[h3][sub]Zarparden Volk[/sub][/h3][hr]
The whistle for departure from the ferry-ship [i]Aurora[/i] startled Zarpaden awake. The scoundrel rubbed his bleary eyes and he wiped a wad of spit from his bristly chin. He sat up among a pile of canvas and sacks containing fruit. A few apple cores and banana rinds were scattered around the man. Two men stood before him, a grim expression on their soot-covered faces. The smaller of the two had a wicked scar across the side of his face. One of his eyes hung lazily in the socket. The other man, bare chested and bristling with muscles pointed a finger at Zarpaden. 

"Stowaway!" he said, reaching for Zarpaden's tunic. "Thief!" spat the other man pointing at the discarded fruit rinds. The two pulled Zarpaden to his feet. Still groggy, Zarpaden checked his pockets. His sword was somewhere nearby...

"Now wait a minute, gentlemen," said Zarpaden, attempting to buy some time. "Can't we talk about this?" 

"Sure," said one of the men. "You can explain to the cap'n, now move!" 

Zarpaden cocked his head to the side. "You did not say [i]please[/i]." The two launched themselves at the stowaway, fists raining down on his head and chest, knocking him to the ground once more. 

"Tie his hands!" shouted the larger man. Zarpaden was searching frantically for his weapon among his makeshift bed. [i]Where the devil is the blasted thing![/i] Blows continued to fall, and Zarpaden felt his hand wrenched back behind him. He started to kick furiously, connected with something soft, and the attack was momentarily abated. Taking the opportunity, Zarpaden grabbed the nearest thing he could find. His nimble fingers wrapped around something spherical and he flung the thing as hard as he could at the man still attacking him. 

"Ooof!" The one-eyed man reeled back into his companion, who was prone clutching his stomach. Zarpaden leapt to his feet with an armful of fruit and began launching apples, bananas, avacados, whatever he could get his hands on at his attackers. 

"Ha!" shouted Zarpaden triumphantly. The men retreated, but already Zarpaden could hear more footsteps down the corridor of the cargo hold. Something glinted in the lantern light; a shiny metal sword hilt tucked beneath some burlap. Zarpaden rolled (rather dramatically) to retrieve his blade, stood up and vaulted over the two ferry-men with a laugh. Curses and shouts followed him down the corridor. 

[hr]

[i]later...[/i]

Soaking wet from the short swim through the harbor, Zarpaden sat on a stone embankment outside of the [i]Leaky Grove Tavern[/i]. The noise from inside poured onto the street, and Zarpaden wished sorely for a rum. His dinner (and breakfast) had left his stomach churning, and he could do with a hot meal as well. He overturned a soggy boot and seawater splattered onto the cobble road. Zarpaden surveyed his surroundings. The street, wide and busy was one he knew well. He had frequented the city of Runeria once or twice. It had changed in many ways, yet stayed the same. Slipping his foot back into his boot he stood up, plucked a piece of seaweed from his stained tunic and sauntered into the Tavern like he owned the place.