They remove my shackles one last time and tell me that I'm too old, too weak and that they have no more need of me. I think to myself how odd, I do not feel old and my hands are not weak. I walk down the ramp and step on to the docks of a place called Keldor as a freeman a thrall no more "so this is freedom" I whisper, strange it does not feel any different, the Quartermaster approaches me "make your mark here and take you dispensation" he scowls motioning to a pile of tattered belongings he in turn kicks them causing them to roll perilously close to the jetties edge. I quickly gathered them up. "Now get your trash off the docks real men are working here" he said with a look of pure contempt and with that I wandered aimlessly into the town of Keldor to see what Gods have in store for me.