Character: Nomad
Lewd: No
Character
The sun hung low over the Kuru Alanlar, casting long, wavering shadows across the endless sea of golden dunes. A solitary figure trudged through the sand, the sound of his boots muffled by the dry, shifting ground. Wrapped in a weathered duster, his face obscured by a wide-brimmed hat and a scarf pulled up to his nose, he was known only as Nomad. The few who encountered him on the desolate trails rarely asked for a name. They knew better, names held weight in these parts, and some stories were better left untold.
Nomad was a man of few words, but his presence spoke volumes. He carried a revolver at his hip and a satchel slung across his back, its contents a mystery to everyone but him. The desert had a way of chewing men up and spitting them out, yet he seemed almost a part of it, as if the winds and the sands whispered secrets only he could hear.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and the temperature dropped rapidly. Nomad found shelter in the shadow of a crumbling ruin, remnants of the Üstün, long lost to time. He knelt by a small fire, its flickering light illuminating his sharp, weathered features. His eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the horizon out of habit.
A traveller had told him earlier that week about a small settlement to the south, one that had been expecting a delivery for days. But rumours swirled of bandits roving the area, their leader a man who took great pleasure in making couriers disappear. Nomad had faced worse, but he knew the desert had its own set of rules, and it cared little for the plans of men.
As he sat by the fire, the distant howl of a coyote broke the silence, and Nomad’s hand instinctively hovered over his revolver. He wasn’t a hero, nor did he aspire to be. He was a man on a mission, one whose purpose remained known only to him. But as the fire crackled and the night deepened, one thing was certain, by morning, he’d be on the move again, another day closer to his unknown destination.
In the Umissian Desert known as the Kuru Alanlar, only two things were guaranteed: the scorching sun and the man they called Nomad, always wandering, always watching, with secrets buried deeper than the sands beneath his feet.