Storyboards: Sarigo

Joining Wanderers | The Wandering

Joining Wanderers
Muros was the name of the city to which I arrived. Dressed in what was once white clothing, right then very dusty and dirty, and a hood to cover my head I slowly walked the streets until I found what I sought – a tavern where I could rest for a while and perhaps find something to eat. The tavern, named after some animal I can't remember, was rather small and was at the time empty, save for myself and the tavernkeep.
I sat down at a table as far back as I could and withdrew the hood. The tavernkeep soon approached me and asked if I wanted to order something.
“Yes,” I said with a faint accent, “I wouldn't mind some soup with only vegetables, no meat, if you have such a thing.”
“Sure,” the tavernkeep replied with gritted teeth, as though he tried to keep himself from laughing, “I'll have it here shortly.”
I gave him a few coins and he soon returned with a glass of water. A short while thereafter my soup also arrived and I started eating it.
“Excuse me,” a male voice said from a table nearby. I had been so into my eating I hadn't noticed that a few more people had entered the tavern. “What's wrong with your eyes?”
I raised my hand and touched the piece of cloth, a darker colour than my otherwise white clothing, and mumbled, “This?” I licked my lips and answered his question politely. “My eyes are sensitive to light. I really shouldn't be out during the day, but I thought it would be better to try and get something to eat here during the day instead of trying the same during the evening. From what I understand things can be a bit… rough the later it gets.”
“Sounds reasonable,” the man replied, “Though you should really stay here until nightfall, if you fancy stories that is. Tonight won't be a rough night, tonight will be a night full of storytelling.”
“Storytelling?” I asked as I felt the curiosity rise.
“Yes, you just wait and see. It'll probably draw a large crowd.”
I asked to join the man at his table and he agreed. We sat there for a few hours and talked about everything we could think of. He told me of life in Muros, and Sendaria, while I told him of my short travels and my craving to see as much of the world as possible. Even the Eastern countries though they might be a tad… hazardous.
Eventually the fabled storyteller arrived and told story upon story about his travels and adventures. All the good and bad times, the humorous moments and the terrifying and such. After each and every story the crowd, which just grew larger and larger, shouted for more. Before we knew it several hours had passed and the storyteller left to get a good nights sleep and most others did the same. Before he left I asked the man I had sat with the majority of the evening if he knew who the storyteller was.
“No idea,” he said in a tired voice and tried to hide a yawn, “But I have heard he spends his time with a group.” He yawned this time. “Called the Wanderers.” Another yawn escaped his mouth. “I can't keep this up, I need some good shut-eye if I'll be able to work tomorrow.” With that, he nodded at me and left me alone. I wasn't tired at all that night, I kept thinking of the stories we'd been told that evening.
The next day I began searching for these Wanderers and eventually I did find them. And that was the first day of the rest of my life.

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The Wandering
There I was, in Sulturn, holding a small bag with my newly bought herbs in my right hand. It was just luck that I had found a peddler who sold the very herbs I needed before I had to leave. Nightfall was approaching and I needed to be on my way towards Muros if I were to make it in time for an appointment with a friend.
Quietly humming the hymn I had heard most of my life I went through my backpack and made sure I had enough supplies to last the entire journey - I was not too worried about food, as you can find quite a lot of edible roots and berries wherever bushes and trees are near, but good drinking water is not quite as easy to find.
Satisfied that all seemed well I started walking southeast towards Muros, a trip that would take me several days. The fact that it was getting darker every passing minute did not bother me at all since I have always preferred walking during the night. I guess all Ulgos do. I also would not have to worry too much about bandits or animals since I would spot them a good while before they spotted me.
As I walked there in the dark my mind wandered. I cannot really remembereverything I was pondering but I do remember feeling rather homesick. I longed for the dimly lighted caverns of Prolgu and the echoing hymn to UL. But I was here now by my own choice and my parents had let me go, I had only myself to blame.
A few hours passed by and I kept walking and reminiscing when I saw a faint light further ahead. Judging the time I had walked I figured about half the night had passed and that the light could not come from much else than a campfire. My legs were getting a bit tired and I could use a rest so I decided to visit whoever had lit that fire. A little company rarely hurts, especially when you have many days of lonely walking ahead of you.
While I got closer to the fire I could see two men sitting by it and talking, and a medium-sized tent put up behind them at a safe distance from the campfire. I put on a piece of cloth to cover my eyes since I was now close enough for the bright fire to hurt them and I spoke in a quiet voice, in case someone was sleeping in the tent.
'Good evening.'
'Good evening to you as well,' the man to my right said, They did not seem too surprised at me showing up even if they could not have seen me from far away.
'Do you mind if I sit down for a while?' I asked. Both men shook their heads and so I sat down to rest my legs. 'Thank you. I have been walking for hours and I think that if they could, my legs would probably kick me all over.'
'Where do you come from?' the man on my right asked.
'Sulturn.' I replied and the man chuckled a little bit.
'No, no, no. I mean originally. I haven't seen anyone wear the kinda clothes you're wearing, and never have I seen anyone wearing a blindfold while sitting next to a bonfire in the middle of the night.'
'Ah. My clothes are the same clothes I wore when I left my home and this blindfold is to protect my eyes, they are a bit sensitive to light. I hail from Ulgoland, south-east of here.'
'Ulgoland?' said the man in a questioning voice and seemed to try to remember if he had ever heard of it. 'I don't think I know that land. Please tell us about it.'
I was of course more than happy to, as it might help ease my homesickness so I started talking about my dear home and the people there.

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