[center][h1][color=7ea7d8]Raugar[/color][/h1][/center]
It was different than he had imagined. He'd been expecting something blighted and decadent. A lawless town ruled by chaos, but a place that was thriving and living nonetheless, like a tumour. But from where Raugar stood on the abandoned wharf among what few passengers his chartered vessel had deposited, it was clear the cancer had long since run its course. Brighthaven looked every bit the corpse as those rotting along the shore. It's crooked buildings were still, and there was no hustle and bustle. Only the chill wind broke the silence. 
He had seen many a settlement that had needed grinding into shape, and on his journey he had wondered frequently why his Order did not march here to civilise such a place of holy power. This first glance was enough that he now thought he understood. One could not impose order on what was dead.
Yet it was in such an irredeemable place that his pilgrimage must begin.

He shadowed his eyes with a gauntleted hand as he raised his gaze to the sun, trying to gauge how much of the day he had left to spend gathering information. Here his strength would be tested. If he was worthy, he would find power. Else he would die. The dragonborn inhaled one last lungful of clear sea air through his reptilian nostrils, then set off down the quay, flimsy boards creaking beneath his weight.
 
[i][color=7ea7d8]It feels good to be on solid ground again[/color][/i]. Raugar thought, striding past the silent warnings of the beach carrion, and into the gloom of the city without a backwards glance.