Laudyr sighed as he took a deep puff of his cigar, the rumbling of wooden wheels against the rocks and dust of the road rocking the cart back and forth. He looked back at his cart, his only home and refuge for these past many years, it's wooden frame scarred by long slashes in the wood, arrowheads embedded into the wood of the cart. He felt the old wood of the seat next to him as the beasts of burden cantered along the road. His eyes slouched as the cart continued to rumble and rock down the lonely road. Yet the shade from the trees lining this long forgotten road and the soft wind grazing through the flora calmed the old bear's mind. Even still, his shoulder guard grew heavy, the scale-mail weighing him down more and more every day, he could feel the reigns in his hand growing heavier and heavier every passing moon. Eventually he pulled  a parchment map from his satchel. He had only one place on his mind, somewhere the Ouxilian Empire hadn't reached yet, a frontier camp called 'Tarsal's Hollow'. A town made by and for adventurers, out of the thumb of the Empire that took everything he ever knew. He felt the rage from his youth return, only to fizzle out moments later, he knew he was far to old for revenge. All he wanted now was to enjoy his last years on Reagan, under the Elyria moon. He closed his tired eyes, the cigar falling from his jaw, as he slouched on a red scaled Drake-folk, letting the sounds of the cart bring him to rest.