Two Weeks Ago...

The humanoid figure sat in the darkness watching the television screen as scenes of the New York Knights press conference played out upon it.

The meeting at breakfast time and his conversation with Li-eira afterwards had left Coren somewhat drained. Considering it was not long into the day, Coren felt more tired than he should. He stood in his room, rubbing his forehead, trying to take in all that had been said and what it meant.

Suddenly, Coren heard the door open and turned around.

There was a knock at the door. Atreus, noble priest of Verengaard, rose from his seat at his desk and crossed the near-empty room. He wasn't expecting anyone at this time, not so shortly before dinnertime. Perhaps, he wondered, the Tower's sorcerers had questions to ask him? Though why they couldn't wait he wasn't sure. Reaching the thick wooden door, Atreus lifted the catch and opened it and was surprised to see a large, bearded Northman standing there in his doorway.

"Coren", Atreus greeted the man, wondering why the Northman was visiting him. "Please, come inside".

"Youa leavin'? Mama mia!" The round, moustached Italian man known as Milo Vignoni held up his large, fat hands in despair. He then turned around and shouted into the back.

"Hey, Moni! You hearin' this? Ricky says he's leavin'", the owner of Milo's diner called out. "Says he's got anuther job over Manhattan way near the River"

Here’s the final part of the trilogy about Coren’s past. Part one and part two are also available.

Five Years Ago…

Sword clashed against sword, sending a shower of sparks to scatter onto the muddy ground. Recovering quickly, Coren swung his long sword again and the blade bit deep into the side of the orc. Black blood sputtered over his arm as Coren wrestled the sword free of the dying body. He stepped over the dead creature, wiped the worst of the gore from his gloves, and looked around.

Space.

It's a big place.

Most of it is uninteresting and empty. Only a tiny, miniscule amount contains something of interest - stars, gas clouds, asteroids or planets. Some planets are simply balls of lifeless rock, dead and uninhabited. But a few, not many, hold life. Tiny miracles on small rocks in a big space.

Elsewhere...

Captain Gizur entered the dark hall and saw Dragonlord Valgard at the other end of the room sat on his ornate chair in front of an imposing table. However, his attention remained on his master for only a moment. Around the Dragonlord's chair lay a large, black, glistening beast, its tail curling behind the Dragonlord and it's spine-encrusted head lying near to its master's lap.

The day was just beginning as Coren walked away from the temple where the others were staying. He wandered up and away from the ice clan's area and only stopped when he was part way up the mountainside and could see the valley below him.

Looking up towards the hazy sun, partially hidden by white clouds, the big bearded man sighed heavily. Verengaard, let me think clearly and come to the right decision, he thought to himself as he basked in the new day's warmth.

(This follows on directly from the DG-SOH: Epiphany & Emergence post, the night before meeting with the Oracle)

Coren watched as Li-eira came back to the main area of camp. He and Tob had finished their little dice game and the ranger had since retired to his tent, so had the others, except for Janus. Coren simply stood there, glowering as Li-eira, somewhat flushed, approached him.

Some OOC discussion about Coren that I wasn't sure where to put. So I'm putting it here.

A lot of what you've seen recently explains why Coren doesn't really have any friends. Only the kindhearted Li-eira is able to put up with Coren's grumpiness, his anger, his bouts of depression, his drinking, his snoring and his terrible singing voice. The damage that was done in his early life has led him onto a road to darkness that sometimes (often?) peeks through.

Which leads us to Coren's nightmare and his first prophecy.

A few days ago, before the fight with the goblin slavers...

A bright full moon was rising at the end of the second day of travelling. The party of six, and the dog Ellyn, decided to stop and set up camp. Once all the tents had been erected and a fire started, Coren and Li-eira would take first watch. But right now, everyone was busy settling down for the evening.

Twenty-One Years Ago...

The darkness was interrupted by a cacophony of sounds. There were a number of dull thuds, raised voices, an almighty crack followed by more voices. Then one voice drifted through the darkness. A women's voice, full of love but urgent. His mother's voice.

Ten Years Ago...

Carrying an extremely heavy iron bound box full of gold and silver, Coren entered the main hall of Darkhold Keep behind Captain Ragnar. Only seventeen, Coren had been the third mate on the pirate captain's vessel - the Drakkar - for just six months now. Considering his background, a slave to the Dragonlords, many considered it a great honour.

Coren most certainly did not.

Sat near the fire in a Freehold inn, Coren made himself comfortable and cleared his throat. Through his bushy white eyebrows, he looked at each of the children in turn, some only young and others only a couple of years from adulthood. With a nod, he began.

"In the lands far to the north, past the pine forests, where the snows never melt and days last for months, is where I came upon the great white bear" muttered Coren, his voice getting stronger as he continued.

As Coren dan Balor quaffed the last dregs from his tankard of ale, the door to the tavern opened. A cold breeze blew into the cavernous, dark room and caused the flames in the fireplace to flicker. The light from outside was somewhat obscured by a large round figure who, on seeing Coren, called out in a hearty voice.

"Ah! Great White Bear! How goes it, comrade?" the figure bellowed in greeting.