All day, it seemed, there was nothing but the same slow and winding boredom. It had been like that for days. There was nothing, it seemed, that really called to him. The good mercenary jobs in the area had been taken, and there were no spectacular treasures to go after. Annihilate had been stuck within his room for days with no leads, no news, nothing at all. There was just himself. He hadn’t even felt like himself since the Mines. He felt tired, and he looked tired. Now the pale skin and the dark circles under his eyes seemed less psychotic and more fatigued.
Anni strafed about the room uneasily. His sword and shield lay in the corner, and all he carried was a dagger buried in his boot. He walked about the streets of Estolad with few worries, for he did not suspect anyone present who would seek to harm him. He was horribly bored. So, he paced about his room impatiently. His hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes were focused on the ground. He wore simple clothes made of silk and other cloths, most of which were black, and his hair was pulled back into a rather nice pony tail. It was a rarity that he ever took care to groom himself. However, tonight it appeared like he had bathed, brushed his hair and had a good rest. Of course, that was all he had done for the last few days; he’d eaten, he’d slept and he’d walked around on day.
There was little else in the town to do after one visited the few pubs and so he supposed within the next day he would probably leave. He thanked the gods, however, that the sun was beginning to set. He stood at his window watching as the burning orb descended behind the lines of trees and the distant peaks, and he smiled as the rose-dusk light cascaded across the landscape. He was on the second floor and he could see everything quite nicely. Anni marveled at the landscape as the shadows were allowed to creep from their hiding places, and smiled as the purple-blue sky of the night became streaked with bloody rays. It was a beautiful sight.
He closed his curtains calmly, and adjusted the dagger in his boot, then casually left his room and headed downstairs to the bar below. Anni sauntered over to the counter, and waved for the owner to come over. The man was a bit skittish from their previous encounter, but he answer Anni’s call. “A piece of bread with some cheese,” he said calmly. His voice was warm and calm, but at the same time dark, moody and carried a ring of hate billowing in the distance like a thundercloud.
The barkeep obeyed, and brought him a slice a few moments later on a plate. Anni took the bread and left the plate alone, and then headed for the door. He stepped outside lazily, and stood at the edge of the porch leaning his shoulder against one of the posts that held up the roof. He didn’t stare at the sunset, but his gaze was relatively fixed. The only time he broke his gaze was when he took a bite of bread and looked up at the sky, which was beginning to glow with the silver flakes of heaven. The stars blossomed to life like a flower in springtime, and a smile nearly broke free upon his lips. He supposed that for all of its boring nature it was a nice place, this town.
For those that were less versed in the art of Portal Traveling the concept of having only taken a noon meal only hours before the fall of night would be a disconcerting experience. As it stood the Chosen of Lothlomendil no longer found the rapid change of light to dark, or night to day, a point of confusion. His bane lay in the response of his sleep patterns to the constant hopping between locations. Coupled with his chronic insomnia, some said that the young Paladin would work himself into an early grave. The nightmares he suffered from his time in the war foretold the same: An early grave, dug by the hands of the slain.
The evening air in Estolad cut the Paladin to the bone, despite its mild nature. It could be, in part, that his normal guise was left behind. His robes and chainmail were left at the Library, tucked away in secret passages and under the safe keeping of his Guildmates. Even his weapons had been left behind, for his journey was to be both short and non-violent. Blessedly non-violent. He was here seeking a book. An original copy of The History of the Lomedor Guard that had been passed down through a family who finally settled in the small village of Estolad, through which he presently walked.
And as much as Gregoire would've liked to knock upon the door, pay for the text, and handsomely at that, he was loathe to wake them at such an hour. No, he would have to wait out the night. The knight sighed, imagining the shape of his breath in the starlit night. He wouldn't be able to sleep. Both from the difference in the time of day, and the nightmares. Blessed Lomen the nightmares. His skin crawled as his eyes involuntarily crept to the moon creeping up on the horizon. From Ea it looked as pristine as ever. One couldn't see the war-torn soil, or the bloodstained fields. But he had walked them. He had held a brush that spread the paint of monstrosity.
The two lines met with a cacophonous thunder. Horses shrieked as the cruel barbs of the halberds ripped into their flesh. Men screamed as the blades of the Uruk-Hai, their bastard cousins, tore their forms asunder. The Uruk-Hai grunted and howled as bold knights spurred their mounts faster, driving the points of their lances deep into the seemingly soft bodies of their assailants. He was back their, bringing the bulk of his mace up to block the claymore of the Half-Orc. His arm nearly buckled under the strain, but he lashed out viciously with a kick, feeling it slam into the knee. Muscle and ligament tore as bone snapped. He couldn't hear it over the din of battle, but rather felt it give way. The pressure on the morningstar lessened and he pushed the blade aside as the Uruk-Hai let loose a bellow of pain and anger, throwing his shield roughly, dreadfully relishing the crunch of the steel meeting bone, and prevailing. The creature wavered on its feet, the blade it once held scattering into the melee as he brought his morningstar about in a vicious arc, its points aimed to pierce skull and rend fle-
“Tea.”
Gregoire tore his eyes from the rising moon and shook his head sharply. I get enough of that in my dreams, he thought, his brow knitting in a frown. Ahead of him stood the Kamia Inn. It was the only reasonable place still open late into the night, and having been in Estolad before, the knight knew it to be hospitable. He pushed the door open, passing another fellow who was on his way out, bread in hand. If dining out of doors is permissible, I'll likely take advantage of it too. Not for the moon's sake, mind you, but the chilled air was more conducive of staying up an entire night.
“Elven heather tea, if you please,” he said to the barkeep. While a more expensive variety, the heather tea had a subtle flavour that stemmed from the heather flower for which it was named. He'd likely buy a batch to take back to the Library with him, but for now he needed space, needed the night air.
It was welcoming in its dull glow, sympathetic in its fading light. He put the tea to his mouth and took a quiet sip. The other fellow was still out front, rested on a structural post. Gregoire noted his gaze and walked up, following the eyes of the other man to the sky. Old names of constellations venerated by certain tribes of Goblins came to mind, and quickly his eye pulled out a few familiar ones.
“The cloak of sparks,” he said, plainly, gesturing at a particular shape of stars. “Named by the Goblin Shamans in the Southern parts of Ea. They have a particular worship of fire as both a source of fear and power.” His swift default to simple statements stemmed from the fact that the corner of his eye could just linger on the dome of the moon. To speak aloud kept the voice of his mind silent.
It was not odd that Anni hadn’t even noticed the man who had entered as he had walked outside, or that he hadn’t even given him a second glance. He barely recalled coming from the upper level of the inn and going outside except for his food. He didn’t sleep anymore, for in the place of actual rest he had developed a trance-like state. His condition of his mind became abstract, though he retained partial coherency, and he simply existed. Nightmares and horrific visions usually bred during the night causing incomprehensible pain, but something about the stars, the darkness and the night in general relaxed him. He knew little of astronomy, however.
The concept of constellations was not new to him, but he was not familiar with those of this world. The sky was so foreign, but its hold on him was no different than if he’d been across the realms. He knew a few star-signs from his own world, but as the stranger spoke Anni felt somewhat empty. His lack of knowledge was apparent by the dull interest in his gaze as he followed the stranger’s gestures and listened intently.
“I had no idea,” he said after the stranger finished in a voice loud enough for the two of them to hear, but few others, “I’m not a student of the heavens. I do well enough to keep my mind on earthly matters.” His eyes stayed perched upon the stars, seeming to be in search of other constellations, but his mind had stepped from the hazy realm and had focused. His pupils had dilated so that his eyes looked nearly human, save for the dark red of his iris, which could easily be mistaken for a brownish color, and as he spoke his lips barely parted hiding the self-sharpened points of his teeth.
Anni was becoming aware of the world around him as was normal. He caught the scent of the stranger’s tea, and tasted the old cheese and bread. He nearly spat his snack back onto the ground, but why waste it? He finished off the little morsel, and brushed the crumbs from his mouth, hands and his shirt. For a moment he wished he had a glass of wine or a mug of mead to get rid of the taste out of his mouth, but he found it too hard to move from his perch and head inside. The night was so young and fresh, and the thoughts of war were far away from his mind. He had not seen the battle on Isiltelpe, he’d only heard stories, and he was in no hurry to run off and join the effort. While darkness was his friend and he a profound love for chaos and destruction he had his own interests to look out for. There was still more to do before he ran off to battle.
When he realized how far his line of thought had traveled from the immediate moment he snapped back to reality. He blinked twice, and turned his head slightly so that his gaze fell to the stranger. Anni quickly began to take in certain aspects and dimensions of his figure, and most importantly attempted to deduce his true nature and intentions. He had an almost regal look about him, but Anni was not so sure that he was some type of royalty or higher class. Anni was wary the stranger, but did not appear paranoid. Quite the contrary to his true feelings, for the one thing Anni feared most of all was an assassin, and a blade in his back.