Kyr Saladahrin

A broken man.


Kyr Saladahrin

Kyr is disinterested in most things, so long as he has a drink.


Kyr Saladahrin had been a simple soldier in the service of Heros. He had done it as his father had and as had his father before him. As a young man he had believed there was no higher calling. But as all young men are, he was naive in the ways of the world in only the way someone unfamiliar with true loss can be. He had a loving wife and three children, again like his father but where his father had had three sons, Kyr had been granted two daughters and a son. Where so many men regretted their daughters, Kyr cherished his as each reminded him of their mother in her own way. His daughters were 8 and 6, and his son not quite 2, when they died horrible deaths.

The exact chronology of what happened was lost to Kyr as there were no survivors, but having surveyed the scene, he has pieced together a general outline. It must have happened just as the gates of Shambala had closed. Kyr had been campaigning in Heros’ name, but as word of his disappearance spread, Kyr’s force was disbanded. No more than two weeks had passed by the time Kyr again laid eyes on what remained of the tiny village called Wellspring. He had ridden hard the whole day in the hopes of making it home by nightfall. Even so the sun was low in the sky by the time he crested a hill affording him a view of the small town. And though the hour early and the town small, Kyr instantly could tell something was very wrong. There were no lights, no cook fires, no motion in the town below.

Kyr had already ridden hard that day, but now he rode his horse literally to death. And when his steed fell, Kyr took to running the rest of the way home. Specifics about what happened to most of the village are lost to him for he had eyes only for his own family. He found the bodies of his wife and daughters in his home, they had been raped repeatedly before being beheaded, their heads nowhere to be found. It took an hour’s search to find his son’s body. It, along with the bodies of several other small boys, had been speared and flung seemingly to see which might fly farthest. He brought his son’s body to his house and burned it to the ground, keeping only his weapons, armor, and a waterskin. He filled the waterskin in the oasis before running out into the dessert, following the signs of force who had laid his village to ruin.

Kyr followed their sign on foot for two days. On the third day, his water depleted, he happened upon a traveller. The traveller said he had seen the force Kyr was after pass a day and a night previous. And while the traveller had no water, he would trade Kyr a wineskin for his armor. Kyr was certain alcohol would spell his doom. The stranger assured Kyr there was an oasis he could reach by nightfall. Thirsty as he was, Kyr struck the bargain. Kyr set out once again, pulling on the fat wineskin. But Kyr was not to find the oasis nor his family’s murderers, not that day nor the next. On the third day after having left the traveller and his armor, Kyr happened upon the same traveller, or so Kyr thought, but the man said they had never met, and Kyr did not see his armor. But again the man had no water, but this time would trade a bottle of some alcohol from a distant land for Kyr’s weapons. The thought of any liquid touching his lips was too much for Kyr to pass up, and so Kyr made the trade. Once more did the events come to pass. Once more did Kyr walk for two days. Once more did he happen upon the stranger. And once more did the stranger deny knowing Kyr. Kyr was outraged and demanded an explanation, full details about who the man was. “I cannot know you, Kyr Saladarhin for you do not know you, but I am Darafel, and I have chosen you.” Rage and frustration overtook Kyr, and he dove to tackle the man, but in that instant the man was gone. In his place, Kyr found only some other bottle. Only when Kyr downed this bottle he found himself being replenished and refreshed in way he did not feel he deserved.

Again Kyr set out, and again he failed to find his family’s murderers. He had not traveled one hundred paces when the ground beneath his feet gave way, and Kyr tumbled end over end down into a monstrous cavern. At the bottom Kyr found his weapons and armor. He did not know who or what had built this path beneath the sands but set out to find a way out.


To be adapted.


To be adapted.

Kyr Saladahrin

Faith of Heros painless lessonz