His pregnant mother had washed up on the shores of the Riven sea. He had been born in the small village of Lakeside it would be 30 years ago in several weeks. Setting out, he thought about what he knew of his origins. Far away, beyond where he could see, was the bay where his life had first begun. He contemplated this for a moment and then looked south.

He halted as he exited the city wondering where was he going. Brushing himself off, he shouldered his pack and headed toward the gate. Eventually Sarma found another ladder and climbed back up to the city, he was now on its outskirts. If someone took the trouble to close off that sewer entrance, perhaps the landlord could actually rent the building for the price it deserved. That sewer connection was also the one reason Sarma was able to afford a decent house in town. It had likely been installed by the previous owner, whom Sarma knew to have been a thief. He silently thanked the gods he had found this little escape route several years previously. He pulled it up, slipped inside, and climbed down the ladder into the sewers. The smell rising was horrendous, yet he had learned to deal with it. Walking to the back of his bedroom he located the metal grate next to his dresser. “I’m leaving this sad city never to return.” Angrily he gathered his things and threw them in a bag. Sarma walked back to his bedroom and looked around at his few possessions.

He closed and bolted the door as more rocks pounded the outside of his house. Sarma paled and jerked behind the door before the rock could hit him. Groden smiled wickedly and raised his fist, which held a rock. You hate me, obviously, now can’t you just be content with your hatred and let me go about my life?” Sarma yelled.

Groden would have continued for quite some time had Sarma not cut him off. You act poor when truly you hide your riches. You sell things at outrageous prices, thereby stealing money from our humble people. “Gnome! How dare you show your face in this city. Groden was a young human who delighted in making Sarma’s life as miserable as he could. He had simple brown hair and common blue eyes: an average man, unrecognizable to most. At the head of the group throwing rocks toward his house was a slender and pale human. Outside was not a bunch of kids as he had suspected, rather a small mob of humans. Angrily he threw down the wet rag he was holding and yanked open the door. As he walked back toward his door he heard rocks landing on it, as well as yells and jeers from outside. He stored the rope in his room and went to find something to clean the door. Therefore, being in the minority, Sarma was persecuted. It did get many races and numerous travelers, yet gnomes were not among the most common residents. He cursed as he reached his doorstep: the door was smeared with mud and white paint that read ‘stupid gnome’. Passing through the market, he reached his small home. He walked down the streets, now crowded with people in the middle of the day. Making a living in Whitestone City was far more difficult than it seemed. His business was failing fast and he was running out of options. With a scowl, Sarma gathered up his merchandise and stalked out of the building. “Out! I shall never do business with a stupid gnome like you again!” “That is unacceptable! I ordered twice this! And the quality is horrible as well!” The tall human angrily threw the rope at Sarma.

Eternal lands port anitora