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[h1][centre][color=fff200]Lan Ra'Nok[/color][/centre][/h1]
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The first figure at the city gates was a silhouette dressed in cloth. The figures head wrapped in a material that many of the locals weren't all too familiar with, concealing almost all of their face, apart from a pair of yellow irises. The body covered in strange markings, detailing a story of some sort, but the edges of them look as if they're missing something. The procedure was never complete. The figure looked battered, bruised and scarred, the clear bags under their eyes showing restlessness. Surely they could do better than this couldn't they?

This is, or this man [i]was[/i], Lan Ra'Nok. 

Once a young boy with aspirations and dreams of becoming a great hunter and leading his tribe into greatness, but then a boy who came back from his search for his manhood only to see the most grave of horrors. His tribe, all of them, taken by the Stone Blight. His Mother, Father, Brothers, Sisters, Aunties, Friends - all of them, frozen in time. [i]Dead[/i]. Lan didn't like the taste in his mouth when he thought about the latter. He was here to correct it. He was going to do whatever he could in the effort of hopefully beating back the plague that had befell all of them. He stormed off from his tribes tents, taking his father's curved blade and horse with him.

Lan found himself here five months later, galloping in on an emaciated horse, nearly dying from dehydration. That was two weeks prior. Luckily, Lan had gotten himself to his destination, and he could finally let the horse free. He had driven it to the point of barely being able to stand and his need with it was done, so he would let it depart onto a better life. He consumed it, offering its bones and fat to the spirits, and eating the rest. He prayed as he ate that the horse's spirit would guide him, it's knowledge as a traveller animal bestowing him with the wisdom of which direction to take. He found himself happening upon a band of doctors as he walked the final stretch, barely shambling toward them with his thinned frame and dry mouth. Luckily, they gave him water, and he was able to continue. 

He got to the gates of the great city soon after and allowed himself in. He had almost nothing to his name, The jewellery he could sell only got him the basics for a week in an inn, but he took what he could get. His original mission was to tell the west about what was happening, but it seemed that the west was hit just as bad as the tribes. 

The pained faces. They followed him [i]everywhere[/i].

Lan now found himself standing outside the city gates, looking up at the grand walls in front of him, his yellow eyes piercing through the fabric. Lan lowered his face coverings, exposing his mess of black hair and tired expression fully. He clicked caused his neck to make a loud [b]pop[/b] as he rolled his neck, allowing his headscarf the hang around the back of the neck. 

The mission was to find the first convoy of heroes that had been sent out, or what remained of them, and report back to the capital. A simple enough job granted that they had enough to go on. While Lan was more accustomed to chasing down big cats and other desert fauna, he would still help in any way he could. [color=aba000][i]"A tracker is a tracker, doesn't matter his prey."[/i][/color] As his father once said.

[color=fff200][i]"May the spirits guide me."[/i][/color] Lan sighed in his mother tongue, clinging to his knife, praying in whispers.