Cymin the Hero
The high sun and wind blowing from behind made him squint his eyes. He surveyed the valley below from atop one of the many hills overlooking the small settlement. Drag'os began to descend towards one particular small cabin not knowing for sure it was the right place, but it matched the description he was given. Discomfort began to creep into his emotions. He hoped that he would only be here for a short time, long enough to share as much information with this family as they could stand to hear. He knew that they would be just as uncomfortable by the news he carried. He was here for his friend Cymin who died the week before. Although the two had only known each other for a short time, Drag'os felt tremendous loyalty to Cymin. Especially in light of the fact that he was so instrumental in the survival of Drag'os and the other members of their party. He sacrificed himself for the good of them all while they sought to recover a small box for a local citizen of Fallcrest who had hired them.

Drag'os stepped around the corner of this small ranch house on the outskirts of the small village known locally as Hu-hachet not sure what to expect. He was amazed with the care that had been taken in this particular dwelling up keep knowing that the owner, was after all, a hobgoblin by birth. Hobgoblins he knew had a reputation for being less than civilized. He was quite surprised to see clean laundry hanging from the tree in the front yard. He knew he was in the right place, though, because of the woman kneeling in front of the small porch tending to a large pot of some species of flowers he was not familiar with. She was very tall, even for a hobgoblin, and had the same color fur and bore a striking resemblance to her eldest son Cymin - something Drag'os did not expect.

She turned to look at Drag'os with a suspicious eye. "Can I help you?" she spoke in good common, which also impressed Drag'os. He removed his helmet and paused for just a moment and said, "I come bearing news of your kin, Cymin." She rolled her eyes immediately. "Is he dead?" she asked in an even tone. "Aigh, Moradin has taken him home." He nodded. Drag'os quickly lowered his eyes to the ground knowing that Cymin turned his back on faith in the Goblin god Maglubiyet that would add further disgrace on him in her eyes, "He died a hero though, and I wanted to present you with his sword and tell you of his good deeds." Surprisingly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she too looked at the ground. "I always loved Al'Cyminkon, and hoped that he would find his place in the world." She said softly. "But, I always feared that this was out of his reach." This confession also surprised Drag'os. The tenderness with which she used his birth name and the kindness behind her words, he had not expected to hear.

Drag'os spent the next hour telling her the story of Cymin the Brave. He had always managed to find new ways to disappoint his parents, until now. Since the passing of his father several years ago it seemed that his mother had softened a bit and was finally able to open up about her true feelings for Cymin. It was just unfortunate that he never got to hear this from her. This was yet another example of the tragedy that befell the life of a truly good creature. Cymin was often misunderstood and Drag'os knew how important it was that his mother had an opportunity to know about some of the good things he had done at the end of his life. Drag'os knew the pride she would carry with her for Cymin from then on, that he had done the right thing by coming here, and that his friend could rest in peace.
Viewable by: Public
0 comments
Tags: Cymin , death