was getting dark as the ragged-looking, cloaked party of two reached the Western Gate to the city. The smaller, younger-looking of the pair was mounted upon a strong, rough looking stallion. The older of the pair was busy at the gate's horse door, arguing with the man there. The cloak's hood slipped off of his head, and the light of the moon, reflected in the rain, caught his golden hair. There were a few streaks of grey, but the color was still vibrant, the face it framed strong. The man at the gate waved his arms in the night air, emphasising his point. Eventually the argument ceased, and with the clink of coins falling into the gatekeeper's hands, the two moved into the dark, rain-soaked interior of the city. There wasn't much in the way of room left in many of the inns they visited. Three, four streets they tried, no openings. The pair passed a slightly dillapidated, worn-looking house at the end of the fourth street. The older's eyes sparkled for a moment, a tear running down one of his cheeks. He broke open the door, and lead the horse through the small doorway. The younger had dismounted and moved into the room ahead, to start a fire and clear some space.
"Eram, check the back room,"said the older, his voice rough now from the argument with the gatekeeper.
"and make sure there's still beds in those rooms. Should be. This place looks untouched."
A fire was soon started, and Eram returned from his circut of the house, reporting that everything was indeed almost untouched, and the beds were still in excellent condition. Taking a glance at the dark, leather-wrapped shape on the horses saddlebags, the golden, faintly glowing runes on the pommel of his sword confirmed the older's guess.
So, there was still some magic working here after all, thought he. After they had made a meager meal of some dried meat and small cups of tea, Eram rolled up in his cloak, rested his head on his bedroll, and slept. Taking his cloak off, the elder man shook the water off, and placed it over the young man's sleeping form. Taking hold of thin, golden chain around his neck, he stroked a small jade bird that was hung from it, and whispered to himself in the twilight.
"If only you'd have lived to see him now, Kyra. He's so beautiful. Your son. He's grown up so quickly. Nearly seventeen already. Great one with a sword, he is." he chuckled at that, staring off into nothing, as if remembering something from long ago.
"Like his father, I suppose, yes. Saved my life, he did. Two of those damned lizards snuck up on us in the night. I barely woke up in time. They were on us. Before I could even think, Kyra, he had my sword out and one of them's head rolling 'tween it's scaly legs. Amazing."
He talked for a while, maybe an hour or so, like that. Dawn came, peeking its pink and golden light through the cracked, aged glass of the windows. Eram was just waking up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and greeting the dawn. He looked about, for his father, but then realized he must have gone to get more wood for the fire, or out to ask more people if they'd seen the man his father was looking for. Eram barely remembered him. An uncle from when he was very young, though he often wondered how a grey elf named Kaantaa could be his uncle. Occasionally he just suspected his father was making it up.
On the street just outside the house, peddlers were already hawking their wares, stopping the meager passersby for a look at their items. Some of them did think it was strange that a golden-haired man with a sword was asking about elves. But they payed it no mind and went about their day. The golden-haired warrior stalked off towards the palace in the distance, muttering to himself, a pouch banging against his hip as he walked.
"Where are you, Kaanta? I found it. Now where the hell are you?"