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Island of Cafora

By @Liv1107


The world has never been an easy place. From the moment you’re born, you suddenly have to survive. Whether that is ordering someone to serve you or driving a knife through the heart of your enemy depends solely on luck. If you asked anyone who has ever known me to describe what kind of person I am, they would say something like; a conformist, a weakling, a disappointment. All justifiable but not very flattering.

The Kalnan are a very proud people; we have our traditions, our laws, and our expectations. Despite what some may think, there are two sections to a Kalnan Tribe; The Kelna, and the Alns. The Alns are our Cheifs, Healers, and Cartographers. Without the Alns, our Tribes would not be a people, but an Army. The Kelna are the warriors of our tribes, the most skilled and fittest fighters. The Kelna must be prepared for any obstacle, whether physical, mental, or spiritual. Luck placed me in the former. My Father, Kendrix Eliya, is our Kelnaya. The Commander, if you’re using Childon terms. The Kelnaya must be the most remarkable Kelna in the tribe, as his job is to ensure everyone’s safety, no matter the cost.

The only thing wrong with my luck is that there is not one remarkable bone in my body. I know all the most advanced moves, tactics, fighting stances, even breathing patterns. But anything I can do, an Alns child can do better.

So I stick to the shadows, do everything expected of me, never so much as glance in the wrong direction. The only time my name is spoken outside of my home is to laugh at what a failure I must be in my Father’s eyes.

So how? You may ask, did I, mundane Sandor Eilya the son of the mighty Kendrix Eliya, find myself 100 miles from my tribe in a Bellscar prison?

The answer’s simple, really. I never had any luck. 

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